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praeluxius · 10 days

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Rendezvous

part 5 of folie à deux. masterlist

male reader x rei and liz of IVE (ft. sakura, wonyoung, yujin, etc.)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

words: 12.2k

rendezvous - a meeting at an agreed time and place

Gaeul pulls up her underwear then turns to the other two girls and asks, "is Rei running late?"

"She's probably humping another stranger." Wonyoung retorts, laughing a little under her breath, hiding her smile from Gaeul by turning toward the mirror. She picks up the red lipstick laid out on the vanity table and brushes it across her plump lips.

"She's not coming here," Yujin explains. "She's going to the party with Liz."

"And we're okay with that?" Wonyoung raises an eyebrow and looks at Yujin through the mirror.

"Don't worry, I already added Liz to the list to make up for it."

"Really? Just like that?" Gaeul is quick to speak with a little worry in her voice.

"Really," Yujin smirks. "Also, I think Rei is giving up on the whole fucking strangers thing. She had another disappointment today."

"Oh right. That explains it." Wonyoung places the lipstick down and picks up the earrings laid out in front of her. "She did ask me if she could borrow our friend for a night and get some good dick."

"She did?" Yujin's interest seems peaked by the comment, as she casts her gaze out and off into the distance.

"Yes," Wonyoung punctuates her statement with a firm nod. "Wouldn't surprise me if she already hopped on that this afternoon."

"I was with him this afternoon, Wony, so..." Yujin trails off.

"Did he rush off?" Gaeul asks and Yujin frowns slightly at the thought of you dumping her to go fuck her friend. "At least he's in safer hands with Rei instead of that slut from the bar," Gaeul utters her words through an aggravated grumble as she sits in her chair, leaning in toward her mirror to finish the final touches to her makeup.

"Slut?" Yujin asks, picking up a bra from her dresser. She pulls the straps over her bare shoulders, slips her arms through, and clasps it behind her back.

"Minju."

"Minju Minju? Kim Minju?" The half-naked Yujin looks at Wonyoung for confirmation.

"Yes," Wonyoung says as elegantly as ever, standing tall and turning away from the mirror. "Now, will one of you help me into this dress?"

"Wait." Yujin raises a hand. "He was at a bar with Minju? Drinking? When?"

"Yesterday," Gaeul says as she stands up and collects Wonyoung's dress and carries it over to the naked and waiting woman.

Wonyoung is waiting with her hands on her bare hips. Her slender body is smooth and exposed. She is a thing of perfect symmetry with her flat stomach and small but perky breasts. "Yeah, and they were doing a lot more than drinking."

"Wonyoung," Yujin steps toward her, one hand on her elbow and the other softly clenched by her chest. "What are you saying?"

"Let's just say..." Gaeul pauses to let Wonyoung step into her dress and then she drags it up and lets her slide her arms into it. "A lot of bars smell. But most of them aren't locked when they should be open and don't smell of sex when they finally let you in."

Wonyoung settles into her dress, and Gaeul fits it tightly to her frame. Wonyoung lifts her hair up and lets it fall over her shoulders. "You should hurry up if you want to make the most of him, Yujin, before everyone you know has used him, and you'll be the last." Wonyoung looks at Gaeul who's still touching the dress up behind her. "Well, almost the last."

"Who says I want to..."

"Please Yujin." Wonyoung interrupts. "I'm sure the teasing is fun and all, but trust me, nothing compares to a good, proper fucking." Wonyoung stretches her arm to the dresser to pick up her necklace which's expensive enough to put a pair of twins through university three times over. Wonyoung places it against her neck, holding the ends out for Gaeul. She bunches her hair up again for Gaeul to clasp it. "Am I right, Gaeul?"

Gaeul keeps silent while she works. Fastening the hook and letting it drop along the nape of Wonyoung's pale white neck and hang just over her collarbones.

"I have plenty of time," Yujin says. "We're keeping him around, aren't we?" She flips her head as she runs her hand through her hair. She slips a finger beneath one of the bra's straps and adjusts its position on her shoulder.

"Well, that is the plan." Wonyoung nods after letting her hair fall again. “He doesn’t have much choice now.”

"Oh, he will have a choice,” Yujin speaks through a smirk. “But the result will be the same."

"I like things dirty. Natural. That’s just me."

That's her response to you asking exactly how she lives in the hellhole you just left. An answer as serious as you will ever get from Minju.

There's an awkward couple of seconds where you check to see the driver's reaction and you lock eyes through his rear view. The narrow cut of his face doesn't give you the full expression and you can't tell if he's disturbed or impressed. After a moment it passes and you focus back on the girl to your side.

"Where do you even eat?" you ask.

"Take-out, duh." You both share a look and Minju is smiling with her eyes. "I just put it on my lap when I sit down."

"But where do you sit? The ground?"

"Preferably on your co—"

"Hey, we're close now." You cut her off before she makes it even more uncomfortable for the driver.

"Swing a right here," Minju calls out to him. He shoots another look back in the mirror, this time his furrowed brows show his annoyance. "And pull up on the left."

Minju telling the guy how to do his job is actually a very Minju thing to do. As unappreciated as it may be.

You check your watch. Fifteen minutes late. Great. Hopefully, you can slip in and the girls won't notice. You could play it off cool, say you've been there all along and they must have missed you. You would have to slip away from Minju though, she would give the game away.

Maybe she reads your face, or the silence might have been a clue. Minju taps your shoulder and tells you not to worry. Stop caring about what others think and just walk in like you own the place.

You step out first and rush around to get to Minju's door. She scoffs as you open it. "And they say chivalry is dead." Her words come paired with a grin. You offer your hand to hers which she takes and uses to help pull her up. She straightens herself out, and checks to see that her skirt is all aligned before looking up at you.

You close the door and the driver is quick to pull away. "Hey, Minju, maybe you can go in first and then I will—"

"Shh." She locks her arm around yours at the elbow. "Stop. Just walk."

She pulls, tugging you alongside her, you adjust your footing to walk alongside, arm in arm, as she guides you up the stairs to the man at the door. Minju rests her head on your shoulder. You don't ask, don't protest. You can feel how easy it is, with her walking at your side, and so you say nothing. Just like she wants.

The six-foot-four bouldering giant is the first to speak, "Minju. Haven't seen you here for a while. Welcome back." His wide face, chiselled with age and experience, splits in a welcoming grin.

Minju softly bows her head and you follow her lead. "Been busy," is the reply she gives.

The security gives one single nod and replies, "As they say, a busy person doesn't have time to be unhappy." He grins even wider this time.

Minju ignores the impromptu attempt at philosophy and you both pass by into the house. The place is huge; of course it is—it's a mansion in the hills. But even from the outside, you couldn't have expected this.

Straight ahead is a huge, curved stairwell. On either side of you, it opens into a series of corridors already full of a smattering of guests. Music pours from off to the left. The unmistakable rhythm of that one K-pop song you heard all last week but still don't know the name of. People are sitting around, lounges filled with men in the latest fashion and women dressed to perfection. Most if not all with drinks in hand.

"Let's get us a drink." Minju pulls gently on your arm. "I'm thinking tequila."

There's not much else you can do right now. Your hope of making a low-key appearance, blending in with the crowd and slipping through unnoticed, is completely lost now as Minju takes a long, slow and deliberate approach through the place. She keeps your arm linked with hers, and as she saunters, her stride is swayed.

You feel the call to arms. You straighten your back, broaden your shoulders and strut like you belong. A few heads turn. Probably more for her than you, but the confidence still builds. There's not a single person in sight you think who could question whether you belong or not. The trick, you realise, is not to doubt yourself. Just walk in like you own the place. Minju’s words echo in your mind.

Two girls catch your gaze from the corner of your eye. They have their hands by their mouth, sharing unheard whispers while looking in your direction as you walk by. It takes a few moments, to narrow them down and figure it out. It's the two girls who fought outside school the other day, clearly having settled their differences.

You both enter the kitchen to find a young woman wrestling a bottle of champagne. Rei struggles over and over until it eventually pops, much to her delight. She lets out a loud squeal of surprise and looks over at two of her companions who took a step back when it popped.

Rei's friend stands just behind her, stifling an unheard giggle. She takes the bottle from Rei's hands and begins to pour. Golden bubbles into a set of four flutes.

That's when Rei finally notices you. She screams some incoherent words and throws her arms around you, almost knocking you off balance to the floor and taking Minju with you. The girl is already drunk.

"Oh my god! Come, come, uncle, meet my friends."

"Uncle?" Minju remarks.

"Don’t ask," you whisper from the corner of your mouth before Rei pulls the pair of you along.

"This is Liz." She points to the lady with the silver-purple hair, holding the bottle of champagne. She wears a thin black lace choker on her neck above the low cut of her top. As well as a pair of black leather trousers that run into her heeled boots. Rei throws her arms around Liz's waist. "Hey Liz, did I tell you about my new sexy uncle who saves me like a knight?"

Her question meets a look of confusion and a narrow-eyed glance at you. The girl smiles at you, in a forced what-the-fuck-is-happening kind of way. She says something to Rei that you can't quite make out over the sounds of conversation around you.

One of the other girls picks up her glass before introducing herself. "Sakura." She holds out an elegant hand. A pretty girl with delicate features, a flawless complexion, and pink waves that flow over her shoulders. You reach out and take her hand. "Welcome to my house. I don't believe we have met." Her accent is lyrical and pronounced, with the right amount of cute.

You introduce yourself and barely finish doing so before Minju takes over. "Long time no see. Both of you. Come here Nako, Kkura." Minju breaks her lock with your arm to go embrace the two girls. She hugs the girls with affection. No love lost between them.

She's asking them a series of the usual questions. How's life? How are you doing? What happened to the person with the name you don't recognise? Have they moved to Australia? They did? How many months ago?

Then Sakura turns her attention to you.

"It is good you have a new friend." She tells Minju. "Did you meet him at a shoot?"

You think that's a compliment, at least.

Rei laughs before Minju corrects Sakura, "he's in my class, Kkura. He isn't a model." Rei tells her, still laughing. "I see what you're saying though, it's the eyes. Put him on an ad and I'm buying."

"I like his cheekbones," Kkura responds.

"I'm right here, ladies." They're talking like you're not in the room and your face is starting to burn.

"Sorry." Kkura's voice is sugary sweet. Her smile and coy gaze even more so. "Enjoy your night. I have more guests to greet." Sakura spins and struts away with Nako in tow, before stopping beside two men that seem a little lost.

"Come." Rei tugs your arm, almost spilling her drink on you. "What are you two drinking?" she asks, not waiting for a response.

"I'll just have a beer—"

"Tequila." Minju doesn't miss a beat.

"I don't think there's tequila..." Rei steps toward the liquor bottles and Liz silently follows.

"Ugh." Minju doesn't try to hide her disdain. "The champagne then." She looks over and picks up two full champagne flutes from the table.

"Did you two get a card yet?" Rei asks.

"Card?" you ask back.

"No, we haven't," Minju says before turning to you and handing you a glass. "Didn't anyone tell you? That's the rule tonight. Everyone has to take a card with a challenge that they have to complete, with evidence or a witness. Anyone who fails to do it by eleven has to do a forfeit."

"Does everyone know what's on the cards or what the forfeit is?"

"Nope," she winks, before downing her glass of champagne. "That's the fun. So what did you girls get?"

"Mine was easy," Rei says. "All I had to do was kiss a guy wearing white. Did that as soon as I came in." Rei points off into a distance somewhere. You can't make out where the finger ends its aim.

"And you, Liz?" you ask, and she avoids any eye contact with you.

"She might have to forfeit." Rei laughs. "Tell them what you got." She pats her friend on the back.

"Um, I— I have to... finger a woman..." She just about squeezes the words from her lips before she quickly takes a drink. Hiding her burning face behind a hand.

Minju's eyes open wide and you hear Rei giggle into her drink. "Have you ever?" you ask, and there's no need for her to answer you. The look of anxiety and panic on her face tells you everything.

"I offered to help," says Rei. "You know, as a friend. Still stands by the way."

"Thanks..." Liz forces the response through her covered mouth.

"What other stuff is in there?" you ask, pondering the possibilities.

"Liz probably got one of the hardest." Rei shrugs. "Some of them are just about drinking or other stupid dares."

"Or she got the best one," Minju comments. "We better get ours." Minju slides her arm around yours again.

Rei leans into you before you leave, whispering, "If it's a tough one, I can help." Then she slips away and Minju pulls on your arm.

"Thanks, girls, see you soon."

The rest of the crowd fills the rooms you walk through. People are already on the dance floor, holding their drinks as they bounce, or holding onto other people as the rhythm guides their bodies together.

In the next room, there are two tables, each with a person behind and people crowding at each of them. "So these are the cards, right? I hope I get an easy one..."

"I hope you get a tough one. What if you have to suck a cock?" Minju asks.

"Then I take a forfeit."

"Okay but what if the forfeit is that you have to suck two cocks?" She jokes and laughs.

"Funny..."

"Alright. I'm going first."

You're just about to follow her in when you hear your name called from behind. You know the voice without looking back, a smooth melody in song and one that tenses your body up. As Minju walks away, Yujin walks toward you.

You turn and there she is. Wow. It's only been a few hours since you saw her last, and yet, like every other time you see her, she blows you away. The red dress is, honestly, amazing. Fitting tightly at the waist, flattering her shape and highlighting those hips. As ever, she gave the outfit her own personal flair, wearing it a little different than when she tried it on earlier, with one strap off the shoulder now. The thing about Yujin is that, sure, someone could wear the same clothes as her, but they could never wear them like she does.

She has changed her hair too, pinning part of it up behind a piece of jewelled decoration. And then there's that smile. Perfect, dazzling. Full lips curled slightly at the sides, pearlescent teeth peeking through. The sparkling glint of her deep eyes looking up at yours.

She sees through the silence. "What's wrong? What are you staring at?" Her little giggle comes with a poke to the centre of your chest. It brings your focus back to reality. "Don't I look okay?"

"Yeah— of course— Yujin—" You say her name as if she isn't the absolute centre of your attention. She giggles a second time and draws a circle in the centre of your chest with her forefinger, tracing it and smiling as you struggle for words.

"What, do I have lipstick on my teeth or something?" She brings a manicured fingertip across her grin and you shake your head in return.

"Not that I can see," you answer.

"Then what are you staring at? See something you want?" She's teasing you but you manage to stumble through the answer.

"You look..." It doesn't matter what words you try and find. She does that half-lidded, cocking her head thing to the side and you're lost again. Lost to her, hypnotised by her. It's embarrassing.

The giggle grows into a laugh, her shoulders shrugging with amusement as she closes her eyes for a second, shaking her head softly. She places her hand on your collar, smoothing over the edge of your blazer and then adjusting it over your shoulders. "You dressed up well. Not used to seeing you in something so smart." She runs her hands down the front of your blazer, pressing it against your body to straighten it. "You look good," Yujin says with a final, gentle pat at the centre of your chest.

"I need to take a card." You brush over the compliment—you’ve never really been that good at taking them.

"Better hurry up before they're all gone, you don't want to have to do the forfeit. Once you get one, make sure you find me." She pokes her finger into your chest. "It's important, okay?" She bats her eyelashes at you. You promise you'll be there, you're sure of it, and then with a final smile, she leaves and heads towards a different room, slipping into the crowds.

The whole exchange is over far too quickly. The phantom touch of Yujin's fingers lingers on your chest, even as she disappears. You would stand, spellbound forevermore, a statue set upon the tiles, if it wasn't for the fact you look a complete fool standing and staring into nothing.

You turn to the tables and can't spot Minju in the crowd. You spend some time waiting, working your way forward as people collect their cards until you're at the front. A woman holds out a deck of face-down cards and you draw one from it, slip it into your pocket and quickly move on.

"You look lost. Like a lamb." The unmistakable sound of Wonyoung's voice rings out. "I'm surprised you even showed up. Last I heard you were crying into a whiskey." Her laugh has the venom of a snake, with an even worse bite. Her purple dress hugs her slender frame. It clings to the sharp contours of her shoulders. An expensive jewelled necklace rests in the centre of her bare upper chest.

"I wasn't crying..." You deny the accusation.

Wonyoung presses her hands to your shoulders, forcing you into place as she meets your eyes. "Wasn’t sure if you would show your face tonight. Don’t worry, no one knows what happened, and I can keep it that way." There's something about Wonyoung that always feels intimidating, especially now, with how her eyes seem to trap you and the way her voice plays out so assured, full of certainty and purpose. "But it’s a good thing you’re here. I need you."

"What do you mean?" It's been barely a minute and she's already asking things of you. She just brushes over the storm she caused and the damage she could have done to your life.

Wonyoung leans close and moves her lips to your ear. "You know that idiot boyfriend of mine? Well, I need him to catch us."

"You're joking, right?" you ask, and then after a brief moment of silence her message sinks in and you realise she isn't joking. "Haven’t we done enough damage?"

"I’m already solving your school issue, so the least you can do is help me out." She dismisses your problems as always. "Right now I need you to focus and help me make him break up with me." Wonyoung strokes your cheek. "Does that sound doable?"

You bite down into your lip, trying to contain your emotions and to keep your annoyance from bubbling to the surface.

"Great thanks. I will find you when I need you." With a cruel and patronising tap to your head, Wonyoung smiles smugly.

"I didn't even agree."

"You never said no to fucking me before. And it's not like Minju's pussy even comes close to mine."

She flashes a dark grin at you before disappearing through the crowds. Fuck you do have a type of girl, and fuck does Wonyoung and her attitude get under your skin. In some sick and twisted way, it still turns you on. Fuck.

It's probably about time to get away. To leave the party and this fucked up life. Anyone with a little bit of sense would. In the end, you just settle for going to the bathroom.

For five minutes you have been waiting and the line hasn't budged. Too many people waiting to use a single bathroom.

"You're Minju's date right?" You turn to find the pink-haired girl from earlier standing beside you. The one who owns this place. Her thin lips curve to a gentle, elegant smile that cuts across her pale complexion. You realise now, stood beside her, how dainty she is. Her petite frame matches her cute voice. "Are you waiting in line?"

"Yeah, I—" you reply, not fully sure where the question is leading but her widening smile interrupts you.

"Follow me." She starts walking, expecting you to not question her command. You walk behind her, her slim frame adorned elegantly in light fabric. Pink waves flow over her bare, exposed shoulder. Her heels strike the floor with a rhythm of confidence. She glides gracefully with poise and intent. Her every step is punctuated with a swagger you cannot match.

With her hair bobbing softly, she calls out your name. "Up here. Then the third door on the right. My close friends are allowed upstairs. And you, I guess."

"Oh. Thank you."

She says nothing else, just gliding away and leaving you at the base of the stairs.

After a quick climb you find the door she described. It's unassuming, a standard wooden door that looks identical to all the others. You put a hand to the cold metal and push. A coolness greets your fingers as the gap opens and you let yourself inside.

The bathroom is pristine. Immaculate. Spacious. Porcelain and polished. Glass and stainless steel. There's the familiar hum of a ventilation unit set into the ceiling, the fans circling in constant rotation. To the back, a large double shower, framed by the marble walls and lit by the mood-setting hue of soft lights.

Finally, a room in this place that, to your relief, is empty.

When you've finished up you head to the sink and wash. You lean over it to study yourself in the mirror, one last touch up of your hair and a pull to straighten out the creases of your clothes.

Then the door crashes open.

Rei stumbles in with all the poise of a newborn calf. "Hey, sexy uncle. Didn't know you were in here. How is my aunt?" She laughs in a raspy slur. "What were you doing? Oh." Her finger taps against her bottom lip, trying her best to appear conspiratorial.

"Nothing, I—"

Rei continues. "Playing with yourself?" She points to the zipper you forgot to close. "Hope you think about me."

You give your answer and say, "actually, I was just doing normal toilet stuff. Nothing weird."

"Boring." She declares, slamming the door behind her. Rei ignores you as she walks over to the toilet, slipping her hand under her dress and pulling down her underwear. You're immediately heading to the door, giving her the privacy she didn't even bother to ask for. "Where are you going uncle?"

"Back to the party." You're just about to turn the doorknob when her voice hits you in the back.

"Don't go. Don't leave me all alone."

You sigh, slouching your shoulders and loosening your grip on the door. "Only if you agree to stop calling me uncle."

"Okay, okay. Promise,” she says and then she mumbles something, laughing as she does. Eventually, she speaks loud enough to hear. "Stop staring at the door. You can look at me."

You turn to find her sitting there. A small pair of panties by her ankles. A smile on her face. Her smooth thighs jutted out from the bottom of her dress, bare down to her heels.

"Thanks again," Rei says. "You saved me today."

"Happy to help." You walk towards the sink and mirror again, unsure what to do with yourself.

Luckily, Rei refuses silence. "What's going on with you and Minju?" Unluckily, she's chosen the worst topic of conversation.

"We just met. We're friends I guess."

"Just buddies," she says playfully. "Fuck buddies."

"Do you only ever think about sex?" You ask, turning away and towards your reflection. Your question is answered only with the sound of her flushing the toilet.

There's the briefest moment of silence that follows until you can hear her steps on the tiles. She walks to your side, washing her hands and staring at you in the reflection. "I do actually. Especially when I was supposed to cum five hours ago and still haven't had the chance to finish myself off."

This girl is unfiltered. It's commendable that she is so true to her desires. So bold and honest in the face of the fear of judgment.

"Or maybe it's when I'm in the same room as an incredibly hot guy and my panties are still on the floor." There's a lustful rasp to her voice now. You turn to look at her, at the full, sparkling light in her eye, and you let your gaze wander lower. You stray to her shoulder, where her dress hangs loose. The dress clung across her frame, covering her bust but leaving enough for your imagination to formulate the shape of them beneath.

"Rei..." You draw her name out to a few syllables and with it a few extra moments for your thoughts to come together. "What are you thinking?"

"What is your thing?" Her question catches you off guard. "What do you like?" Rei brings her thumb to her lips, pushing it into her mouth and sucking gently. "Do you really like getting your cock sucked? What do you want?"

Her fingers stroke your chin. Soft pads massage and caress with a teasing, tantalising touch. Her face gets closer, inch by inch, and you can smell the sweet scent of her perfume. You can hear her ragged breath as she loses control. And your heart, beating like a drum inside your chest.

"I owe you one. And I'm ready to do anything." She says it with such unashamed candour and it sets your cheeks aflame.

"Do you do this for everyone who is nice to you?" you whisper.

She shakes her head, "only the really fucking hot ones."

You're close. Your breathing is shallow. Every part of you tells you it's a bad idea, but that's what is so enticing. That's why your cock is pulsing. She reaches forward and rubs her palm gently up and down over the bulge.

She gives you a gentle wink. "Tell me what you want. What's your favourite part of me? And don't give me something sappy like my humour. Think with your cock." As she says the words she squeezes her grip on it. Her fingers slowly closing, holding and massaging. Her lips are soft, slightly parted. That adorable face. Sparkling eyes. And the taste of the words that lingers on your lips.

"You have great legs." You indulge her in an answer.

"See, now was that so hard?" She buries her hand into your trousers through the open zipper. "So what will it be? My thighs? Knees? My feet? I usually don't like when people see my feet but if you're that desperate to cum on them. They're all yours."

You drop a hand down by her side and reach to grab her leg by the thigh. "You have great thighs."

You swear the excitement on her face could light up the city. "There we go. Tell me what you want to do." She pushes her hand around in your trousers, fishing out your cock.

You lean into her ear. "I want you to wrap those beautiful thighs around my cock." You can't believe the words you're saying to her. Neither can she. The sound of her shallow breath is ragged as she runs it through her mind. She nods.

"Then I will."

Rei gently strokes you to life, massaging you until the blood begins to rush. Soon enough, you are ready, hard and hungry. Your pulse quickens with every gentle rub of her hand. You slip a hand around the back of her neck. "Not a word to anyone." Your words make her giggle and she responds with a breathless shush.

You turn her to the sink, putting her between you and it and she releases your cock. Rei spits in her hand while you're hiking her dress up over her bare ass and then she reaches behind her to cover your cock in her saliva. With one hand you guide your cock and she gasps with excitement as you rest your length between her legs, pressing and grinding.

Rei looks at you through the mirror and smirks as she pressed her legs together, closing your slick cock between her thighs. "Use me. I want to see you enjoy this."

Your arms wrap her torso. You grab a firm breast through her clothes as your other arm wraps her. Pull her closer to you. Your mouth against her ear, feeling the warmth of her, breathing in the soft scents from her perfumes, you inhale it all.

Your mouth parts and you groan with the growing sensation building inside you. Her legs squeeze tightly around you as you slip back and forth between them. The way they hold you is incredible, snug and slick. Her skin smooth and grasping.

Rei reaches between her legs, putting her delicate touch on the tip of your cock poking between her legs. Her fingers pull at you, directing your cock higher between her thighs. Before long, you feel her folds envelop the tip. As wet as ever. Rei squeezes and grinds, pushing your tip against her clit.

"I want it all," she hisses through her teeth. You grip her flesh, holding her on the edge of what she craves. Slipping between her thick thighs over and over again, refusing to drive into her cunt.

You pull at her nipples through her dress. Tease. Bite her ear. Kiss her shoulder. Run your nose up her neck. Inhale her perfume. And the most torturous thing to ever do to Rei:

Slow down.

Your thrusts between her legs become measured. Deliberate. Long, hard and powerful motions, dragging over her slit. She whimpers, "why are you making me wait?"

In the mirror her features flush, eyes clench closed and lips tremble. A flush of red flows through her skin. Her breath quickens, rasping between every uttered plea. Your dick is throbbing. Your senses electrifying. Every part of you tenses with the burning urge. Every cell and sinew wants to drive into that incredible cunt but the drumroll is exquisite.

"Do it," Rei begs. The anticipation becoming a torrent for her, as much as your own, the joy of desire and the torment of denial.

"When I'm ready," is all the answer she will get from you.

"Please. I have needed a good cock all day." Her words fill the cool room. They bounce from the hard white surfaces. Dancing to the hum of the ventilation.

"This is you saying thank you, isn't it?" you growl into her ear. "My choice. I want your tits first."

Her lips utter the words 'whatever you want, yes' a few times over. Each utterance pleading, begging; each one filled with desire. Desperate to ease the tension inside, she quickly reaches up her back and unzips her dress for you. She peels it open to reveal her bare back and the strap of her bra.

You work at her bra while she slips out of her dress. It's all so rushed. Almost clumsy. Everything is loose now, and she shakes it all off, kicking it all to the side and turning to you, completely naked. "Fuck, you're hot," you say before realising. The words slip from you, unplanned, raw, genuine.

"I know." Rei grins and then she cups her tits, two perfect handfuls. "So you like these, huh?"

You nod.

She squeezes them, flesh spilling between spread fingers. "And if I give you them, then will you fuck me?"

She pouts those soft lips that drive you wild. She arches her back and presents them for you, waiting, hands by her side. Eager. The invitation is unmistakable. You bend her backwards against the sink, arching her lower back over the marble top and then pressing your body against her. "Yes."

You lower your head and smile at her, her stiff nipple right by your lips. You blow a warm, heavy stream of air over it and she giggles softly. You don't just take her offered tits. Not yet. Instead, you kiss between them, wrapping your tongue to lick up her torso, upwards toward her collarbones. You nibble the protrusion gently with your teeth. Her breaths become short sharp puffs as her body tenses with each graze.

You run your tongue back down again, towards a nipple. You take it into your mouth, licking and then biting. Slowly pulling at her nipple with your teeth, stretching and toying, listening for her moaning, soft and suppressed, with a rising note of pleasure.

She pats at the back of your head and squirms at each pinch of your teeth. You switch nipples, wetting it in your mouth and sucking at it, allowing it to release with a popping sound, and then giving it a quick bite.

Your hands begin to travel across Rei's body—traversing and wandering in their exploration of her skin. Grabbing and feeling, always squeezing her softness with lust in one moment and adoration the next.

"Can't wait any longer,” she says in frustrated impatience. Rei strokes the back of your head, raking her nails against your scalp. She leans back, supporting herself on one arm and pushing her chest out towards your face. She closes her eyes and hums.

You think that Rei enjoys a little more biting than is conventional. Enjoying a small amount of pain with her pleasure, you know it when she moans loudly every time your teeth tug at her sensitive flesh. Her hands pull at the base of your skull and grasp at your hair. Her body moves beneath you, desperate to find any sort of friction between her legs. You can see the pleasure and pain in her expressions alternating between one another. Rei moans your name out. A hushed whisper, begging you to fuck her. To put her out of her misery.

"Patience," you tell her. The single word causing so much frustration.

She groans through gritted teeth before buckling under your teasing. Rei mutters, "Just fuck me with your big fucking cock already." Her hands desperately pull you from her chest, but you refuse. She continues her pleas; begging you to stop being so cruel; to take mercy on her; that her aching cunt can't wait another second.

She's reaching for your trousers now, unfastening them and pushing them away from your hips so they fall to your ankles.

"On your knees first."

Rei's eyes go wide at your demands.

She pouts, but the blush on her cheeks is unmistakably eager. She falls from the sink onto her knees. Rei has that look in her eyes, an appetite, and it shows as clear as day. You're holding her by the hand and pulling her as you find a seat on the side of the bath.

Rei crawls over, a naughty grin plastered across her face. She presses her palms onto your knees and parts your legs for her to take her place between them. As soon as she has a close-up of the prize, she all but licks her lips with excitement, grasping a hold of it tightly. "Oh god, it's so big," Rei's eyes light up in delight as she feels the thickness and weight. "Fuck me. Why did you keep this big, beautiful cock from me until now?"

Her fingers run up and down over it gently—just soft grazes against your skin. Soothing. Tender. When her tongue first touches the underside of your head, it sends shivers through you. Rei drags it up, sliding and caressing, all the while keeping eye contact with her fluttering, batting gaze. Then she runs the very tip across her plump, kissable lips, leaving behind a wet line before diving forward and wrapping her mouth around you.

A soft 'fuck' escapes you at the warmth of her mouth engulfing you. She smiles, pulling away and then admiring your cock with her teeth biting the flesh of her bottom lip. Rei kisses her way down the bottom of your shaft before just staring at it again. "It's so perfect. Your cock is literally a fucking work of art."

"It's going to look even better pressed between those beautiful tits," you reply to her compliment.

She takes the hint and pushes her tits towards it. "My tits love your cock already." Rei presses your cock against her nipple and pushes, teasing. "But not as much as my pussy will."

"Rei." Her eyes are lost in their new interest. You run a hand over the side of her face. The soft skin of her cheek. Pushing her hair behind an ear. Touching her lips gently with your thumb. "Will you put those amazing tits to good use? For me?" You ask as you push your thumb into her mouth, which makes her look up at you and she accepts it.

She nods her agreement.

"Good girl, Rei," you reply. Your voice is calm, smooth, and silky. The reaction you receive is everything you could hope for. Her pupils widen, her ears redden, and her face flushes. The combination of praise, and a dominant tone and touch, seems to really make her glow.

Rei obliges to the command.

Wet with her saliva, Rei's breasts wrap around your aching cock with ease. Her skin is soft and velvety. Flesh mouldable and forgiving. So warm. So smooth. Perfect.

Once your cock is settled between the swell of her breasts, Rei rocks her chest against it. A steady movement up and down; the sensual rubbing of flesh. Rei looks up at you, the hunger written plain to read across her face as she slides her tits against you. Her fingers intertwine across her tits, holding them together. She moans gently against your thumb as your cock continues to protrude from her cleavage over and over. The sounds reverberate inside her warm, wet mouth, stimulating as they tickle against your skin.

The ache inside you, the tense of muscle and flexed sinews—it builds. Pools and twists and heats in the centre of your body. Rei moans again. She talks through it too. The thumb pressing inside her mouth inhibits it only slightly. "I need it in my pussy. I would even take it in my ass right now. I need you."

Truth is, you need to fuck her just as badly now, too. "Stand." Immediately, Rei's shoulders drop as she pulls her breasts away and follows your order. "Bend over the sink."

"Finally." She's grinning when she moves. Placing her feet wide and leaning on the marble of the sink. You follow her every step.

You run a hand down her leg, gripping behind the knee and hooking it into the air, planting her leg onto the surface. She's open and so very willing. You draw your cock against her a final time, watch her contorted face in the mirror, and then slide into her.

Her eyes flash open and her jaw drops agape. A breathless silence. Now a burst of laughter broken by gasps for air. She grins and giggles and moans as you pound into her from behind. Her small hands claw against the sink, scrambling for something to hold to stabilise herself and support against the onslaught.

A hand on her hip to keep her in place, you reach the other to her neck. You grab and pull, rearing her back. Draw her flush with your body. Her soft skin against your chest. Her long hair is on your shoulder. She laughs again as you do it, sweet pleasured giggles that just don't stop.

"Harder, harder." She strains the words through the squeezing of her throat.

"Like it rough?" you spit into her ear and her lips turn in a grin.

"Like it rough." Her voice a coarse mess. Saliva runs from the corner of her mouth, tinted pink by her lipstick.

You slide your grip up from her neck, fingers along her jaw, thumb and finger pressed into her cheeks. "Fuck. You were right. Pussy so good I can see why guys struggle with you." You pull her head backwards and grind deeper into her. Tight and wet. Her cunt hugs so perfectly around your length that you worry she won't let you out.

"Wony was right. Best. Fuck. Ever." Every single thrust draws the words out into a pathetic moan, and then she laughs again and she strains to force more words. "Gonna cum."

You slip your hand back down to her throat and she grabs at your wrist, not to resist your grip or pull you free, only to reassure and to let you know what she wants. You grip and squeeze.

"Cum for me you pretty slut." Your voice is husky as your will consumes you. Her cries fill the bathroom, her ecstatic bliss heard a thousand times over as she feels her ecstasy roll through.

There is no gentle passing through her orgasm. You care not for how it plays. You don't ride the waves and slow your pace to accommodate it. Her cum spills warm around your cock. Slippery juices seep to her thighs and drip onto the floor as you keep up the relentless pace of your hips, each drive forward, piercing. Her body held against the marble, with her waist pressed against the edge. Her hands are frantic. Scrambling once more for support as you tear her apart with fervour.

"Rei?” The door opens. “Everything okay? Oh, fuck."

Liz stands in the doorway, stunned and staring. She's about to turn away and run out of the room but before she can step away, Rei speaks through her pleasure.

"Liz. Fuck." The words spill from her breathless mouth. Liz turns back to see the girl cumming again. You can see the astonishment in her gaze, unable to look away, drawn to the display of ecstasy. This time you slow and your hand slips away from her throat.

Rei squirms against the marble counter. The second wave crests and passes and this time her mind does clear. Your cock slows to a stop in her. Rei whips her head around to look at Liz.

"What the fuck?" Liz takes a step back, halfway out of the room, the door almost closing.

"Wait! Come here,” Rei calls out and Liz steps forward again. "Close the door. Quick."

Liz moves toward you and closes the door behind her. She presses herself back against it, watching in amazement as you freeze, still buried in her best friend. You were so blinded by fucking Rei that you didn't even consider stopping, but as rationality takes back over and the situation takes shape in your mind, you suddenly feel trapped under Liz's gaze. You dare not to look in her direction.

For all your tension, Rei is a complete contrast. Relaxed. The utter ease with which she just smiles, looks Liz directly in the eye and says the most casual, inappropriate things. "I'm more than okay. How are you?"

"I—" the question catches her off guard and she stammers an awkward, jolted sentence. Her eyes move to the space between you and Rei where you're still connected. She opens her mouth as if to speak but no words come out. She stutters another broken attempt. Liz eventually shakes her head and replies, "good. Not good. I mean okay. Well, good, but not because—"

She's stumbling over her words until Rei stops her. "Think we have a bit longer in us." She looks over her shoulder to you. "Not gonna cum yet, are you?"

"No," you reply. Entirely confused and a little uncomfortable—not sure exactly what is happening right now. You look back at Liz and she's staring right at you. Wide eyes, open mouth. It's not quite fear you're seeing in them, not disgust either. A cocktail of emotions playing on her face that you wish you could unpick.

"Want to join?" Rei asks. The question hangs in the air. Her tone is light and playful as if it's the most normal question in the world. She can't possibly mean that. She has to be joking. A jest for entertainment and Liz's amusement.

"Isn't this Wonyoung's...?" Liz leaves her question incomplete, letting Rei finish the thought.

"I already asked her. He's fair game." She did? When was this? Does that mean Rei planned to fuck you all along? The confusion only worsens the more you think. Your brain hurts trying to make sense of this. The absolute weirdness of it. And despite it, or rather, because of it, you find this whole thing so much... hotter.

Liz pushes herself off the door and says, "we did talk about it that one time..." She takes a step forward and then continues, "how we wanted to share a guy. But him? Here? Now?"

Liz takes another step forward and you take a tentative step back, slipping out from inside Rei and standing exposed. She gives an offended little groan of displeasure and then slips her leg down from the sink and turns to face you. Suddenly you're feeling lonely and exposed with the two girls staring at you.

"Yeah. Why not?" Rei asks Liz so casually. So blasé. Like she was suggesting what to eat for dinner and not asking Liz to join in a threesome. "And it's not like he would mind. Look how hard he is." Liz stares at the state of your cock. Twitching in the air. Lubricated with Rei.

Liz drags her eyes back to your face and asks you, "do you want me?"

As if you could ever say no. To those large round eyes. To her delicate mouth. The slender body beneath the cocktail dress. To those hips that sway as she continues to walk until she's standing next to Rei.

Rei reaches behind Liz, holding her by the ass and pushing her the final step toward you. Liz instinctively reaches, taking gentle hold of your wet cock. She's standing so close that her tits just graze against your chest. You look down slightly at the woman who's looking back up at you.

Rei asks you now, "do you want us?"

You stay paused for a moment, glancing at Rei for half a second before returning to Liz's stare. You nod gently then lean in to kiss her. The moment your mouths touch your hands begin roaming, one groping for a breast and the other to her lower back, holding her in close. Her tongue presses into you with the urgency you need and she holds you tight by the back of your neck.

You forget about Rei for a moment, giving everything to Liz. Stifling moans of your excitement into her mouth. Your hands feel over her, exploring her from hips to chest to waist—everywhere—before sliding her zipper down over her back and stopping just short of her ass.

Liz stops to catch her breath and it's the moment Rei waited for. One girl at your mouth and one at your neck, the kiss a wet mass of three people fighting with tongues and lips. A hand, presumably Liz's, strokes you gently and with a rhythm. Another on your lower back and another helping you push away Liz's dress. Rei's teeth pinch your neck and a familiar laugh rings out.

"So fucking hot," she whispers in your ear before she bites at your lobe.

Liz's dress falls free from her body, piling by her feet. You pull back for a moment. A moment to drink this beauty in. To see her stunning figure. Standing before you in heels, breasts jutted, is the image of perfection. Rei moves behind her, unclasping her bra and it joins her dress on the floor, revealing perky breasts that yearn for your touch.

Your mouth attacks her and her hands are clutching at you, gripping your head, neck, arms, anything she can as you suck a nipple into your mouth. Your hands explore over her skin. Trailing every part, learning her curves, the contours. The way they flow and mould and ripple.

"Don't hog the good parts," Rei hisses in your ear, breaking the trance Liz's tits had you caught under. Your hand and hers fight for the right to touch Liz. All while her eyes roll back from the bliss of being touched so hungrily.

Rei runs a delicate hand between Liz's legs and she tenses for a moment, sucking in a gasp. Her mouth contorts. Another gasp as Rei continues to brush over the fabric nestled between her thighs.

"Tell him what you want, Liz."

She stammers, gasping again before replying, "Want to ride. Ride his cock." She has barely taken her hand off it this whole time she was being undressed and now she rubs it a little faster. Squeezing a little tighter.

Things start to move in a bit of a blur, unsure of whose hands are on whom or whose mouth and body are pressed against yours as all three of you shuffle towards one side of the room. Somewhere through it, Rei took the lead and made sure you found yourself sitting on the lid of the toilet. Liz's underwear have long since been discarded and she's found herself perched on your thigh.

Liz wraps her arms around your neck as she straddles your leg. She's wrapping her body around you. Grinding against you. Making desperate sounds. Reaching with her mouth to find yours and planting her kisses.

Rei sits on you too, having helped off whatever remained of your clothes. She grinds too, using your other thigh. Rubbing her wet pussy on your leg, while the fingers of one hand comb and massage over your hair while her other trails her nails lightly over your skin. Her lips are soft against your shoulder. The smell of sex fills your nose. You breathe it in, finding yourself wanting.

Rei is so very dangerous to your senses. The softness of her touches. The sensual, raspy tones of her whisper in your ear. How your cock pulses with every plea.

"Keep your dick ready. We will put it to such good use." The first of many dirty promises and sweet nothing Rei whispers as the minutes draw past. She grows ever more erratic. And in contrast, Liz is controlled and measured, fucking her cunt against your leg with focused intent.

They writhe and roll their hips with the urgency of their heat. Wet, pink, and needy cunts, gliding over your skin. Desperate for friction.

"Oh Liz!" Rei moans.

"Ah! Fuck! Don't—”

Liz moves. Unsure, jolting, wracked and robbed of rhythm. It's in those moments Rei leans in for a kiss. Both girls writhe with pleasure, hands to breasts and mouths joined. It's at once an incredible sight. Incredibly erotic and exotic. The display of sensuous want. Skin aflame. Dew of their heat collected.

"Please fuck him," Rei breathes her demands through ragged and frantic breaths. Rei stands and guides, drawing Liz towards your cock, impatient and urgent, with a vice-like grip on her arm. "He is so good," she says through laboured breaths and wet pants.

With Rei's guidance, your dick finds its place between the folds. Wet and silky. Plush and sticky. The undersides of her soft, jiggling thighs press against you as she climbs to mount. So wonderfully slow the descent down your shaft.

It's with an agonisingly measured motion she takes your cock, inch by inch. She swallows every fraction. An exquisite glide. Feeling the undulating pattern of her depths as they shift and cling. Her lips drawn in a tight, silent circle. Her eyes clench shut as she lets out a long and strained exhale. Her back arches slightly, almost reaching the limits, taking you to the hilt.

"Oh Rei, fuck," she whispers, before opening her eyes and meeting yours. Lustful gazes meet for a long second and she leans forward. She keeps you there, lodged and tight for a moment longer. Holding onto it, and you. "Need a minute," she tells you through her laboured breathing.

The beat of your hearts collide in the tense moments as you wait. She is poised to make the most of the moment. Liz begins so slowly. Tentative. The slightest of rocks, cautious and experimental, to ensure herself and you of her control. With each subtle and calculated motion, the sweet clench of her tight insides squeeze.

Her forehead rests against yours as she looks down, fully in focus with the rise and fall.

"She's so good. Tell her," Rei purrs her words as she leans into her friend. "How nice does she feel?" Rei's kissing at Liz's neck between her words. Nipping at the skin while you can feel every shallow gasp Liz makes. The way she inhales each time with a deeper and harsher breath when Rei nips just so.

You barely manage to find your words, but you tell her. Whispering sweet compliments on how nice her pussy feels around your cock. You don't stop there, appreciating parts of her body as you touch them. Running your hands over her hips has you telling her how wonderful she feels under your fingertips, gripping her ass and holding tight to tell her how perfect she is. Her moans and groans fill your ears with music of lust and desire.

Rei's hands travel the expanse of Liz's body as she keeps nipping at her neck. She takes her nipples between her thumb and finger. Squeezes and twists. "So beautiful. He is so turned on by you." Her words encourage and drive Liz as she rides with greater pace and intensity. As the tempo rises, Rei grows impatient with her own needs. "Liz..." she whispers, "give me your hand."

Keeping one on your knee, Liz surrenders the other to Rei. Rei draws her friend in between her legs, "touch me while you ride, please, Liz."

"I don't know how." Her hips rise and fall, still working herself onto your dick. The words of a girl unsure.

Rei puts Liz's hand on her cunt and presses her fingers to the mound. "Yes, you do, just do it how you like it."

"Here," you say, moving your hand between Rei's legs, you guide Liz's fingers and show her how to stroke her friend, "press your fingers here. Move them in a circle. Small but quick circles."

"Mm, Liz, oh—" Rei moans through her strained attempt at words.

“And I think Rei likes it when—

“Ah! Yes!”

Liz puts so much focus on her friend that she struggles to keep riding, as much as her body craves it. She struggles for a while, riding your cock and rubbing Rei's clit. Soon her focus falters, and her pace decreases, losing rhythm as she struggles between the two.

"More Liz, more," Rei pleads.

You take hold of Liz's hips, your fingers digging deep into the flesh of her ass. You drive up into her and a whine escapes her lips. You take over and she pushes her fingers deeper inside Rei just as she wanted, pulling her closer and burying herself into her cunt. Rei melts into Liz as your cock pounds into her.

Rei puts an arm over your shoulder and holds onto you, clawing into your neck and holding you firm. "Ah. Liz... yes." You can tell it won't take Rei long like this. You've noticed how easy it seems to be to make her cum, so this should be no challenge even for Liz.

Surprisingly, without warning, Liz is the first to crumble. Without ceremony. Just a sudden gasping stammer that rattles in her chest. Every sound she makes is a whining, babbling, and messy blend of lust and carnal release. The two collapse against each other as you fuck Liz through her orgasm.

Rei lets out a frustrated groan as Liz struggles to keep fingering her through her tremors. "My clit. Please," she cries. "Here, Liz, here." Her voice is desperate and urgent, trying to guide Liz's finger back where she needed her. "No, no, don't stop." Rei's voice breaks again, desperate and waning.

Liz is limp, unresponsive, and falling into your arms. Totally consumed. Struggling to fight as her whole body seizes with euphoria. You wrap your hands around her body, shifting positions and sliding out of her, leaving her trembling on the toilet. Her body still wracking and twitching and jerking, whimpering and sobbing in post-orgasm bliss.

Rei is agitated. "Need your cock. Want it. Bad. So bad." She throws herself against your body, hands running all over until one grips your cock, still wet with Liz. Your cock twitches. "Need this cock. Fuck. This is making me so hot."

Never have you seen such hunger and need. Lust so dire and reckless. Rei has an inexhaustible libido—an insatiable appetite for sex. You are barely out of Liz's snatch and yet already Rei's is gushing for you. And who are you to deny such a good pussy another fucking?

You bend Rei over towards the hazy Liz. Rei's arms reach over her shoulders onto the wall and her legs spread apart over Liz's knees. You lean behind, ready to enter. Liz's hands brace her waist.

Rei looks at you over her shoulder with her devilish, sadistic smile. "Take me, stretch my fucking cunt. My pussy needs you." Her vulgar demands sound so good, with erotic venom in her words, and you're in her again.

"Yeah, yes. Finally..." Rei coos, as if you deprived her, waiting so patiently for Liz to finish. She pushes her ass back, swallowing you deeper. You run your hands over her skin; her perfect curves. "Mm... yes, finally! Like the first time."

You pound her with a vigour—merciless and rapid thrusts of your hips that drive her into Liz. For someone so small and seemingly delicate she is full of stamina and power, eager to meet every thrust. Your hips clap against her ass and her tongue falls out. A visage of mindless and unrepentant ecstasy. A cathartic euphoria. As your body collides, Rei is bent lower over the resting Liz.

She leads with her tongue, into Liz's mouth, the two girls sharing sloppy, messy, passionate kiss accompanied by stifled moans and Rei's signature giggle of pleasure.

Rei rises from the kiss to pant a sharp breath, but she quickly descends once more, licking up her neck and then sucking the lobe of her ear. While she's busy feasting on the side of Liz's neck, you lean further forward, both pushing in and down on Rei, but also to get your own fix of the girl beneath.

She's dazed and happy. Arms loosely over Rei, she looks up at you. Smiling. The sparkle still twinkling in her eyes. Blanketing and enshrouded with lust. "Feels good," she says weakly.

"For such a long time I've wondered if Liz tasted as good as her body looks," Rei teases Liz, giggling to herself as she playfully bites her neck.

Liz's cheeks flush an embarrassed shade. She replies through a gasped laugh, "you're always talking, saying stuff, teasing all the time." Liz fights through the nerves to manage to say, "you shouldn't..."

"But have you thought of us actually doing it?" You can feel the wickedness from her, her words are as playful as they are inciting and before Liz can give a reply, Rei is dragging her hand between Liz's legs.

She reacts with a spasm that shoots through her, her muscles tensing as if the faintest of touches sent an electric shock through her. Even the light, innocent touch of Rei's fingers has her rolling and squirming under you both as if she is having her every nerve picked apart. "No. Maybe. Once... Oh, fuck, Rei."

Liz buries into the crook of Rei's neck, as best she can anyway, as Rei still jolts back and forth from the pounding you're giving her. Rei just laughs. "Good answer."

You're still rutting into her from behind, and she is growing shaky, her own ability to support herself failing, struggling to remain upright, pushing down onto Liz. Rei's cumming again. Squeezing tighter around you, fighting harder for every bit of motion between your bodies.

Rei pulls her hand back from Liz to push you out and catch her breath, and she falls fully over Liz, causing her to slouch further in her seat and straddle her.

You pull out from Rei, still without release, and instinctively drop to one knee, pulling Liz's leg up to your waist and moving to slide into her again, even if Rei is kind of in the way.

So Liz lies back flat against the seat of the toilet, a panting Rei mounted over her, and you between her legs—sliding your length into her cunt.

"Why," Rei starts, interrupted by her short gasp. "Did I have to have such hot friends?" You grab Rei's ass and use it as an anchor as you drive into Liz. "I'm so jealous of you getting to fuck us all."

"Shouldn't be," you say between heavy breathing—the effort starting to wear. "This whole thing is a mess. All you girls.”

"You're killing me here," she giggles. "If I had a big, thick cock, I can't think of a better way to use it than that." Rei keeps giggling. Loving this whole thing. She is a ball of boundless energy and as you pound into Liz, she just can't resist touching. She cups Liz's breast in her hand and rolls her nipple between her thumb and finger. "I would love Liz here to cum around my cock."

"You're insane," Liz moans out. Her voice shaking; ruined by the joy you're pumping into her. Her eyes flutter, drifting in and out of bliss.

"I'm insane? You're the one getting pounded by a stranger while your best friend humps your body and plays with your tits." She's absolutely crass with her words and her actions. Durty. Obscene. She continues her verbal assault on a gasping and stunned Liz. "How long have you dreamed about a good, thick cock, fucking you stupid? How many times have you had to finger yourself while watching those amateur porn videos or reading those filthy stories online?"

Liz can barely speak to argue back.

"You girls could always... use a... strap-on." You tell them as your breath gets caught in your chest, you feel it coming. That tingling. A rolling rumble. You're already struggling, feeling the effects of the marathon. But your comment makes them both giggle.

Rei leans down and presses her mouth into Liz's neck. "We could..." Rei is growling now.

Liz is cumming again. Her insides constrict, and her body seizes. The ripples and clenches of her orgasmic vice are too much. You fall over her and press your forehead into Rei's back. Gasping. Panting for air. You're so close it hurts.

So you pull out, reluctantly, freeing your throbbing cock from her hold and standing. A whimpering gasp leaves her lips as her body still shakes.

Rei climbs down from Liz, kneeling in front of you. "A strap-on isn't the same as the real thing." She takes hold of your cock in her delicate touch. So softly, she whispers her words. So gently, they hang in the air with the melodious sound of her voice, sweet like honey and dripping from her lips. "Will you do a dirty girl a favour and paint her pretty face?"

The sight is beyond stunning—an angel on her knees. She rests the tip of your cock against her pursed lips and slowly jerks you. Her glimmering eyes looking up at you in expectant admiration. Her other hand squeezes her breast. She does this all with the utmost confidence that she is going to get exactly what she wants. You nod to her. Yes.

Liz slides from the seat, joining Rei on the floor, on her knees. Rei's hand continue while she shares a smile and a whisper with Liz, words of encouragement that prompt Liz to move in on you. She works her mouth against your balls, planting kisses and stealing licks.

Both girls savour the taste of your cock while they play with it. They continue until their saliva soaks your length. Your shaft glistening and dripping in their lubricant as their tongues dance along your cock.

It doesn't take you much longer until the two girls are cheek-to-cheek and gazing up into your eyes with the soft strokes of their hands. "Cum for us. Cum. Paint our faces, cover us. Cum. Do it." They beg you.

And then, release.

Hot cum pumps from the tip, erupting in thick strands. The first on Rei—a long thick rope onto her forehead, down the bridge of her nose and across her cheek. She remains remarkably poised, relishing the feeling. Then onto Liz, you catch her with a lot too, just like you did Rei and she flinches. Some into her open and ready mouth. Some on her lip and rolling down her chin. She tries to take her mouth to your cock, but Rei leans in the way and wrestles control and instead, another two shots—one splatters across Rei's lips and the next into her mouth.

Rei pulls you into her and sucks, then rolls her tongue around you. Jerking the final drops and draining you empty. When your hips cease to jolt, Rei swallows. Her mouth and face—messy. Glistening. Still smiling as she looks up at you with glee in her eyes.

Liz's slouches back, propped against the toilet. Her hand plays between her legs. Thrusting her fingers with a fast, firm pace. Chasing a climax she can only finish herself. A sight that steals your attention. The glorious scene of Liz masturbating is utterly hypnotic, the music of her moans in harmony, the euphoria consuming and overwhelming and a rarity you savour.

Another drop hangs from Rei's chin. You bring your cock and tilt it—dragging the rope of cum along Rei's lip. Into her mouth. A quiet moan as she cleans you—the feeling of a dull vibration. With a final suck, she frees you and you almost stumble over, collapsing. You catch the counter, barely.

Rei turns back to her friend and pushes in—meeting mouths. Her lips kiss the taste into Liz. Taking it off her lips and drawing it into her mouth. Her tongue snakes around Liz's before the two girls join in an intense and passionate kiss. Your cum traded between the pair—back and forth. Wet and lewd. Sloppy sounds that have you mesmerised.

Liz swallows as best she can before her strained voice breaks the trance. “This is the best. It will never be topped.” Her dainty fingers still playing with her clit as she continues to savour the experience.

"Until next weekend maybe," Rei interjects. "The three of us could make a whole night of it. Though that might ruin all other sex for us forever." Rei rises to stand, glancing herself in the mirror and reaching a finger up, drawing circles over her cheek to collect a fresh trail of your cum, pressing it to the roof of her mouth and rolling it over her tongue.

It's Liz who finds a smile first, her own soft little giggle followed by a splutter and a cough. It gets you all the same, laughing, the absurdity of this whole scenario dawning on you.

"Think you could handle us for a whole night?" Rei asks you as she stands beside you, looking into the mirror as she pulls more trails of cum into her mouth. Liz stays kneeling on the floor, and she suddenly looks so shy again. Sinking into herself, as if the flush of the lust has washed her clean.

You give a quick chuckle, "maybe not... But I would enjoy every second of trying."

"Guess it is time we all get out," Rei suggests. She looks over her shoulder and says, "and, hey Liz. You're welcome."

"Hm?"

"Your card. You fingered me. So you passed the challenge."

Now fully dressed and looking almost like you did when you first walked in, if just a little scruffier, you leave the girls in the bathroom. You doubt anyone who sees you cares, though. The music too loud, the drink too abundant and the dancing too distracting. So no one notices when you re-join the crowds and pass through the hallways looking for someone—anyone.

You still haven't seen Minju since she disappeared at the card stand, nor Wonyoung or Yujin since they walked off into the crowd. As for Gaeul, the one person who is supposed to stop you from doing stupid things, well you haven't seen her yet at all. Maybe that's why you've fucked three girls already today, Gaeul needs to put you under 24/7 watch.

"Finally found you, bro," a voice calls from your left—right on cue.

You spin, and sure enough, it's Gaeul, standing at the corner of the hallway, arms crossed and leaning against the wall with disappointment drawn over her face. She's wearing some of the highest platformed heels you've ever seen, so she almost looks tall. The dress helps too. It's long and sleek from her shoulders down to her knees. Tight to her skin and shimmering under artificial light. An array of gold sparkles and reflective surfaces, bouncing colour everywhere.

"Gaeul, hey."

"You really shouldn't have brought her, you know that?" You had hoped to have spoke to Gaeul before she saw that Minju is here, but that was never going to happen when you're busy fucking her friends. At least she doesn't know about that—yet.

Her question is rhetorical—you know that—but you shrug and answer anyway, "she insisted."

"Oh, really?" Gaeul snaps and then guides you down the hall. Right now, she doesn't sound like the girl you know. She's agitated and annoyed and you're not actually sure if it's at you or someone else. "Sometimes I wonder what goes through your mind. I don't know if it's stubbornness or stupidity bro, but are you trying to get on their bad side?"

"Is it really that bad?"

"I just don't understand you at the minute. I'm trying to help you but I don't know how when I don't know what you want. Is it Wonyoung? Yujin? This Minju person?"

or Rei? Liz, maybe?

"Gaeul. I don't know."

She stops and turns to you, holding onto your arm. "That's the problem, bro. You know I want the best for you, but if you don't know, then neither do I."

"I can't do this now."

"Fine. Enjoy the party, just do me a favour and don't fuck anyone tonight will you?"

Oops.

#rei smut #naoi rei smut #liz smut #kim jiwon smut #ive smut #m reader #male reader #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #folie a deux #smut

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thedensworld · 2 months

Text

Falling Flower | K.Mg

Pairing: CEO Mingyu! x Secretary Reader

Genre: suggestive, fluff, humour, angst

Summary: Mingyu never thought that he would find Y/n, his friend's secretary, attractive. What's started from eyes, physical, has fallen to his heart. As he tries to get to know you, he realizes he knew nothing about you.

Warning: child abuse, mental health, pregnancy, unprotected sex, ptsd, asexual description on character, heavy plot asdfghjkl.

Part 2 has uploaded here: Flower Bloomed

Mingyu's nervous anticipation lingered in the air as he rhythmically tapped his finger on the sofa, his other hand guarding his mouth to restrain words he feared might escape. Across the room, Choi Seungcheol remained absorbed in finishing his work, seemingly oblivious to the turmoil brewing within his younger friend.

"I was surprised when I heard you'll be visiting," Seungcheol remarked, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Mingyu's restlessness. Rising from his desk, he joined Mingyu on the sofa, prompting a flicker of hope in the younger man's eyes.

The door creaked open, and Mingyu's gaze snapped toward the entrance, only to be met with disappointment as one of Seungcheol's secretaries entered. A visible trace of frustration clouded Mingyu's expression, realizing he wouldn't see you upon the door's opening, a fact that had fueled his anticipation since stepping into the building.

"Here's your coffee, gentlemen," the secretary politely interjected, placing the cups on the table. Instead of retreating, he cleared his throat, vying for both Seungcheol and Mingyu's attention, though Mingyu sensed the message was primarily for Seungcheol.

"Ms. Ji has informed that she needs a day of rest and may join you tomorrow, sir. I'll be attending today," the secretary conveyed, a hint of formality in his words. Seungcheol's forehead creased with concern, and Mingyu, sensing an underlying tension, couldn't help but wonder about the undisclosed circumstances.

"Why didn't she call me? Is she alright?" Seungcheol's voice held genuine worry, and Mingyu found himself caught in the currents of concern and curiosity, eager to unravel the mystery veiled behind Seungcheol's questioning tone.

"Yes, she's alright. She didn't want to worry you, sir. Please let me know if there's anything you need," the secretary assured, earning a nod from Seungcheol before gracefully exiting the office.

Mingyu, sensing an unspoken weight in the air, couldn't hold back his concern. "What's wrong? What happened to Y/n?"

Seungcheol, his face etched with a sigh, began to unravel the untold tale. "She collapsed an hour before you came."

Mingyu gasped, the news hitting him like a sudden storm. "Is she alright?"

Seungcheol, taking a contemplative sip of his coffee, revealed, "Just like what you heard from Jun earlier. She never takes a day off and barely has any rest. I was worried because she has no one but a roommate."

The revelation gripped Mingyu's attention. "No one? You mean family?"

Seungcheol's furrowed brows hinted at a mystery yet to be unraveled. "I don't know, but she didn't write down her family members on the application form."

Seungcheol swiftly redirected the conversation, his tone revealing a calculated move. "Why are we suddenly talking about my secretary? I know you're here with a reason, right? Is it about the article released yesterday?" Mingyu, caught off guard by the shift, sensed that Seungcheol might be deliberately steering away from the topic of Y/n.

"You've got it pretty bad, my man. That's why you disappeared all of a sudden, huh?" Seungcheol remarked, referring to a photo of Mingyu with a woman at Joshua's birthday party. Mingyu sighed, wearied by the older man's probing questions. "It's almost two months already, but why did the media have to release it right before my company's anniversary?" he lamented, finding solace in finally having an outlet for the frustration that had built up since the article's publication.

"They even wrote 'Kim Group's heir playboy agenda...'" Mingyu paused, attempting to convey his exasperation by showing something on his phone.

Seungcheol stifled a laugh while reading a headline the media had crafted. "Kim Mingyu: a businessman who's ready to sweep your heart. Pfftt.."

Mingyu pocketed his phone, frustration evident in his voice. "I didn't go study business in the States just to be accused as a playboy." The weight of Mingyu's words hung in the air, a mix of pride and frustration as he grappled with the undeserved label imposed by the media.

Seungcheol nodded knowingly. "I know. It was your fault starting that playboy image when you brought actress Kim Huisoo to the Jeon charity ball years ago," he stated matter-of-factly, a fact that sent Mingyu's head spinning.

"I know. I should've clarified that Kim Huisoo is actually a cousin. She doesn't want the public to know she's part of our family," Mingyu sighed, a tinge of regret coloring his words.

Seungcheol, nonchalant, shrugged. "It was a good decision that I only brought Y/n to every event I attended." He continued, "That's why I told you to have a woman as your secretary."

"Not all women are Ji Y/n," Mingyu muttered, rolling his eyes at the older man.

Seungcheol smiled proudly. "That's true."

Mingyu, shifting his posture, finally divulged his true purpose. "Talking about Y/n... I actually came here to meet her." He paused, but before he could elaborate, Seungcheol interjected, "What is it?"

Shaking his head, Mingyu rose from his seat. "I should get going. Are you coming to Wonwoo's after-party tomorrow?" he inquired, leaving Seungcheol in a state of confusion. Despite the lingering questions, Seungcheol could only nod as Mingyu exited his office. The unspoken complexities of Mingyu's visit left Seungcheol pondering, unsure of the full extent of what transpired within those walls.

"You must be kidding me, right?" Minseo exclaimed incredulously, throwing her hands in the air as if attempting to physically reject the words that had just escaped your lips. A nervous laughter bubbled up within her, and she desperately clung to the hope that it was all some elaborate joke. "It was a joke, right? Ok, nice one," she managed to say between laughter, offering you a compliment for what inadvertently became an unexpected ab workout from holding back her amusement.

As you gazed at Minseo, a profound calmness settled over you, concealing the internal turmoil that had been brewing since yesterday. Silently, you wished for this surreal revelation to be nothing more than a prank or a bizarre dream. The weight of exhaustion pressed down on you, prompting a deep sigh as you leaned into the sofa. Fatigue gripped you, and you closed your eyes, seeking a momentary escape from the harsh reality that had unfolded.

Kim Minseo scrutinized your expression, her own heartbeat quickening as the reality of your confession sank in. The gravity of your words was unmistakable, and there was a palpable tension in the air – nothing about this was a joke. The weight of the truth hung heavily between you.

In a surge of disbelief and frustration, Minseo seized your collar, her grip tight and accusatory. "You're crazy?! How could you get pregnant all of a sudden?!" Her words erupted like a storm, echoing through the room as she confronted the unexpected revelation.

You furrowed your brow, a mixture of annoyance and resignation etching your features. "I know. It just happened," you mumbled, attempting to convey the unexpected nature of the situation. However, the mounting tension pushed you to a breaking point, and in a moment of frustration, you pushed Minseo away. The force caused her to stumble, landing on the floor – a physical manifestation of the emotional turmoil that had unraveled in mere moments. The room now held an uneasy silence, broken only by the echoes of Minseo's shout and the lingering weight of an unforeseen reality.

Minseo swiftly rose from the floor, her urgency palpable as she seized your arm. "Let's go have an abortion!" she declared, the words hanging in the air with a weight you never anticipated coming from her.

Your eyes widened in shock, the gravity of Minseo's suggestion hitting you like a sudden storm. Her unexpected proposal left you speechless, grappling with the reality of the situation. This was a turn of events you hadn't prepared for, and the tension in the room escalated.

"What?" you stammered, the incredulity evident in your voice. The idea of Minseo suggesting such a course of action caught you off guard, unraveling any expectations you might have had.

Minseo locked eyes with you, her expression a mix of determination and concern. "What?" she echoed, seeking a response to her proposal.

Shaking your head, you replied hastily, "I don't have time. I have work to do!" The weight of responsibilities, both unexpected and preexisting, pressed on you, clouding your judgment.

In response, Minseo gasped before tightening her grip on your collar once again. "And you've got time to get knocked?" she retorted, her frustration evident as the confrontation escalated, leaving both of you ensnared in a complex web of emotions and decisions.

Observing your silent turmoil, Minseo released a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of understanding. Her eyes softened as she settled beside you, gently taking hold of your hand in a gesture of support. "How long is it?" she inquired, her tone filled with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

You turned your head to meet her gaze, the vulnerability in your eyes reflecting the reality of the situation. "5 weeks," you revealed, the weight of those weeks palpable in the heaviness of the air.

A nervous edge crept into Minseo's voice as she broached a sensitive question, "Do you know the father?" Her inquiry hung in the air, the uncertainty adding an extra layer of tension to the conversation.

Closing your eyes, you hesitated, reluctant to delve into that particular topic just yet. Instead, you nodded, your acknowledgment accompanied by a flood of memories from the night in question. Regret washed over you as you raised your hands to cover your face. Rather than succumbing to sadness, embarrassment swept over you like an overwhelming wave, adding a complex layer to the emotional tapestry that unfolded. The room, once charged with confrontation, now held a delicate atmosphere of shared vulnerability and unspoken understanding.

The weight of the revelation hung heavily in the air, and you couldn't escape the realization that it was a mere drunken mistake – a wishful thinking that somehow the alcohol had clouded the events of that night. However, clarity hit hard as you acknowledged that you were a hundred percent sober, the memories of that regrettable night etched vividly in your mind. A part of you yearned for him to forget, yet another part wished he would remember.

"Noooo!" The exclamation escaped your lips as you kicked your leg into the air, a spontaneous outburst that startled Minseo, sitting beside you and absorbing the rollercoaster of emotions.a

Minseo, with a careful tone, sought to understand the complexity of the situation. "It's not just a random person you met at a club or something, right? The father?" she asked, delicately navigating the sensitive terrain.

"It'll be better," you mumbled in response, a quiet plea for understanding. The weight of the truth and the potential consequences loomed large, creating a web of conflicting emotions that both bound and divided you in this unexpected journey.

Minseo's palm met her forehead in an exasperated gesture. "Okay!" she declared as she rose from her seat, pointing a finger at you to emphasize the undeniable fact – you were five weeks pregnant. The weight of the revelation settled in the room as she continued, "And I'm going to fly to the States for study in three days."

A cloud of guilt seemed to shadow her expression as she posed a poignant question. "Are you okay with me leaving you?" The concern in her eyes was evident, a reflection of the dilemma she found herself in.

You nodded reassuringly, "Yeah, don't worry. It's not like my entire life would change," you offered, attempting to alleviate Minseo's concerns and downplay the upheaval that lay ahead.

"Should I delay my study and help you instead?" Minseo queried, raising a brow in consideration.

In response, you playfully threw a pillow in her direction, the well-aimed hit prompting a light chuckle. "No way! You worked hard for this. You should go," you insisted, appreciating her ambitions and refusing to be the reason for any detour.

"It's not like it's my first time living alone," you added, attempting to underscore your self-sufficiency despite the unexpected circumstances. Minseo observed you, her worry evident as she mumbled, "But you're pregnant."

Standing up, you prepared to retreat to your room, asserting, "It's just pregnancy, Minseo. I'll get used to it. Don't worry," leaving a lingering reassurance in the air as you walked to your room. You definitely need time to process this.

As you strolled towards the office, Seungcheol abruptly halted and called your attention, snapping you out of the daydream that had seemingly captivated your thoughts since morning.

"Are you okay? Do you need a day off?" he inquired, observing your startled expression. You shook your head, offering your usual smile. "I'm good, sir. Just lost in thought. I apologize," you said, motioning for him to resume the journey to his office.

"What did the hospital say about your condition yesterday? I hope it's nothing that's causing you to be distracted today," he remarked, a mix of jest and genuine concern in his tone. Clearing your throat, you reassured him, "i'm fine, sir. Just exhaustion. I rested well yesterday," you explained.

Once the two of you arrived in front of his office, he paused, refraining from entering immediately. Turning towards you, he hesitated for a moment before extending an invitation, "Can you accompany me for my schedule tonight? Just until the after party."

Nodding in acknowledgment, you took note of this favor, "Do you want me to come in a suit or a dress, sir?" It was a routine question, one you always posed whenever the same agenda surfaced.

"Dress, please. Even though it's Wonwoo's birthday, you know how the Jeons are with their events," he replied, a subtle reminder of the grandeur and regality that often accompanied gatherings hosted by the Jeon family.

As you nodded and respectfully bowed, returning to your desk, Seungcheol unexpectedly swung his office door open once again, prompting you to turn your head towards him.

"Yes, sir?" you inquired, noticing the furrow on Seungcheol's brow.

"Mingyu was looking for you yesterday. Do you have business with him that I don't know about?" he questioned, his tone reflecting a mixture of curiosity and concern.

Caught off guard, you paused for a moment before nervously responding, "He might want to confront me for a mistake I made last week. I mistakenly scheduled a meeting with him earlier than intended." The unexpected visit from the heir of Kim Group, CEO Kim FnB, Kim Mingyu, still surprised you.

Raising an eyebrow, Seungcheol pressed further, "Why does he have to confront you himself?"

You shrugged, replying, "Mr. Yoon was like that as well," referencing Jeonghan, Seungcheol's friend who often interacted with you in a friendly manner.

Seungcheol sighed, expressing his concern, "Please tell me immediately if the boys bother you next time," his words carried a protective tone, a reminder of the tight-knit group of friends you had become acquainted with through your association with him.

As you nodded in acknowledgment, gratitude laced your words, "Yes, sir... Thank you so much." Seungcheol reciprocated the nod before gently closing the door, leaving you alone at your desk.

A heavy breath of relief escaped you as you contemplated why Kim Mingyu sought you out. Did he remember? You shook your head, recalling that he seemed oblivious that night, likely due to intoxication. If only you hadn't approached him at the bar and engaged in conversation.

To shake off the lingering thoughts, you resorted to a series of self-slaps to regain focus. There was a pile of work, emails to send, and phone calls to make. Distractions happened, but you were determined to get back on track.

Just as you were settling into your tasks, a phone call from Minseo interrupted your concentration. Her urgent tone conveyed a sense of distress. "Ji Y/n, what am I gonna do? My course starts earlier than I expected, and I have to fly to the States by tonight," she explained, painting a picture of her predicament.

"Really? But I have a schedule tonight; I can't come to the airport," you replied, glancing at your itinerary, which indicated the after party starting at 11. A brief moment of realization hit you; that was the time you'd be free.

"It's okay. Please make sure that you call me if anything happens, okay? I'm in the middle of packing!" Minseo requested, seeking reassurance.

"Hmm... Take care," you replied, the weight of conflicting priorities settling in.

"Mr. Bae Inhyeon, President of Gubbae Electronic, at 12 o'clock," you whispered to Seungcheol, trailing a few inches behind him. Seungcheol's grin widened, and he raised his hand in a welcoming gesture towards Bae Inhyeon. You followed suit, offering a polite bow as Seungcheol introduced you as his dedicated secretary.

Not even ten minutes had passed since you and Seungcheol arrived, yet the room buzzed with excitement as everyone eagerly anticipated meeting Seungcheol, the formidable contender for the future presidency of Choi Corp. With a subtle finesse, you discreetly shared the names of those who greeted him, offering hushed insights behind his back. Your role extended beyond mere administrative duties; you navigated the intricate web of industry relationships with adept skill.

As the interactions unfolded, you observed the dynamics at play, blending seamlessly into the background while subtly influencing the course of conversations. The air was charged with ambition and anticipation, a palpable energy that hinted at the high stakes involved in the corporate world. Your commitment to understanding the industry's players proved invaluable as you seamlessly assisted Seungcheol in navigating the intricate social fabric of business engagements. In this fast-paced environment, your keen awareness and discreet gestures spoke volumes about your competency as a secretary.

After exchanging pleasantries with the gathering, Seungcheol made his way to Wonwoo, the man of the hour celebrating his birthday. With a subtle motion, he indicated for you to enjoy the impending festivities, as the ceremony for the launch of Wonwoo's entertainment label was about to commence.

Taking advantage of the brief moment, you excused yourself and navigated toward the restroom, intent on a quick check of your appearance. Inside, you found two women engaged in a lively conversation, their camaraderie evident.

As you eavesdropped on their discussion, it became apparent that they were the "plus one", well-versed in the dynamics of the industry. The woman in the black dress remarked enthusiastically, "Did you see Kim Mingyu entering the ballroom? This place lit up."

Her companion, while reapplying lipstick, nodded with a knowing smile. "He's a fine man, and he's still young. What do you expect from a conglomerate?"

The black dress woman chuckled, her tone carrying a hint of mischief. "However, he's a womanizer, do you know that?" she revealed.

The woman in the yellow dress responded with a teasing tone, "With that look, he couldn't not be one. If my daddy ever grows tired of me, I might just throw myself at him."

A sigh escaped your lips as you turned your head towards the animated conversation. "Excuse me, Daddy's babies. Could you lower your voices a bit? Thanks," you calmly requested, punctuating the statement with a corporate smile that concealed any underlying irritation.

They scrutinized you from head to toe, skepticism evident in their eyes. One of them, with a hint of disdain, asked, "Who are you? It doesn't seem like you're part of their circle. Are you also a mistress?" Laughter ensued from both, the echoes of their amusement resonating within the restroom.

Undeterred, you gracefully walked away. Just before reaching the exit, you turned your body and retorted, "Do I look like one of you guys? Stop joking!" The playful remark carried a touch of assertiveness as you left the restroom, leaving behind the lingering traces of your unyielding self-assurance.

The ceremony had yet to begin, and as you wandered around the ballroom, Seungcheol appeared to relish his newfound freedom in your absence. Determined to locate him, you scanned the crowd for his familiar figure.

Amidst your search, a man approached, introducing himself as Lee Jaewook. "You might know me from my father, Lee Daeyong, of Daeyong Finance," he stated confidentially, handing you a glass of wine.

"What's your name, lady?"

Politely accepting the glass, you replied, "Ji Y/n."

His admission continued, "I've seen you around sometimes, but I never dared to approach you."

Nodding graciously, you offered a warm smile. "I appreciate that. I'm engaged," you revealed, lifting your hand to showcase the engagement ring you always wore to events—a precautionary measure suggested by Seungcheol. The ring had been carefully chosen and purchased by him.

Jaewook appeared taken aback, inquiring, "Are you with your fiance then? May I know him?" Before you could utter a response, a hand slipped around your waist, catching you off guard. Turning, you found Kim Mingyu with a smile that seemed to hold secrets shared between them and extended to Jaewook.

"I've been looking for you," Mingyu remarked softly, his words carrying a certain ambiguity. Confusion etched across your face as you regarded him, but any questions were silenced as he whispered into your ear, "Just play with me."

"Kim Mingyu, I didn't know you had such a beautiful fiancée," Lee Jaewook remarked, a touch of admiration in his voice. Mingyu responded with a charming smile, acknowledging the compliment, "Yeah, it's not easy to have a beautiful fiancée and try to keep her away from some foxy eyes around. Right, Lee Jaewook?" He took the glass of wine from your hand, sipping it casually as if to emphasize his point.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, wondering about Mingyu's unexpected playfulness. It was a departure from the composed and mysterious demeanor he had displayed earlier. As Lee Jaewook smiled and excused himself, stating, "I should go. See you later, you two," you couldn't help but feel a lingering sense of intrigue and uncertainty.

As Lee Jaewook departed, you seized the opportunity, releasing a fake cough to capture Mingyu's attention. He promptly withdrew his hand from your waist into his pocket, meeting your gaze with a hint of amusement. "Not even a thanks?" he teased, his tone carrying a playful edge.

You sighed, offering a gracious smile, "Thank you so much, Mr. Kim." Intent on continuing your quest to find your boss, you began to move away, but Mingyu unexpectedly grasped your arm, halting your departure. "I think we have something to discuss."

Tilting your head skeptically, you mumbled, "I don't think so," though your heart betrayed you with a subtle flutter. Mingyu leaned in, his hand tracing your left arm as he whispered, "Even you wear the same bracelet as that night." The revelation caught you off guard, and you instinctively took a step back, a rapid exhale betraying your flustered state.

A stroke of luck intervened as you caught sight of Seungcheol seated at his table with friends Jeonghan and Joshua. Turning to Mingyu, still playfully smiling, you seized the moment. "Let's talk tomorrow at lunch," you asserted before walking away, leaving behind a tantalizing air of mystery and a perplexed Kim Mingyu. The ballroom continued to buzz with anticipation, but your focus had shifted, promising a lunchtime rendezvous filled with unanswered questions and hidden intrigues.

Mingyu carefully placed your order on the table, his discomfort apparent as he kept a watchful eye on the surroundings—ever mindful of maintaining a low profile in the presence of college students. Taking your sandwich, you remarked, "No one knows you here," alluding to the anonymity offered by the casual crowd.

Sitting across from you, Mingyu sighed, his gaze fixated on you as you began to eat. A playful smile crept onto his cheeks as he teased, "Slow down, Seungcheol hyung must have starved you, right?"

You shook your head, replying, "I've been wanting this," prompting a chuckle from Mingyu.

While you effortlessly devoured your sandwich, you noticed Mingyu hadn't taken a single bite of his. A trace of guilt flickered across your face, leading you to apologize, "Sorry, is it not to your liking?" His soft laughter followed, leaving you puzzled.

"Why are you laughing?" you inquired, furrowing your brows.

Mingyu shook his head, "No, it's just... I like it," he confessed, his smile genuine.

Curiosity piqued, you casually asked, sipping your orange juice, "What do you like?"

His response caught you off guard, "I like how you're so casual when it's only the two of us."

The unexpected revelation caused you to halt mid-sip, setting the stage for a moment of candid connection amid the backdrop of a quiet lunchtime rendezvous. The air hung with a mixture of surprise and intrigue as you navigated the uncharted territory of personal interaction with Kim Mingyu.

"Never in my life did I think I would have the chance to talk to you until you approached me at the bar," Mingyu began, his words carrying a tinge of vulnerability. "We talked about a lot of things, right? I remembered them all. I also remember... Hmm... What happened next," he nervously confessed.

Your nod signaled acknowledgment, but you found yourself at a loss for words. Mingyu's next statement caught you off guard, "I want to know your feelings about me," he admitted, leaving you slightly taken aback.

Raising your brow, you responded almost whisperingly, "My feelings?" Mingyu nodded earnestly, revealing, "Because I don't resent everything that happened that night. On the contrary, I found it profound."

A pregnant pause hung in the air as you processed his unexpected confession. Finally, you let out a soft chuckle, breaking the tension, "I didn't expect this, Mr. Kim. I mean, it's not very much like how you are portrayed. Your image... is not very much sentimental like this."

Mingyu nodded, "I know, but this is who I am," he explained, his sincerity evident. You released a sigh, leaning back in your chair. Your gaze fixed on him, and you adjusted your posture before expressing, "I don't do romance, Mr. Kim. Honestly, I don't know how to do that. And you know how I'm almost married to my work as Mr. Choi's secretary. I—"

Mingyu quickly nodded, understanding the complexities of your professional life. "Yeah, I understand. I won't rush you. I just want to let you know about my feelings after that night. I'll wait for your answer; take your time," he interjected, cutting through your explanation to emphasize his genuine intention.

You nodded slowly, a quiet acknowledgment of his understanding. "Thanks..." you mumbled, your gratitude mingling with a sense of contemplation.

"And please," Mingyu paused, his eyes holding a plea, "don't avoid me from this time." The request hung in the air, underscoring the vulnerability of the moment.

The encounter with Mingyu left your thoughts in disarray, making it challenging to concentrate on your work. Even Seungcheol's calls failed to pull you out of the daydream that enveloped your mind. Concerned about your well-being after your recent collapse, Seungcheol insisted you leave on time, assuring you that Jun would take care of his needs.

Reluctantly, you took the bus home. As you walked from the bus stop to your shared apartment with Minseo, another sigh escaped your lips. The absence of Minseo for the next two months strangely saddened you, a departure from your usual contentment with solitude.

You never disliked the moments of solitude, relishing the times when you could come home and find Minseo absent. Cooking a delicious meal for her, anticipating her return around 9 while you were immersed in work preparations, and going to bed by 10 had become a comforting routine. However, the sudden longing for Minseo highlighted a void that even the familiarity of solitude couldn't fill.

Your phone rang, and a smile lit up your face when you saw Minseo's name on the caller ID. Greeting her with enthusiasm, you were met with Minseo's melodramatic tone, "What's up with your voice? You're not happy I'm calling you?"

Chuckling softly, you replied, "It's not like that. Just... tired."

Minseo, always quick with her teasing, inquired about the baby. Confused, you questioned, "What's with the baby?"

With an eye roll you could almost feel through the phone, Minseo clarified, "Your baby! The baby inside you... How are they doin'?"

"As tired as their mom," you playfully responded, earning a laugh from Minseo. She then delved into the topic of keeping the baby, referencing her suggestion, to get an abortion. Swiftly dismissing the idea, you explained, "No! I heard it's hurting and takes time to recover. I don't—"

Minseo interrupted with a humorous impersonation, "I don't have time, I have works to do. Bla-bla-bla..." Her words made you laugh.

Regarding the father, you admitted to talking to him but hesitated to share the news. Minseo expressed concern, urging you not to keep the situation from him. However, you confessed, "I just think I don't need him in the frame. You know what I mean."

Concerned, Minseo probed, "But are you gonna be okay with that?" A pregnant pause followed as you contemplated the question, questioning your own feelings about having the baby.

"I don't know. Should I go with your suggestion instead?" you asked, prompting Minseo's playful screams.

"I was just joking! But... I support whatever you decide, Y/n. Just tell me first," Minseo reassured.

As you arrived at your apartment building, you concluded the call, promising to keep Minseo updated. The weight of the decisions ahead lingered, leaving you to grapple with the uncertainty of the future.

Feeling unexpectedly unwell, you woke up with a fever four days later. Quickly, you informed Jun and Seungcheol about the situation through messages, indicating the possibility of taking a day off. Seungcheol, concerned for your well-being, immediately called and offered to take you to the doctor or send one to your house. Politely declining, you assured him that a paracetamol might alleviate the fever.

Throughout the day, you remained in bed, the passage of time marked by your fitful sleep. The darkness outside hinted at the advancing evening, but your fever persisted, accompanied by bouts of nausea. Realizing you hadn't eaten since last night's simple ramen, you mustered the strength to walk to the kitchen.

Dizziness accompanied every step as you prepared another pack of ramen on the stove. Approaching the dinner table where your phone lay, you noticed a barrage of notifications that had accumulated since you turned it off in the morning. Just as you contemplated checking them, a phone call interrupted, and it was Minseo on the line.

Weakly greeting Minseo, you sensed the surprise in her voice as she questioned your well-being. Admitting, "I can't reach you all day. You okay, Y/n?" you confessed, "No... I feel about to faint."

Minseo's voice filled with concern as she pressed for details, "Hey... What's wrong?" The line remained silent as she called out your name repeatedly, growing increasingly anxious.

The lack of response heightened Minseo's panic, a situation she dreaded when leaving you alone. Despite your usual resilience, your occasional bouts of sickness always managed to evoke worry in her. She understood the contrasts in your persona – the organized, straight, and ideal image you presented to the world, counterbalanced by the underlying quirks of your clumsiness and forgetfulness. It was these very qualities that fueled your meticulous note-taking and organizational skills, making you an exceptional secretary.

Minseo, feeling the urgency of the situation, contemplated making a crucial phone call. Aware that something dangerous might transpire if she remained passive, she considered potential contacts. Mr. Park, her father's driver, was quickly dismissed as he was occupied attending to her father. Mr. Seo, her mother's assistant, was also ruled out, as informing him would inevitably reach her mother, who was unaware of Minseo's current location in the States.

Her thoughts turned to her brother. Trusting him implicitly, Minseo decided to call him. Dialing his number, she anxiously waited, relieved when he picked up after only a moment. The connection established, she began to share the concerning situation unfolding with you.

A playful voice greeted Minseo's call, "What is it, Kim Minseo?"

Panicking, Minseo quickly explained, "Oppa, help me! My friend is sick at the moment. And I think she's collapsed in the middle of a phone call!"

There was a pause for seconds before her brother responded, "And then?"

"She's in my apartment; she's my roommate. Can you come and see her? I just wanna know if she's fine," Minseo requested, making a favor to her brother.

She heard him sigh, "Why don't you check her yourself?"

"I'm not in Korea! I'm in the States," Minseo forcefully admitted. "Don't tell anyone."

Curiosity piqued, her brother pressed, "Why are you there? Tell me first!"

Minseo sighed, "I'll tell you later. Please come to my apartment first. Please! Please..."

"Alright, send me the location and details," he finally agreed, the concern evident in his voice.

As Mingyu sighed after ending the call with his younger sister, he signaled his secretary to drive to her apartment first. In the car, he muttered, "She only calls me if she needs anything."

Observing the situation, Mr. Song inquired, "Is it your sister?" Mingyu nodded in confirmation.

"She wants me to check on her friend. I'm a busy person; why doesn't she ask one of her friends?" Mingyu found the request somewhat perplexing.

Deciding to comply, he turned to Mr. Song, "Can you accompany me, Mr. Song? I don't think it'll be appropriate if I'm the only one who goes into the apartment."

Fortunately, the drive took only 15 minutes, as Mingyu was in the nearby area. Once they arrived, Mingyu scrutinized the details his sister had sent, leading them to the 8th floor and apartment number 802. Entering the elevator, Mingyu and Mr. Song ascended to the designated floor.

Arriving on the intended floor, Mingyu and Mr. Song were met with an unexpected aroma of smoke that hung in the air. Mr. Song astutely noticed wisps of smoke escaping from the door of apartment 802.

"Mr. Kim, there's smoke from inside," he urgently alerted Mingyu.

Worried, Mingyu swiftly called Minseo, urgently seeking the passcode. "Is your friend cooking something? There's smoke from inside," he conveyed the developing situation to his sister.

After Mr. Song adeptly opened the door, Mingyu concluded the phone call and entered the apartment. Smoke engulfed them, prompting both Mingyu and Mr. Song to shield their mouths and noses. The room was shrouded in a haze as they cautiously proceeded further inside.

Reacting quickly, Mr. Song rushed to the intercom, activating the smoke detection features. A cascade of water descended from the ceiling, effectively extinguishing the smoke. Simultaneously, Mingyu focused on locating Minseo's friend, while Mr. Song skillfully handled the kitchen fire with an extinguisher.

In a moment of shocking revelation, Mingyu discovered a familiar figure lying weakly on the floor. The unexpected sight heightened the urgency of the situation.

Mingyu's heartbeat seemed to halt for a moment as he realized it was you lying weakly on the floor. Shock and concern painted his features as he swiftly assessed the situation.

"Y/n!" he exclaimed, his worry evident as he helped you navigate through the smoke-filled room. The urgency to get you to safety propelled Mingyu into action.

As the commotion in the apartment drew attention, assistance was summoned to the building. Mingyu carefully supported your weakened body, guiding you towards the paramedics who had arrived on the scene. The gravity of the situation was palpable, and Mingyu's focus remained steadfast on ensuring your well-being.

With a sense of urgency, Mingyu handed you over to the waiting paramedics, who quickly took charge, assessing your condition and providing the necessary care. The atmosphere around the apartment building buzzed with a blend of concern and the organized efforts of those responding to the emergency.

Mingyu, visibly distressed, trailed alongside the paramedics as they transported you to the hospital. Concern etched across his face, he couldn't shake off the worry that had gripped him since discovering you in the smoke-filled apartment.

Meanwhile, Mr. Song took it upon himself to retrieve some essentials for Mingyu. Understanding the need for a change of clothes, he swiftly headed to gather necessary items from Mingyu's residence.

At the hospital, Mingyu anxiously waited by your side as the medical team attended to your needs. The sterile environment of the emergency room seemed to amplify the tension in the air. Mingyu's mind raced with thoughts of your well-being, the unexpected turn of events leaving him grappling with a mixture of anxiety and a fervent hope for your recovery.

As the medical staff worked to stabilize you, Mingyu clung to the hope that the prompt medical attention would bring about positive results. The waiting room became a sanctuary of anticipation, each passing moment laden with the weight of uncertainty.

Mingyu, now clad in fresh and dry clothes, had made the call to Seungcheol, your boss, updating him about your condition. Seungcheol, concerned for his secretary, immediately rushed to the hospital.

In the interim, Mingyu instructed Mr. Song to go home, assuring him that he would wait for any updates on your condition. The hospital room became a temporary haven for Mingyu, a place where the weight of worry and the desire for your recovery lingered.

As Seungcheol entered the room, he looked at Mingyu, his face a mirror of concern. "How did you find her?" Seungcheol inquired, seeking details about the situation.

"My sister called for help; she's her roommate," Mingyu explained, still overwhelmed with the relevance of the events that had unfolded. The anticipation in the room heightened as they waited for the doctor to arrive and shed light on your condition. The air was thick with a sense of urgency and concern, Seungcheol's presence serving as a testament to the tight-knit nature of the professional relationships that had become entwined with personal care and worry.

The doctor entered the room, and a hushed silence fell upon Mingyu and Seungcheol, their eyes locked on the medical professional who held the key to understanding your condition. The doctor, with a composed demeanor, began to detail the situation, "Her lungs were filled with smoke, and we've cleared it. However, recovery will take time, and we recommend several medical check-ups to monitor her progress."

A solemn nod from Mingyu and Seungcheol acknowledged the gravity of the situation. However, the atmosphere shifted when the doctor broached the subject of your pregnancy. "The baby is fine," the doctor reassured, but then added, "Careful body maintenance is crucial, especially in the delicate first trimester, which poses potential risks."

Mingyu and Seungcheol exchanged a bewildered glance, the revelation about your pregnancy catching them off guard. The unspoken tension in the room was palpable, and the weight of unexpected responsibilities settled upon their shoulders.

Surprised by this new information, the doctor, unaware of the dynamics between Mingyu and Seungcheol, inquired about the father. The question hung in the air, adding a layer of complexity to an already intricate situation. "I apologize for having to announce the situation this way," the doctor offered, sensing the discomfort in the room.

As the doctor conducted a few more checks, a conversation ensued between Mingyu and Seungcheol, attempting to process the unforeseen turn of events. Mingyu's voice carried a mix of astonishment and concern, "I had no idea."

Seungcheol, still processing the information, responded with a solemn nod, "Me neither."

The doctor, having fulfilled their medical duties, left the room, leaving Mingyu and Seungcheol to grapple with the newfound realities.

"I don't know Y/n has boyfriend." Seungcheol said as he turned his head toward Mingyu. Meanwhile Mingyu only could stand still in silence. Contemplating everything that has happened.

"Yeah, she's fine. I promised I'll take care of her. Just make sure you tell Mom soon that you're not in Korea," Mingyu reassured his sister over the phone, updating her on your condition.

Mingyu settled onto the sofa in your room, patiently awaiting the moment you'd regain consciousness. The clock mercilessly ticked away, indicating the wee hours of the morning – 3 am. Fatigue tugged at him; Mr. Song and Seungcheol had returned home hours ago. Still, Mingyu couldn't bring himself to leave your side after discovering the truth about your condition – the possibility of you carrying his child.

As he sat there, a mix of concern and anticipation played across Mingyu's face, his fatigue overshadowed by a sense of responsibility and newfound realization. The room held a quiet tension, disrupted only by the rhythmic ticking of the clock.

Mingyu found himself reflecting on the recent conversation with Seungcheol regarding your love life. Seungcheol had candidly admitted that, despite working closely for nearly five years, you never divulged any details about a boyfriend or romantic partner. This revelation was particularly striking, considering your previous role as his father's secretary. Mingyu's thoughts were further compounded by your recent statement that you were not one for romance, leading him to consider the possibility that he might be the only one who had shared intimate moments with you.

A heavy sigh escaped Mingyu as he contemplated his own admission. If he were to be honest, his sentiments mirrored yours. As the CEO, the weight of significant responsibilities for the company and its staff often overwhelmed him. Despite his parents attempting to arrange matches with various conglomerate daughters, none had piqued his interest. Mingyu's sister, ever the worrier, had chosen a different path, steering clear of the family business to pursue a culinary career.

In the quiet of the room, Mingyu grappled with the complexities of his life. The burden of expectations, both familial and professional, weighed heavily on him. His fatigue was not only physical but also carried the weight of emotional fatigue, a longing for something more than the orchestrated connections and societal expectations that surrounded him.

The memory of that pivotal night at Joshua's party flooded back to him. Mingyu recalled the details vividly – you in a sleek black dress, the distinct order you placed at the bar, the subtle grace with which you caught the bartender's attention. And then, there was that moment when you turned your head towards him, inquiring with a simple yet impactful, "How's life, Mr. Kim?" It was a question that had lingered in Mingyu's mind, offering a glimpse of connection and a departure from the orchestrated rhythm of his existence.

Mingyu couldn't help but let out a chuckle, finding himself at a loss for words in response to a question he rarely encountered. "How's life?" he mused internally.

"I don't know, how's yours?" he finally replied to your query, intrigued by the unexpected turn of conversation.

You nonchalantly shrugged and took a sip of your orange juice. "Great... Have to deal with a lot of work. But that's how life's supposed to be, right?" you remarked casually, and Mingyu felt a surprising sense of ease in conversing with you.

As the dialogue unfolded, Mingyu discovered a different side to you. You, who had garnered popularity among his friends, received commendation from Seungcheol for your efficiency as a secretary. Jeonghan and Seokmin, both directors in Seungcheol's company, couldn't stop praising your appearance. To them, it seemed like a waste for someone with your looks to be confined to the role of a secretary. Mingyu, too, was now realizing this as he observed the expression on your face while you responded to the questions he posed. Your answers resonated with him, and the realization sparked a connection that transcended the superficiality of social expectations.

Mingyu's alcohol tolerance had always been high, and he vividly recalled urging you to step outside for some fresh air that night. Amidst the ambient glow near the pool and beneath a palm tree, he found himself whispering compliments about your striking appearance. That innocent exchange led to a shared first kiss, and what began with a kiss soon escalated into something more dangerously intimate. Mingyu, fueled by alcohol, surrendered to the lack of control, embracing the pleasure rather than resenting it. In the haze of the night, he anticipated more with you.

However, the harsh light of morning revealed a stark reality – he was left alone. Cold and isolated, Mingyu attempted to reach out, but you remained elusive, even through Mr. Song. He sought you out at Seungcheol's company, only to discover that you were avoiding him. It wasn't until Wonwoo's birthday that he could finally confront you.

In the midst of that confrontation, Mingyu grappled with unexpected emotions. It dawned on him that what he felt for you transcended the physical, extending beyond mere desire. Through your words, your thoughts, and the passionate expression of your opinions that night, Mingyu realized he had encountered a connection that went beyond the surface – a romantic sentiment.

As the weight of the situation pressed on him, Mingyu confronted a profound question. Was it a sin to consider that the baby you were carrying might be his? The uncertainty hung in the air, a heavy burden that only intensified the emotional turbulence within Mingyu.

"You're awake," Mingyu uttered softly as you slowly opened your eyes, a series of coughs escaping you. Concern etched across his face, Mingyu promptly summoned the doctor to attend to your needs. With a watchful eye, he observed your reactions as the doctor provided an explanation of your condition. A glimmer of hope flickered in Mingyu's gaze when your eyes briefly met his during the mention of your baby's condition.

Once the doctor concluded their visit, Mingyu pulled a chair close to your bedside. "How's your feeling?" he inquired, his voice filled with genuine concern.

You released a heavy sigh before confessing, "I was cooking ramen." Mingyu nodded in acknowledgment, understanding the mundane details that led to your current state. "And it burned your apartment as you collapsed. Your fever has gone down though," he added, checking your temperature and tenderly placing his hand on your forehead.

"Mr. Kim, please stop," you urged, puzzled by the revelation that Mingyu was the one who saved you and brought you to the hospital in the nick of time. "How do you even know my address?" confusion laced your inquiry.

Mingyu, lips tightened, began to explain, "Kim Minseo called me to help his friend. She's... my sister." His nervous explanation hung in the air, leaving a palpable tension as he struggled to find the right words.

A silent gasp escaped you as you connected the dots, realizing the familial connection between Mingyu and your friend Minseo. Mingyu's gaze scrutinized your expression before delicately broaching the topic of the baby. "Do you know that you're expecting?" he cautiously inquired, and you nodded in confirmation.

"A week ago. A day before Mr. Jeon's birthday party," you revealed, answering Mingyu's unspoken question.

Mingyu took a deep breath, "is it mine?" He finally asked.

A prolonged silence hung in the air as you gazed into Mingyu's eyes. The hospital room seemed to hold its breath, the only audible sounds being the hum of medical equipment and distant footsteps. Breaking the stillness, you shook your head quickly and uttered, "It's mine," diverting your eyes elsewhere.

Mingyu released a heavy exhale, his confusion palpable. "It's mine, right?" he pressed again, seeking confirmation and clarity.

In response, you gently urged him to leave. "You should go, Mr. Kim. You must be exhausted, and you have work this morning. Thank you for your kindness," you murmured, closing your eyes as if to feign rest.

As you were discharged from the hospital, a familiar face caught your attention. Wi Seunghyun, your mother's secretary, gestured for you to join him in the waiting car. In silence, you complied, feeling the weight of the gaze that had been following you for months now. The realization of the observer's identity finally dawned on you.

Seunghyun drove you to your parent's house, the journey feeling interminable. Exhaustion clung to you, but nervous anticipation kept your eyes wide open. The looming entrance into the house held the promise of confrontations and revelations. You couldn't help but wonder about your mother's reaction upon learning about your condition.

Upon entering the family room, Seunghyun placed your hospital bag as your mother rose from her seat. Instead of the expected embrace that usually accompanied such news, a hard slap resonated through the room, nearly sending you to the floor. The sting of the unexpected physical blow mirrored the emotional shock of your mother's harsh response, creating a tense and disheartening atmosphere.

"How could you be more stupid, Ji Y/n? Getting pregnant before married? Are you some kind of whore?" Your mother, Sung Yaeun, delivered a harsh commentary on your situation, the biting words cutting through the air after months of not seeing each other.

"You've burned your apartment, gone homeless, and pregnant. You only come home every time you're in trouble," she continued, her words carrying a tone of disappointment and frustration as she moved away to sit on the sofa.

"Mr. Wi, please lock her in her room. Make sure no one could meet her unless by my instruction," she commanded, and without hesitation, Mr. Wi complied, tightening his grip on your arm. As your mother's orders were executed, you found yourself silently following Mr. Wi to your room, watching as you were locked in from the outside, isolated in the familiar yet unwelcoming confines of your old room.

The weight of your mother's harsh words and the physical confinement left you frozen, grappling with the harsh reality of your current predicament. The room, once a place of solace, now felt like a prison, amplifying the emotional turmoil within you.

Returning to this room after almost 10 years, you sighed, a mixture of exhaustion and sorrow escaping you as your body leaned against the door. The realization of the gravity of the situation hit you, and silent tears streamed down your face.

The memories of the last time you were in this house surfaced – the day your father passed away. Locked away and denied the chance to bid your father farewell, you had been blamed for his death by your mother. This confinement, the echoes of past injustices, resonated with the pain you thought you had left behind.

The recollection of being locked away and unjustly accused of your father's death brought forth a flood of emotions. Despite the passing years, the wounds remained fresh. The recognition that you didn't deserve the treatment meted out by your mother – the isolation, the starvation – washed over you. It wasn't the first time you had experienced being locked away, but now, you understood you didn't deserve it.

Escaping to your former nanny's house had been your refuge, a sanctuary where you completed your education and found a way to stand on your own. Working as Seungcheol's dad's secretary marked a turning point, allowing you to secure your own place and break free from the shackles of your past. Yet, the return to this house served as a stark reminder of the pain you had endured and the strength it took to overcome it.

From childhood, you grappled with the perplexing mystery of your mother's disdain. Her treatment was marked by physical abuse, emotional neglect, and an unsettling abandonment of your presence. Your father, blinded by allegiance, justified her actions under the guise of it being for your own good. Yet, amidst the turmoil, you slowly comprehended that love was an elusive sentiment within the confines of your home. The only solace you found was in the embrace of your nanny, Gam Mijoo, who became the beacon of warmth and care you craved.

As time unfolded, you began treating Mijoo as a surrogate parent, finding the love and nurturing that had eluded you elsewhere. However, the cruel hands of fate intervened when she passed away during your college years, succumbing to a heart attack.

Locked away in your childhood home, memories of Mijoo's comforting presence fueled your resilience. Despite the pain, you vowed to provide a different life for your unborn child, one filled with love and understanding.

A week had passed, and Mingyu found himself seated in front of his parents after a month, attempting to salvage their weekly dinners that had turned sporadic due to his demanding schedule. Amidst the shared meal, his father dropped an unexpected bombshell, leaving not only Mingyu but also his mother visibly stunned.

Mingyu's mother's voice rose to an uncharacteristic pitch, "What?!"

"Daeyoung suddenly came and congratulated me for your engagement. So, I was wondering if you finally found a girl you want to marry," his father revealed, triggering a heavy sigh from Mingyu. Lee Jaewook, the scoundrel.

The air thickened with tension as Mingyu grappled with the unforeseen revelation, and a mixture of disbelief and frustration played across his mother's face.

"So the woman from the article weeks ago. It was her? Your fiancée?" Mingyu's mother suddenly bombarded him with questions, referring to a photo taken while Mingyu was escorting you to his hotel room on the night of Joshua's birthday. Fortunately, they had blurred your face, only his was visible.

"Let's not talk about that," Mingyu said, attempting to halt his parents' interrogation.

His mother scoffed, "Why? We should talk about this! How dare you have an engagement without involving us. Is that a trend among youth nowadays?" Mingyu's father nodded in agreement, intensifying Mingyu's fatigue as he grappled with what response to give his parents.

"So, who's the girl? When can we meet her?" His father asked with curiosity, leaning in for answers.

Mingyu, caught off guard, shrugged, hesitating to provide an immediate response. "Answer your father, Kim Mingyu," urged his mother, her tone demanding clarity.

Sighing, Mingyu mumbled, "She's busy," buying himself time to consider his next words.

Mingyu's mother's eyes sparkled with curiosity, "Is she finishing her study abroad so that she can't meet us as soon as possible?" she guessed, eager for details. However, Mingyu shook his head, revealing a different truth.

"She's Seungcheol's secretary," Mingyu confessed, the weight of the revelation settling in the room.

Mingyu's father furrowed his brows, questioning, "You're in a relationship with a subordinate? Is she from a conglomerate?" The inquiry sent a wave of nervous tension through Mingyu as he grappled with the potential implications of his choices.

Mingyu shook his head, trying to maintain a facade of calmness. "She's an ordinary staff," he stated, a hint of defiance in his voice.

His mother gasped, "No! Your grandfather won't let you become the heir if you don't marry a conglomerate," she mumbled, a sense of family expectations weighing heavily on the conversation.

Rolling his eyes, Mingyu asserted, "I won't marry a spoiled conglomerate daughter," expressing his firm stance.

The discussion continued, with Mingyu's mother expressing her desire for him to marry someone he truly wanted. However, in the midst of their conversation, a sudden interruption occurred as Mingyu's father's secretary approached, presenting something on his screen. All eyes shifted to Mingyu, who was in the midst of his dinner.

"What?" Mingyu inquired, slightly irritated.

His father, removing his glasses and placing them on the dinner table, declared, "Kim Mingyu, I want you to bring her this weekend." A pregnant pause filled the air.

The weight of those words hit Mingyu like a sudden storm. Shocked and unable to comprehend what he had just heard, he rose from his seat and walked away from the dinner table. Mingyu hastily grabbed his phone, bombarded with messages from his secretary and friends. The notifications revealed a shocking headline: 'Kim Mingyu Seen in Hospital, Mysterious Girl Turns Out to be a Fiancée.' The revelation sent a wave of disbelief and confusion through Mingyu's already tumultuous evening.

Mingyu hurriedly made his way to his apartment, where he and Mr. Song had agreed to meet. Just as he entered, his phone rang, and Seungcheol's name flashed on the screen. Bracing himself, he answered, "I can explain."

A storm of rage and fury erupted from Seungcheol's voice, "How dare you touch my secretary!"

Concerned about your well-being, Mingyu quickly inquired, "Are you with her, hyung?" Hoping you were safe and in the company of Seungcheol.

Seungcheol's hum echoed through the phone, "In fact, she's been living in my house for almost a week."

Mingyu felt a stab of surprise, almost losing his composure at the unexpected revelation. "Why is she in your house?" he questioned, trying to make sense of the situation.

Seungcheol explained calmly, "You remember her apartment was burnt? It takes time to get it done. So she's living here temporarily. My girlfriend didn't mind either."

Sighing in relief, Mingyu acknowledged, "Alright, I'll be there in twenty, hyung." He ended the call, immediately contacting Mr. Song to redirect him to Seungcheol's place. As Mingyu navigated the complexities of the unfolding events, emotions ranging from relief to confusion swirled within him.

"She's in her room with Nari," Seungcheol mentioned, referring to his girlfriend. "However, I want to have a talk with you first," he continued, gesturing for Mingyu to sit on his couch.

As they settled into an uneasy silence, Seungcheol voiced the thought lingering in the air, "So, you two have an affair that I don't know," his words carried a mix of accusation and confusion, leaving Mingyu grappling for an adequate explanation.

Seungcheol's gaze bore into Mingyu, probing for answers, "Is she the girl in the recent articles?"

Mingyu, feeling the weight of truth, nodded, adding, "Also the one you've seen previously."

Curiosity etched Seungcheol's face as he asked, "How long have you two been seeing each other?"

Nervously shaking his head, Mingyu replied, "We're not seeing each other. It just happened... But I truly care for her."

Seungcheol observed Mingyu's sincerity before delivering a revelation that added another layer of complexity, "I can see... But you know, Y/n's situation is complicated. She's having a baby."

Mingyu nodded, acknowledging the weight of the situation. "I actually think... it's mine," he confessed, revealing the depth of his realization.

Seungcheol, unfazed but understanding, remarked, "Kinda expected it, seeing how shocked you were when the doctor revealed it."

"However," Seungcheol continued, his frustration evident, "I don't think it's time for romance and all. The situation has become so complicated." He wiped his face, grappling with the complexities ahead.

Exhaling heavily, Mingyu leaned on the sofa, admitting, "I told my parents that we're both engaged. And they want to meet us this weekend."

Seungcheol silently gasped, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. "Kim Mingyu," he sighed, closing his eyes, "you know how to make things even more complicated." The tangled web of emotions and circumstances unfolded, leaving both men entangled in a situation neither had anticipated.

After a lengthy discussion with Mingyu, you concluded that it would be better to temporarily live with him rather than in Seungcheol's house. Despite Seungcheol being not only a great boss but also a good friend, you didn't want to impose on him and his girlfriend any further. Mingyu had shared his parents' response to the recent article, urging you to attend the upcoming dinner as his fiancée to maintain a semblance of normalcy. You agreed, as long as your identity remained private and Mingyu handled the situation.

However, there was one piece of shocking news for Mingyu. In reality, you were the heir of JIS Corp, a global automotive company based in South Korea. Your father, Ji Seunggi, was a former president of JIS Corp before it transitioned to being managed by a board vote after his passing. Meanwhile, your mother currently held the position of CEO within the company. The revelation left Mingyu puzzled and intrigued.

As Mingyu processed this unexpected disclosure, the question lingered in the air: why did you decide to work with Seungcheol despite your prominent family background?

"I didn't know you were Minseo's roommate," Mingyu admitted as you both drove to his place.

Humming, you responded, "I didn't know you were Minseo's brother." The revelation about your family backgrounds hadn't been a topic of discussion between you and Minseo, both preferring to keep a low profile regarding your respective family names.

Mingyu recalled a recent phone call with his sister, "She called me to help you that night... She's technically begging."

You sighed, acknowledging Minseo's sometimes bothersome but well-intentioned nature, "Yeah, she can be a bit—"

Mingyu cut in with a soft chuckle, "I know what you mean, darling."

Blinking at the unexpected pet name, you couldn't help but wonder, "Darling?" His choice of endearment added a surprising layer to the conversation, leaving you slightly taken aback.

You cleared your throat and asked, "Is your place far?" Mingyu shook his head.

"Not that far. It's pretty close to my company building and Choi Group. Do you drive to work?" Mingyu inquired.

"No," you confessed, surprising him. "Surprisingly, I couldn't drive."

Mingyu's brows raised, "Really? Then who drives for you and Seungcheol hyung?"

"Mostly, Mr. Won," you mentioned Seungcheol's driver. "But sometimes Seungcheol drove himself."

Mingyu smiled, "It's the first time I heard you call hyung by his name. It was always Mr. Choi."

You sighed, "I know, it's still awkward for me to change it. I've been calling him Mr. Choi for the past 5 years. He asked me, though, so I can't really refuse." You explained your reason to Mingyu.

"How about calling me Mingyu? Is it gonna be burdensome for you?"

You tilted your head, unsure. "I don't know."

Mingyu smirked, "Or do you have anything in your mind? Babe? Honey? Yeobo?" He joked, and you sighed loudly.

"Mingyu," you said carefully, a wide grin appearing on Mingyu's face.

"That's better than Mr. Kim," Mingyu remarked, savoring the shift in familiarity between you two.

Once you two arrived at his place, Mingyu immediately offered any assistance as you settled onto the couch. He took the time to give you a brief tour of his clean and organized house, explaining the available guest room for you.

"You could put your stuff and clothes here," he suggested, pointing to a section in his closet connected to his home office.

As you settled in, Mingyu inquired about cooking, to which you nodded hesitantly, not wanting to impose on him further. Surprisingly, he suggested, "Me too. But we're out of ingredients. Do you mind going to the grocery store tomorrow?"

"Sure," you agreed, appreciating his willingness to share responsibilities.

Mingyu bit his lip, hesitating before revealing a shelf in his kitchen stocked with pregnancy products—from formula to vitamins and snacks. "I asked my secretary to have this ready for you... just in case you need them," he explained.

Looking at the products, you shifted your gaze to Mingyu and whispered, "Thanks." His hand reached for yours on the kitchen island, intertwining fingers. "Just want the best for the baby," he mumbled, his genuine concern evident.

Watching your hands together, you found a sense of security around Mingyu. The revelation escaped your lips, "Our baby." The words surprised both of you, Mingyu's eyes meeting yours at the unexpected declaration.

"O-our? Yeah, our baby," Mingyu stammered, taken aback by your words. The truth revealed in that moment opened a new chapter, catching both of you off guard but bringing a genuine connection to the forefront.

In the warm glow of Mingyu's living room, a vulnerable question hung in the air. "Are you accepting my feelings, Y/n?" Mingyu courageously asked, his heart brimming with emotions that he struggled to put into words. Happiness? Love? Tonight had certainly stirred something profound within him.

Rather than answering immediately, you took a slow and hesitant step towards him. With arms outstretched, you embraced his torso, your voice barely audible as you mumbled, "Please take care of me." Mingyu's chest tightened with the rapid beating of his heart, mirroring your vulnerability. His hands mirrored yours, enveloping your body in a reassuring embrace.

"Let's stay like this for a moment, okay?" Mingyu whispered, creating an atmosphere of quiet intimacy, where unspoken emotions lingered in the air.

In that tender moment, Mingyu's soothing words broke the silence, "You're doing great, Y/n... You're doing so well." The sincerity in his compliment was palpable, marking the first time you felt a genuine acknowledgment of your efforts and emotions. The atmosphere shifted into one of mutual understanding and acceptance, as the connection between you two deepened in the stillness of the room.

The weight of suffocating thoughts pulled you from your sleep, haunted by the lingering fear of a repeat incident since the last apartment fire. Midnight's dimness cast a soft glow as you rose from your bed, craving solace in a sip of water. A leak of light drew your attention to Mingyu's home office – was he still working?

The desire for something more than water surfaced, remembering the provisions Mingyu had prepared. As you opened the shelf, searching for a glass, a realization struck – there were none in sight. An unexpected arm reaching for a higher shelf startled you.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu said, aware of his sudden movement. He handed you a glass, taking a step back as you proceeded to make yourself a comforting glass of milk.

"You're still working at this hour?" you asked Mingyu, breaking the silence that lingered in the dimly lit room.

Mingyu shrugged, "Just finishing some paperwork," he explained.

Turning towards him, you offered, "Need help?" anticipating the weight of late-night tasks.

Mingyu chuckled, "I appreciate it, but no thanks. I couldn't pay you overtime." He joked, acknowledging the unconventional hour – 2 in the morning.

Laughing softly, you reassured him, "Seungcheol pays me enough. Just take it as a rent payment."

Mingyu shook his head, refusing the suggestion, "I should ask for those rent payments for something else."

Curious, you asked, "What do you mean?" with a chuckle.

Mingyu playfully suggested, "Maybe a kiss? Or..." leaving the sentence open-ended.

Rolling your eyes, you responded, "Shut up," as you finished making your milk and settled onto the counter.

Mingyu followed you to the counter, his arms unconsciously creating a barricade as he stood beside you. "How's your everyday life look like?" he asked, breaking the quietude of the night.

Sipping on your milk, you shared, "It's pretty basic. Waking up, having breakfast that I prepared the night before. I walk to the bus station, grab breakfast and coffee for Seungcheol on the way to the office. After work, if I'm too tired, I'll take a cab. Sometimes, Mr. Won drives me home too."

"Sometimes I think about learning to drive, but I'm just too afraid," you admitted.

Mingyu nodded, his mind drifting to a shocking news from 15 years ago. "My father died in a car accident," you revealed, watching his face as you shared such a deeply personal and traumatic piece of information. "I was with him, in the car." The weight of the revelation lingered, creating an unspoken connection between you and Mingyu in the quiet of the night.

Mingyu let out a heavy breath slowly. His arms raised to embrace you, "I'm glad you're safe," he said, tightening the hug. In that quiet moment, the weight of past fears and unspoken pain became a bridge, connecting you and Mingyu in the comfort of the present.

Dear diary,

Today marks the beginning of my second year of Senior High School. I'm grateful that Minseo and I are in the same class again this year. I don't know how I would survive high school without Minseo. Although I've befriended everyone, Minseo has been a pillar of support for me since the last time 'she' taunted me.

Minseo confided in me that she likes Taehyung, a boy who sits in front of her and enjoys listening to music with headphones. She mentioned they will have a group project after school, and if Taehyung doesn't ask her out, she plans to make the first move. Minseo asked me if there's anyone I'm interested in within our class or even in the entire school. She seemed surprised when I said no. How could someone not liking anyone yet be considered weird? Perhaps it's because my standards are as high as my father's. Speaking of my father, he's the greatest man I've ever known. However, I couldn't just reveal to Minseo that my father was the President of JIS Corp, could I?

I miss my father.

Dear diary,

Today, after visiting my therapist, she prescribed me sleeping pills in case nightmares return. Meanwhile, Minseo informed me that she dropped out of her business major in college, and she seems genuinely happy about it. I'm relieved she's finally able to choose her own path. I wonder if her parents reacted as negatively as mine did.

When was the last time I saw 'her'? Perhaps a year ago, at my father's memorial. She questioned my presence there, as if I weren't part of the family. I chose not to engage with her, following my therapist's advice: block those who hurt you and prevent you from loving yourself.

What is love anyway? I've forgotten its meaning since 'she' did what she did. I wonder if I'll ever experience love again. It's difficult to develop an interest in anyone.

Continue to part 2

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lavnderwonu · 5 days

Text

first time | kim mingyu

pairing: bf!mingyu x virgin!fem!reader

genre: smut, established relationship

summary: your first time having sex with your boyfriend.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: contains smut (!!!), loss of virginity, inexperienced reader, experienced mingyu, fingering, clit stimulation, masturbation, size kink, oral sex (f receiving), mingyu is a sweetheart <3, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, aftercare.

author’s note!: inspired by this specific ask lol. i have been pondering this in my head for a minute, and i decided to just bring it to life. if this topic/genre isn’t your cup of tea, don’t read it, go read some of my other works. feedback is always appreciated, enjoy! 💞

p.s. we're lucky this made it out of the drafts

to be added to my taglist, click here!

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Mingyu gently asks, gazing down at you as his hands are at the hem of your t-shirt.

He’s stopped himself from pulling it off, patiently awaiting your permission.

Mingyu was always patient with you, more so than you thought you deserved. He never wanted to rush you into something you weren’t ready for, especially when you were open with him and told him you’d never had sex before.

All your friends thought it was a mistake to tell him that, and that he’d find any excuse to leave, especially since they couldn’t believe that a guy like him could want to be with an in-experienced girl like you, and that he’d want somebody who basically…knew what to do with him.

But he never did, and he patiently waited for you.

Now here you are, lying on his bed as he’s towering over you, his hands slowly sliding up your shirt.

“…I need to hear you say it.” Mingyu continues.

You brush his hair back off his forehead, kissing him gently. “Yes, Mingyu…” You can’t help but giggle as you can’t believe how sweet he’s being.

He undresses you carefully, kissing all over your body gently.

Mingyu gently trails kisses down your stomach, stopping when he reaches the waist of your underwear. He tugs on the waistband as you lift your hips for him to take them off.

He takes in the sight of you; already nearly dripping wet for him when all he did was kiss you.

“Do you touch yourself, baby?” Mingyu asks you, his gaze lifting up from your soaking core.

“Uh-huh…” You nod, suddenly feeling lightheaded as he’s now watching your every move.

“Show me, baby.” He smirks, clearly amused.

“Go ahead.”

You bring your fingers down to your clit, circling it a few times, the sense of relief making your eyes flutter shut at the feeling. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you dip your fingers between your folds to gather more wetness, bringing them back up to your clit.

Mingyu’s gaze fixates on your core, until it tears away when you call out his name.

“Mingyu…” You whine, as you shamelessly rock your hips against your hand.

“What, baby?” Mingyu licks his lips as he watches you.

“Touch me,” You beg, leaning your head back against his pillow, while already feeling so eager to know what he feels like. “Please.”

Saving teasing you for another time, since you’re begging for him and he can’t resist, his fingers replace yours and holy shit is it so much better.

You moan against his lip as he kisses you fervently, before he’s climbing down your body until he’s settling himself between your parted thighs.

Your heart pounds in anticipation, his hands gentle as he pushes your thighs further apart for him.

“So pretty…” He mumbles as he eyes your soaking wet core in front of him. “Can’t believe you’ve never done this before…”

You almost want to kick him as if to say get on with it already, but before you can even think, he’s nudging his face between your thighs.

His tongue slides over your clit, and the feeling makes you throw your head back.

“Fuck…” You let out a shaky cry, as you reach out and tangle your fingers through his hair, tugging slightly as you’re desperate for something to hold.

Mingyu groans against your cunt as you let out the prettiest sounds, wanting to hear more from you, he slides two fingers inside you, feeling your walls stretch around his fingers.

“Shit… Mingyu,” You gasp, arching your back off the bed as your hips grind against his hand as his fingers slowly fuck you. His fingers stretching you open almost hurts, but it feels too good all at the same time.

In perfect timing he swirls his tongue around your sensitive clit just as he curls his fingers, perfectly hitting a spot that nearly has you seeing stars. With a loud cry of his name, your legs lock as an orgasm suddenly overtakes you.

Mingyu pulls back just as your head falls back against his pillow, your neck lightly covered in a sheen of sweat. You’re still catching your breath when Mingyu hovers over you again, kissing your forehead gently.

“Ready, baby?” He asks, as he’s ridding himself of his Calvin Klein boxers, making your attention draw to his cock; the mere size nearly takes your breath away.

“You can tell me to stop anytime… okay?”

“Okay.” You breathe out in anticipation, eager to finally know what he feels like.

Mingyu gently pushes your thighs apart, slowly running his cock through your folds to wet himself with your arousal. He inadvertently bumps your clit, making you whimper and grip the sheets in your fist.

He lines himself up with your entrance, shuddering in pleasure when he finally sinks into you, making you gasp.

“Mingyu…” You whine as he’s stretching you open, making you grab onto his sturdy shoulders to ground yourself. “Fuck, you’re so big.”

Mingyu leans down to gently kiss your jaw, leading down your neck to distract you. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” He groans as he finally bottoms out.

His thrusts start off slow and shallow at first, letting you get used to him. You’re squeezing his cock so tight that Mingyu feels the need to ravage you, but he’d save that for another time.

He gradually picks up the pace, as he shifts his hips slightly, making his cock drive right into your sweet spot, making you arch your back and push your chest against him.

You moan loudly as your nails dig into his biceps, making Mingyu groan as your walls clench him.

“Gonna cum already, baby?” Mingyu smirks, breathing so heavily you can feel his hot breathe on your neck.

“Yeah…” You whine, nodding furiously. Your mind is far too clouded with the feeling of his cock inside you to put together any other words.

“Go on baby, come for me.” Mingyu grunts, his fingers moving to rub circles on your clit, making you whimper. “C’mon.”

Your legs shake as you come with a loud cry of his name, Mingyu keeps going until he’s coming too, slowly rolling his hips to fuck you through your high.

It’s amazing how quick his demeanor changes, he’s immediately peppering kisses gently on your face, his puppy-eyes searching your face for any sign of discomfort.

“Was that okay?” He wonders. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

“No, no,” You reassure him, and he’s relieved as you throw your arms over his shoulders to gently play with his hair. “That was amazing.”

He gently rolls you over so he can pull you on top of him, basking in the feeling of your weight on top of him.

“We should do that again…” You hint, your fingers toying with his necklace.

“Do you want to?” Mingyu chuckles. You already can’t get enough of him.

“Maybe,” You snuggle into his chest, sighing contentedly. “I kind of wanna stay like this for a while.”

tags!: @cosmojinyoung @wonuwrites @dearlyjun

#kim mingyu #mingyu smut #mingyu x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut

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edenesth · 4 months

Text

[4:43 AM]

With a faint groan, you rubbed your eyes groggily, realising you had dozed off once more while waiting for Hongjoong to wrap up in his studio – or so he claimed hours ago.

Retrieving your phone to check the time, you sighed, "It's almost five in the morning, captain. Are you close to finishing up?"

Cursing inwardly, your boyfriend turned towards you, wearing a sheepish smile as if just realising the current time, "I'm really sorry, baby. I could have sworn it was only two o'clock just five minutes ago. Just bear with me for a moment longer; I'm saving my progress, and then we can head home."

Perched on the couch behind him, you shot a surprised glance at the generous opening of his shirt. Narrowing your eyes with a hint of suspicion, you crossed your arms over your chest, "Yah, Kim Hongjoong. Are you trying to seduce me?"

He blinked, trying to comprehend what you were referring to until he followed your gaze and looked down at his attire. Only then did he grasp the extent of the undone buttons. After a moment, a smirk played on his lips, his heart swelling with affection as he relished the adorably sleepy expression on your face while you pouted at him.

"Perhaps I am. It looks like I struggle with buttoning my shirt properly. Would you mind doing it for me?" He teased, powering off his PC and moving over to sit beside you. His hands instinctively found yours as he leaned in to whisper in your ear, "Or... would you prefer to undo them all for me instead?"

His suggestive words elicited a gasp from you, and you playfully slapped his chest, "Are you serious? We're in your workplace!"

Grinning, he held your hand against his chest, "So, does that mean if we were at home right now, you would have welcomed this idea wholeheartedly, hm?"

"Y-you—"

Before you could utter anything further, he was already intoxicated by the comforting fragrance of your perfume, leaning in to capture your lips and silence you.

Your eyes widened at his sudden boldness, considering he had always been reserved about public displays of affection, especially at his workplace where colleagues could walk in at any moment. You figured that sleep deprivation must be getting to him, daring him to take such a risk. After a few unsuccessful attempts to push him away, you surrendered, closing your eyes and kissing him back, melting into his embrace.

Maybe you should have trusted your instincts and stopped things before they reached a point of no return.

The next thing you knew, the door to his studio creaked open, and the voice of his producer, Eden, sounded, "Hongjoong-ah, you're still here? Go home already. Your poor girlfriend must be exhausted waiting—"

He stood still at the entrance as both of you jumped apart, "W-well, it looks like she's not too tired, but that's all the more reason to go home, right? Please don't taint the studio."

You buried your face in your hands as your boyfriend's cheeks flushed deep red. He nodded vigorously, "Y-yes, hyung! We're leaving now!"

After Eden left, you shot him a glare, and he scoffed, pulling you onto your feet and into his waiting arms, "Don't give me that look as if you didn't kiss me back just as eagerly."

Your heart raced at his following words, "Come on, let's hurry home. We should probably finish what we started."

"You need sleep, Joong."

"Not until I have you first, baby."

ATEEZ Masterlist

I know I said I was gonna start working on my thesis but GOOD LORD, I could not get producer Joong out of my mind. Also, thank you so much for 1.2k followers, holy crap!

Hope y'all enjoyed this random timestamp lmao as always, thanks for reading and lmk your thoughts! <3

Tag list: @aurasblue @marievllr-abg @itsvxlentine @minghaoslatina @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr @cheolliehugs @ho3-for-yunho @cereal-simp

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #ateez hongjoong #ateez timestamps #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong x you #ateez drabbles #hongjoong drabble #hongjoong fluff #ateez fic #ateez imagines

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starsforselene · 1 month

Text

Prove it - Mingyu x Reader

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x Afab reader

Rating: explicit MDNI

Contains: Fingering, breast play, light ass smacking, doggy style, little dirty talk, unprotected sex, coming on body

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: During a late night hangout session, you and your friend Mingyu get into a discuss over whether all guys fall into the "boob man" or "ass man" category. Mingyu insists he's both. Naturally, further exploration is required.

Note: This is just Mingyu smut I have no excuse.

“Oh, c’mon! Be honest with yourself and with me!”

“I am being honest! I swear it, I don’t have a preference!” Mingyu exclaims as he leans forward on the couch, eyes bright with laughter.

You huff and shake your head as you fold your legs up on the couch, fighting your own laughter.

“Kim Mingyu, every man is either an ass man or a boobs man. The whole ‘I don’t have a preference’ thing is just a way to seem like a sensitive guy. In touch with your feminine side or whatever they say.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes and leans back again. He’s not annoyed, not truly, the smirk on his face gives him away. You’re half a pizza and two soju bottles deep into your routine weekend hang out and the conversation has somehow ended up here. Some would think it strange to ask your best friend what he prefers on a woman but after years of being friends nothing is off limits anymore; you know nearly everything about each other. Maybe part of you just wants to finally know everything about each other.

“I know that you have a strict preference for douchebags who pretend they’re more mature than they are to get into your pants but, I promise you that I genuinely don’t prefer one over the other. I-” he pauses and looks at you, suddenly a little more flushed. “I don’t have to prove myself to you, you know.”

His hesitation peaks your interest, now you have to know. You sit up and lean closer to him, gaze boring into him. He chuckles but doesn’t break eye contact, heat searing through you as his dark eyes meet yours. You inhale sharply, taken aback by the sudden pulsing between your thighs, fighting the urge to bite your lip when you see him lick his momentarily.

“So what were you going to say? That you don’t have a preference ‘cause it’s all just so great?”

He laughs and runs a hand down his face, leaning his head back against the sofa. He’s splayed out almost fully across it now, leaving you just enough space to still be sharing the couch with him. Typically, the fact that he’s sitting there in just a tank top and some shorts doesn’t bother you–he’s just a friend, after all–but his broad shoulders and large arms are just so…there tonight. He’s gotten bigger lately and you’ve enjoyed teasing him on his new hobby but now your body is reacting to the results of his hard work in ways you find surprising. The silence pulls you out of your thoughts, realizing a little too late that you were blatantly staring at the way his pecs stretch the material of his tank top.

“See something you like?” he says, raising his eyebrows comically as he flexes his chest.

“Stop it! Don’t change the subject!” You swat his arm–his very firm arm–and laugh.

“The answer is yes, okay? I don’t have a preference because it’s all great and I love every single inch of a woman’s body. As all men should by the way, even though they don’t.”

The way he holds your gaze as he replies shoots heat down your spine and into your core. Arousal floods your panties, causing you to clench your thighs together. You’re confused at how your best friend is managing to turn you on like this.

Mingyu’s eyes widen the smallest amount as he drops his gaze down to your mouth. In a panic you gasp, releasing your bottom lip in the process. Shit, were you just lustfully biting your lip at your best friend…and he…seems to like it? You search his face for hints of disgust or humor but find nothing but his widened pupils. You sit back against the couch, putting distance between you and whatever the fuck is happening right now.

“Did my answer satisfy you?” he asks, voice husky.

“Satisfy me? It takes a lot more than a response to do that, Gyu.” It amazes you how well you act unaffected when in reality you’re coming apart at the seams.

“I’m sure it takes plenty to satisfy you,” he retorts with a chuckle as he sits up straighter with what you think is a sly attempt on his part to adjust himself.

When he catches you looking he smirks; you played right into it–he wanted you to look. You take a breath in hopes that it looks like you’re annoyed when you’re pretty riled up.

“Oh? Are you trying to say something?”

“Yeah, actually. I am.”

You laugh despite the heat radiating under your skin. If he wants to play this game you can match his energy; that’s not a problem. You square your shoulders and stare him down, willing your heartbeat to settle even though your pulse has been racing since he mentioned you being satisfied.

“Are you insinuating that you can satisfy me?”

Mingyu swallows hard and you preen with satisfaction at how you’ve affected him. It’s short lived, however, as he leans forward to bridge the gap between you. The air feels charged, his eyes meeting yours with a fire you’re not quite used to seeing from him.

“I just want to show you that I really don’t have a preference, that’s all. Plus, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about what it would be like to satisfy you,” he says with a sly smile.

All bravado leaves you along with the air in your lungs, you blink a few times to make sure you’re not dreaming. It takes only a few seconds to gather yourself enough to respond, the words leaving your mouth before you can begin to question it.

“Fine, prove it.”

He closes the distance between you with a low growl, capturing your mouth with his in a kiss that leaves you reeling. You wrap your hands around his neck, tugging him closer as he deepens the kiss, tongue claiming your mouth. With a groan, he pulls you by your waist until you’re straddling him. You can feel how hard he is already, his clothed cock pressing against your aching core.

Your hips grind against him, seeking friction to quell the aching between your thighs, moaning into the kiss as you feel his cock twitch in response. His grip tightens on your waist, moving your hips faster in time to his own grind against you. It should feel silly to be dry humping like desperate teenagers but hearing Mingyu’s whimpers and his body reacting to yours is intoxicating. Without giving it much thought you’re clawing at his shirt to get it off him, tugging at the material until you’re forced to break apart to take it off. He returns the favor and rids you of your shirt, eyes locked on yours, lips swollen from kissing—he looks downright sinful.

“You’re sure you want to do this?” He asks.

“I need to know if you’re full of shit so, yeah, I’m down.”

Mingyu chuckles and rolls his eyes; he grabs you by the back of the knee and before you can protest you’re on your back. He hovers over you, slotting between your legs with ease. You can feel him, hot and heavy against your core; you can’t help but roll your hips up to seek more, making him hiss and tut at you.

“I’m not surprised that you’re an impatient little brat. Sadly, you’re going to have to wait. I have a point to prove.”

Before you can retort, Mingyu shuts you up with a searing kiss. His hand moves down your side to still your hips, squeezing you once in a warning. You groan into his mouth, your hands sliding up his back to drag your nails down his skin. He shivers against you and you love how you can affect him just as much as he does you.

He starts trailing sloppy kisses down your jaw, stopping to nip just behind your ear, making you gasp and whimper. He smirks against your skin as he continues his way down with other small kisses, bites and soothing licks. You’re panting by now, core throbbing with need with every touch of his lips on your hot skin. His hands expertly snake behind your back until they reach your bra clasp, undoing it with the ease of someone who’s had the practice. You shimmy the straps down your arms and toss the garment aside.

You half expect him to attack you like some kind of over-excited teenager but he doesn’t; he drinks in your form with an almost reverent awe, making you shiver. Mingyu smirks when he catches you watching him, huffing a laugh before kissing you again.

It’s too brief of a kiss, his lips leave yours to trail down the column of your neck as he makes his way down to your breasts. He eagerly sucks a pebbled nipple into his mouth with a groan as his other hand kneads at your other breast. Your back arches in response, soft moans making way to more desperate whimpers and pleads when he tugs playfully on your nipple.

“You sound so pretty like that. Can’t wait to hear you come for me,” he mumbles against your skin as he makes his way over to your other breast.

Your only response is another strangled groan as you tangle your fingers in his hair to tug him closer. Not that you need to because he doesn’t seem to have anywhere else to be; he takes his time licking and sucking on your sensitive buds, never neglecting either breast as he moans along with you. He’s painfully hard against your cunt, cock twitching every time his name leaves your lips, he grinds into you as he ravishes you and it’s nearly driving you over the edge. You’re starting to get overstimulated, half-crazed and desperately wet when you finally beg for mercy.

“Gyu, please, please, I need you. Please,” you breathe as your legs wrap around him.

Mingyu looks up at you, lips deliciously swollen and dark, and laughs. For a moment, you think he’s going to shrug and ignore you but he doesn’t. He sits up and starts tugging your shorts and panties off, you lift yourself off the couch to help him take them off and pretty soon they’re somewhere on the living room floor.

He looks at you, eyes dark with need and runs his hand down your stomach, caressing your skin until he reaches where you need him most. You gasp as his finger dips between your folds, finding your swollen clit and circling it gently as he watches the way his hand moves. You watch him as he sucks in a breath and bites his lip, mesmerized that he’s just so into you. Your lids flutter closed with a groan when he slips a finger inside you, pressing it against your front wall until you’re grinding your hips into his hand with pathetic mewls and whimpers of his name.

Stars explode behind your eyes when he adds another finger, moving them in and out in time with each roll of your hips, scissoring you open for him. He’s moaning with you, low grunts of appreciation every time your walls squeeze around his fingers and how good he sounds is making the room spin and your release draw closer. Mingyu doesn’t miss a beat, using his other hand to circle your clit until you’re gripping the side of the couch and chanting his name like it’s the only word you know how to say, your climax bursting through you in quick waves. You’re left panting and floaty on the couch, but not for long.

“Turn around,” he growls as he undoes the tie on his sweatpants.

You oblige, flipping over and getting on all fours, backing your hips up until they met his. You notice he’s still wearing clothes and you pout, grinding against him until he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Can you learn to be just a little bit patient? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases as he grabs a handful of your ass.

“I promise the view is better once you’re fucking me. I’ll let you smack my ass, too just so you can prove yourself.”

This earns you a huffed laugh from him and soon you can feel his hard cock sliding between your folds, teasing your clit before lining up with your entrance, hands gripping your waist. He’s still long enough that you open your mouth to say something but just as you’re about to say something he finally penetrates you, sliding inside you slow enough to make your shiver as he stretches your walls.

Mingyu sucks in a breath through clenched teeth when he bottoms out, gripping you tighter like he knows that you already want to start moving, craving the sweet friction of him. Your walls pulse around him and you both moan; your head drops forward as you whine, circling your hips despite his hold on you.

“This is so much better than what I imagined. You feel so fucking amazing,” he groans as he starts rocking his hips, slowly, like he’s wanting to savor it.

“I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about this, too. Not like this though but it’s fine,” you reply with a smirk.

Mingyu stills, you can hear the head tilt in his voice. “Oh? Like how then?”

“Mmmm…you’re usually fucking me faster, harder. But if this is more your speed–oh fuck–”

He smacks your ass before gripping your hips again, picking up his pace until the room fills with the lewd sounds of his hips slamming into you repeatedly. He’s angled himself perfectly, each thrust in hitting your front wall hard enough that you’re breathless and dizzy, the rope in your belly already impossibly tight. You’re gripping the couch cushions for dear life, moaning his name every time his palm connects with the soft flesh of your backside, stars beginning to float in your vision as your walls start to clench around him.

“You gonna come already, baby? You talked such big game about taking me hard, what happened? Too much?” he coos as he continues to fuck you relentlessly.

The only thing you can respond with is a drawn out whine as he continues to fuck you, deep thrusts that hit exactly where you need. You can’t string words–let alone thoughts–together to retort, all you can manage is pathetic begging and pleading for more. Mingyu’s happy to oblige, hands gripping your ass cheeks as he kneads them to ease some of the sting from earlier. You start meeting his thrusts, lost in the feeling of him filling you completely, incoherent praises and pleas falling from your lips as your release draws closer.

“That’s it baby, feels so good. Keep fucking yourself like that, wanna feel you come around my cock,” Mingyu groans as his fingers find your neglected clit to rub tight, fast circles.

You come, eyes squeezed shut as fireworks burst in your vision, your body shaking with every contraction that rolls up from your toes and crashes over you. If it wasn’t for Mingyu holding you up against him as he fucks you through it, you’d collapse onto the couch from the dizzying release that rocks through you. He’s not far behind, hips jerking erratically as he tries to prolong your pleasure, deep moans and pathetic whimpers falling from his lips as he pumps into you wildly.

He pulls out without warning, the emptiness a little jarring as he groans behind you, hand on your ass to stop you from moving. You feel the warm ropes of his come against your skin as he groans your name breathlessly between deep moans.

He’s up before you have time to make a comment about your situation, disappearing into the bathroom down the hall and coming back with a washcloth.

“Sorry I didn’t ask, felt it was a better option than the alternative,” he comments as he wipes you down.

“I’m on birth control but I guess you wouldn’t know. Thanks for uh, cleaning up the mess for me.”

“Would be rude if I didn’t, you know? Anyway, hope that you believe me now,” Mingyu chides with a smile.

“I’m not convinced, if I’m honest. I’ll need further research to come to a clear conclusion,” you say as you get up to get dressed.

“Oh, you’ll be coming, alright.”

#mingyu imagine #mingyu smut #mingyu fic #mingyu x reader #svt smut #svt imagine #svt fic #fic

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jeonsbabygirlsworld · 2 months

Text

SUMMARY: Life was easy until you meet the eye candy of your life and the adventure with him is a hell of ride, but there is certain someone who seems to get hurt in this.

PAIRINGS: Gynecologist Jungkook X reader ft. bartender yoongi

WORD COUNT: 1.2K

A/N: lol I see no one wants to get tagged in this when I posted the snippet but anyway the tag list is open, and please guys don't let this flop; [ I worked really hard to get motivated enough and write, and this a series and this the first part.✨smut will be there eventually ✨

Note : this is inspired by a web series and I’m GONNA EDIT IT , I’m not gonna make it a whole ass 3 season containing 10-12 episodes per season and I felt like I could do something with this series. Thankyou

Your surroundings suddenly felt hot, the interns did a great job explaining the project to the clients sitting in front of you. The air conditioner did a shit job of keeping the surroundings but it's just you because you see your other intern rubbing her palms under the table.

The meeting was about to end and just when you were about to get up from the chair to leave the hall, the intern called out your name just so you could brief out the entire thing and thank the clients, grabbing on the metal stick you stand in the place where your intern was speaking.

"I hereby extensively elaborate on the profile success of our company, we all can see the numbers of shares growing quickly, see for yourselves" You point to the whiteboard where the graph was made, your company making progress in these past years.

"We can be a great profit for the leading country, sir, I hope you can see the numbers growing live" You then point to the laptop which has a live count of people buying the shares from the company, in the middle while everyone was focused you undo some of the buttons of your red satin shirt and mutter about the poor air conditioner "why am I so damn hot?"

Just when you were about to continue you see Mr. Jeon sitting on one of the chairs that too naked, just in his Calvin Klein boxers, what the fuck? "Yes Ms. Kim, why are you so damn hot?" Jungkook says he rises from his seat climbs over the desk and walks towards you.

you can see the client in shock and eye him, while he climbs down from the table your doctor "Mr. Jeon" is in front of you, his eight packs abs and muscular biceps all out to see, just when you are registering about his details, he picks up the glass of water on the table and drops it all over the neck and you hiss at the cold feeling.

Jungkook scurries the files away from the table and picks you up so you can sit on the table, your shirt is then unbuttoned by him, and he lays soft kisses and slowly bends you down completely until your back is pressed on the table.

Beep beep beep

A loud beep of your alarm drags you out of the dream and you gasp and sit up "fuck did I just have a wet dream about my doctor?" you mutter and grab your phone to off the alarm, you check the number of notifications you had overnight and stumble upon the "doctor's appointment" reminder.

Gasping for the second time now you scurry away from the bed to get a nice warm shower and head to the mister ever so sexy man your doctor "Jeon Jungkook".

"It's itchy lately, hasn't got better since last week" You talk to the man who is between your legs while you keep trying to not moan while checking your vagina. "You may get dressed now and it looks completely fine, and I can't see any infection" Jungkook says and stands straight and moves to his chair right behind the desk giving you some space so you can change.

closing the blinds and getting dressed you place the hospital gown tidily in the basket and move to his table, you grab on the sanitizer which is on his table pump a few drops on yours and apply it while your doctor writes down the prescription.

You notice the hot features of a sleeve tattoo of his you saw on his Instagram when you stalked him on the first day of meeting him, the depth of his gaze looked enchanting, and the afternoon sunlight complimented his skin tone well while you were busy studying his features a small cough brings you out of the daydream.

"Here miss y/n" The doctor hands you the prescription and you widen your eyes seeing at the statement which had written "bath three times a day" You eye him and check yourself by smelling when he isn't looking, and you smell perfectly fine because you sprayed almost the bottle of the perfume and bathed with the new soap bar you bought recently. Giving him a crooked smile you leave the room embarrassed.

Crumbling the paper you place it in your purse and straight away call your best friends to meet up for a brunch and she gladly accepts.

"No, but like seriously y/n" Chae and Yuna both seem shocked and confused and you appear to be more embarrassed "Yeah, he wrote that in the prescription" You show her the paper Jungkook gave you, and she says he wrote it so that you could maintain a proper hygiene and you buy it and proceed to eat your brunch in the cafe.

"Chae Yuna, you can go ahead I'm staying back so I can spend some time with Yoongi, I haven't been catching up on him." Tell her you give her a hug and a kiss on the cheeks, and you part ways.

You head to the bar where yoongi works as a bartender and you make sure to buy his favorite chocolate on your way, you reach there in less than five minutes and there you see Yoongi arranging the glasses in line just to make them fancier.

"Hey, how are you?" Yoongi is slightly confused to see you in the middle of the day and that too a weekday, you chuckle at him, and you tell him you are fine, and you had to meet a friend and not tell him the details about the meeting with the doctor.

"You up for a drink y/n?" The sweet boy asks you and you gladly accept it, looking here and there you realize he is working alone and his intern who never fails to hit on Chae is missing.

"Is Taehyung not here?" you ask him, and he says he had ditched today just because he had an early date and will be here for the night shift nodding you accept his famous highball, "you want any help? I'm free for the day" you offer him, and he casually refuses, and you become a bit sad, but you play it cool.

Yoongi looks at your features and chuckles and tells you he is just kidding and won't mind your help and he's rather happy you want to help him, before coming back to the other side of the table you hand him the chocolate you bought.

Helping him and chatting for a while you hug him and say goodbye, you notice a bit of blush creeping on his cheeks but you wave it up because it can be the alcohol you both drank, and you get back to your home and get a bit of rest so you can wake up fresh and get back on your work from home.

Taglist: @jungk97kwife, @kimmingyuswifee ,@kingofbodyrolls

A/n : this short but hehe more is yet to come 💖

#jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfics #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts jungkook #jungkook series #jungkook x oc #jjk smut #jjk series #yoongi #min yoongi #bts #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts fanfic bts smut

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desperate-gay · 3 months

Note

how bout a heated confession between r and kim little? i really want some kimmy fics 😔😭 my girl needs more love and attention 😔🙏🏻❤

Unexpected Confession

Kim Little x fem!reader

“You, my dear, are one of a kind!” Leah exclaims, grasping onto your shoulders as everyone cheers you on. You smile sheepishly while collecting all of the compliments with a light blush.

Arsenal had just won 4-2 against Chelsea with you scoring two goals back to back at the end of the second half. The whole team basically jumped on you when the final whistle blew, congratulating you while spewing how amazing you were the full ninety minutes.

“Our little miss innocent also showed some of her rough side with that tackle.”

“Katie, stay away from her, we can’t handle you rubbing your card reputation on our goal scorer.” Steph says, shielding you from the Irish woman by wrapping her arms around your front so her taller form blocks your view.

“Well thank you all for the many flattery remarks, but it wasn’t-”

“Y/l/n, a talk?” Kim interrupts, nodding her head toward the empty office.

The team all stand in silence, wondering why their player of the match is getting called away by the captain.

You look at her with a confused look when she announces your last name. The both of you are extremely close and friends outside of games, so when she announces your last name, you’re taken aback.

You quickly follow Kim into the room before she shuts the door with a gentle click and closes the blinds so none of the team can snoop around.

“I told Jonas to bench you for the upcoming game against Manchester.” The midfielder states with a stoic expression and her arms crossed.

“What? Why?”

“That tackle against Reiten was dangerous. Someone could have easily gotten hurt and you need to deal with the consequences.” She explains while avoiding your gaze, not being able to keep her captain facade up if she even takes a peek at your doe eyes.

“That’s so unfair! Russo made a late tackle but she’s not getting benched!” You exclaim, getting irritated at the sudden hostility directed at you.

“Your tackle was dangerous and could’ve cost you an injury. My decision is final.” Kim’s tone warns you it’s the end of the discussion, but you’re too pissed off to give her the satisfaction of an easy win.

As she goes to walk away, you quickly run in front of the door, blocking the older girl from exiting the room. Her eyebrow raises in a silent warning matching the unimpressed look on her face.

“No. You’re not just going to walk out of here without giving me a reason as to why I’m being benched.”

“I’ve already told you-“

“Don’t give me that bullshit excuse that it’s because of my tackle. Yes, it was a little late and that’s my fault but that is no reason not to let me play next week. So tell me the real reason why. Now.”

Kim now raises her eyebrows in surprise at your sudden demanding front. You’re not even sure where it came from because the way the captain is looking at you, you wish you could melt into the floor and never come back, but you simply just gulp and stand up straighter to keep strong.

“Do you really want to be talking to your captain like that?” She questions, cocking her head to the side while slowly walking closer to you, causing you to feel smaller and smaller at the girl's sharp gaze.

“I want the truth.” You say shakily, wiping your clammy hands up and down your tracksuit.

“I gave you the truth, but you can’t deal with it.”

“Why are you lying? Just tell me!” The rise in your voice shocks the other girl, you’re usually always the quiet, calm, and sweet person of the team but not when someone is continually being untruthful towards you.

“You could have gotten injured.” Kim admits halfheartedly, showing you she is still hiding something.

“I am fine. You have no right to take me off the team just because of something that could have happened. If you don’t tell me the real reason now, I am walking out of here and I don’t want you talking to me unless it is an explanation or an apology.”

After a minute or two of silence, you give up. With a scoff and a roll of your eyes, you begin to turn the door handle only to be stopped by an unexpected confession.

“It’s because I love you!”

Your body stays facing the door as you process what the Scottish woman has just said. You run through all the little dates the two of you had together, remembering how you were hoping it would be much more than just friendly, but also thinking that the girl just wasn’t into you like that.

“I should have never said that, it was quite inappropriate. You may leave now.” Kim sighs with one hand on her head and the other waving you off. Slowly, you begin to approach her pacing form.

“Kim.”

“You don’t have to stay. You’re dismissed.”

“Kimmy.”

“Seriously, go home. It was a mistake and I didn’t mean it.”

“I love you too.” You whisper, locking eyes with her when her head snaps up.

“You love me?” She asks in disbelief, making you smile at how quickly the older girl turns quiet.

You take a few steps forward so you’re now face to face with her. You hesitantly wrap your arms around her as your thumb smooths out the tension between her eyes.

“I do. And I’m hoping that your confession was real because if it isn’t, you will see a hole shaped me through that wall.” You joke, causing the both of you to giggle softly, breaking a little of the tension. The taller girl’s hands find a comfortable place on your hips while she continues to look at you with a smile.

“It was real. I have been in love with you for a while now and I wasn’t sure how to tell you. I guess being a jerk wasn’t the best way.” You laugh with a small shake of your head.

“No, it wasn’t, but you can make it up to me.” Your head tilts, looking at her with a bright smile. Once she starts to lean in, you do too, meeting her halfway just before she stops.

“May I?”

“You may.”

With the whisper of confirmation, Kim softly connects her lips to yours in a gentle kiss, showing you how much it means and what it means. Only ten seconds in, she goes to pull away, but you wrap your hands behind her neck and pull her back in.

“Too short.” You mumble against her slightly chapped lips, leaving her chuckling at your eagerness and pushing you closer to her by the small of your back.

Before things got too heated, you both decided to pull away even if you didn’t want to. Although the kiss ended, each other’s arms stayed hugging around the other, enjoying the closeness.

“Will you let me take you on a date, let’s say this Saturday night?”

“I don’t know, I’m supposed to go out with this one girl who constantly takes me out on non-romantic dates because she’s sure we’re just friends.” You sigh in fake disappointment, letting the midfielder roll her eyes at your antics.

You gasp when she slams her lips into yours in a quick but fierce kiss before pulling back with a satisfied look.

“Let me make it romantic.” Kim offers with a charming smile, wooing you fully into saying yes even if you don’t need convincing.

“I’d be an idiot to say no.”

After a few minutes of little kisses, giggles, and talking, the both of you go to open the door only to be met with multiple falling bodies. A sheepish Kyra, Katie, and Beth look up from the floor with guilty smiles while the rest of the team turn back around and continue in their cubbies like they also weren’t eavesdropping.

“Everyone get dressed and leave unless you want to come in extra early tomorrow for some extra laps.” Kim announces with her captain expression, making everybody scramble.

The Scottish woman watches with a stone-cold expression before turning to look at you with a soft smile. She leans over and places a lingering kiss on your cheek.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

#kim little x reader #kim little #steph catley #katie mccabe #kyra cooney cross #leah williamson #beth mead #arsenal wfc #arsenal #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso fic #woso

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fillinforlater · 6 months

Text

Eleven to One: Scandalous Shooting

Male Reader x Ahn Yujin

Length: 3140 words

Tags: quickie sex, semi-public sex, might get caught, sex toys, toy use in public, a tiny bit of feet kink/admiration, standing sex, from behind, hard sex, very wet, very close to squirting, very close to losing your career, megalomaniac!you

TW: semi-public sex, I guess lol

Inspiration: the GIF below. Pure sex.

Credt: @sooyadelicacies, my wonderful co-writer in this series. You can find more parts here!

(A/N: After almost three weeks, I'm finally back! Eleven to One is far from being over, view this as sort of an interlude with a big plot point and some nice, good fun with our hot af Ahn Yujin. Enjoy!)

“Excited for my new shoot? Yujin has sent a video.”

"Fuck you dumb bitch, suck it just like that."

Your cock was currently slamming the throat of a gagging Kim Chaewon for what could be between one minute and one hour, anything in between really, but either way, her salvation has just arrived. You pull out of her huffing and puffing mouth and with no further thought wasted on the training session, you prepare to leave.

"What? Where are you going asshole?" Chaewon shouts, baffled, furious, most importantly baffled when you instantly have your hands around her neck and glare down at her, petite and small, kneeling on the floor, one could almost mistake her for a good girl. Chaewon is not yet there though.

"My desire and cock is needed elsewhere. You're not a priority, only a cheap convenience. Yujin is demanding my attention, rather, I demand her body right now."

Chaewon's face further contorts to a scowl, as you expected. There is the spirit to fight, fight back, fight you, fight whoever opposes her. This spirit is slowly but surely bending to your will and the best part about it: Chaewon has no clue.

"I'm better than she is..."

Left to right, you cross her messed up face with your cock and scoff at how pitifully desperate her expression is. A little fingering with Minju, a quick blowjob, a facefuck, and she is already demanding you to stay; over your beloved girlfriend, mind you.

"Don't kid yourself, Chaewon." You get your hand in her hair, comb it then mess it up again. "You are so far behind, it's not even funny to compare yourself to her. Like I said: not a priority.

"Minmin, I need you to tie her up. Chaewon's been bad again."

"Yes Daddy!" Minju says naked before you, she is always in the next room, ready to adhere to your commands with glee and joy, even as she puts ropes around her friends ankles and wrists.

"Oh and Minju,” you add, pants not yet around your waist. “How about you suck me off and I'll blast it all over Chaewon's face before I leave. If you are fast, I’ll allow you to lick it off of her too."

Minju’s eyes brighten and she nods furiously. Soon she’ll nod on your cock.

It always fascinates you how easy it is to get into certain areas as long as you look determined and wear the appropriate attire. You dart into the building where Yujin currently still had her shooting for the 1000th magazine her stunning face will be featured on.

Is this an issue for you? No. Yujin is yours, ready to go the extra mile for you every single day. She accepts your craziest desires, the family of lustful friends around the two of you, hell, she risks her entire hard earned career and reputation for you. No reason to mistrust her or be envious because people get to see her face or shoulder or feet—

Okay, this is where you draw the line. Yujin just looks too good; her curvy, willing body on the drawer, hair done to tempting perfection, gaze full of sex and then she sticks her bare feet out. You have to stop it, though it's already on camera, they can’t have more of that.

Behind a group of staff members you come to a halt. Get on your toes and look over their heads to find Yujin, in talks with the director. You hear whispers about some reshoots, Yujin handles the small, direct criticisms like a professional. Of course your eyes also drop from her face to her hips, then even lower to her feet, which are currently hidden in two ugly slippers.

Blending in with the crowd, you make a mental note to speed up plans for your next merger, which is right around the corner, only some stupid, posh guys in suits hesitating, because they don’t want to lose face to Hyewon’s non-nonsense negotiation tactics. After this final chess move, there is no more sneaking around after that. It's a checkmate for any and every doubt. Nothing can stop your fantasies from coming true.

You wait for Yujin to notice you, but then grow impatient. Tapping on your pants pocket, you push a button and notice from a distance a twitch of pleasure on her face as she quickly scans the room to find you.

Perfect, she still has it on her. Whenever Yujin goes out, she has the option to take a small bullet vibrator from her purse and use it to relieve some stress or make a boring schedule more fun. The vibrator is connected with both your and her phone, so you can always test if she knows that you are nearby—and also have your way with her, of course.

Yujin’s libido is great enough for such a bold move and of course she has found you immediately, but instead of going straight towards you, she continues her duty. After all, the reshoots have to continue.

"This scene right here, on top of the drawer," the director says. Yujin gets into position, and thank God she kicks off the slippers.

You lick your lips a little before turning into a scowl. You push the button again, only this time on a higher setting. If you arrived, you were the top priority, not some wannabe director having his eyes look at the most sex-oozing woman to ever walk on this earth. Watching Yujin squirm, you decide to pull out your phone and make a call. The call.

"Hyewon, plans have changed. I want the merger motion to go forward right now. I'm done waiting."

"Yes, Master!"

You only had to wait as you watched Yujin continue to try and control herself under the power of the toy inside her. As the minutes and poses went on, it became harder for her to withstand the buzzing pleasure, though the constant background noise has everyone except you blissfully unaware of the vibrators presence. You have to admit, waiting is the thing you hate the most in this world, but with Yujin on the edge, in public, right before your eyes, it’s more than bearable.

"Miss Ahn, is everything okay?" the cameraman asks, worried and puzzled by Yujin's expressions and the increasing redness on her cheek.

"Hm? Oh yeah, I'm gu-ud. Should I try a different pose?"

"How about you put your legs up on it, like you did earlier?" the director suggests.

When it comes to poses, magazine shoots, and being in front of the camera in general, Yujin is a goddess in every aspect. Cute, thrilling, hot, seductive, cool, she can do it all—and today she decided to give the people what they want.

This tease cannot go unpunished. You continue to let the vibrator do its thing on a low setting to not elicit any unwanted moans and just wet her crotch more and more. It might not be noticeable on the black dress, but she is about to soak it, let her juices run down her legs and pool at her marvelous feet. You are insatiable, not even stopping when she looks at you with begging puppy eyes—

Yujin is at your mercy; only you can get her out of this.

A message from Hyewon lights up your phone. It is done, Master. Well spoken, she must have really pushed those otherwise tenacious executives around hard to get it done this quickly. Smiling, you decide to make your presence known, startling the crew.

"Mr. Director, you should be getting a phone call any moment now, I'm here to supervise the rest of this shoot. You're all doing wonderful, but I want to make sure Yujin's health is prioritized. Could we go for a lunch break now?"

"Sir, who are you—" The shrill ring of his phone interrupts the bewildered director, though his bewilderment only increases with every second the phone call continues. He hastily runs from set to set, gathering staff members, phone still pressed to his cheek.

"What have you done now?" Yujin snarls, her body not on the drawer anymore, unstable next to you. She grabs your suit, but elect to You ignore her and watch the staff flock out, the directors face full with sweat, an apologetic gesture towards you.

"So-sorry, Sir, we of course take the health of the idols very seriously. I didn't know you were managing her."

"It's alright," you say reassuringly, hand in a pocket, and in the thrill of the moment, you push the vibrator to the strongest setting. "Are you~ alright, Miss Ahn?"

Yujin cries out, her shriek startling the director. He tries to react quickly, but you put on your sternest, most serious face, really, the feat of a great actor, though that is par for the course in your business.

"Lets not waste any time. Mr. Director .I'll need everybody off the set. I'd rather not have anyone see Miss Ahn like this. Thanks for your understanding."

"I-I, of course, I'll—"

The director throws his hands in the air. His face is pale, he is unsure where to run, left, right; he needs time to catch himself and find the exit as does everyone else. He closes the door with an apologetic bow and you can hear him shout in panic and frustration.

"How the hell did you do that?" Yujin mumbles, her hands on your side to keep herself upright. Look down to find her legs drenched in her own juices, the dress ruined, her hair in a wild mane.

You lick your lips.

"Oh baby girl, you're mine now. I had Hyewon seal the deal. I bought your company, which means, personally and professionally, every part of you belongs to me."

Yujin's puppy eyes have never been bigger—except for maybe the time you first penetrated her tight pussy—though this time you find it hard to make out any clear thought she might have; is it pure bewilderment at the boldness and timing of your move? Is it anger because you purposefully got her into trouble, took things too far, just because you could? Or is it—

"Now what?" Yujin grits her teeth and looks to the wet floor. "This was too risky! Reporters will ask questions, some are going to spy on you, rumors will spread—they will find it out! You can't hide this forever."

You gently rake your hand through Yujin's raven hair and watch her toes tense up. Her entire body radiates tension, stress, like she can see everything crumble. The future looks bleak, nothing but darkness. The ‘young you’ can relate strongly, the bottom is usually dark—but as long as you fight, you'll reach the light. Even in the poorest of areas, someone is able to reach for the stars and create a better place for himself, his family.

A better place, even better than what you believed was already perfect.

"Trust me, Yujin," you coo to her and gently pull her hair back to look down at that concerned face of a beautiful goddess. "This is going to lead to moments greater than you could've ever dreamed of."

She looks at you with a swirl of conflicted emotions, but you don't let her dwell on it for too long as you move in to kiss her, prodding your tongue into her mouth too. You subtly position your left hand's fingers near her wet snatch.

"We don't have—"

"—a lot of time," the two of you whisper simultaneously. It's teamwork, alright, how she finishes your sentence with her needy voice, how you hike up her dress while she fiddles with your zipper, how you both find a bit of cover in the far corner of the room. If someone were to come in, you'd at least not be seen, but by the way Yujin squirms when you pull at the cord of the oval vibrator, her voice will make the situation blatantly obvious, even for a blind person.

"You need to stay quiet," you growl in Yujin's neck while you still try to get the plug out of her tight cunt. "This is some serious business, don't disappoint me. Do it like you did last year, on the red carpet.

"Why the fuck—"

The vibrator is still stuck inside her, the walls of Yujin's pussy clamp around it, not ready to let go of the pleasure the constant vibration brings. If it wasn't for your arm around her waist, Yujin would've dropped to the floor already. She is unable to resist it, it's deep inside her, it's snuck and comfortable.

A conflict for you, for her: Can you really let her cum just like this again? It would not be the great, immediate release for your cock you were looking for, but the humiliation, Yujin's embarrassment would make you ascend to a new level of all-powerfulness. It's the same for her, just the other way around. It seems that she has made up her mind before you though:

"Daddy please, you-you need to leave… let me finish the shoot and—"

But you keep kissing her neck.

"Baby girl," you growl. "Either you cum on my cock after I pound your tight little pussy or I turn that toy in you on maximum for the rest of the day. You'll squirt like a fucking fountain, make a mess and then what? What will the headlines say then?"

"Daddy, please! At home… I'll do whatever you want, just not here."

"You know it already don't you, baby girl? I'm your salvation—my cock is your salvation—with it inside your walls, it will keep your cum from spilling out and save you from becoming breaking news."

This much convincing, with Yujin convulsing, is really confusing, but in the end, she is unable to conceal her desire for you to plug her. Her neediness is an issue and your neediness is the solution.

There is no need or time for a blowjob, you are ready to enter right away, so you grab as much of the black dress as you can and pull it up. Yujin's help would be appreciated, but the horny thing can barely stand on her own, both her hands on your back to find security.

"You're the prettiest when you are this needy, baby girl," you tell her as her large, watery eyes are unable to look anywhere but you. A couple of tears spill over, then down her cheeks when she finally presses out the vibrator from her pussy. "Get your leg up here, on this couch."

The angle is perfect, your throbbing cock aligned—you still need to dive in her delicious full lips with that strawberry flavor to deafen her moans. The dive was almost too late, the draw of her cunt is too strong for your manhood to resist, and of course you fill her fully.

"God, you're so tight, you're always tighter when you're so needy.” Your words come pouring out when you disconnect your lips from hers; it’s like disconnecting from the world and ascending to a place of unknown, unbound, unending power. “I get it now. These shoots, these long and stressful hours. You're so hard working baby girl, but now we can fuck anytime. Isn't that a good thing?"

You thrust harshly and stroke Yujin’s pretty hair. Anytime, anywhere, it all doesn’t matter anymore. What it matters is you in her, above her, all over her. This is what your love is "Tell Daddy how it feels."

"Y-you're so greedy," Yujin huffs out, even after years of almost daily pussy pounding she is unable to control her breathing during sex. "Where, fuck, where will this end?"

"Answer my question, baby. And keep your moans down. I might make you cum, erupt like a pent up volcano. I can already feel the tsunami building up. Admit that you want me this greedy, because nothing can satisfy—"

"Fuck, okay, okay." Yujin grabs the sleeve of your suit with one hand and your nape with the other. "Daddy, own me. My entire life, my career, my social circle—take it." Her eyes are daggers, then a concoction of bliss, devotion and insurmountable expectations. "Take re-responsibility, and I'll be the best baby girl ever."

"You'll be that either way."

Slam her against one of these many thin, unstable decorative background walls, watch it sway dangerously backwards, but fuck her with the same recklessness as before. Yujin's teeth dig into her lower lip, her body losing all it's grip, except for the grip of her cunt, which you have fucked from every angle, sure, but standing has her the tightest. At least, you believe it right now—maybe it's the setting, the chance to get caught, the career ending thrill.

"I'm your good girl, good girl, Daddy, I—"

"Go on and cum. My cock will save you."

A fleeting moment, a moment of silence, no movement, as if time itself freezes. A moment where Yujin truly is powerless, where she can't just walk out and break up with you or throw everything away and live a different life. She is about to scream her orgasm out, and with her arms uselessly hanging on the sides of her convulsing, climaxing, prime body, nothing but you can stop her from getting caught.

And she submits herself to it, the scream never making it to anyone as you silence her with a strong palm on her luscious lips. Yujin shakes and shakes, only hints of juices making their way past your shaft, your base. She is plugged and both her legs and dress are saved—at least from being ruined entirely.

The orgasm continues in waves. Yujin's eyes water, her moans echo back, her knees melt like ice cream in the summer—she has to admit, she is waiting for your cream inside her, though it never comes.

"Good girl," you coo to her and start fixing her hair while still balls deep in her cunt. "I have some spare panties for you. Don't worry, I soaked them in some perfume, they won't smell anything. Remember, Daddy is right here. Just follow my lead."

"Y-yes." Out of breath is an understatement. You suffocated the poor girl to the point of exhaustion. Maybe that is the point, to make her look exhausted, weak, hell, she can barely walk. You support her, watch her put on the panties, swipe away some messed up makeup that would look too wild, too suspicious.

"Hook your arm underneath mine," you tell her. "I'll tell them your ankle is hurt, that we'll go to a doctor, something like that."

"Daddy, why do you go through such lengths for, for this?"

You grin and look down at your girlfriend, mere moments before the photography director comes rushing back onto the set.

"Why are you so tight whenever we might get caught doing this?"

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader insert #izone smut #ive smut #male reader smut #yujin smut #ahn yujin smut

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hoshieeyewrinkles · 3 months

Text

D o c t o r p a r k

Pairing: Doctor! Jay x Bimbo! Reader

Genre: smut

W.c: 2.5k

| Requested | Not proofread |

Tw warning: extreme humiliation, heavy degradation, anal sex, spanking, fingering, shoe humping, umm reader is put into a wedgie, Jay fingered her belly button 😭, Filth.

"I'm feeling a bit dizzy, Mr. Kim," you lamented, trying to evoke a sense of concern from your professor, who simply looked at you with skepticism. "I'm a bit concerned Miss.Y/n because you haven't been feeling well for the past few weeks. Maybe you should take the day off and ask your friends for notes." Your professor suggested the idea, and you reluctantly agreed, secretly rolling your eyes. In reality, you didn't actually have any dizziness or headaches. You just wanted an excuse to escape class and visit the nurse's office in hopes of catching a glimpse of the incredibly attractive Doctor Park, also known as Doctor Jay.

You have been on his tail since the past weeks, wanting to get into his pants than anything else. Though your plans have gone unsuccessful as he merely shrugged you off crushing your hopes in an instant. He was extremely stern and focused on his work. The university you were studying in was a prestigious one with strict protocols hiring the best lecturers, the best staff and the hottest doctor.

He was everything you ever wanted. He was smart, young, well-built and probably had a big dick too given by his attitude. Oh how you wished to feel his strong arms around your neck, keeping you in a chokehold.

There you were once again, waiting for him to notice you, in his office. With his white coat dangling by his chair, he was glancing through his phone. His well-fitting black shirt revealed his biceps, and he had his hair pulled back, his trousers ironed and his leather shoes lightly tapping the floor. You wished the floor was you instead. You were relieved that his nurse had taken a lunch break, but you found her annoying because of her privilege to always be around doctor Jay.

"Oh Miss.Y/n you again?" He questioned blankly, though the 'again' seemed a little emphasised. "Yes, doctor Park, I am feeling a little unwell." You responded in a soft tone, your voice coming across as seductive, as you had intended. Jay raised an eyebrow and slightly shook his head, his gaze drawn to your choice of outfit. A white mini skirt paired with a baby blue tube top. You were dressed in very little as usual, and his gaze was drawn to your sparkling headband and red nails, which would look stunning wrapped around his fat cock. He was fully aware of your intentions, but he could not afford to give in to them just yet.

"Miss.Y/n, you have come here three times this week. You already have a prescription from me for headache medication. Despite the fact that you showed no symptoms, you previously claimed to have a fever. What symptoms do you have now? Would you mind informing me, hm?" He inquired in the most casual tone. His tone already has your pussy throbbing. He was overconfident and a stuck-up asshole in the sexiest way possible.

"I feel some pain here, doctor." You said that, and then you moved over to the hospital bed and laid down next to his chair without asking. With a silent exhale, he looked up at you. Your top was dropping to expose your cleavage, and your skirt was perilously riding up to expose your soft mid-thighs.

"Where does it hurt, Miss Y/n?" He questioned unfazed, despite the fact that his mind was racing. You pouted slightly at his unaffected demeanour, your pink glossy lips tempting him to bite them. He was annoyed by the way you fluttered your eyes at him, acting as if you knew nothing about anything. It made him so angry that he wanted to rip off your pathetic excuse for clothes and rail you to the end. The thoughts which went through his mind every time he saw you would have him fired from the university, have his licence suspended.

"Here..." You pointed directly at your crotch, expecting him to be either flustered or disgusted. To your surprise, he smirked. "I understand what you are doing, Y/n," he said, shaking his head and dropping the honorific. He did not let you respond when he spoke again. "I must say, it is funny."

"What do you mean, doctor?" You asked innocently, but your heart raced as you wondered what he was thinking. "Nothing, are you sure your litte princess parts doesn't hurt because of taking the whole football team?" He questioned and your jaw dropped. He let out a snort at your expression "What? Am I lying?" His smirk widens when your face starts to turn red, burning in humiliation.

"Does your skirt length correspond to your level of comprehension? You dirty vulgar girl" He asked again degrading you. "Doctor....that's really mean of you! You are slut-shaming and y-you are insulting me." In reply, you stumbled over your words. "I'm not slut shaming you y/n. I'm simply stating out facts which I have heard around and which you have showed around me, how is that offensive, sweetheart?" He questioned amused, his cock twitched in his pants at the sight of your dumb expression. You were nothing but a dumb slut who could barely live her life without a cock. He noticed the way you rubbed your thighs together at the nickname he called you.

"The whole football team—hell, I do not even know their names, they did not sleep with me. Doctor Jay,how can you believe them?" You asked, your bottom lip quivering as you pouted at him. You were not so naive as to miss his taunts, but you were sick enough to take pleasure in the embarrassment he was causing you. Jay laughed because he thought you were cute and there were no rumours that you were sleeping with the whole football team. He made them up himself to see how smart you are, and you were clearly one of the dumbest girls he has ever met. Probably the sluttiest too.

Lucky for you, he loved sluts.

You did not have time to think when he lifted your skirt, revealing your drenched panties, which were stuck to your pussy lips. "I- Doctor Park, what the hell are you doing!" You yelled at him, attempting to push your skirt down, but he held it firmly between his fingers. "Stop pretending, baby; you have been doing this for weeks, trying to seduce me with your pathetic excuse of tops barely holding your saggy tits and these fucking skirts that keep getting shorter, coming to my office almost every day." He paused for a moment licking his lips at the sight of your soaked panties. "Did you enjoy the humiliation I put you through, y/n? it made your pussy throb, yeah?"

You let out a small moan and nodded desperately, letting your fake innocent demeanour slip as you grabbed his hand, which was holding the hem of your skirt and guiding it onto your cunt. "Please, Doctor Park, it hurts."

He chuckled in response, shaking his head slightly. "Well, as your doctor, I must investigate what is going on with you, princess." His eyes were filled with lust. He pushed his morality and principles to the back of his mind. Fuck, he needed your slutty pussy right now. It was the prettiest cunt he would ever see, and he was not going to pass up this opportunity to use you.

He removed his hand from your crotch and opened the drawer in front of him. You watched him with curiosity, desperate to get his fingers, mouth, and cock inside you right away. He shuffled through his belongings before reaching for a pair of white gloves and putting them on. Your eyes widened at his actions.

"Your little nasty pussy does not deserve to be touched by my bare hands." He spoke in a low deep voice earning a whine from you. "Fuck, look at those juices. You are such a shameless whore." You felt your insides twist at his tone change. He was such an unpredictable man with no filter, treating you in the most humiliating ways, which only made you want him more. You would let him do whatever he wanted with you. You were down bad for him.

Without any warning he inserted his gloved finger inside you, it went in so smoothly as you were completely drenched. "Are you enjoying this? How embarassing y/n, is this why you joined this university? To suck cocks? To have your little cunt pounded by everyone?" You didn't reply to any of his questions busy in pleasure be was giving you, letting out small whimpers. He added two more fingers, aggressively fingering you. The wet, gushing sounds filled the room: "Doctor Park... P-please. Want to feel your fingers." You begged, squirming around, getting closer to your high. He ignored your words and lifted your tube top above your stomach, exposing your belly button to him. "Would you like to be fucked there too?" He aggressively pushed his other hand's fingers inside your belly button. You give a squeak at the sensation, moaning like the whore you are.

Your cunt and belly button getting fingered by his thick fingers simultaneously, releasing waves of pleasures inside you. You were thrashing around uncontrollably, overcome with pleasure. "Calm down, slut. I'm just getting started. Turn around." He ordered and you complied feeling a bit disappointed that you didn't get to cum. "but I didn't..." He cut you off harshly after landing a slap on your pussy "Not everything is about you."

He stuck your underwear in a wedgie, and you winced at the burning sensation on your pussy lips. Without warning, he pulled the wedgie and snapped it back, causing you to let out a painful screech. "This is how dirty little girls like you deserve to be treated," he said before snapping the wedgie several more times. You thrashed around, biting your palm to muffle your voice. He eventually stopped his assault on your ass crack and removed your underwear. What further humiliated you was the way he held your underwear with just two fingers treating it like some dirty trash. "Put this drenched shit in your mouth so you'll keep your dumb mouth shut." He threw the underwear in your face, and you did as he said, shoving it inside your mouth. You could taste the sweetness of your juices inside your mouth.

You never knew being treated in such humiliating way would turn you on so much. "Fuck look at this ass" he grunted kneading the flesh in his gloved hands. His cock was about to burst through his trousers. He enjoyed treating you in this manner because that is what dumb little cock sluts like you deserve, constantly seducing people and putting their jobs in risk. You needed to be taught a lesson that would put you in your proper place.

He began spanking your ass harshly until you were numb, your moans muffled by your panties. "This. is. exactly what naughty girls like you deserve." He spat on your asshole making sure it's lubricated enough. "I have no intention of using your nasty pussy but this tight ass deserve to be pounded." He unbuckled his belt throwing it aside and letting his cock stand in all glory. You tried to turn back, to look at his cock but he smacked your ass again "Don't turn back. I don't wanna see your spit covered dirty face." He degraded you before lifting you by the stomach and placing you on your hands and knees.

He pushed his cock into your hole, letting out the most seductive moan that nearly made you cum. "Mhmm..." You let out a muffled moan, and despite the pain, you could not stop pushing back on his cock. He began to pound into you with great speed, his hips slamming into your bruised ass. The pain from the wedgie assault lingered, and him pushing his cock into your whole aggravated it.

"Messy dumb slut." He yanked your hair back, his hips moving with uncontrollable speed. "Fuck, this is what you wanted right? To be fucked by me? To be treated like nothing, you are truly shameful." His words kept pushing you to your edge. Jay bit his lip at your state, your plump ass looked so bruised. Your belly button was red from his assault. He felt all of his stress disappear as he fucked your ass. "Touch yourself for me, baby," he asked, and you began to rub your clit vigorously, feeling your high return, but before you could cum, he pulled out his cock and released himself over your ass. You took out the underwear from your mouth. "Doctor park, I couldn't cum." You whined, panting loudly. He didn't reply, taking his gloves out before disposing them into the trash can nearby.

"And? How is that my problem?" He asked cockily, sitting back in his chair, manspreading, his cock still out. "Doctor park that's not fair!" You yelled in frustration before crawling out of bed, landing on your knees. Jay bit his lip at your sight, you looked so desparate and filthy. "Suck my cock and make yourself cum, angel." He pushed his leather shoe on your clit. You immediately took his cock in your mouth slurping on it messy while grinding on his hoe. "You dirty insatiable girl!" He said chuckling at your messed up state pushing your mouth deeper onto his cock.

You were still grinding hard on his hoe, moaning on his cock and rubbing your covered breast against his leg. Lost in the blissful pleasure he was receiving from your sensual lips, he was letting out soft moans. You were truly like the wettest and the filthiest dream he ever had. You came on his shoe grinding like a whore and he pushed you back before spraying his cum on your top. You both took few minutes to catch your breath before he wore his pants back and glanced at your dumb state. "Get up." He gave the order, and you stumbled to your feet, drenched in sweat, saliva, and cum. "Pick your underwear and clean my shoe."

You obeyed his orders cleaning his shoe with your underwear "Wear them back." You were about to protest, but his one look stopped you, and you wore the dirty, completely drenched panties back. You felt so nasty yet so good. He pulled you onto his lap and pressed his lips against yours. You kissed him back, running your hand through his styled hair, messing it up. He patted your ass, breaking off the kiss. "You can rest on the bed while I bring you something to eat." He said, and you felt the heat rush back into your face as you nodded shyly. You laid back on the bed watching him collect his things. "Remember don't remove the underwear till your day ends, it will be a reminder for you to know what happens to naughty pretentious girls like you."

His words made you whine and nod submissively, "Perhaps I will use your little pussy next time, princess."

#enhypen smut #jay smut #enhypen jay smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #jay x you #jay x reader #kpop smut #dark enhypen

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praeluxius · 4 months

Text

c'est la vie - Kim Minju

Part 3 of folie à deux.

IZ*ONE Kim Minju x Male reader smut. (ft. a sprinkle of Wonyoung)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Masterlist word count: 10,553

c'est la vie - that's life

"I'm so fucked."

Fists clenched and eyes scrunched, you’re venting out loud to no one in particular. You repeat it, "I'm so fucked." Louder this time—to the sky. Well, more accurately, to the plastered ceiling of this little hole-in-the-wall. Either way, the solution isn't there.

It isn't at the bottom of a bottle either, but you're determined to find that out the hard way.

"Is there a friend I can call for you?" The woman behind the bar has stopped polishing off the glasses; interrupted by what she would say are the ramblings of a madman.

"There's no coming back from this." You throw your head forward, catching it in your now open hands, elbows resting on the wooden bar top.

"Sir? I'm going to call you a—"

"I don't need a cab." You draw your head from your hands and open your eyes—allowing the light to pour onto you from one of those little round lights above you. The drink sits in front of you, unfinished. Hard liquor in a tumbler just waiting to be thrown back like the three before it—a plea you can’t ignore. The large ice cube rests against your nose as you pour every last drop onto your tongue and swallow. "I do need another drink."

With the glass set back down, your body slouches and sinks. Eyes stare down at the empty glass and your face is cold to the world, cold to the woman across from you. You must reek of self-pity, the smell thick in the air.

Let’s be honest, you've had far better days.

She's got her delicate fingers around the neck of the bottle, pouring you a fresh drink and placing it on a napkin, "you know, you're not the first person to stumble into this bar wearing a face like that."

You slide your eyes over to the glass and reach for it. "I highly doubt it."

"But, few of them show up this early, even if it is a Friday." She has a point: you’re propping up the bar alone and drowning your sorrows solo. In fact, there are only two other people in this whole place, sitting together at a table. "So what’s your story?"

"Does there have to be one?" You grip the glass in your hand, giving the stranger the best smile you can fake.

She steps back and brushes her hand on her trousers as she laughs, "I've seen many broken men and women sit at this bar and spend too many hours drinking their life savings, with hearts broken, dreams smashed and most of all, mistakes they regretted. But you seem different."

"Oh really, why's that?" Your eyes stare into your drink. It stares right back at you.

"You're still young."

"Does being broken have an age requirement?"

She shifts and reaches for something, something you can't quite make out, being locked in the most intimate of stares with your drink. It’s the sound of her placing down another fresh glass that gives it away. "Actually, yes. Because you've still got time to work with."

"That's the irony. All I have left is time."

“Then you have to believe in yourself to make the most of that time.” Her words are heavy, like their meaning holds weight within her too.

She lets you dwell on it for a moment while she pours her own drink. She settles herself against the bar top, across from you, resting her head in one open hand. Her gaze burns into you like sitting in the sun. You can feel something else too, a soft vibration in your pocket.

You finally break away from your staring contest with your drink—one you lost anyway—to fish your phone out of your pocket. The screen alights with Gaeul’s name and is followed by the words ‘1 new message’.

After a swipe, it reads, ‘wtf where are you? what happened?’ but the thought of sending a reply never crosses your mind. And, just in case, you switch it over to silent.

“Is that her?” The woman gently waves a slender finger towards your phone as you put it back where you found it. “The reason you’re here?”

"Do you press all your customers like this?"

“Only the interesting ones,” she returns her hand to her glass, taking a sip of it before continuing, “and there’s sadly so few of those.”

"And if I'm not as interesting as you think?"

"Then I'll buy you a drink.” She tilts her glass at you. "For the trouble."

"And if I'm fascinating?"

"I'll still buy you a drink." Another sip from her glass as her lip gloss stains the rim, "maybe two."

"Then no, it wasn't her." And here's the thing, you don't know who to blame. Yourself? Probably. Wonyoung? Maybe. The mystery cameraman who got it all on video? Almost definitely.

“But it is another woman, right?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not exactly rushed off my feet here.”

You sigh, unsure exactly where to begin with this whole mess. The complete story is a long one. You could tell her about your family—the trouble at home and why you had to leave—but that’s not for anyone to know.

"I transferred here. Moved here with my brother. He's at work right now, and he will be late into the evening." You pause to take another drink. Another burning sensation. "To keep food on our table and keep me in college."

Even saying so little it weighs on you, the feelings of regret and the feeling that you're saying too much. You bite your tongue and hesitate.

"So why are you here and… you know... not at college?" She pushes you for more. She flicks a finger towards you with her free hand and then brings her glass to her lips.

You drag your eyes up for the first time and finally inspect the woman across from you.

She's your age, roughly—if you had to guess. She's pretty, and that part you're more confident about. She wears her long brunette hair over one shoulder, running in a loose wave, over her slate black blazer, which sits over a small black tee, cropped at the waist. She smiles when your eyes meet hers. And maybe she had no idea, and perhaps it's all subconscious, but the tips of her slender fingers squeeze slightly against the glass now that you're paying her some attention.

"I never got your name," you say with curiosity laden in your voice.

"Minju."

"And why is a young woman like you working here on a Friday afternoon?"

"Were you not the one telling me about your troubles?" She follows her words with a soft laugh.

"Call it quid pro quo. You answer and then I’ll tell you all about it," you say.

"Fine." She stands back upright, adjusting her blouse with a few gentle touches. The way her finger glides across the collar and tugs at it slightly. It's more than a little distracting. She cuts a sleek hourglass shape out of the shelves of bottled booze behind her. "I'm between gigs right now."

"Gigs?"

"Ah." She waves a finger. "My turn."

Minju tilts her head and then rests her palm against the bar—leaning toward you and eyes focused. It’s like an inspection and you instinctively sit up straighter.

"So why are you here?" she asks.

"Expelled. About..." You bring up your wristwatch into view. "About an hour ago."

Her brows go up a fraction and her eyes narrow on you again, almost as if to accuse you of lying to her. But her expression softens almost instantly. You would never notice if not for watching every second in painstaking detail. Her widening eyes reveal to you the thoughts passing through her mind as she racks her brain for a reason you would be expelled.

"You said that you're between gigs, so what is it you do?" you say, shifting the focus back away from yourself.

"I sing. I dance. I model. I act." She pauses with a bitter look. "However, right now, I serve drinks." You get it; she looks the part. That much is clear. She's far too gorgeous to be spending her time polishing glasses and serving screwdrivers to burnouts at happy hour. She looks every bit like a woman who should be so much more, but this isn't Hollywood, and the storybook tale of the waitress who makes it is so cliché.

You swill the last of your drink around in the glass, watching the little tidal pattern inside. The way the ice cube moves with the current, it hypnotises, entrances. You speak, looking down into the amber-hued ocean within your glass.

"And you have the talent to back up the looks?"

"So they tell me." There's no joy in the words or the tone. No pride or smug sense of achievement. If anything, it's dismissive. “It’s just a slow period. That’s life.”

“C’est la vie.” You catch her gaze as you utter the phrase under your breath.

Minju continues despite you, “but things will turn around soon enough. I'm going places."

"Every actor who is going places never seems to get there." Maybe it's the alcohol or maybe it's because, right now, you hate this city and everyone in it, but everything that comes out of your mouth is uncharacteristically curt.

And look, you regret it as soon as it leaves your mouth but that doesn't change the way you just dismissed her. It wasn't meant personally, but it's hard to stop your thoughts from curdling into words right now.

Minju is quiet, and the air becomes heavy. You swallow deep and finally look her in the eyes again. There's something there, some little flicker of emotion untold that gives her away for a moment. She is a woman told repeatedly that she has the world at her feet, but the hard truth of it is that she's here, working away behind the bar because, in fact, life is a lot more cruel.

Absorbed by her vulnerability, you feel the need to backtrack, "that's not—"

"So what, you look at me and see nothing but a girl who couldn't cut it?" There's a flash of fire in her eyes. A burn. A spark that sets the sky alight. A very attractive spark.

The way she fires it back. The passion in her words. The tension building between you as your eyes linger on each other.

You can't explain the attraction, but you can certainly feel it.

"No," you fire back without hesitation, leaning towards her, "what I see is a woman working two jobs just to afford a place to live." Your confidence rises with the alcohol pumping its way through your system and you do your damnedest to rescue the situation. "What I see is a girl with stars in her eyes and a dream that somehow she still keeps alive where so many more have given up. I'm not judging."

Silence.

Sudden, silent, and slightly sinister.

"Yeah, you were," Minju's eyebrows arch in amusement, "but that's fine, I'll take my turn now."

As she leans forward, there are words on her tongue. She looks ready to bite back, but she's looking over you, across the room, watching the only other two people in the bar leave. And for a minute, everything is held in suspense, you are locked together in silence, the clap of their shoes echoing through it. Then the sound of the door, and the brief exposure to the outside world, it's the rain pouring and the cars passing by and then it's the slam shut. It's just you and her, Minju, alone under the dim of the lights.

"So what was it?" she finally breaks the silence.

"Hm?"

"What got you expelled?"

You could lie. There's an opportunity for that. But what's the point? Even though she's a stranger, it doesn't feel like there's a risk if you just come clean and spill your dirty little secret, besides, you owe her one now.

"I got caught fucking in the library." The truth comes out plain and simple. It’s a brazen statement to make in the middle of the afternoon to a stranger. Her gaze shoots down at you. Whatever she expected, it wasn't that.

"I’m sorry, you were caught fucking in the library?" She repeats it out quizzically as if she’s taking time to process. Minju has this way of talking—a lilt in her voice. She has a tone and a pitch that rises and falls with each word. She's amused, that much is clear, by the slight smirk that has curled a corner of her mouth to accompany her sound.

"We were alone, or at least we thought we were, and it’s not like we hadn’t done it before, but apparently, there's evidence." You gesture your empty glass at her, a secondary conversation, unspoken but clear that you need another drink before you tell her anything else.

In doing so you see how she tenses her lips together, holding in her laughter at the thought. She’s holding and you’re watching until she finally cracks, her grin wide and laughter loud.

"Now I am the one judging you. You made fun of me for trying while you're too busy swinging your cock around to even try. So, you tell me, who is the stupid one here?"

"Alright I deserved that one." Your hand had been holding the empty glass to her but now you bring it to rest against the bar top. "In my defence, it's not like I had much of a choice. That girl..."

"Here we go. Let's see how you justify this one." She finally takes your empty glass and when the edge of her fingers brushes across the back of your hand, they linger for far too long. And when she draws back, dragging away those long, delicate fingers from your own, you find yourself suddenly cold.

"It's not like I could turn her down if I wanted to. Also I would never have done it in the library if she didn't make me."

"She 'made' you. Go on." There's scepticism in the words. Her mocking tone teasing you as you watch her turn to the shelves behind her, eyes scanning the possibilities.

"No one says no to her. Never."

"Wow, sounds like quite a woman," she says, ever more playful, as she reaches for the top shelf. Her blazer is pulled up now, ever so slightly exposing her back above the waist of her trousers. Trousers hugging the subtle swell of her hips. Her small, tight, round ass is defined through the fitted fabric. You can't look away.

"Everything comes easily for her. There are literally men fighting for her affections. They would die for her," the words tumble from your mouth, as your gaze lingers.

You must have been lost in the daze and absent-mindedly following the contours of her thighs because by the time you shift focus to her face, she's peering at you from over her shoulder. Eyes sharp as daggers, as if to say it’s a little too obvious.

"Wow she sounds like a real piece of work. I know someone like that too. " Minju turns with bottle in hand, hair swirling around her as she does so. She's graceful. Unbothered and unhurried by anything. "This one is perfect. This bottle is older than me."

She pours two fresh drinks with more ice in each.

"Am I going to regret this in the morning?" you question as the weight of the glass finds your hand.

"You might. But at this moment? No."

You trust her, somehow, inexplicably; you do.

She asks, “so, what will you do now?” it’s a question as funny as it is difficult to answer.

The truth is that you haven’t got the slightest clue. You tell her as much and try to explain it as best you can, and her eyes soften as you share the details. It’s supposed to be a back-and-forth—quid pro quo—but she’s pressing you with question after question: how long have you known her? Is she pretty? Where does she see you in all of this?

“You and her. Still a thing?”

Minju is on your side of the bar now, sitting by your side with little caution about personal space; there’s not an inch of space between you. Her thigh presses against you and her upper arm is flush with your own.

"Me and Wonyoung were never a thing, not really."

Minju stops dead and chokes, holding her throat, and forcing the drink down. Her whole body shifts. She nearly falls off the bar stool and, after steadying herself, she stares blankly forwards.

"Wonyoung? Jang Wonyoung?"

"Yeah, her." The new drink meets your lips and its taste is a hell of a lot richer than the cheap stuff you were pouring down. It’s laden with a smoky taste over sweet tones.

There's a silence even after you finish taking a drink. Something untold hangs in the air. You know it. She knows it. She's here on the verge of telling you something, but what? And you sit here and wait, despite the racing of your heartbeat.

"I should have known." Minju shakes her head, laughing, but without a smile.

"Should've known what?"

"You're Wonyoung's new toy. I should have guessed as soon as I saw you, she has this effect on people."

You stiffen at that. It's always the truth that hurts the most and the fact is you really were just a toy. A convenient dildo.

"You know what you need right now?" She twists on the stool, and suddenly, you've got Minju looking straight at you. Eyes locking with you. Right there. Looking up at you. So close. Right there, leaning back ever so slightly so her chest arches towards you, accentuating her small breasts, straining against her shirt.

"Drinking helps," you reply, raising your glass.

"Yes, but so does fucking."

That’s a line. It’s one that shouldn’t come as a surprise because a girl like this probably has a lot of experience in being wanted, so who is to say she can’t turn the table for once? But in one breath you’re giddy, taken out of yourself and feeling drunker by the moment. Not on the booze, but her. She is intoxicating.

It takes you a few seconds to notice but her free hand slips on your leg, rubbing and caressing as it snakes further and further up.

"What?" You ask as if it needs confirmation and in those long few moments, you think you must have imagined it. And the same way a nervous laughter rises, the laughter spilling out of your throat, she is quick to quench the growing dread inside of you by sliding her palm across your bulge.

"Wait here." Something has switched inside her. You don’t know what, but either way, it's got her standing up and strutting towards the door. With each step, she opens her body language. A growing swagger, letting you see the sway of her hips. Left and right. Just enough to catch the eye. And oh boy, does your eye get caught. You couldn't pull your gaze away now if you wanted to.

She's swiping hands at the door now and flicking the locks. Then she's pulling the blinds shut. A giggle comes from Minju as she spins back to face you. She runs her bottom lip through her teeth and stares right into you.

You feel exposed but, strangely, comfortable. It's so very odd; with no clue as to what happens next. It has your heart pounding out of your chest.

"I thought you were alone tonight because you were upset, but no, I understand it now. You're frustrated. Angry. Stressed. She used you and got away with it."

She kicks off her heels, loses a few centimetres in height, and is walking barefoot across the floor - toward you. Her shoulder rolls to one side and then to the other as her body rises and falls, sashays with the pace of her hips. She can see that you're stuck. You’re rooted to the seat with a dumb look on your face, and yet she saunters ever closer.

“I am a little confused,” you finally say. She's so close that all your senses are lost to the approach of Minju's swaying frame. Her curves, her body, her gentle steps, the way her perfume smells—it's consuming you.

She ignores you and continues, "I’m frustrated too. I'm so frustrated that I'm wasting time in this damn bar. I'm angry at all the auditions that ended up with producers rejecting me. I know exactly what you're feeling. You're angry at the world and everyone in it." Her tone grows raspier. More raw and less stable. "You feel alone. Hung out to dry and in need of attention."

"And you feel the same?"

"Yes, and I'm hungry. Starved of any real satisfaction. You told me I’m going nowhere and I guess it means I need a little attention, too."

You watch her eyes flittering as she looks you up and down. The sultry grin she wears shows she likes what she sees.

"So what are you going to do about it, Minju? What is the solution?" You drop a look down to the soft and slender flesh of her neck.

"No strings. We get this all out of our system." Minju leans in. Lips so close to yours. She stays there. It's torture. "You let all that shit out. Take out your pent-up stress, frustration, anger."

"On you?"

"Exactly. You'll feel better. I will too. Because right now…" Her nose presses against the side of your own. Soft skin. Gentle pressure. "I need it rough."

Her hand lands on your thigh again, rubbing down the denim of your jeans.

The offer is enticing. It has your head swimming with dirty images of everything the two of you could do together, and your cock? Well, that's already twitching in your underwear.

"This isn’t going to help, it will just make things worse."

"Can they really get any worse?"

Minju brings your hand, hers and yours, to her waist. Your thumb feels the soft material of her shirt, and your fingers touch that small patch of skin below it.

"Are we prepared to find out?" Your lips graze gently against hers. The thrill. The electricity in the air.

"I’m ready. More than ready. Just this once, do what you want to do and make me the star of your fantasy. Use me. Make me everything you need." She plants her lips firmly on yours. You both go quiet, muffled by a kiss.

Nothing to do but feel.

Minju's grip tightens on your leg, and yours on her waist. The other hand slides up to her chest, finding her breast, cupping it and feeling her. She opens her mouth. And you follow. Your tongues are colliding and sweeping across one another, eager and desperate.

So you push, guiding the two of you to stand. Minju staggers back, and you're with her every step of the way. Stumbling through a kiss. Hands everywhere. Uncertain. Lost, confused, and passionate. It's an incoherent tumble that takes you both crashing through chairs, pushing them aside until you hit something sturdy. Minju's ass slams against the pool table and she grunts into your mouth.

Her lips drag away and she smiles. "Fuck me."

You grab her by the hips, lifting her onto the pool table.

"I need to see the big cock that’s got Wony all worked up. She wouldn’t settle for anything disappointing." She's fumbling at your waist, struggling with the buckle of your jeans.

"This what you want?" Your words vibrate through her. And when you take a handful of her hair and tug, there's a long, soft, desperate sigh from Minju's parted lips.

"Use me. Abuse me." Her fumbling finally succeeds and the waist of your trousers slackens. "I know how I look, but don't worry, you're not going to break me."

She's pushing at your trousers, your boxers, and when that stiff dick pops out, her smile spreads into a big, stupid grin. It's not an unattractive expression—not really. It just tells the truth. She is excited.

It’s as clear as day that you are too. You’re rock hard, stiff as hell, ready to fuck, and this, this will give you the chance to let it all out. All of it.

"Perfect." Minju grabs your cock in both hands, still warm, throbbing, and strong. "Just look at this thing."

You pull on her hair again, harder, until she breaks away from you, until she gives way—losing the grip on your cock and falling back on the table. And now you slow as if to savour the moment as you’re sliding your fingers under the waist of her trousers. Not often you get afforded a measure of control.

"C’mon, please, don't be gentle," Minju moans out through gritted teeth. The desperation is painted on her face and that’s the difference here: while a girl like Wonyoung wouldn’t let you go slow, Minju is the type of girl who makes you not want to go slow.

So you pull at the trousers of the girl sprawling out in front of you, tearing the button from the fabric, yanking them open and pulling them down those long, slender legs. The flesh is soft. And to touch, so smooth and light. Minju's breathing picks up—becoming shorter and deeper with each touch to her sensitive skin.

"I might leave marks."

Minju stares you down, hands already massaging over her panties. "I hope you will."

The thought is intoxicating, so much more so than the alcohol in your blood, as your hands paw over her legs; you knead soft skin with a kind of aggression you haven't felt before.

Minju is a rare girl.

Beautiful. And by definition, beautiful women have seen it all before.

But her?

The look she gives? Like no man has ever fully satisfied the itch within her. It's deep-set hunger. The kind that she chases endlessly for.

This hunger makes people behave stupidly, careless and forgetful of the consequences. And maybe you know that all too well but even still it's a risk worth taking. Every choice has led you here and maybe that is your solace, that it's not all downhill from here.

And as your hands reach her small satin panties, the warmth embraces you, and the urge within you grows. You hook your fingers inside and draw the panties aside to expose the tight pink flesh of Minju's cunt.

Not that you would expect anything else, but she is clean-shaven. So smooth. Not a single blemish. This is a girl who kept herself neat and pristine, and yet from her mouth spills utter filth, "just look at how wet this pussy is for you."

She's running her fingers between her lips, showing you everything she has to offer between her legs, showing you where she expects you dick will get put to use.

"This tight fucking cunt can take everything your thick cock has to give."

"Minju, you’re so..." You're standing over her, her legs spread wide beside you, blazer falling from her shoulders leaving nothing covering her but that low-cut top.

Minju stares right at you, eyes fixed, wide and eager, her chest heaves with every deepening breath she takes in. She's wild, reaching for you with one hand, stretching to hold you and then pulling at your shirt to draw you in.

"I'm so needy. Please fuck me." She's whining through closed lips as her other hand slips away from her pussy and glides over her taut abs and leaving her cunt ready to be used. She wants it, desperately, and you're drawing it out. Making it build inside her, and you hold your cock in your hand.

You're stroking, and she's watching. And for all her strain to pull at your shirt, to pull you into her, you hold back. You hold just long enough. Enough for her arm to fall limp. Enough for her to almost give in. "Please..." she trails off with a whimper.

You push the head of your stiff cock against her cunt—against her clit. Your hips roll as you run the entire underside of your cock between her lips. She gasps and breathes deeply. She's holding it all the while. All the time it takes for you to draw your cock back, so the tip is right there. Ready.

She let's go as you do. The air escapes her lungs with a sharp squeal. You let your cock sink in. Slow but persistent, you push further and further, feeling her tensing. Then the clench and tightness overwhelms. She gasps and squirms, wriggles beneath you and her nails scratch at the fabric of the table beneath her.

You push again, sinking your cock as far as you can through her wet hole.

There's a loud snap and squeal from Minju. Pretty girl broke a nail. It flew off somewhere across the room, such is her grip onto the table. "Fuck. So fucking full," she manages, barely. It's more the noise you force from her than any actual communication.

You draw your hips back and she's quick to encourage you, "again," she says.

Your hips are driving forward again, pushing every last centimetre back through her.

Minju whimpers. There's this short, sweet purr from deep within her. You feel her stretch, she moves a little, adjusting herself atop the pool table. There's a warmth that swells, tightens, and pulsates. And you feel the breath come easier. It leaves her as though her body has settled to a kind of ease and pleasure, some form of satisfaction.

You refuse to let her rest. It's not what she would want.

It's not what you want.

You run your hands along her inner thighs, past her knees until you finally reach her ankles and pull them together and hold them aloft. You lift and pull her ass up slightly from the table. She's suspended now while you fuck into her.

The shake of her small frame is completely erotic. Watching her ass and thighs jiggle as you fuck into her. That plump little ass taking slap after slap from your hips.

Her perfect skin reddens as her moans louden the longer you last. There are high-pitched squeals and low and gritty growls. They bounce around the empty bar, reverberating and multiplying—echoing back louder than before.

"Harder." She thinks she can take more. Look, Wonyoung was demanding, she wanted to control everything and push your limits, but Minju? Minju is whole different type of demanding. She's welcoming everything you have with every fibre of her being. Her pussy so eagerly taking it all, and it just seems like no matter what limit you push past, or the more Minju takes, the more she craves.

You pull her legs to you, calves on your shoulders, feet in the air, and your hands move firmly onto her hips. You steady her—ready her. Your grip bruises the tender skin (hey, it's what she wants) and then you fuck her like your life depends on it. Your cock pumping inside with reckless abandon.

"Keep going! Just like that! Fuck!" her voice rises over the rhythm of your low grunts, and the crack of your hips slapping against her ass.

Minju's face twists, red and flushed. She's so tense. Muscles tight around the neck and her teeth buried in the soft flesh of her lower lip. Her voice is low and raw, growling, as she pleads for more with words you can't pretend to understand. It's not eloquent or graceful... In fact, it's that incoherence that makes this all the better—so utterly unbothered, unconcerned with anything other than being thoroughly used, fucked and defiled.

She has that hungry glaze in her eyes when you look down upon her, a girl being exactly the kind of filthy thing she promised to be. And those eyes only draw you in, you're pushing over her, folding her legs further against her body until she's truly helpless. Pinned to the table. Bent in two. No ability, nor want, to stop you from dominating her.

"I'm gonna—" she tries to speak until you press down, right into her. She squeezes your cock inside that tight, creaming hole. Then she whines, loud.

So loud.

Her back would arch high if it could. But she can't break free. You have her completely immobilized with your upper bodyweight. And fuck does she love every second of it. She's got handfuls of her shirt, pulling it, clutching, writhing. Ecstasy courses through her and eyes roll.

And now she's rolling, you're turning her. Ankles in your hands, you have pulled out and you're flipping her onto her front, face down into the table. She’s just… accepting it. Not an ounce of fight in her. Not even a word. Just a throaty moan.

"Be a good girl for me, won’t you?” you’re ordering, “give me your hands.”

She reaches her arms back over her subdued body and lets you take her delicate wrists.

She submits.

Just lying there prone, her delicate body against the table, with that tight little ass perched on the edge of it, and that skimpy underwear still pushed aside for her throbbing cunt. Those slender legs left hanging either side of you. And go on, you're allowed to think it in the simplest of terms; Minju is sexy. In a word, that's it. Sexy. And yet, the reality is there's so much more you can say. Every soft curve of her toned body is alluring, she is magnetic and inviting, and that cute face peering over her shoulder, long hair spilled all behind it. All the words in the world couldn't do justice to describe her—couldn't properly capture the image.

"What are you going to do to me, daddy?" Oh, she says it so seamlessly, slips it in like it's been on her lips for a while - floating in the atmosphere since you took control. And now that it's finally landed, you feel its weight. It has her voice different; smokey and dripping with sex. And it hits you straight between your legs.

She licks her lips and tests it out again, just for good measure: "what does daddy think I deserve?"

One hand holding her wrists against the small of her back, another gripping her hip. Her legs sway lazily, unable to reach the floor. Helplessly dangling, waiting for her fate. And you're not a man to disappoint a girl like Minju.

"I'm going to use the needy little slut in front of me," you say as the head of your stiff cock probes at her cunt, slipping between her wet lips and sliding against her swollen clit. Teasing her.

You draw it back up again and pushing apart her ass cheeks with the length of your cock. Slipping under the thin fabric of her soaked panties.

She bites her lower lip and whimpers through her teeth. The head of your wet cock slides against her tight asshole, and her hips twitch back. "Whatever you need, take it from me." She means that. There's yearning in every word. The hunger and desire in her voice growing thicker.

You push against her, cock sandwiched between her cheeks, pushing your weight down and pressing her against the table. Her eyes close for a moment, her fingers curl into her palms.

"Yes. Fuck," Minju's desperate encouragement spills through clenched teeth.

You pull back your cock and replace it with your thumb, sliding your hand over her ass and slipping it against her puckered hole.

"Please da—" You slip the tip of your thumb just inside her ass and hold it there while she holds her breath.

Anticipation—

Waiting—

Knowing what's coming next.

Minju is completely still as you drive your cock into her cunt again. Sinking yourself in so deep—balls deep. Her hands become tight fists and her whole body is shaking. You withdraw and plunge again, and she hisses, breathing from the bottom of her lungs, ragged and shallow, and fighting to speak.

"I'm a dirty, needy, little slut and you’re going to use me—"

You spit at her spread ass, right onto your thumb, and use it to dig a little deeper. "What are you?" your question provokes an instant answer,

"I'm a horny slut. I'm a fuck-hole. That's what I am."

As if it's a reward for her honesty, you fuck her a little harder. Push your thumb a little deeper. She smiles through a howl of ecstasy, the sound swelling into the room.

"Tell me again," you command with another pump of your hips, stretching her even more with your thumb.

Her words crackle, dying in her throat with each impact of your hips, "I'm just a dumb girl who needs to be full of cum."

No sane man would refuse it. Not you, not anyone. Definitely not you at all. You couldn't resist any part of her, but especially not that filthy demand. Especially not with how you felt watching those gorgeous fucking curves ripple every time your hips slapped against her ass.

It's all so easy, how you continue, keeping pace. Thumb deep in her ass. Balls smacking against her soaked pussy with every thrust. It's a pleasure all too overwhelming—a thrill, a sensation, a powerful sense of utter fucking satisfaction and all-consuming desire—an erotic overflow inundates, a swell, an ever-growing crest inside your balls.

"Minju. I'm. Gonna—"

"Cum in me? Please." She's the hallmark of innocence-gone-wrong; the way such words roll off her tongue with playful ease. And she knows all the right ones. The ones that she knows will bring all the right reactions. To speak to you on a primal level. She's at it again, cutting into you, "Inside— Inside me."

Cutting through you like the blade of a knife, right to your core and you obey—fuck.

"Daddy please."

You're incensed.

Dogged with the pounding you're giving her, you have lost control of just how deep you have your thumb in her ass. This is so Indecent. Obscene, even. For you, or for anyone, to just... enjoy something like this. Your body is roaring with lust as her ass and cunt both squeeze on you, clamping you as you drive yourself to the brink.

"I wanna... feel your hot load," her voice comes shaking through the unabated pounding you're inflicting. "Fill me please," she's begging and it sounds a little clearer now, stronger, a little louder, no doubt because she knows it's almost done.

You tug at her wrists, pulling her arms back and her body away from the table. Her head hangs forward beneath a wave of hair. Face covered by sweat streaks across those pretty sculpted features.

"Please, I'll be a good girl and take every drop. All the fucking cum that daddy has. Make me your stupid dirty little slut," she compels, then yelps with every new slam and stroke of the stiff cock being buried into her again and again.

That tight asshole, and that cock-hugging pussy. All the relentless slamming that you have done and will do. All the desires, with the pent-up frustration, the rage and anger and tension that has built up—you release it. Everything goes as you send your load rushing through your cock to paint her insides.

Pushing everything you have in. Pumping. Driving hard.

Her squeals are like music to the soul. Relief and rapture are overflowing. And fuck. What a ride. What a rush. You pump her full until she's gasping for air, struggling in your grasp and making sure to moan each and every dirty word into the atmosphere as she fights to hold on. What a thrill. And as the two of you hit the limits of physical exhaustion and exhilaration, you pull back. Letting the girl lay there, spent, and filled, on the pool table.

Used.

Satisfied.

Sullied.

Minju to you, today, is a feeling of freedom. Fulfilment. Absolution. As she lay limp, arms out, legs hanging, hair draped over her face and pooling on the table—a girl well fucked and on display. She is satisfaction. And she is dripping with your cum.

She slips her fingers under her panties. That shrivelled piece of fabric that clings, or struggles to. Now she pushes them off her hips and they tumble over her feet.

When this beautiful girl speaks her voice has the distinct scratch of someone whose lungs have had the oxygen stolen from them, her throat sore with moaning, "I need more."

She moves to her back and you can only watch in amazement as she turns to you with that flush face. One of her small, delicate hands falling between her legs and her dainty fingers tracing around her cunt—through her pink folds, and dousing them in your leaking cum.

There's a knock at the door. It rattles in the frame. "Open up!" It's the voice of the young man seeking an afternoon drink. You think that, luckily, hopefully, between the blinds, the posters and the neon lights in the windows along with the dim lighting, he can't see in.

"Fuck off!" Minju shouts. Her chest is heaving, and there are the gentle lulls of a giggle welling in her throat.

You notice she hasn't moved the fingers away from her swollen and sticky cunt. There's a building cackle, almost as if she is going to fall into hysterics.

"Let me in! You should be open!"

"I said fuck off!" Minju's climbing from the table with a wild smile on her face. Cum is trailing from her cunt, pooling, oozing, dripping down her thigh, down her leg. Her tongue slides over her lips, she's eying you up like a tiger.

"I want to ride your thick cock." She's breathing the words out heavy and finally pulling that shirt over her head. Small round breasts exposed. Stiff dark nipples. Hard and taught. That bare torso. Tight and tone. Firm and solid. Every muscle defined under glistening, sweaty skin.

She pushes herself against you until you push between a pair of stools and your ass plants against the bar. "You made me a dirty girl, and now I can't stop."

You find her strength a little unnerving, the way seems so unphased and determined. She's running on pure adrenaline. It's hot, sure, a kind of raw passion is certainly not without appeal, but also maybe a touch too overpowering. The way that she grabs at you, a touch forceful, and the way you come together is perhaps too rough and less than elegant.

So unkempt, un-romantic, yet so insanely gratifying as her soft skin finds yours.

You take her body in your arms, lips on one another, exploring mouths with tongues. Grasping the round cheek of her ass as she lifts her left thigh up to your waist. Hand trailing between the two of you and then grabbing a firm hold of your cock, guiding the thing back to her pussy—and not letting go.

This is it. This is where she belongs.

It’s all so natural for her to be on the end of your cock, so much so that she can casually pull away from the kiss to switch her focus to finding a drink on the bar behind you. She’s taking a drink of it now and some of it spills from the corner of her mouth.There is something undignified in that, but utterly perfect nonetheless.

She's grinding against you now, swirling her hips and cooing like a little kitten, as your hands move over her ass and that silken smooth back.

Minju sets the empty glass back down on the bar, and pulls back to meet your eyes. She presses a finger to her tongue, her eyes gleaming and focused solely on you, as she guides a small, playful trail of drool to run over her glistening tits. "Fuck," she breathes through a grin, taking both her hands and smoothing that drool over her chest.

Another knock at the door. Another fist pounded into its frame.

All these fucking interruptions.

"Ugh! Fuck this. Come on, follow me." And before you know it, she's guiding you across the room. "I'm going to ride you until I can't walk. Until I'm so sore that every step will remind me what it felt like to have you deep inside me."

Your phone rings, on the floor in the pocket of your trousers. Who would call right now? Just as one interruption finally concedes at the door, another emerges.

Minju bends to fish it out of your trousers. Her little ass, one cheek marred with a handprint from your grasp, is so close you could bend forward and eat it (any other time, you would.) but it's not that which intrigues you the most. When she rises, slowly, your phone is in her grasp, screen displaying Wonyoung's name.

"This should be fun," Minju chuckles to herself. She swipes the answer button and raises the device to her ear. "Hello?"

Minju reaches out to hold your hand and pulls you toward the staff only door. "Sorry, he's a little busy right now," she says as she walks through the door with you in tow. Her head pivots. Minju stares, eyes boring deep into yours. That sultry expression. The spark of desire igniting all over again.

Minju turns on her heel, letting you go and taking a step back. Thin fingers stroke over her cum-soaked thigh, up and along her wet lips, higher and past her flat stomach, sliding between her firm tits. "He is really busy."

She points at the couch in the break room, gesturing you to sit. You oblige, a little nervous about the turn of events. She's rubbing at her perky little tits as she speaks, "do you want me to take a message?"

"Minju..." you say with warning, ready to take the phone off her. But it's so hard to ignore how utterly sexy she is, and your hand starts to stroke along your shaft. She turns her body and poses, looking over her shoulder to you, and she grins. Minju affords you all the time you need to admire her while she listens to the ramblings of Wonyoung through your phone.

Minju steps toward you, looking down at you. "You need to speak to him?" She rests a hand on your shoulder, and then she clambers over you, straddles you. Her leaking cunt right above your cock. She licks her lips and rubs her slick pussy over your stiff dick, eyes focused on you, head tilted down. "Give me one second."

She holds the phone against her collar and shifts above you, resting the tip of your cock against her hole.

"Minju, let me—"

She sinks onto your cock.

Inch by pleasurable inch, she takes you. Minju rocks forward and adjusts to settle on the length of your rod. Fully hilted and stuffed. She's a slick sheath of velvet on your stiff rod and you realise then just how perfectly she fits on you. You bite your tongue, trying to not make a noise so you don't alert the woman on the other end of the phone. Minju, however, is careless, and she lets out a soft moan as she shifts on you, readying herself.

Cum still seeps out of her cunt and down your shaft—your own and hers in some messy cocktail. The smell is sharp but unmistakable. It hangs in the air as the unmistakable evidence of what has happened and what will happen again. It’s so potent; invigorating and exciting. A reminder of everything and more, as if you would ever forget it—as if you could ever forget what she has become for you.

Minju draws the phone back to her face and, with a cocky smirk parting her lips, she speaks again, her voice breathy and full of lust.

"He's in a bit of a tight spot right now." She throws you a wink and continues, "give him ten—wait, no—give him fifteen minutes and whatever is left of him is all yours."

There's the sound of a voice coming through the phone, so unmistakably Wonyoung's but you can't make a word of it out. There's another sound, one much dirtier, that fills the air between the two of you. The soft squelching as Minju rocks and rotates those full hips on you.

"Sorry, what was that?" Minju is stifling a giggle and not-really trying to keep the naughtiness of the situation in check. "Yeah, Wonyoung,you’re right. It's me, Minju," she purrs, biting her lip as her eyes fix on you. Then her tongue flits from her lips, sweeping from left to right.

‘It's me, Minju.’

Look, it’s not really a surprise that they know each other well. It was always a possibility that Minju had just heard of Wonyoung but had never really been acquainted. Thinking back, however, the strength of her reaction to the girl’s name should have told you everything. The truth is now ever so clear.

Not that Minju is going to let you process it. She will not allow you to focus on anything other than the caress of her pussy over your sensitive cock. She's elegant with the movements of her hips—the motions subtle and slow. Her pace is sinful. She's running her tongue over her teeth and staring at you, enjoying the quiet grunts that rattle from your throat.

"He showed up in—" Her breath hitches and she catches a moan in her throat before it escapes. "In the bar, drinking alone."

There's a gasp, then another as she strokes her hands through the locks of your hair. "Yeah. He was doing that." She's laughing under her breath and looking you up and down. "That thing with his hand, yeah, it's cute."

“What? No. I wouldn’t.” You’re getting half a conversation and none of it makes any sense.

She reaches out her hand to the side of your face, thumb brushing the line of your jaw and her body leaning in. "He's got a sexy jaw line," she admits and then picks up the speed of her movement.

Her hand slides down your neck and presses into your collar. "His body?" Minju hums as her hips are churning; her body is rolling and her abs are flexing. "Yeah, I think so too."

Minju's back arches and her tiny tits bounce as her movement changes, bouncing rhythmically on your cock. She's adjusting and getting more comfortable on you. As the seconds pass, she's getting rougher and moving ever faster.

Fuck.

"Well, he's drunk, so it's no surprise."

It's been no end of strange situations over the past couple of months, but this may well be the strangest yet. The girls are having a friendly conversation, but one is on top of a cock that's dripping with her mess.You're still trying to piece it together. They're friends—that much is clear. But there's still so many questions unasked: How? Since when? And why are they having their catch up right fucking now?

Her delicate frame moves fast now and the rise and fall of her chest growing sharper leading to short breaths.

"Mhm," she utters, keeping her voice low and words at a premium. "N—No we aren't." To give her credit, she's actually very good at sounding natural. In some twisted way, it's one hell of an audition for how talented of actress she can actually be.

But that image comes crumbling down before your eyes.

Just for a moment, the picture freezes. Her mouth is half-open, eyes wide. She bites down on her lip, silencing herself, and then she drops her hand from her ear. She's hitting her fist, clenched around the phone, against her thigh repeatedly as she fights against her own body. There's another choked grunt as she is being pushed ever so close to the edge.

She draws the phone to her face again, breathing in deep and staring at you with those glossy eyes scanning all across your body, and she swallows.

"We aren't fucking," Minju denies, as your hands creep up from her slender thighs, sliding over those beautiful taut hips, gripping tight and helping pull her back and forth. It's clear, from the way she bites down on her bottom lip, the subtle trembling of her chin, she's hanging on by a thread, ready to lose it at any second.

"No. Don't—" Minju holds the phone out, and she’s looking at it—you can see it too—Wonyoung has just ended the call. "Ah fuck it." Minju throws the phone down on the couch.

She looks at you with a face that's a little lost in thought, considering things unknown to you. All while her body is on auto-pilot, still fucking down onto you.

After a moment, her face changes, an expression of indifference, of calmness. She smiles a little and rests both of her hands on your shoulders. Staring deep into your eyes, she grows ever more serious with a tinge of intent. She shifts from auto-pilot to manual, tightening the grip with her legs and slowing the pace, but fucking you harder.

Minju rides the ridge of your cock. Your whole length is dragged up and down her insides, setting every inch of you on fire. She moans every time she slams onto you.

Every time.

She's falling further apart in front of you—coming completely undone. Eyes rolling and biting that lip again. Hips shifting in all kinds of directions. A cacophony of beautiful grunting sounds that flood the room.

Minju is a woman derailed by pleasure.

"God. Your cock— Your cock is—" She's struggling now and you're only going to make it worse. Using the hands on her hips, you buck yourself up into her, bringing yourself a fraction closer each time.

"The things this cock— the things you— fuck." Minju has no power to string any kind of sentences together, no matter how many words you force from her. They grow less and less like words you can understand until all that remains are these loud and unashamed gasps.

Gasp after sharp and unstoppable gasp.

The rush of exhilaration courses through her, from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. She feels it. All over. It's written on her face, in the way that she moves and in the look in her eyes. A look like that is a hard thing to fake, even for her—there's nothing else like it. Minju is cumming all over your cock and every bit of it is evident in every tense muscle, the quiver in the corner of her mouth, the sheen across her brow, the mist in her eyes as she blinks lazily and tries not to be overcome, overawed, with emotion and all the intense sensations, one wave after another, rippling through her.

You're just about there again too. You try to warn her, but you're fucking up into her with so much energy that you're not sure if the words ever left your mouth. But she knows it, somehow, because she has renewed aggression in her. Even through her orgasm, she's bouncing on your cock with such ferocity. Minju takes hold of your head and draws you into her. Nose to nose. Foreheads touch. "Cum in me again."

They're four of the best words she could have said.

She rides you faster still as you pump rope after hot rope into her cunt, your entire length filling her already overflowing cunt. You cum so hard inside her that the world seems to distort, twist, and wane.

"Yes! Yes!" she shouts in a whisper—her voice stolen by pleasure. "Fill my little pussy."

And with every last ounce of strength you have, you continue. Bucking into her, driving deeper with the last throes of your second load. It's too much. It's beyond pleasure and into pain now, as you have nothing left to give her.

You squeeze at her hips and waist, holding her down and doing everything you can to stop her fucking you.

You're panting. Tired. Done.

Done.

Minju raises herself just enough to slip that ruined and swollen cockhead from the depth of her. You watch as your combined fluids flow out of her onto your leg.

All that filth, a dirty combination of the two of you. Two loads of your cum drained into that one pretty pussy.

Minju is stroking a hand up your stomach, your chest, along your neck and jawline. Across your face and to your chin, so slowly, as if memorising your features.

You watch her body, so fucking perfect, flexing and trembling still and her breasts heave beneath sweat and exertion. Her breath is so ragged that a chuckle emerges between the hard, deep inhales and exhales. She's sweating, perspiration painting her body and strands of long hair matted to her head. So beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

She looks into your eyes, studying, thinking. "You feel better now," her voice has returned to the softness of before, low and sultry. "Don't you?"

With a smile, your hands move again, wandering further up. They snake their way around her slender waist. There's something strange, something new, about how they explore her—before, you were quick to set them and demand control. But not now. Now, it's tender and grateful and you have a slow, searching rhythm to the touches that skim the skin across her skin.

"Yeah." It's honest. You do. She has done her magic, she has restored the balance, and the release has cleared a space within the self, within the mind. You stare back into her gaze, "thank you."

"No." Minju brings her head forward, her face almost colliding with yours. "Thank you. This is exactly what I needed, I really—" She bites down on her lips and hesitates. She pauses for a second before she begins to move herself off you. Standing up straight, wobbling for a moment on the spot before stepping off and the sticky remains of your fucking cling to her inner thighs, glistening on the flesh, thick and trailing down from her hole.

She stares at you for a moment in some profound silence. You sit on the couch, on that musty old fabric, fully spent and staring. She's searching for something, eyes drifting over the room until it catches her eye, and she heads right for it.

You find the strength to stand and as you do, you’re still watching the sway of her body—noticing each bounce of her perfectly formed butt. Your eyes linger, appreciating the body that was given to you, enjoyed by you, and that gave so much to you. Your strength slowly builds from within, your legs are sore, your stomach and core are aching, your lungs feel crushed.

She's fumbling around on the table for something, she's leaning over slightly, her thighs pressed together. She wears sex like a crown—the pride, confidence, and accomplishment manifesting in her natural glow. Minju radiates. There's always something so electric about a woman in the post coital haze.

"You smoke?" she asks.

"No."

"You should," she says as she turns, fishing one out of the pack and perching herself on the edge of the table, crossing over her legs. "Makes you less nervous. You might need it."

There's an elegance in the way she slips the filter between her lips. An attractiveness in the casual way that she places the box down. With practiced poise, she flicks her wrist with lighter in hand so it flips open and her thumb runs against the sparkwheel. Once, twice, and on the third go the light takes and the flame holds steady. Minju lights the end of the cigarette and leans in, taking a deep draw and holding it.

It's mesmerising to watch. The way her mouth closes around the stick, how the soft glow dances upon her features. A darkness in the hollows of her cheeks as the smoke fills within, while she flicks the lighter back closed and slides it on the table.

Minju tilts her head back as her lungs empty, billows and tendrils escape into the room.

In the silence, you've had some realisation.

Minju is cool.

Like— really cool.

So you stand naked, facing her, in the breakroom of the bar she... works in? Owns? Hell, you don't even know that. Doesn't matter. And you finally ask her, "how do you know Wonyoung?"

For a long moment she just smiles, blowing smoke towards you, teasing with silence.

"We go way back," she says, and that is hardly the complete answer that you've hoped for.

Eventually, she offers more. "High school. We were friends." Minju studies the cigarette, eyeing the burning stub. "Guess you could say we were closer than that. Fuck. If not for—"

Silence.

And yet you wait.

"Well, there was this boy," she continues eventually, offering a soft and resigned smile. "My crush, and then my boyfriend. He was my first. First kiss, first date. First—" Minju looks over to the wall and inhales hard on the cigarette again. She breathes in slowly and you watch the small ember dance, the edges turning amber and glowing bright before she brings the cigarette down and flicks ash in the tray.

"What happened?" you ask, taking a seat alongside her on the table, pushing a cup aside to make space. It's not exactly hygienic, but nothing the two of you just did was.

"Wonyoung happened. Right before we left school, he left me for her and he thought he had a chance, but, well, you know Wonyoung. She's unattainable."

"You blame her?"

"Fuck no. But it didn't exactly bring us closer. He left me for her, she rejected him. What a mess."

There is always something when Wonyoung is in the picture, a messy little tangled web, something hidden behind those silky smiles. She's the reason for many lost loves and many lonely nights. You take a pause to appreciate that fact—to see what's really at the core. She’s the common denominator. Wonyoung—the arrogant heartbreaker.

"So what was all that about? On the phone?" you ask, trying to make some sense of it all.

Minju laughs aloud, tilting her head back and blowing smoke up towards the ceiling. She holds her cigarette between her slim fingers and rests her other hand on your thigh. "I wanted to play with her a little. I wanted her to know. Because well, and no offense, but you’re one of her possessions. She basically owns you. Don't get me wrong, it's kinda hot, but I wanted to see how she would react."

"So you teased her."

"Pretty much."

She laughs a little. There is some spark in her eye, born out of childish fun.

"Don't think she cares," you shrug.

You both turn toward the door that leads back into the bar. You both heard it. Out there. The knock against the front door of the bar.

Minju turns to you, crushing her cigarette into the ashtray beside her. There's a smirk on her lips and amusement in her eyes. In that look alone, there's a lot to unpack; there's an air of knowing, a glimmer of deviousness, and something else lurking beneath the surface.

"Then why is she knocking on the door?"

#minju smut #minju x reader #izone smut #kim minju smut #kpop smut #male reader #m reader #wonyoung smut

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skzdarlings · 1 year

Text

saturday mornings | the threesome series ; skz ; chan/reader/seungmin

masterlist.

threesome series part 1/4. -

pairing: bang chan/reader/kim seungmin content info: sexual content. threesome. established relationship. bdsm. dom!chan, sub!reader, sadistic sub!seungmin lol. these three have an established dynamic that they are very familiar with, involves lots of teasing with reader as the "good" submissive and seungmin as the "brat" who coerces her into being "bad" with him. tone indicates this is all clearly playful. physically rougher elements, daddy/sir titles, baby girl pet name, punishment play, implact play, filming sexual acts, oral sex, face-slapping (not reader), bondage, shower sex, orgasm denial.

they all luv each other n they like to have fun lol ;)

You wake to a kiss on your forehead and blink your sleepy eyes open to a smiling Chan. He is perched on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his baseball cap and work-out clothes. The pale light around the curtain tells you it is still very early morning.

You stretch under the covers, groaning as you take him in.

“Why are you dressed?” Your voice is rough with sleep. “Come back to bed.”

You try to string your arms around his neck but he laughs and lowers them to the bed.

“Just meeting Changbin at the gym,” he says. “Then I gotta run to work for a sec—”

You slap your hands on the covers and pout.

“Work?” you ask miserably. “But it’s Saturday. You promised—”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry, baby,” he says. He holds your face in both his hands and swoops down to plant another kiss on your forehead. He follows it up with a kiss on each cheek, then he nuzzles your nose with a goofy little giggle. He is diabolical, knowing you are helpless to resist him being so silly. You smile back.

“Promise I��ll be fast,” he says. He strokes his thumb over your cheek. His dimples are deep with his smile, but his lifted eyebrow colours his gaze with suggestion. “You’ll be good for me today, yeah?” he asks. “Follow all my rules?”

He is still smiling, still speaking in a soft, pleasant voice, but you feel the shift in energy. It wakes the rest of you with a flush of warmth. You wet your lips and nod, looking at him with your most innocent, baby-girl eyes.

“Yes, sir, daddy,” you say, leaning your cheek into his hand. His thumb slips over your bottom lip and gives it a little touch. “I’m always good.”

“I know, baby,” he says. He smiles when you kiss the pad of his thumb, winks when he flicks your bottom lip cutely. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

You follow the direction of his gaze. Seungmin is fast asleep on your other side, one leg out of the covers, laying on his front and clutching a pillow. Seungmin tends to bat away cuddle advances when awake but he sleeps like a clingy koala bear. You are the opposite, snuggling up when conscious and kicking the boys away in your sleep. Seungmin usually curls around Chan when sleeping and he looks very bereft in slumber without him. You can’t help but smile even though you know Chan’s words are right: Seungmin is a troublemaker.

“I’ll make sure he’s good,” you say to Chan, a promise you both know will be hard to keep.

“Hope so,” Chan says. He leans down for a chaste kiss, lingering close to your mouth when he says, “See you later, baby girl. Be good for me, yeah?”

“Aren’t you gonna say bye to Seungmin?” you ask when he stands up.

Chan adjusts the brim of his cap and just grins.

“Uh, yeah, I already tried that,” he says. “He’s a brat. Give him a kiss for me later. Love you both.”

“Love you too,” you say. Your voice goes rough as you snuggle into the bedcovers, falling back to sleep. The last thing you see is Chan’s affectionate smile.

You wake a while later to warmth along your backside and a weight on your hips. You stir, groggy, taking a second to register everything.

The curtains are open and the golden glow of morning is shining in the bedroom. The bedcovers have been pushed down but you don’t feel cold. Seungmin is awake behind you, his arm draped over your middle. True to troublemaking form, he already has a hand between your thighs, just resting over your shorts. When he feels you waking, he cups you a little more deliberately.

“Seungmin,” you mumble sleepily, “Daddy’s not here. You shouldn’t be doing that.”

“That’s so sad for Chan,” Seungmin says with a lot of cheeky sass, grinning a big boxy grin. He never addresses Chan properly, not even to his face, not without a lot of effort on Chan’s part.

Seungmin’s disrespect always makes you tingle because you could neverbehave that way. You love being good. You also love that Seungmin does not.

“He should have thought about that before he went to work on a Saturday,” Seungmin says.

“He said sorry,” you reply.

You can practically hear Seungmin’s eye-roll.

“Then it’s okay, I guess,” Seungmin says sarcastically.

He is already touching you through your shorts, his knuckle gently rubbing back-and-forth and making all those nerves come alive with need.

Seungmin is a veritable pussy addict. Despite being equally submissive to Chan, Seungmin has trained you according to his own insatiable desires. It only takes one look from Seungmin to go from resting to fully turned on. He can spend hours curling his fingers inside you, stretching you out, rubbing your clit. Hours more laying between your thighs with his mouth wet and soft, kissing and licking and tongue-fucking you until you are a wrung-out mess.

He is more than half the reason you always wet by the time Chan finally puts his hands on you. Then it’s you who gets teased for being wet all the time, Seungmin just grinning behind you with that smartass grin.

He wastes no time this morning, warming you up through your shorts then slipping his fingers beneath the waistband.

“Seungmin,” you whine. “We’re not supposed to…”

“Stop crying,” he says, shoving his other arm under your body to hook it around you. He pulls you tight against him while he works his hand into your shorts. “I won’t make you come, crybaby,” he says.

“I don’t believe you,” you say.

You pout but admittedly make little effort to stop him. You should, knowing very well Chan’s number one rule is no coming without his permission, but you are lethargic with sleepy contentedness and his fingers feel so good. You figure as long as you don’t come, indulging just a little touch won’t do any harm…

You should have known better. It doesn’t take much for Seungmin to work you up completely. You buck your hips as if to escape his hand but your shorts keep him trapped. You squirm in his arms at the same time your legs thoughtlessly spread.

“Seungmin,” you say, panting against your pillow.

“Yes?” he asks, as if he has no idea what he’s doing. He holds you tighter when you start to wriggle. “Relax,” he says. “Just don’t come. Be a good girl,” he says it like a punchline, dry and humorous.

“You know his rules—”

“Who?”

“Daddy—”

“Who?”

“Chan!” Saying his name puts you over the edge. Chan’s dominance is softer by nature but Seungmin likes to provoke him so you have seen his mean side often. Imagining his reaction to your bad behaviour has you coming hard on Seungmin’s fingers.

Seungmin, like the demon he is, strokes you through your orgasm and a little past it, laughing in your ear when you whimper from oversensitivity. You have never known someone to be so sadistic and submissive at once. Seungmin likes to make you cry even more than Chan does. It gets Chan all huffy and mean, then he really puts Seungmin in his place.

Satisfied with his evil deed, Seungmin lets you go and flops onto his back. You roll over to glare at him, trying to ignore the lingering thump in your pussy. It feels like a heartbeat skipping beats, erratic when Seungmin smiles and puts his wet fingers in his mouth to suck. He makes a dramatic mmmmm sound, then sticks out his tongue at you.

“You’re mean,” you say.

“I’m telling Chan you came,” he says, reaching for his phone on the bedside table.

Your heart is really skipping beats now. You climb on top of him and try to get there first. He beats you to it and holds you back, cackling his mischievous little ha-ha as he opens it up. His phone background is a picture of the three of you on holiday, crammed together and giggling in a hammock, and the cuteness is at serious odds with his wickedness.

“Seungmin, don’t!” you say, trying to swipe at his phone. “That’s not fair, I didn’t even wanna!”

“Liar,” he says. He closes his phone and looks at you with a smirk. “I won’t tell him but you have to do what I want.”

“What do you want?” you ask, regarding him with scrutiny. Last time he said that, he came inside you without Chan’s permission and earned you both two weeks of edging and denial as punishment. Seungmin insisted it was your fault, that he was going to pull out when you wrapped around him, so Chan punished you both ‘to be fair.’ Seungmin always gets away with roping you into his punishments because you don’t argue with Chan, so you eye him warily now.

He swipes his bangs out of his face and looks down his own body. You follow his gaze, stopping on the obvious bulge in his boxers. You look at him and he pokes his tongue into his cheek.

“Fine,” you say, playfully petulant. “Just this once. You better keep my secret.”

He mimes zipping his lips shut.

You crawl down to fit between his thighs as he spreads them, making room. He grabs his glasses off the bedside table and pops them on, then he opens his phone again.

“Let’s make a video for Chan,” he says.

“Seungmin,” you say, glaring at the camera then up at him. “He won’t like us fooling around.”

“He will,” Seungmin says, smiling down at his phone. “You look pretty, crybaby. Now go.”

You glare at him one more time then move down, tugging his boxers off his hips. He is already hard, twitching in your hand before your lips graze the head. You look up at the camera as you lick and suck, closing your eyes when diving down the length of him. He puts his free hand in your hair and guides you, tells you to slow down, makes you drool on it before he snaps his hips up. You take it with practiced skill, but you can’t help the way your eyes water, living up to Seungmin’s mean nickname for you.

“Hold still,” he says, lifting your head.

You think he must be close, that he is stopping you before he comes, but you look up and see he is still filming. He smiles, his free hand jumping from your hair to his dick. It only take a few swift strokes before he’s coming all over the side of your face. He swipes his fingers in it and shoves them in your mouth before you can get mad at him, not for the mess but simply because he came when he knows it’s against the rules.

You say his name, though it comes out garbled around his fingers. He rubs his fingers over your tongue as if fucking your mouth, then he gives another ha-ha before he finally stops filming. His fingers leave your mouth with a wet pop and he swings away. He tugs up his boxers as he gets out of bed.

“Seungmin!” you say, wiping your face on the hem of your shirt. You leap out of bed to grab his phone only for him to sprint into the next room. “Seungmin!” you say again, running after him. “You can’t send that! You’re gonna get us in trouble!”

“Why would I get in trouble?” he asks, typing away at his phone from behind the kitchen counter. “You were the one with my dick in your mouth.”

You chase him around the kitchen island until you are both giggling. He spins around and catches you unexpectedly, playfully roaring in your face with a weak little raaawr. He pretends to bite your neck while you giggle and push at him.

“You won’t be so funny when he gets home,” you say, to which he just repeats what you said in a mocking tone. You smack the top of his head as he directs you to the living room couch. “You’re such a bully. You promised not to tell.”

“And I didn’t,” he says, kissing your neck lightly then sucking a hard kiss under your jaw. “If you don’t tell him what you did, he won’t know.” He looks at you, that mischievous grin back on his face. “Unless you feel guilty and tell him.”

You pout, making him laugh.

“I’m so nice all the time,” you say with a melodramatic flourish, waving your hand. “I don’t know why you’re so mean to me.”

“I’m nice,” Seungmin says. “See, your shirt’s dirty, let me help.”

You playfully wrestle when he tries to lift your shirt off. You let him win, squeaking then jumping onto the couch where he chases you. He climbs on top of you and starts kissing you, messy wet licks into your mouth then down your neck and chest. You clench your thighs around him but he wriggles his shoulders between your legs, smiling at you. You barely pretend to fight when he tugs your shorts down, then his glasses go crooked and his mouth is on your pussy through your underwear.

You whine his name and rake your fingers through his hair. He tugs the fabric out of his way and licks up your still wet pussy, being as messy as possible.

“Tsk, tsk,” he says, surfacing for a second. His glasses are still askew and his face is wet. He smiles dreamily at your pussy, rubbing his fingers up and down. “What if Chan got home right now,” he slips his fingers inside you, “and saw you like this?” He sighs as if disappointed, casually fixing his glasses with one hand and fucking you with the other one. “He’d be so mad.”

“He’s at work,” you say, eyes closed.

“Is he?” Seungmin asks. “I think he’s outside the door.”

Your breath catches and you look at the door. Seungmin has no way of knowing if that’s true but you gasp anyway, legs closing around his hand. He pushes them apart, then gets up on his knees for better leverage.

“Seungmin,” you say, grabbing his arm but not stopping him. His fingers are curling inside you, rubbing against a tender spot that has your vision swimming. “Ohh, Seungmin, please—”

“Ohh, Seungmin, please,” he mimics. “You’re not coming, are you, crybaby?”

You shake your head, making a show of sniffling and looking at him with purposefully teary eyes. He rolls his thumb back and forth over your clit.

“The doorknob is turning,” Seungmin says. “He’s gonna see you.”

“No, I’m not—”

“He’s walking inside—”

You come with a cry, tossing your head back and squeezing his fingers between your legs. Chan is not actually home and Seungmin is just a menace, but that menace does cover you in kisses when you are done coming all over his hand.

You lay on the couch for a bit, feeling each other up and kissing, then Seungmin leans back to grin at you.

“Two for you, one for me,” he says. “I’m doing better than you.”

You swat at him.

You eventually start the day for real, going about your usual weekend routine. Chan never answers Seungmin’s video text, but Seungmin shows you that he definitely saw it. The little READ subscript reveals he watched it only seconds after getting it.

You are reading a book in the afternoon when Seungmin gets back from a walk. He kicks off his shoes and joins you on the couch. You try to ignore how distractingly handsome he looks with his hair pushed back, casual but sexy in denim. You can tell he wants to mess around so you pointedly ignore him and turn the page of your book.

He tugs on the sleeve of your shirt then rests his head on your shoulder.

“What,” you say in a dry voice.

“It’s getting late,” Seungmin says. “Chan still hasn’t answered us.”

“Hm.” You turn another page despite not retaining anything. “So?”

“So.” He touches your chin and turns your face to his. “We should make another video.”

“No, we shouldn’t,” you say, closing your book. “You’re just gonna do something you’re not supposed to again.”

“What, me?” he says. He flicks some hair out of his eyes and laughs. “I don’t think so.”

“I do. You’re evil and you’re not dragging me down with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And nothing you say can change my mind.”

A few minutes later, you are curled over the arm of the couch, clutching a cushion while Seungmin fucks you from behind and films it. He’s down to just his open jeans, the denim rough against your skin when he pulls you onto him again and again.

“Mmmf,” is the noise you make, groaning into the cushion. “You better not come again.”

“Worry,” he says, panting, “about,” he slows down a little, “yourself.” He takes another breath and speeds up again.

“I’m at no risk of—” Your overconfident proclamation is interrupted when Seungmin expertly circles your throat and yanks you up. You whine and claw at him but he roughly manoeuvres you onto your back.

“Hi baby,” he says with a sarcastic little wave, phone camera pointed down at your scowling face. He frowns with exaggeration. “You gonna cry again?”

“No.” You try to kick him, pushing at his chest with your foot. He just scoops that leg onto his shoulder and presses himself back inside you. “This was Seungmin’s idea, daddy,” you say, covering your face with your hands. “I was being good, I promise.”

Seungmin just mimics your voice and grinds into you. One hand holds the phone and the other slips down. His thumb rubs softly and simply over your clit until you are whimpering again.

“That’s not fair,” you say with a little hiccup.

“Should be easy for you,” Seungmin says. “Chan’s good little girl, right?”

“Ugh, shut uuup, you’re the worst—”

“The rest of you would disagree, good girl,” he says. He tips his head, looking at the phone, so you can only assume he is zooming in on your pussy gushing around his cock as he rocks in and out. “Uh oh,” he says when you squeeze him inside you. He knows your body well by now, having wrung countless orgasms out of you, so he is grinning before you even start coming. “Three, two, one…! Ha-ha.”

You make a shaky, shuddery sound as you come, barely recovered before his hand is around your throat and he is fucking you in chase of his own completion. There’s no point in even pretending to protest. You just sigh and reach down, holding your thighs open as he moans and groans for show, coming inside you. He takes his time filming it after, sweeping his fingers around to show Chan the mess he made. He must turn the camera to selfie mode because he starts smiling his mean, puppyish grin into the screen.

“See you later, old man,” Seungmin says. “If you can even get it up after working all day.”

He stops filming and laughs you when you frown at him.

“Do you have to make it even worse?” you ask.

“Yes. Don’t ask stupid questions.” He swoops down and kisses your forehead. “Come on, crybaby, let’s have a shower. Unless you want to be full of cum when he gets home—”

“Hmmph!” You give him a indignant pout, but you get up when he helps you.

You share the shower. You keep pretending to be mad at him, only giggling a little when he touches a few ticklish spots. He knows they are ticklish so he is just being mean, but he does compensate with little kisses over your back and shoulders.

He stands behind you, kissing down your neck as you tip your head, the hot water rushing down your front. Your eyes are closed against the spray but also from pleasure, smiling to yourself as he nips at your skin then licks over the bite.

“No marks,” you say without much verve. “You know that’s another rule.”

“That’s okay,” he says, smirking into your shoulder. His hand starts to slide down the front of your body. “You’ve already broken the rules, so…”

“Seungmin,” you say, your scolding tone contradictory to the way you rock your ass against his growing hard-on. You giggle, holding onto his wrist but not stopping his descent. “We shouldn’t,” you say.

“He’s right,” comes a voice from the doorway. “You already broke the rules anyway, didn’t you?”

Your eyes fly open. You look through the glass wall of the shower to see Chan leaning against the bathroom door with his arms crossed. He is still dressed for the office, suit and tie, though he is already barefoot. His dark hair is neatly styled, his eyes darkly lined, a diamond stud on his nose and his ears. He lifts his eyebrows and tips his head, the expression more than a little condescending.

“Whoops,” Seungmin says with a laugh.

Chan exhales, unsmiling.

You turn the water off and slide the glass door open. The shower is a big, roomy space with two showerheads, leaving Seungmin plenty of room to step back. He rolls his eyes and somehow manages to look belligerent despite his nudity. You are a far more repentant sight with your watery eyes and pouty lips, naked and damp and innocent as can be.

“I’m so, so, so sorry, sir, daddy, sir,” you say, shaking your head. “I tried to make him stop but he wouldn’t listen. You believe me, right?”

Chan doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you with the vaguest hint of amusement in his eyes. Then he looks away with a sigh, unbuttoning his blazer. He shakes his head as he peels it off and approaches the shower.

“I don’t know what to believe, baby girl,” he says. The blazer hits the floor and he loosens his tie next. “Ya know I had to leave work early because of this?” he says. He rolls his sleeves up to his elbows then his gentle hand reaches out to cup your chin.

You shiver from the coolness of the room, from his touch, from his gaze. You do not dare look away from his eyes, not even to see Seungmin’s face. You do not doubt he is just frowning and rolling his eyes anyway.

Chan presses his thumb to your lips and you open your mouth dutifully. He rests it on your tongue.

“I don’t have a lot of rules, yeah?” Chan says. “Don’t you think I’m fair?”

“Mhm,” you say, nodding, lips pursed around his thumb.

“Did you not understand the rules?” he asks. “You’re not stupid, baby. I’d find that hard to believe.”

You don’t answer, knowing you are guilty and there is little to say in your defence. Chan just sighs and slips his thumb out of your mouth. He cups your cheek and lovingly strokes it.

“You know I’m disappointed, don’t you, baby?” he says. “How many times did you break the rules today?”

“I’m sorry!” you say in a rush. “Seungmin really did start it, though. I was just in bed and he made me—”

“How many times?”

“Five,” you say, sniffling. “Three for me, two for Seungmin. It really was his fault, though, you know I would never—”

“I know what he’s like, baby,” Chan says. He is speaking in an easy, calm voice as he draws his fingers down your chin, your neck, the middle of your chest until he has a breast cupped in his hand. You try to keep a neutral expression when he rubs his thumb over its peak. “But you know you’re responsible for yourself, yeah?”

He lets go and reaches past you to turn on the water. It is a light, warm spray that makes you jump with surprise. He surprises you again by stepping into the shower almost completely dressed. He backs you into the wall as the water runs over his white dress shirt, turning it translucent.

Seungmin finally scoffs, the sound mixed with a laugh.

“You’re getting your clothes wet, weirdo,” he says.

Chan’s gentle expression hardens. You jump when his hand shoots out, grabbing Seungmin roughly by the throat. Seungmin grabs onto his wrist, clearly surprised given the way his breath catches. He tries to hide it with a grin, lifting his eyebrows when Chan looks at him.

“I’ll deal with you in a minute, Seungmin,” he says. He chokes a little gasp out of him then lets go, looking at you again. “Come here, baby,” he says softly. “You know what I have to do.”

You know he means a punishment, but you don’t know which one. Chan is tantalizingly unpredictable in that regard.

You nod, stepping where he gestures, under the showerhead but just behind the spray so none of the water hits you. You shiver again, your nipples hard and skin breaking into goosebumps. You meet Seungmin’s eye over Chan’s shoulder, Seungmin looking at you with gleeful anticipation even while rubbing his throat. From where he is standing, he must also feel the chill, the same prickling awareness of his skin, the air like a constant kiss all over your body.

The water hits Chan on the shoulder, running down his chest and side. His shirt is sticking to him, drawing your eye to the ridges of muscle down his abdomen. He taps your chin to lift your gaze, keeping your eyes locked while he undoes his tie and whips it off.

“Open,” he says.

You part your lips and he puts the tie in your mouth, wrapping the rest around your head. He reaches behind you and secures it with a knot. He taps your side, confirming the usual mute communication for when your mouth is covered. You nod and he smiles, tapping your cheek approvingly.

He reaches for his belt next, looking you over with heady eyes. You shiver at the clink of metal and whistle of leather.

“Hands,” he says.

You offer them and wait as he ties his belt in neat loops around your wrists. Your heart leaps when he yanks your bound hands up above your head and hooks the belt over the neck of the showerhead. He slides it backwards, making you follow until your back is flat to the cold wall. You make a startled, pained noise into the gag, flush with the sudden cold. The temperature shock is a stark contrast to the heat spreading between your thighs. You can do little relieve the ache, balanced on the front of your feet.

“That’s a good girl,” Chan says with one last parting look, dimples sweetly smiling at your predicament. Then he sighs, slicking back his now damp hair. Maybe his make-up is just turning smoky with the heat, but you swear his eyes literally darken when he turns to face a grinning Seungmin. “Now. You.”

You might prefer Chan’s gentle daddy dominance more than anything else, but that doesn’t mean you don’t like watching his mean sir routine when it comes to Seungmin. Because Seungmin does not like it gentle. You live vicariously through the thrills of their rougher play.

It never disappoints. You mewl like a surprised kitten when Chan backhands Seungmin, catching him before he can stumble. Even his catch is rough, a hand over his mouth and his other arm hooked around his neck. He presses Seungmin into the glass wall, his cheek flat to the cool surface. You feel a shiver of empathy.

“You think you’re smart, don’t you?” Chan asks.

There is a moment of quiet as Seungmin clearly contemplates surrendering or continuing. Then he nods. Chan’s laugh is breathy, his gaze turned upward in exasperation.

He releases his mouth and swings his hand down on Seungmin’s backside. You never imagined being so jealous of a spanking, but you are starting to feel like you got the worse punishment after all. You are forced to merely watch as Seungmin squirms in Chan’s firm grip. You are certain those marks will bruise, darkening alongside some older ones still purpling his skin.

After a thorough spanking, Chan turns him around. Seungmin thuds onto his knees when forced down. Chan places him where the water can reach and Seungmin stretches upright on his knees, trying to escape where pebbles of water hit his smarting skin. Chan smacks him and it splits Seungmin’s attention, on his cheek and his backside at once.

You thought Seungmin was mean for lightly finger-fucking your mouth earlier, but that favour gets more than repaid. Chan shoves two fingers far enough into Seungmin’s mouth that he chokes, attention fracturing yet again as he haphazardly grabs the offending hand by the wrist.

Chan tugs his fingers free, a trail of spit connecting them to Seungmin’s open mouth.

Seungmin blinks his dizzy dark eyes upward. Chan gazes back, cool and unbothered, while unbuttoning his pants. Seungmin looks ready to speak but Chan just shakes his head.

“Don’t,” he says, grabbing Seungmin by the jaw and tugging him close. “Just don’t.”

Seungmin is so funny, calling you a crybaby only to get all dribbly from a little face-fucking. It’s hot, though, and Seungmin is fully hard now. His hands are on Chan’s clothed thighs, functionally so he can tap out, but doubly affecting in how he can’t touch himself because of it. You think you can see his mental space shift in real time, going from petulant brat to something else, something content and quiet and physical.

He gasps and leaves his mouth hanging open when Chan pulls out. He flinches when Chan taps his cheek. Chan just smiles.

“That’s better,” he says. He reaches out and snaps off the water. It makes Seungmin shiver and you follow in sympathy. “Come on,” Chan says, kicking at him lightly. “Get up. This way.”

Seungmin stumbles when Chan grabs his bicep and yanks. You whimper with jealousy when Chan kisses him, a filthy hot kiss that makes you tingle from head to toe. Fortunately, you do not have to suffer much longer. Chan manhandles Seungmin until he is facing you. The mischief has been replaced with hazy desire, his eyes watery and mouth so pink and raw.

“On your knees,” Chan says, pushing at Seungmin’s shoulder.

Seungmin takes in a shaky breath but nods, getting back down on his knees in front of you. Chan grabs his hair and yanks his head back, looking down at him.

“You forgetting something?” Chan asks.

“Sorry, sir,” Seungmin says. “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied, Chan lets him go. He helps guide your leg over Seungmin’s shoulder, cooing sweet nothings at you when you make a startled sound because he lifts the other leg too. It raises you completely off the ground, both legs over Seungmin’s shoulders, weight partially supported by Chan and partially by the shower. You are completely suspended, simply sitting pretty while Seungmin eats you out.

Of course, Chan doesn’t let you finish. He tells Seungmin to stop and start a few more times before he finally lets you down. Your feet touch the ground again, though you rest your weight on the wall, your legs shaking.

Chan sweeps Seungmin’s hair out of his face and tips his head back.

“You have something to say now?” Chan asks.

“No, sir,” Seungmin replies, his voice rough.

“You gonna listen to me?” Chan asks, to which Seungmin nods. “Good. Then get up and do what I say. You ready?”

Seungmin’s job is a step ahead of yours. Chan is still helping you out of the shower by the time Seungmin reaches the bedroom. You sit perched on the counter, towelling yourself dry while Chan strips out of his wet clothes. You are about to step down when Chan scoops you up. You suppose you have lost the privilege to run ahead at will, just in case you get any funny ideas, but you don’t mind if Chan is holding you. You cling onto him, legs and arms wrapped around him as he carries you into the bedroom where Seungmin is waiting.

Chan lays you out beside him and waves a hand, giving Seungmin permission to kiss you. Seungmin eagerly sprawls on top of you, kissing and licking and moaning while Chan gets up behind him.

Your punishments appear to be contrary, you unfucked and untouched thanks to your several stolen orgasms, and Seungmin the overwhelmed subject thanks to his provocations. It’s him Chan fucks now, you laying under him, kissing his face as he grunts and groans and whines. Your shared kisses are breathy, gasping things.

You twitch and buck with wanting, feeling emptier than you ever have, while Seungmin digs his fingers into the bedspread, rocking against you while Chan rocks into him.

Seungmin comes first for once, helped along by your hands desperately seeking more, more, more. He comes all over you, dropping his face into the crook of your neck. Chan pulls out and finishes with a few strokes of his own hand, coming on that bruised and purple backside.

Fucking you both is one thing, but Chan’s work is truly cut out for him in the aftermath. But your loving boyfriend never falters, doing everythign to ensure you are both settled and soothed. Some days you return the favour, lovingly doting on your careful dominant, but today is a day he massages and kisses and takes care of you both.

You take care of Seungmin too, kissing his face. He is sandwiched between you and Chan, letting you both love up on him until his character comes back to him, then he starts thrashing around with playful dramatics. Chan giggles in that silly way of his and wraps him up, covering his shoulders with kisses while Seungmin glares at you like a disgruntled puppy.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tease, giving him a little kiss. “This was all your fault anyway. I’m a good girl.”

Seungmin grins at that. Chan just shakes his head, but smiles deeply. He wraps an arm around you both, pulling you close. Seungmin, trapped in the middle, whines and groans, but he doesn’t stop smiling the whole time.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x reader #skz x reader

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bangytell · 3 months

Text

A cheating way jk| m

Don't believe in fairytales, but we got our fantasies And it's me and you, no she. Doja Cat— You right

Summary: Marriage isn't always a good fortune, or perhaps its only the person you married.

Genre: Strangers to lovers, smut

Rated: mature

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Non idol au! Infidelity, mentions of domestic violence, mentions of the use of alcohol, pet names, mentions of Namjoon, oral(f! receveing), unprotected sex, praise kink and I think that's all

a/n: I know some of you might have already seen this, im re-uploading, please be nice with your comments. Enjoy

The music pounding waves through your now drunk body as you dance along to the beat, and you feel a warm body approaching from behind you, too drunk to care that you sway your hips along his warm body, he chuckles into your skin and you feel a tickle.

“Didn't know you're that fun to be around” his voice was deep and hypnotic

You didn't reply, but you looked as his curious look traveled up and down your body, the music was still so loud, and the dizziness of your thoughts made you believe that the best decision you could make is to kiss him.

You don't. You sit with your friends and try not to be wasted any longer. Your friends are laughing at some joke, and you focus your attention on the dance floor. He's not around anymore. You begin to feel that he was just some fantasy of your imagination.

“Are you [Name] Kim?” The question comes from the man next to you. It's none other than him

“Why would I give you that information?” he smiles wide, and your heart skips a beat

“Well, gorgeous, you don't really have to, I know that is you” you arch an eyebrow

“How can a kid know me” his smile never leaves his mouth as he answers back

“How about I show you?” You shake your head in denial

“Look, honey, just get yourself home and forget about me”

“That's impossible” you chuckle “Even if I leave, you'll be in my mind” You show him the ring adorning your ring finger. He chuckles as you look confused

“I'm not jealous” he leans in, and you get a soft sniff to his cologne. It's sweet and intoxicating

As the night continues, he doesn't leave your side he tells you more about himself and he listens as you answer to his question, he looks and focus on your eyes, your friends are on the dancefloor and after another five drinks and the smell of his cologne closer and closer to your body lets him leave a hand on your thigh, you're laughing and his face is next to yours, his hot breath on your temple and you smile as you ask him: “And what's your name?” he chuckles and leads a hand to cup your face

“Jungkook, and don't worry, you'll be saying it a lot tonight” You chuckle again, and he kisses you softly and hungrily his lips are soft, and so are his hands all over you.

The ride holding his back as he drives off on his bike to the nearest yet decent motel makes your stomach bubble up in excitement, you're married yes, but at this point there's no turning point.You arrive, he pays and leads you inside the room. He kisses you, and tries as hard as you can, to forget all your life's problems, and he notices how stiff your movements are and how difficult it is for you to live in this moment.

“Is everything okay, doll?” You sit on the bed and cover your face with your hands

“I'm sorry, you're probably thinking I'm pathetic” he shakes his head in denial and kneels in front of you

“Talk to me” you lock gaze with him, and he seems to have forgotten about the horniness in his body

“I don't think this is a good idea” he nods and you talk again “You're amazing, and you make me feel wanted, desired, like a woman and not like someone's trash”

“Why would you have such confidence in you?” You huff

“My husband, he's been unfaithful since the fourth month of our marriage, and we've been married for ten years now” you sigh, reminiscing how happy you were the first months

“And why haven't you divorced?” You huff

“It's a long story” his hands are on one of your thighs, caressing it as you sigh exasperated “Our families practically set our marriage from our cribs, he's been a heartthrob and I just play my part”

“Is there any reason why you couldn't leave now? You must have some money of your own, and I know you have a career, so maybe you, you can…” you hold his hands

“Don't feel so frustrated for me, we can forget about each other the next morning” he sighs

“And if I don't want to?” You look at him in surprise. He cups your face and leans for a peck

“Jungkook… I don't think this is good for you nor me”

“Then just give me this night, give me just one chance to make you think of me” You sigh. His sweet touches and kisses make you agree as he hovers your body on the bed.

His kisses are wet and sloppy as your hands travel around his back, discharging his shirt, you take a moment to look at his wingspan and just at the sight your cunt yearns for him. He helps you take your dress from your head and notices the lack off bra, he cups your breasts with his hands and your body quivers at the cold breeze of the winter, soon his mouth has your nipple around his teeth, licking and sucking on one another making you moan his name and he hums into your skin, as a meal he enjoys. One of his hands is caressing your stomach, traveling down to discharge your panties and your hands are pulling his hair, the sound of his mouth making a wet mess all around your breasts makes you shiver. And he adores the taste of you, the smell of your perfume as he leaves a trail of kisses making his way to your pussy.

He might be young but he knows exactly where and how to get you started, his tongue presses against your clit and loud pants leaves your mouth, soon, his licks become precise and slowly. He's taking his time eating you out, making your toes curling, and a moaning mess. Your hands are once again on his hair, swirling the strands of hair as you moan and mewl his name.

He adores the way you say his name, the saccharine moans that leave your mouth and the way one of your hands is gripping the sheets in a attempt so stop the way your body keeps meeting his mouth, the way you close your thighs and try to swirl around him, his hands hold you in place as you shout “ ‘m cumin!” He continues the pace he has as you close your eyes, gripping the sheets stronger and letting your juices go through Jungkook's tongue. You're panting as he pulls his pants down, he gets you comfortable as his tip slides against your clit and he moans at the sloppiness of your cunt. He gets inside of you with a guttural sound from his mouth, he grips from your arms as he pounds into you, harder yet slow.

“You take me in so well… almost like ngh… almost like your pussy made for me” he moans your name and looks in your eyes, he enjoys the way you're not able to maintain the contact, the way you're saying his name and the way your skin sounds every time he crashes into you.

he's pounding, bullying your walls as you scream at the overstimulation, his hands are now around your neck and you know he's done this before, by the way you're feeling the lack of blood through your head, his pace fastens, his movements are less precise and he cums into you with a guttural moan. The weight of his body on you and the heavy panting makes you feel in bliss. He chuckles as he pulls away from you and the sticky feeling has him giving you a worried look.

“Don't worry ‘bout it” you chuckle, he gives you your clothes and as you dress you feel his gaze upon you “you're going to wear me out”

“You're so beautiful” you chuckle and pat the empty space in bed, he lays with you and cuddles as you doze off to sleep.

In the morning the bed was empty, only a small trace of his cologne makes you remember the night before. There's a small note on the nightstand, he has pretty handwriting.

If you still want to give me moments to remember, call me

His phone number with a small heart drawing.

The ride home was automatic, nobody was waiting for your arrival and that made your heart clench.

You call the number on the note, wondering if it was the right decision, you're getting yourself full of bad decisions.

“Hey, doll” you smile

“How did you know it was me” he chuckles

“I've been answering every call from my work hoping that it was finally you” your heart skip a beat

“Are you free tonight?” you bite your under lip anxiously

“For you, I'm free now” you chuckle

“No Jungkook, I have some meetings today, so at night maybe…” he might believe I'm pathetic

“Alright, but I'll take you to dinner before, don't worry I'll text you the address, bye doll” he hangs up and you hear your front door opening, is your husband.

“Hey [name] I'm just looking for something don't wait for me tonight” you huff

“Your mom called, she wanted to know if-...” he cuts you mid sentence

“I know, she called me earlier, since you can't leave even a text” you scoff

“Go to hell Namjoon” he smiles and grabs his coat on the door

“Already there babe” a loud thud leaves you alone in that big house again.

Your day is filled with the reminiscence of the memories from the amazing night he gave you. You have a smile like no other, and as the night arrives, you're back at your house. He texted the address of a nice restaurant, you hear the front door, and your husband appears at your dorm.

“going somewhere?” he grins, and you find that… odd

“not like you care” you answer bitterly, and he chuckles

“you wouldn't like to be messing with your perfect reputation, are you?” You chuckle this time

“stop acting like you even care about me, ‘m out” you leave, and his words are a muffled sound as you walk away, you won't allow him to walk you like that ever again.

The restaurant is further away than what you had in mind, but everything looks perfect as you arrive, there is a host welcoming you and you realize as the host walks you to his reservation that every table is inside a room, you couldn't hear nothing more than the sounds of your heels hitting the floor.

A slide door opens, and Jungkook has a rose in his hands as he welcomes you inside. He gives you a peck on your cheek, and you feel the heat coming through them.

“You look beautiful, angel” you smile and sit down. The host has long been gone, and as you too chat about your day, a waitress comes in

Jungkook orders, asks you if that's okay with you and you nod in agreement, the fact that he's so considerate about you, he cares about your opinion, and overall he just seems so good to be true.

The night goes smoothly, you laugh and be touchy with him all the time, around his chest, his back, his hands, and he does the same with you. It is an impossible task to try and keep your hands to yourselves.

“Is there a way I can have you tonight?” you giggle as he caresses your back, the wine in your system has you dizzy enough

“ ‘m here” he chuckles, you're sitting besides each other and yet, he pulls you to his lap, his hot breath on your neck and his hands are on your waist.

“You know what I meant gorgeous” you shake your head in denial and he kisses the gap between your neck and your shoulder, your body shivers.

“I do know, nevertheless, ‘m not positive this is a great idea” he nods, kissing your neck and stealing a sigh from you

“Don't think about it, do you like me?” you lock gaze with him and nod “Then just do it” you cover your face for a second, unsure of how this will impact in your future, his warm hands take yours out of your temple “ can't force you into wanting this but” his hands pull you to him, his hot breath now on your breasts as he leans for a kiss on your skin “I think that you shouldn't think about good or bad, but what actually makes you feel something” you nod and pull him into a needy kiss, his lips are always soft and his breath smells to wine, his cologne is intoxicating every reasonable thought in your brain.

After that night, many more had come, for a week you've been seeing him in motels and the restaurant, he texts you how much he misses you during the day, and he fucks you dumb at night just so you won't miss him that much the next morning–which you actually do–Two long weeks now and for this one night you can't see him, your husband hosts a party at you house and you have to attend.

You wear a beautiful champagne dress with your hair up and every guest gives you compliments as you walk through the room. Your husband has you from the waist as you try to smile to the guests he's going on and on about how gorgeous you are, and how he feels he won the lottery–all lies of course– the night goes smoothly, at midnight almost everyone is out, your husband is holding hands with a pretty young woman, he's too drunk to even care about being watched, you say goodbye to your guests as you see them walk off, to your bed. You follow them, the girl giggles at some stupid joke he just made, you hear the door opening and you rush yourself to not let them use the bed you're sleeping in tonight.

“Namjoon, you better not be planning on fucking her on my bed” he scoffs

“It's also my bed, so I do what I'm pleased” you sigh, grabbing the girl from her arm and pulling her beside you

“Leave, both of you” she looks scared and you try to look calm to her, she nods and walks away as your husband stands and push you “You didn't just do that to me”

“You always ruin my fun” you scoff

“Namjoon, just take the guests room, and get away from me”

“I thought that by giving you someone to fuck you'll be more accessible” your breath stucks on your throat, you look at him perplexed at his words

“What do you mean?” he looks at you

“You actually believed that a young handsome man would wanna fuck you for free?” he spits and you shake your head in denial

he wouldn't, would he?

“You're too old for that” he chuckles and your blood boils in anger.

“Leave” he scoffs “you can't hear me? leave!” he stands and walks towards you

“you'll regret this” he walks past you and leaves your house.

you cry your eyes out all night until the sun travels to your eyes making you wake up, your phone is buzzing, the name of your mother on the screen and after a long sigh you answer.

“can you explain to me why Namjoon’s mother just called me all hysterical?”

“well mother hello to you too, good morning” you huff

“This is a serious matter [name] they’ve been our friends since high school”

“So, you're telling me that she’ll stop being your friend just because I don't wanna continue being married to his stupid son?” You scoff

“no! is not that, but… we have a business they are our biggest investor, we could…”

“if this is ‘bout money, I have money” she sighs, and your doorbell announces a guest “gotta go mom”

when you open the door, you wouldn't expect it to be Jungkook, messy hair and heavy breaths, and that desperate look on his eyes… It is also filled with guilt

“Am I welcome in?” You lift an eyebrow in response

“Why should I let you in?” You scoff, and his soft features soften at your harsh tone

“listen, I know that idiot made me look…”

“just as an idiot, such as him” he nods at your interruption

“ ‘m aware, but please listen and understand me”

“I shouldn't” he nods in response and gazes at you with his big doe eyes

“but please…” you sigh and let him in. You close the door behind him, and as soon as your hands are free, he holds them. “he did offered me money, we had a deal… and ‘m a stupid college student with two part time jobs he sweetened his deal” you don't talk, you only gaze upon him in disbelief “he told me to get you to bed and then he'll give me the money”

“how much?” he shake his head in deny

“I didn't got a penny from him” you look surprise

“but you…”

“I wanted you to feel the same way I felt by meeting you, you changed me, changed my view of the world, my life wouldn't be the same without you” his words sound sincere and his desperate look makes you believe in him

“he said…” your voice gets muffled by his lips, he holds and cups your face and waist closer to him

“Angel… please believe me” he kisses you once more, gently and caressing your blushed cheek

“I dunno Jungkook, I'm older than you and…” he scoffs

“You're only like eight years older than me and I really don’ care ‘bout that” you chuckle

“ ‘m only twenty eight Koo” he chuckles

“see? even better, and yes, keep calling me that” you chuckle as you give in to his embrace

“I was thinking maybe calling you… love” he hugs you closer, the strands of hair touches your face and his hot breath lights something within you

“You believe me?” you nod, even if Namjoon has told you something he's always looking for a way to hurt you, Jungkook kisses you once more and you feel like melted ice cream into his arms, your hands try to grip from his shoulders as the kiss deepens his hands wander around your back till one of his arms helps you from the knee for him to carry you to the bedroom–by your directions– You're quite unsure of the moment, you've only decided to believe in him, this is still being in an affair, he's still that young man and anxiety kicks in. his lips and hands undressed you as he kissed every inch of skin he found.

“Is everything okay doll?” you nod and he stops his movements “you don't seem good” you sigh

“I don’ wanna think ‘bout that now” you kiss him and pull his shirt and notice a playful grin on his lips, he’s so husky and big for a man his age, you caress his soft and warm body as the rest of the clothes that remain on each of you leaves your body.

You don’t care, it has only been two or three weeks. You know your feelings are true and even if he doesn’t feel it in the same intensity you can enjoy it while it lasts.

Soon his mouth found the way to your dripping cunt he licks and sucks in the way he knows you'll see stars sooner than later. your hands grip to the sheets while saccharine moans escape your breath as his tongue rides you along your orgasm. He licks off the rest of the juices that left your pussy and he hums in content at the sight of it, you're drunk of his features, of his husky body embracing you closer to slide his cock along your folds, with a pant and a moan from him as he slides inside your walls his thrust are slow and his gaze is

fixated on you, the way you are hugging him closer and your hot breath is on his ear as his movements become faster and harder.

“You feel so good doll…” he moans as your nails grip his back youre leaving mark for sure and he doesnt care at this point, he loves how desperate you sound as he fuck you dumb. his hands are between your ears and the silver chain moves along him, he’s so dreamy you wanna make sure you're awake to be feeling this way, to be so filled with him.

Jungkook pulls away from your body but his pace doesn't change, now his thumb caresses the nub of nerves to pull you into another orgasm, only the sound of your skin crashing each other's body fills the room. He praises at your moans, at the way you call his name in a desperate mewl. You need him deeper if that's even possible. You need him to fill you up and as he continues you soon reach another orgasm as he, with a guttural moan fills your cunt with his cum. You're dripping while he enjoys seeing the way your hole clenches in search of his cock once more, as if its never enough, cause its not. He gets up to dress again, you cover yourself with your favorite silk robe as the door opens and your husband gasps in surprise.

“You… whore…” he attempts to reach you, but Jungkook quickly steps up in front of you, he’s only in pants and you notice the way he’s almost bursting in anger.

“Don’t call her that” he’s voice is harsh and almost too deep

“And who do you think you are kid?” he tries to push him, but Jungkook doesn’t move

“C’mon Namjoon, don’ do this” he gasps and step away

“You fucked in my bed and you have the audacity to ask me not to do things” you scoff

“You've done it too, many, many times, and I just got tired of your cheating ass” he huffs

“I’ll ruin you” you scoff and step up from behind Jungkook “And your family too” you scoff at his intent to try to intimidate you

“Leave my house” you say in response, he gasps and tries to grab your arm “Aint saying things twice Namjoon”

“You'll never see the end of this” you huff as he turns and close the door while he leaves

He can’t scare you anymore, you made sure to have things your way, to have most things under your name and his attempts of threat would go unnoticed. Jungkook hugs you when he notices the way your body trembles, he kisses your forehead as he sits on the bed with you on his lap.

You sigh, feeling relief and warmth within you from the man holding you dearly. He hums in your ear as you calm down, you know you want to be with him, for real and as long as he lets you.

“Jungkook?” he gaze you and nods

“Yes princess?” you sigh fidgeting your fingers

“Can we… date?” he huffs

“No, I'm supposed to ask you that!” he holds you by your waist, closer to his body “Date me [name]” you nod and giggle at his question

“You're not… unsure, given how everything went between us?” he shakes his head in deny

“No princess, I wanna be with you, doesn't matter how things were” your heart beats with joy “Sometimes you gotta cheat your way through”

masterlist

©️bangytell please do not copy or steal my work, any translation can’t be done this is the only way to read it.

#bts fanfic #bts imagines #bts scenarios #bts maknae line #bts drabble #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts jungkook #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook x reader #bts smut #jeon jungkook smut #jeon jungkook imagine

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nr1chaedickrider · 20 days

Text

I can only be me when i'm by your side - i'm not a monster.

As time passes recovering, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.

cw: fluff, smut, angst, petnames, virgin!reader, sweet girl!jihyo, popular but not so popular!jihyo, basketball player!jihyo, both are 18 but they are students, mentions of death, drunk confessions, they fall in love pretty fast, lwk rushed, lmk if there is more ^_^, ~ 4k words

if you're thinking "hm! i read this fic somewhere... yes! its my heeseung fic from my bg blog @adorwoo ! which i wanted to use for jihyo !^_^ hope you enjoy anyway.

men dni.

It's not your fault.

It's not your...

Is it really?

The rain beats down on your black umbrella, the lines from Dahyun's letter playing over and over in your head. It feels like you're trapped in a vicious cycle, not being able to think of anything else.

But why?

Why didn't she tell you?

Were all those conversations about the mutual trust between you two a lie? Was it just talk to keep you from worrying?

If someone had told you a week ago that you had to be at her funeral because she had killed herself, you would have laughed at that person. Dahyun was always the happiest person you've ever met.

Even if you had been told that a day ago, you wouldn't have believed it. Because in theory, it's the stupidest thing you've ever heard.

In his letter, she wrote about how much she loved you, how she enjoyed every minute and every moment with you, how it's not your fault that she's not here anymore.

She's probably right, not just probably. She's right, and you know it. But you can't stop blaming yourself. Someone has to take the blame. Someone is responsible.

You could have helped her.

You should have helped her.

Tears run down your cheeks as you stare at her grave. Her family, her friends, they are all gone. You stand here alone, not daring to leave.

'Kim Dahyun

Born on may 28, 1998.

A friend, daughter and lover.

She will continue to live in our souls.'

It feels like your eyes are glued to the writing, you can't look away. You try to regulate your breathing, taking a deep breath.

A sigh leaves your mouth as you place the white rose next to the gravestone.

You take one last look at her grave before turning and slowly walking away.

"I'm Y/n, nice to meet you all."

You look at the students in front of you, all of them giving you strange looks. Of course, you are a new student, but you feel uncomfortable under their gaze. The teacher smiles at you and tells you where to sit, next to a girl called Mina.

It's as if everyone has forgotten about you again as the teacher starts teaching. You sit down next to Mina and she smiles at you.

"Nice to meet you," she whispers. You smile at her.

You can't talk to her for long because she starts taking notes for the lesson. You look around at the faces of the others. It actually looks like a normal class, but your eyes land on a girl.

She looks shorter than you, her hair is brown as well as her eyes. She's wearing a white t-shirt.

"Have you laid your eye on someone?" asks Mina, laughing a little.

"No!" you answer, a little too loudly, and you put your head on the table as a few people look at you. "I was just looking at her," you whisper.

"Yeah yeah... that's what they all say" she says.

You slowly lose yourself in your thoughts as memories of Dahyun come flooding back.

Should you even look at other girls? Is it bad?

Would Dahyun hate you for trying to find love again?

It's been more than two months since she died, but you can't stop thinking about her.

Maybe it's normal, your behavior. Your overthinking of everything, maybe you're not the only person who feels this way? Maybe there is someone else who is just as lost in their thoughts as you are.

Maybe you are simply not alone.

However, your thoughts are interrupted by the bell and Mina.

"I can show you a few things here at school if you want," she suggests, and you gratefully accept her help.

You spend the whole lunch break running after her while she shows you around.

"Why did you change schools anyway? Your old one is a pretty well-known one, and much better than here," she asks, before taking a bite of her sandwich.

The question makes you wonder, and you think about whether you should just lie to her and say that you moved, or that you were somehow bullied at your school - but somehow it feels wrong. Because you neither moved nor were you bullied. No, everything was actually fine.

Actually,

Somehow everything changed after her death.

Your classmates started looking at you funny, and you still don't know whether they are looks of pity or looks of condemnation because they blame you.

"I don't know" is your answer, and somehow it's true. Sometimes you really have no idea why you changed schools, but Mina doesn't need to know the whole truth.

She just nods in response as she continues to eat.

"The girl you were looking at in English, her name is Jihyo by the way" she says.

What?

"Why are you telling me this?" you ask.

"Because you were staring at her a lot - you looked really interested in her" she replies with a little grin.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I wasn't staring at her..." you laugh a little, but can't hide your despair. Why does she think you're interested in her?

"Watch out!" someone shouts, but before you can react, a basketball hits you.

You fall to the floor, your head hurts and you feel slightly dizzy as you slowly open your eyes.

The girl from your English class is kneeling on the floor in front of you, looking at you, trying to see if you're okay.

It's like a cliché high school movie.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a couple of other girls come over, but she just tells them to get something to cool off and shoos them away.

The things that can happen when you want to visit the gym...

You nod slowly, after a few blinks your vision is no longer blurry.

Another girl comes back and hands Jihyo a cold pack.

"Here, take this," she says and puts it in your hand, her hand on your shoulder to support you.

You hold it to your head, biting the inside of your cheek slightly from the cold.

Before she can say anything else, she is called by his coach, at the same moment Mina comes to you.

"I was looking for you," she says and helps you up.

You watch Jihyo jogging across the field before you leave the gym.

New week, new luck?

Every day you tried desperately to talk to Jihyo somehow, but suddenly she was always gone after class and you were never put in a group together.

But it looks like luck is on your side for once.

"Here's the list of groups, you have to give a presentation in pairs on a play of your choice," your English teacher announces.

You look at the picture projected on the wall.

Chaeyoung and Mina,

Sana and Miyeon,

Jihyo and Y/n,

Jeongyeon and...

Wait, what?

You read the list again and once more you see your name and Jihyo's name next to each other.

"Jihyo and Y/n," you say quietly.

"Are you happy?" Mina asks teasingly with a grin on her lips.

"Are you happy that you have to work with Chaeyoung?" you ask back - Mina doesn't answer.

Before your teacher can give you any more homework for the break, the school bell rings and everyone rushes out of the classroom.

You walk (or rather, run) to Jihyo who is packing her things away.

"Hey, I was wondering when we should meet," you say, and she looks up at you and smiles. You feel your cheeks turning red.

She puts on his backpack and stands up.

"How about Friday afternoon? My place?" she suggests and you nod.

She takes a pen from her pocket, "Give me your hand," she says, you are confused but do it anyway.

She opens the pen with her mouth, the cap between her teeth as she gently writes on your hand.

Her phone number.

It feels like she's giving you an autograph.

"Text me and I'll send you my address," she says, and before you can answer, she walks out of the room.

You look down at your hand and see a little smiley face next to her number.

You can't help but giggle as you look at it.

You stare at your phone - up to her front door and back down to your phone.

You are 10 minutes early and don't dare to ring the doorbell.

"You know you can just ring the bell?" someone asks you, you look up and see Jihyo smiling at you.

"I'm early, that's why-"

"Not a problem," she interrupts you.

She lets you in and closes the door behind her.

Her house is beautiful, modern and yet somehow old-fashioned.

"My parents aren't here, so I thought we could study in the living room," she says, and you nod, leaning your backpack against the table.

"Water?" she asks and you take it gratefully.

You drink a little before she sits down across from you.

You both leaf through the books, take notes, talk briefly about certain passages, but otherwise no one says anything.

Jihyo decides to break the awkward atmosphere.

"I wanted to apologize again, for the basketball," she says, and you laugh a little.

"You don't have to apologize, things like that can happen," you reply.

"Have you ever had a girlfriend?" she asks, and instead of answering, you are completely silent, thinking.

Memories of Dahyun come back while Jihyo looks at you and waits for your answer.

"Yes, I did, but she died a few months ago," you answer.

She nods slightly, "Can I ask how he died?" she asks in a quiet, polite tone, as if she really wants to make sure that she's asking something that doesn't hurt you in any way.

"Suicide," you say, short and meager, without many details (whether you know many details at all is another question).

She looks at you with a supportive look, one that makes you feel like she's really listening and that she really understands you.

Maybe she understands you even more than you think?

She puts her hand on yours with a slight smile.

"Thank you for confiding in me," she says, your cheeks slightly flushed, hers too.

You both look at each other for a moment before she lets go and you both go back to work.

If only the work had gone on for longer.

After the one meeting, you saw her every day of the vacation. Always with the excuse that you supposedly "need to add something" (does going to the movies together add something to your project?).

It's been more than a week since you first met.

"You're in love," Mina says as she parks her car in front of Jihyo's house.

"I-"

"Don't even try to find an excuse, it's all good" she replies with a small grin.

You both get out of the car and walk to her house, the music so loud you can hear it several meters away.

How Jihyo, who is slightly drunk, hears the doorbell is also a mystery to you.

"Hey guys!" she greets you, she shakes Mina's hand and gives her a kind of high five, she gives you a hug.

You smile at her as the three of you walk into the living room.

"I'm going to Chaeyoung," Mina whispers, or rather shouts, in your ear before disappearing.

"Y/n, do you want to play a drinking game with us?" asks Jihyo, you nod.

Maybe it was a stupid decision.

Jihyo and her friends (of whom you only know Jeongyeon) only understand drinking games to mean taking shots and asking stupid questions.

Either answer - or drink.

You always chose the second option.

After about 7 questions (maybe more, maybe less - you lost count of that pretty fast) you get up and say that you need some fresh air.

Since you've been to her house several times, you know where the upstairs balcony is.

It's quite big, with a parasol and two folding chairs. You sit down on one and close your eyes, your head throbs a little.

"Are you okay?" someone asks after a few minutes.

To your surprise (not really a surprise), Jihyo stands next to you before sitting down on the chair to your right.

"Yeah, it's just the alcohol," you say.

You and alcohol, not really a good combination.

Especially not when you're sitting next to the girl you're in love with.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" you ask out of nowhere.

She shakes his head, "I thought it was obvious" she says and laughs a little.

"I love you" you confess.

She turns to you, but before he can answer anything, you keep talking.

"I know we haven't known each other that long... a month?? more? less? but-... I just have this feeling with you that I only used to have with her"

"I thought I'd never feel it again," you say, a tear running down your cheek.

Jihyo looks at you, her eyes slightly watery.

Is she crying too?

"Y/n" she says, interrupting your continued rambling.

She gets up, kneels down in front of your chair, and -

kisses you.

Her soft lips on yours.

She pulls away after just a few seconds and you already feel like you miss her lips.

"I love you too Y/n" she says softly.

You look at her in amazement.

"Really?" you ask.

"That's why I asked if you had a girlfriend" now it all makes so much more sense.

She pulls you up and takes you to the guest room. She tries to lay you down on the bed but you pull her with you and she falls on top of you.

You both stare at each other and laugh a little.

"You're drunk, get some rest," she says, kissing your forehead.

"I'll be here when you wake up"

And she really is next to you when you wake up.

"Good morning..." you groan as you rub your eyes.

She smiles at you, "good morning" she says, from the look on her face you suspect she woke up just a few minutes before you.

You pull her closer to you by her collar and kiss her, she kisses you back while her hand is on your cheek.

The kiss is just perfect, gentle, slow, a perfect way to start his morning.

But it can also be perfect in another way.

It gets warmer under the covers as you continue kissing, she kisses down your jaw to your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses on it. You can't help but rub your thighs together a little.

"What about the others?" you ask.

"I kicked them out yesterday after you fell asleep" she says, continuing to kiss your neck, even nibbling on it, making you let out soft moans.

"Jihyo, I think you should know that I am a virgin" you say, your cheeks heating up a little in embarrassment.

She giggles a little, kissing you on the lips again.

"Nothing to be embarrassed about baby" she replies with a smile.

She gets on top of you, continuing to kiss you.

You think kissing Jihyo is the best thing in the world.

Her hands trail over your body, giving you a soft squeeze here and there.

"Can I?" she asks, her hand playing with the buttons on your pants.

"Please" you answer with a smile.

She complies and opens them, pulling off your pants and leaving you in your underwear.

You sit up a little, your hands on her waist, feeling up her muscles, especially her abs.

"Want me to take it off?" she asks, you nod.

She pulls off her shirt over her head, dropping it somewhere on the floor.

Your finger trails up his stomach to her bra, looking at her like she is a work of art (she definetly is one).

"Done admiring me?" she asks with a teasing grin, to which you reply "never".

She leans down again, kissing your face as she starts to trail them down till he arrives at the waistband of your underwear.

"Can I?" she asks again, "yes" you answer, already out of breath.

She takes your underwear off, her hands placed on your thighs as she leaves kisses everywhere.

You can definetly tell that she has a thing for kissing.

When she places a kiss right on your clit though, you let out a small moan.

She begins licking and sucking on it, making you grab her hair with your hands as your fingers curl deeper into her scalp, leaving a delicious burn.

She drags her tongue down as she circles your core, slowly entering it a little.

You let out more moans as you turn your head to the side, moaning into the pillow.

Her tongue feels so good when you realise that you are closer and closer to your climax.

"Jihyo- I think I'm gonna-"

"Let it out princess" she mumbles against your core, the vibrations of her voice stimulating you even more as you cum into her mouth.

She smiles at you as he sits up, watching you coming down from your high.

You smile back at him as your cheeks turn red again.

"Can I?" she asks, her fingers trailing down your soft skin as her nails scratch you a little.

You look at her hand, a few veins poking out, her fingers thin but long.

You look at her again, nodding.

You pulled her closer as she rubs your clit with her fingers, you suck in your breath as she slowly pushes them in, the little stretch burning in a way that makes you even hornier.

She slips them in completly, you let out a moan in response. She takes your hand with her free one as your fingers intertwine.

She starts to slowly thrust into you, kissing you again as her tongue explores your mouth.

"You're so tight baby.." she mumbles into your mouth.

You can't help but let out louder moans when she starts to speed up a little.

Her fingers drive you crazy, it feels like she is everywhere, you feel her everywhere in your body as she exits and enters you.

"P-please jihyo- faster" you moan out, and who would she be if she wouldn't listen to your wishes?

She speeds up her thrusts, kissing down your neck again as her hot breath hits your skin.

Your hand grips the pillow your hand is laying on, moaning against your arm as you can feel Jihyo curling her fingers.

She thrusts into you again before you moan loudly, cumming as your thighs close around her wrist, panting heavily as she lets herself fall onto the spot next to you.

You both stare at the ceiling, the only sounds the heavy breathing from you.

You move her hand to yours and intertwine your fingers. She moves her head to the side to look at you, smiling.

You think seeing her smiling is something you can never get enough of.

Idiots in love, thats how you two can be described.

The next few months were full of love. Kisses here, kisses there. It didn't even have to be sexual, no, it was always romantic, no matter what you did together.

After a few months, she gave you a ring.

"One day I'll buy you an expensive, real diamond ring and ask you to marry me," she said, and since then you've both worn the matching rings without taking them off once.

If only it had stayed that way.

It's late at night, you're lying in bed reading a book when you get a message.

"I love you,

I'm sorry" - from Jihyo.

You sit up and stare at your cell phone.

"What's wrong?" you type and send the message, she replies,

"I can't take it anymore"

She can't take it anymore?

You feel a twinge in your head as you suddenly realize something.

It's too similar to Dahyun's goodbye.

"I can't live in this world anymore" she wrote in her text.

You look at her location, and without hesitation you walk, no - storm out of your apartment and run to her.

She's not far away, a bridge situated over a river only 5 minutes away, and you think you've never been so grateful for anything.

You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to see anything while your clothes get wetter and wetter, the rain completly drenches you.

Again it feels like a cliché love drama.

Only maybe this time you have the chance to have a happy ending.

Your legs are burning from all the running as you arrive on the bridge.

"Jihyo!" you shout, the rain pattering loudly on the asphalt, forcing you to shout even louder for her.

Her bike is right next to her, one leg over the railing, her hands gripping it tightly, as if she's...

Scared?

"Y/n?" she answers, her voice low and shaky.

"Please..." you say as you walk slowly towards her.

She doesn't stop you when you take her hand in yours.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you ask, she looks at you as a tear runs down her cheek.

"I-... I didn't want you to worry. I thought this feeling would go away if I didn't talk to anyone about it," she says.

Whether your face is wet from the rain or your tears, you don't know.

"Believe me, you have to talk to me, then it will get better," you say.

Her face comes closer to yours and, without answering, she kisses you.

You kiss her back, try to grab her so you can hold her closer - but she lets go.

Completely.

You slowly open your eyes, afraid of what you will see - but you see nothing.

No one.

The rain completely overwhelms you.

"No..." you whisper, looking down on the floor and picking up something shiny.

Her ring.

You look out over the railing and see the water turning slightly red.

It feels like you're trapped in a vicious circle, like you'll never find peace again.

You are trapped, with no way out.

While other people find the rain soothing, you find it to be more like torture.

While other people would stay indoors in weather like this, you're outside again.

Again in front of a grave.

But this time it's Jihyo's.

Everything feels too similar and you hate it more than anything.

"It's not your fault" is a sentence you started to hate.

You hoped so much that you would never have to hear or read it again.

"Why didn't you talk to me..." you whisper, as if she could hear you.

Your hand clutches the letter, it slowly getting soaked by the rain.

You don't dare to move.

"You knew what happened..."

All time does is passing -

"Why did you hide it from me..." Your voice is full of despair.

And all you ever do is grieve.

"Life without you is no way to live" the white flower falls on his grave -

just like her ring,

engraved with your name.

She helped you recover from Dahyun's death.

You just wish you wouldn't have to recover over her death alone now.

In another universe, you've seemed to found your place in Jihyo's arms.

In this universe, you're left alone,

again.

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simpxxstan · 7 months

Text

double take

pairing: prince!joshua x f.reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut, childhood friends to lovers, arranged marriage au, royalty au

summary: some lovers are star-crossed. some are destined to rise from the ashes. and some lovers are bound together by duty, but lovers nevertheless. joshua hong thinks fate is too cruel, but little does he know, that there are stars moving to keep his destiny alive.

word count: 22.7k

rating: 18+ (mdni please!)

warning: there's a ton of angst. death of wonwoo, who is joshua's brother, in the past (not graphic), smut warnings: mentions of masturbation, vaginal penetration, nipple play. alcohol and heartbreak. wonwoo is gay. reader has some body image issues, some descriptions of a midsize body and insecurities related to that.

a/n: i poured my heart and soul into this. took me over two months to complete. i hope you enjoy this!

p.s. there are lyrics from ten songs in this fic. i hope you can find the songs! else, i can link them later if you can't find out or guess them. i'd recommend listening to them while reading their particular parts, really sets the mood.

알잖아 우리 사이엔 말보다 더 중요한 게 있잖아

“You know, there are more important things between us than words”

As soon as the doors open, everyone gasps in awe, looking at you with adoration, jealousy, and sentiment all at the same time. The numerous cameras flash, there are audible gasps spreading across the room, the Choir instantly starts playing the traditional music played at a wedding. The room is decked up in pink and white roses, your favourite, and there are beautiful lights decorating the entire room. The glistening white sparkles off the floor, the walls, the tiles and the decor. Your parents already have their eyes moist; your friends are smiling widely, as they stand with their bouquets ready as the bridesmaids. The entire room beams with the joy of the wedding of the century.

And yet, he, whose attention you seek, does not even flick an eyelash. His deer eyes remain curved upward in what you know is a fake smile of endearment, his lips pursed in a false look of affection. You know he does for the cameras, he knows you know it too. You feel he doesn’t really want to be here, he knows you feel it too. You hadn’t expected him to really want this, and yet your heart had hoped against hope. But he had not proved you wrong.

Prince Joshua wants to be anywhere but here.

Prince Joshua wants to be with anyone but you.

Prince Joshua wants to do anything but this farce.

The Choir starts a new song, indicating that it is time for you to step forward towards the altar, where the priest is waiting for you. Your to-be husband is waiting for you. As your heart aches, you make your way towards him, your eyes avoiding his at all costs, while his remain fixed on you. He’s searching for something. An equal apathy towards this wedding? An equal irritation towards the partner? Any hope that you’d call this event off right now and free him for the torture? Last night you had almost been tempted to do so, thinking that at least now he would not treat you as poorly as he had been treating you for the last five months. But you know too well, you cannot give him that satisfaction.

You’re too in your head through the rituals, hardly paying attention to what vows he makes, barely caring about the reactions of the audience, not even listening to the priest’s statements. You were spiralling, trying to avoid his gaze which was fixated on you.

Oh god, can we get over this fast?

“Do you, Joshua Hong Jisoo, take Kim Y/N as your duly wedded wife?”

Is this even a question? This interviewer in my dream gets dumber and dumber. Obviously, it’s a-

“Yes.”

You’re quickly snapped into focus when the answer makes you realise this is not a dream. The priest now asks you, “And do you, Kim Y/N, take Joshua Hong Jisoo as your duly wedded husband?”

This is the moment. You breathe in, breathe out. It’s a millisecond to disaster.

“Yes, I do.”

Joshua had not foreseen this moment five months ago when he had been called back to his country at midnight, after an emergency call from his mother. Brain dulled with grief, thoughts about you had definitely crossed his mind, but not in this way. He had only thought of how you must be coping up with the news, given that you had been next to Wonwoo when the accident had taken his life. He wondered, if it felt like his heart was being ripped out of his body for him, how much worse was it for you. On returning to the palace, he had seen your lifeless face, staring at the night sky, a look he had never seen on your otherwise bright face.

Living away from his family for the past 7 years meant he was not feeling the grief as actively as his parents and you, who had spent much more time with Wonwoo these few years. He knew he would have to comfort his family, but he had no idea how. How could one comfort a mother of the loss of her youngest son? How could one comfort a father from the death of the apple of his eye? How could one comfort a woman who had just lost her dearest best friend and fiance?

To any other royal offspring, these would seem the most worrisome responsibilities. However, to Joshua, who had willingly given up his throne to his younger brother, who, he was confident, would be able to rule much better, the thought of becoming the Crown Prince was the most daunting. When he had turned sixteen, his father had asked him whether he wanted to become the Crown Prince. Almost immediately he had said no, convincing him to let Wonwoo take the lead. At the age of nineteen, when Wonwoo had come of age to become the Crown Prince, Joshua had left for the States to continue his education. At the age of twenty-two, when he had returned to his homeland for a 6 months break, the longest since leaving for the States, he had realised how good his decision had been to let Wonwoo take over. Wonwoo had both skill and the youthful spirit the people of the kingdom needed. His calmer and smarter personality meant he could shoulder the responsibilities better than Joshua ever felt he could. Plus, Wonwoo was a crowd favourite, being the maknae of the Royal Family, and yet the smartest of the lot, as his parents and elder brother had tagged him affectionately.

The public had, of course, not taken Wonwoo’s death well. They had been incredibly supportive of Wonwoo becoming the Crown Prince over Joshua (their polls on social media had been another reason Joshua had left) but now it was just augmented as the general image for Joshua was that of the Prince who had Fled. Princes had to be strong, mentally and physically. Careful, enigmatic, and visionary, like Wonwoo. Not deer-eyed, delicate, and cowardly, like Joshua.

Why should we trust anyone who ran away from his duties of being the eldest, to rule us well?

Indeed, the modern Royal Family had stepped past the norms of age hierarchy, but the mathyung usually took up the reins of royal duty. Instead, Joshua had effectively fled from his duties, not just stepped down and aside. He had been away from his country for a solid 7 years, how would he ever know what the people needed? They strongly protested against Joshua becoming the Crown Prince now, but there were no other progeny left to take up the responsibility.

Needless to say, the entire country was mourning the loss of Wonwoo desperately, albeit for different reasons.

Joshua had soon realised that he had no time to grieve. As soon as the funeral was over, he had to get to work. But how would he survive in this earthquake shaking up his life?

The first step was getting up-to-date with everything that had happened in the country when he was away. Some of it, he knew. Learning the rest was not a tough task. After dropping out of the PhD program he was pursuing in the USA, he had ample free time in his hand to learn every new fact his advisors fed him.

The second step was understanding how royalty worked. Having stepped down from his duties as a teenager meant he had never received training per se. He had to relearn traditional etiquette he had forgotten, familiarise himself with the advisors and royal support system, and thoroughly practise his new duties.

The third step, of course, was making himself popular and loved among the public. The PR team had come up with a long list of actions he should consider to improve his public image. His parents had rejected many of them as unnecessary, and said, "There's only one thing to be done. Marry Y/N."

Joshua had looked at his own parents incredulously. How could they suggest such a step?

When you all were children, he had considered you nothing more than a playmate. An interesting woman, intelligent, witty and warm, a rare combination, he had realised, as he had made acquaintances with more and more people. Of course, you were always closer to Wonwoo. Joshua had known you would end up marrying each other. Everyone had already planned out your wedding with Wonwoo before you had even turned thirteen. Hence your engagement with the Crown Prince last year, had come as no shock to anyone.

Over the years he had come to consider you as a friend. One he met only during summer breaks, always by the side of his little brother. Lately, he had tried to think of you as a sister-in-law. It was funny that he hadn't thought of you as that sooner. He had anticipated the engagement anyway.

"I'm sorry, that's not a possibility I want to consider."

"Why?" Your father had asked you.

"She's my sister-in-law. My little brother's intended. This would be the worst way to take his place."

"Jisoo-"

"No. If you want me to marry someone, I'll be ready for whoever you choose fit. Just not Y/N."

And yet here he was. Swearing his wedding vows to you. Destiny had really done him dirty.

If you had thought the wedding was a trial, the wedding ball was like the guillotine. Under the attention of at least three million people and a million more cameras, your cheekbones ached from putting up the fake smile. Joshua was nearly always at your side, making small talk with the numerous people who had come to wish you congratulations, ranging from the common people to the elite crowds. His body was inexplicably close to yours, but never touching. You could smell his perfume, but never hear his breathing. You could see his smiles, but never feel the warmth.

You knew why he was marrying you. The country needed a royal leader who knew them and related with them. Joshua was a westernised man, who forgot to bow on most occasions, forgot to speak formally sometimes, forgot even the most difficult letters of the Hangul script sometimes. You were the perfect mix to satisfy that gap- the daughter of the royal counsel, not even the offspring of a royal clan, educated in Hangul history by your own choice, and a close friend of the Princes. You were well aware that your engagement with Wonwoo had been immensely popular- the result being that you had already become the official face and honorary member for many societies and organisations of the kingdom.

And now that Wonwoo was gone, but obviously, you had been requested by the King and the Queen to marry Joshua.

And you had taken it in your stride. It was another responsibility for you to fulfil towards your people, who you had become quite affectionate towards since becoming the Crown Prince's fiance; towards your parents, who had dreamt of you becoming Princess since you had developed a friendship with the young Prince; and towards Wonwoo, who you knew had wanted this match since your first Spring Dance, when both of you had guessed each other's secrets a little too accurately.

You knew Joshua would never love you. And frankly speaking, you hadn’t expected love in this kind of setup. Even when agreeing to marry Wonwoo, you had zero romantic feelings for him, only seeing him as your best friend. And when your best friend asks you to rule the kingdom at his side, to be his companion in the tough times, to be his closest person forever, how could you ever say no?

And so, you had agreed to this arrangement with Joshua. You had imagined that he would be equally practical as you, and see this as a familial duty he had to complete. You had imagined he would at least be courteous, friendly and civil with you.

But you were, oh, so wrong. He had been anything but civil with you these five odd months.

If the wedding had been disappointing, then the dance after the wedding was … just sad. As Joshua stepped closer to you, his aura radiating with the white suit he had donned for this day, he could feel your breath heavy on your face. Free from the burden of conversation (usually, ladies would keep pestering him with questions and sad, unsuccessful, forceful attempts at flirting with him). He remembered hearing from the dressmaker how you had fussed about each detail of the dress, but Joshua had no doubt, every version would’ve looked good on you. And all that fuss had definitely paid off: the sweetheart neckline showed off your collarbones beautifully. Your neck was empty save one diamond pendant (which the royal family had gifted to you on your eighteenth birthday, how sweet of you to wear this memory on this special day). There were tiny flowers in your hair, bright yellows against the dark brown. Then there were your cherry lips-

“Joshua.” He sees those lips mould themselves into his name first, and then hears them (light did travel faster than sound). “Hmm?” He whispers back, his voice gravelly from the fake laughs he had to laugh through the day. “I think I just… sprained my ankle.”

It doesn’t register in his mind at first.

A millisecond later, you’re suddenly tripping and wincing, and it hits him. His first instinct is to pick you up in his arms and take you away from the room, afraid that if you have to walk your injury may worsen. His second instinct is to signal to your aide from the corner of the huge hall. His third instinct is to drop the hand from your shoulder and call out loudly for help.

But he follows his first instinct. Picks you up, in the bridal style the audience had been waiting to see all day. There are swoons and gasps all around, but the most surprising reaction is from you. He half expects you to thrash him, or even screech out. But you only gasp and quickly start saying something, in a low tone that he can’t properly catch, so heavy- why’re you doing this- Joshua- put me down- I’m okay- just- ugh!- argh!- Joshua please. He tunes your voice out, breathy and desperate. He tunes out the noises in the hall. He tunes out his assistants and bodyguard stepping closer to you both, trying to understand the emergency. He just focuses on you.

Your mouth spelling out different words, your eyes widening in surprise, your cheeks becoming red with embarrassment. The way you keep protesting and yet your hands clutch his shoulders. The way your dress rides up to reveal the culprit ankle. The way your hair moves when he walks towards the door, and straight up the stairs, time passing painfully fast, and yet slow enough for him to truly feel close to you for the first time, on this day which is meant to be so special to both of you.

But when he reaches your room, he gently brings you down to the floor, your aide already by his side. “What has happened, Your Highness?” “Y/N seems to have sprained her ankle,” Joshua says as he leans you against the sofa, carefully stepping back, allowing your maids to gather around you like fireflies.

“I just… I don’t usually wear such high heels… I’m not used to them. So while I was dancing-” He can see your face flush, your eyes blinking rapidly, gulping after every word, and avoiding his eye. He almost smiles endearingly, at your little movements. But he dares not, lest you think he’s mocking you.

“You don’t have to explain Y/N. It’s natural. Jiyoung, please do not let the Royal Princess wear high heels again,” he addresses your aide.

“Can you speak to the guests? I’ll be down as soon as possible, Joshua.”

“Y/N, can you not fret? Come down when you can. And I’d honestly feel better if you didn’t come down, and instead took rest. It’s anyway been a long day for you.”

And he leaves the room, his long suit flowing behind him, as he puts on his best smile for the worried guests waiting downstairs, ignoring the immense urge to go back to your room, remove those bloody heels and take your delicate foot in his hands, to see exactly what was paining you.

To say that you were surprised would be an understatement. Uneasy. Skittish. Shocked. Your heart pounding in your chest. The absence of the warmth of his touch. The ghost of concern in his eyes when he had carried you through the hall.

Oh, how shameful.

As a woman of public presence, you had never cared about your image, nor your appearance. You knew the rumours about your weight, how your broad shoulders were just like Wonwoo, just like any man, how your hips looked like you’d given birth three times over, how you were utterly unfitting for the beauty standards of the kingdom. But you could care less about these statements- you simply had no time for beauty, and no value for looks.

And yet when Joshua had picked you up, quite effortlessly, if you may add, your heart had skipped a beat, your brain a neuron, and all you could think of was how embarrassing it was. How he must be regretting this grand gesture as soon as he realised just how heavy you were, how he was doing this all under public scrutiny just to keep the audience happy, how he must be feeling burdened with the thoughts of handling the party alone. Your guilt had just driven your embarrassment to greater heights, until you were speechless and unable to do anything. You had searched for any sign of discomfort, irritation, or regret on his face, but they had completely disappeared- in fact, those had been all the emotions you had seen in the last few months, but at that moment, Joshua seemed like a different man. Could it be… no. You wouldn’t let your foolish heart take flight again, like the thirteen year old you would have.

Sadly, Joshua was right. Your ankle felt better after the medic had checked it and given you a painkiller, but there was no escaping the dull lull of sleep clenching on to your eyes as soon as those awful shoes were off and the tight gown had been relaxed on your body to make you comfortable. It had truly been a long day, and your brain was on overdrive with all the overwhelming events of the day. Too many thoughts confusing you.

Will he be disappointed in me? I can’t consummate the marriage. Does he think I balked on him today? For all he knows, I might as well have feigned the injury to cling on to him like a desperate woman, or worse, run off from the party organised in our honour. Did he think I was pretty today? What will the public think about me now that I’ve run away from my own wedding party? Wedding… you’re married to Joshua Hong now… for good. But would he ever consider you his wife?

To avoid the thoughts from spiraling into worse demons, you let yourself fall into the easy trap of sleep.

ii.

당신이 그리워하는 것은 그대일까? (그대일까?)

아니면 미화된 기억 저편의 그때일까? (그대일까?)

“Is it you that you miss? (Is it you?)

Or is it that time on the other side of the glorified memory? (Is it you?)”

That night, Joshua Hong could think of no one but you. Tired, and yet, sleep eluded him. You had sent no word of feeling better, obviously annoyed that he had encroached upon your private space like that by picking you up- oh god, what had he been thinking- and he had felt too shy to visit you to take news about your well being. But oh, when he paced about in his room, all he could think of was how beautiful you had looked today. Although your eyes were sad, with the burden of the wedding, and your body weak, with the worry and tires of royal life, and your heart aching, with your best friend, and quite probably your lover, gone and replaced way too soon by an unwanted man… you were still just as beautiful as the first time he had met you.

That was what he dreamt of that night.

You were wearing a yellow skirt, which had twirled in the wind like a sunflower standing tall in a windy field. The day had been gloomy, but your presence had lit it up. He was all but fourteen years old, and you were just eleven. But just your smile had been enough to teach him what infatuation was.

And then, what jealousy was. When he saw you spend more time with Wonwoo, being closer in age to him and sharing more interests with him.

And then, what longing was. When all he saw of you were brief glimpses in the corridors as you would play hide and seek with his brother. When all he heard of you were hums of your laughter when you would beat Wonwoo in a video game, teaching him the tricks of winning battleship wars. When all he wanted was to speak to you, address this funny feeling in his chest whenever he saw you, but you never gave him a moment to continue the conversation from greetings. Always too eager to leave, always too shy to make eye contact.

But soon he had gotten over the crush- his puberty had settled in now, he was no longer troubled by rushed infatuations over younger girls. He had decided to focus on studies, having already made up his mind to abdicate the throne. He would meet you from time to time, generally accompanied by Wonwoo, as you were his best friend now, and sometimes by Mingyu, your twin brother and Wonwoo’s classmate.

You were also growing fast- into a more serious lady. Gone were the giggles, they were replaced by crescent-eyed grins and shy, mature smiles. Objectively, he found you very attractive. But your closeness with Wonwoo had made it obvious to him that your heart belonged to his younger brother, and gently he had started seeing you as a friend. It was a status he was happy with for he knew you were the best for Wonwoo. And he had himself moved on. Once he had blossomed into adolescence, there was no end of women and men waiting for him to give them some attention. Although he hadn't given up on true love, a couple of one-night adventures would harm none. Especially when he was in the States. No one to stop him, no one to shit-talk about him. A stone gathering no moss, wary of a fire to melt the core.

Until he had returned and seen you.

It was well past midday when you woke up. You felt really refreshed, and were on the verge of breaking into a happy mood, when you realise exactly what day it was.

The morning after your wedding. Your wedding day. Gosh. All the memories of last evening came flooding by, and you put your hands to your face in embarrassment.

“Y/N-ah!” followed by a loud thumping.

You hear your twin brother, Mingyu’s voice from the other side of the doors, probably waiting for you to wake up and respond, or break down the door himself. So you call back, “Yeah, I’m awake!” The door opens swiftly, and your giant brother walks in with the weirdest look on his face. It’s a mix of worry, happiness, pride, and teasing. You can read him like a book, ugh.

“About time, my loveliest sister. Everyone’s looking for you. Quite the drama you can stir up huh? Who knew you had it in you?” He sits by you, and smiles fondly, knowing very well how his words are burning you. “I know, I’m sorry for the mess.” He reaches out, holding your arm as you sit up in bed. “Hey, there’s no need to be sorry. How are you feeling?”

“Hmm, better I think. Let me try and move my leg.” And you gently kick him, taking him by surprise as he falls out of the bed. You laugh even harder at the look on his face. “Yaah! Aren’t you supposed to be injured?!” “It must not be serious, I can actually move it well now. Should I practice once more?” “Yaaah, Kim Y/N! If you’re going to take advantage of being the royal princess by KICKING ME, I’m going to take you to court!” “Now aren’t you taking advantage of being the royal counsel?” And you both are laughing fondly. It’s truly been a moment since you last sat with Mingyu, carefree like this. You only realise now how heavy the burden of the wedding was.

But it’s certainly not the end of the burden. This is going to go on for a long time now. Forever, if you’re fortunate.

A small face peeks at the open door, and you instinctively wrap the blanket around your body to hide yourself. It’s been a shy habit since childhood, avoidance and displeasure in sudden interactions, but when you see the face belongs to your fian- husband, Joshua, you nod at him, asking him to come in. And he looks as immaculate as ever. Hair brushed back, your wedding ring on his finger, his dapper brooch shining against the black suit he’s wearing. Mingyu breaks the ice, “And why are you so dressed up early in the morning, Hyung?” “Simply because he can,” you whisper to him, and you both giggle. Your faces are mirror images of each other, when you realise Joshua couldn’t hear what you had whispered and hence had a puzzled look in his eyes. “I- I’ve a meeting with the council in, like, 15 minutes. And it’s not early in the morning. It’s already noon.” “Noon is a fine time to be in bedclothes, Hyung, in case you didn’t know,” and Mingyu waves a goodbye to you as he leaves you both alone, winking at the other man in the room.

And then there’s a silence.

It’s not even a pause. It’s like a semibreve rest, which is stretched bar onto bar using more tied rests.

And then there’s a disharmonious note clanging through the silence.

“How’s your leg?”

“Hmmm, better. Thank you.”

“Huh? Thanking me for what?”

You chuckle. “For asking, I guess. But I mean, more generally. Thanks for letting me rest yesterday and handle the event.”

“Yeah I couldn’t let your injury worsen, could I? That wouldn’t be very… husband-like of me.” He makes brief eye contact when saying the h-word, but breaks it immediately, frisking about in the room. You bite your lip. It’s exactly like you thought. He had done it for the cameras.

“Is there anything else…”

“Oh yeah. Just - no rush, obviously,” he explains in the warmest tone ever, his eyes wide, “But the council is asking me about coronation dates.”

“Coronation?”

“Yeah, as the Royal Prince and the Princess.”

“Oh.”

“I understand it’s too soon since Wonwoo-”

“No it’s okay. We should get it over with. Whenever the council suggests, I’m cool with it.”

“Okay then.”

“Umm, also Joshua?”

“Yeah, Y/N?”

Can you give me a peck on my forehead?

“Can there be a way to make up to you for the hassle you bore for me last evening? I’m really embarrassed and ashamed.”

He smiles, so smug and aware of how nervous you are. “No, Y/N. I didn’t do a favour on you. It was what my- my brain asked me to do.”

And he leaves, almost immediately, without giving you a chance to breathe out his scent that lingers so longingly in the room.

iii.

“You're my paradise, my own paradise

Everytime I look into those angel eyes”

You clearly remembered your first day of middle school. You had joined a new school, an elite school by all means. Your classmates were all nobility and you felt out of place among such crowds, considering how your mother had only recently been promoted to the position of the assistant to the royal counsel. But a stroke of luck ensured that your first day in the new school went off better than you could have ever dreamt of. Because you had met Jeon Wonwoo, the maknae prince, and he was the boy assigned to sit on the bench alongside yours. And although you were too shy to speak to him, he had extended the hand of friendship by lending you a pencil in the second class of the day.

And then sharing your lunch with you. You two were the only ones sitting alone in the canteen, while the rest had all begun mingling in groups. You had asked if he was unwell. He had said that this wasn’t uncommon, he preferred to eat alone. You had joked about the girls who were sending him looks from the other table and were giggling endlessly. He had smirked, saying he knew it already. You were scandalised, how could he ignore them and let them suffer in this illusion? He smiled, saying he enjoyed the attention. You had asked why he didn’t initiate any conversation with them or even friendzone them. He had simply said, they’re too silly for my time. I can’t talk about nails and hair and dresses. I don’t even know the difference between light purple and dark purple, for god’s sake. And you had laughed out loud, finding your first common dislike for pick-me teenage girls whose conversations centered about appearances and crushes.

That was the first of your many common dislikes, to be honest. And that was how you had become the best of friends, since then.

Wonwoo had been by your side throughout, as had you been for him. And although everyone thought your relationship was more than friendship, you both knew very well that you were the best of friends and nothing more, without any regrets or disappointments. For Wonwoo had been, surprisingly, madly, crazily in love with your twin brother, Mingyu.

You knew Mingyu was oblivious as hell. You also knew that Wonwoo preferred it to remain that way, finding security in secrecy. Even you had found out by accident, but of course how did he think he could ever hide it from you.

You had gotten drunk for the first time at the age of sixteen, the night when his father had informed him that he had to start training for becoming the Crown Prince. “Y/N, I’m already tired of this.” “Hmm, I guess I do understand why your brother stepped out.” “I know right! The responsibility far outweighs any privileges that I can get!”

You had laughed at his indignant words, “Yaah, what else do you want?” “Y/N-ah, are material pleasures the only thing one can desire?” “It's what most people desire, Wonwoo. There are very few other things that can make a human happy.” “Such as?” “Love. Family. Friendship,” and you had squeezed his warm hand, showing that you were there for him. “I already have most of that.” “And you’ll find love as well.”

There was a pregnant pause.

“I have. For a long time now.”

You thought you’d become sober with the kind of shock this information sent to your brain. You jumped up in excitement, and squealed, “Who?!” He had smiled widely at your excitement, pushing up his glasses.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Ayy. Don’t be shy now.” “Nope. You cannot-” “Wonwoo!!!!! Don’t be such a spoilsport! I’ll kick your ass if you don’t tell me. We had sworn, no secrets!” He smirked, “Yes of course! The day I discovered your diary entries about hyung-” “Shh! Enough of me!” “Why are you embarrassed now?” “Because that was so long in the past. But your love- it’s in the present. We have to cultivate it.” “Jeez, Y/N. It’s not a crop.” “It is, you dimwit. Now tell me,” you shook his shoulders, borderline violent with curiosity.

But then there was a change in mood. Wonwoo began biting his lower lip, a telltale sign of embarrassment. “You don’t have to worry, hey. I’m your best friend. I’m never going to tell a soul. Not even my brother!”

He had stared at you as if you had said something wrong.

“How do you know?”

“Huh?”

It took three seconds for you to join the dots. But of course! How could you be so blind!

“You like Mingyu?”

Wonwoo’s face swelled up in bright red, he turned his entire body away from you. Finding his reaction endearing, you hugged him from the back. “Hey. It’s okay. Don’t be embarrassed.”

He still didn’t turn back. “I- I like a boy.”

“Wonwoo! That’s hardly something to be embarrassed about.”

“I can never tell my parents. Hell, I can’t even tell Mingyu. He’s straight as fuck.” You could hear his breath getting labored in his agitation. He swiftly turned around and clasped your hands. “Y/N. Promise me you’ll never tell him. Please.”

And you had promised him. With complete sincerity.

You have seen Mingyu cry plenty of times. When a dog had scratched his knee (he had only tried to play with it). When he had lost his passport (but found it again three minutes later). When you had slapped him for breaking your guitar (you had torn the love letters he had received on Valentine’s Day for he was acting too smug about them).

But today, there are no tears in his eyes, when he prays for Wonwoo at his funeral. Just a blank face and lifeless eyes, which you know to be hiding so much. Wonwoo’s death had affected Mingyu a lot, albeit not as much as you, but Wonwoo had still been the closest he had to a friend of his own age, when he had been introduced into the world of nobility just like you. Since then, you had seen Mingyu become distracted, drinking alone in the house after midnight, avoiding any gatherings, and delved deep into his work. And today, even when the world perceives him as unaffected and heartless, you know just how broken he feels, by the paleness in his eyes and the weak shaking of his fingers.

On your other side is Joshua. He, like Mingyu, is also stoic, but you can hear his muffled sniffles. He’s softer than both Mingyu and Wonwoo, and you’re surprised he can hold back his grief. But you guess he has to, considering his completely broken down parents standing in front of him. They seem to lose all control over their feelings as they cry and pray for their son’s peaceful afterlife.

You’re also crying. Joshua knows you are, and he’s looking at you more than once in a minute. One time, you look back at him, and he immediately puts his hand in yours. You don’t question the sudden gesture of affection, you don’t care enough about it. All you care about is the illusion your heart keeps feeding your brain that you’re not alone even if Wonwoo’s gone. You hold on Joshua’s pinky finger for dear life, and let the tears roll down your cheeks, whispering mumbled prayers as the priests keep on talking.

“It’s so nice to see you after years.” Joshua smiles at your words, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he drinks in the warmth of your presence. It feels so good to be around familiar people in this now unfamiliar world, where everyone seemed to be accusing him for something or the other.

“Likewise, Y/N. How are you holding up?” He is indicating to your life after Wonwoo’s passing away. “Just about. Your parents want me to go to therapy,” you chuckle, but he thinks his parents aren’t saying the wrong thing. “You should, though. You were his literal best friend and fiance. If anyone needs support, it's you.” “It’s okay. If I really felt that weak, I would’ve taken the support, trust me. But I don’t. I don’t know… maybe because it’s Wonwoo? I feel like… even if he’s not with me, he’ll always be with me.” “Yeah, he does have that, doesn’t he? The little hand on your back all the time. It feels like that to me too.” “Then you understand.”

And there had been silence. Until you had addressed the elephant in the room.

“I’ve accepted the King’s proposal. I think it’s only fair for him to request me to marry you.”

He stumbles, trips and almost falls. Then he pauses on the walk, and looks at you. “Y/N. I think he’s being cruel, and you can honestly tell me if you feel so too. You don’t have to worry about your brother’s position-”

“Oh no!” You smile, a weak smile that doesn’t reach your cheekbones. “I don’t worry about Mingyu. I know he’ll survive in the system even if I’m kicked out. I was anyway thinking it’s high time I got kicked out, though. I have no use here anyway. I guess being your wife can be the only reason I stay in.”

You say the words so casually, his fingers burn with electricity. He can’t fathom why you’re so relaxed about it. But you read his mind, “Joshua. I’ve never really… looked for love. So it’s okay if this marriage is loveless. But I do care about Wonwoo. Sorry… did care about Wonwoo. And I think he would want me to support you in any way I can to help you settle down in this new responsibility that’s been dumped on you.”

“Y/N. Please, you don’t have to be so understanding.”

“Joshua, all I’m saying is that I’m okay with whatever arrangement this becomes. If you have qualms, I totally get that. You may not be ready for marriage- or,” he notices the slight change in pitch, “you may like someone else. If that is the case, you can tell me honestly and I’ll step back. I’m not a golddigger,” you laugh, quite sarcastic and bitter though.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?”

“I am.”

“I’m not, but I’m willing to do it.”

And then you extend your hand to him, and he doesn’t know what to do. Are you asking him to hold your pretty fingers? Or admire the gold bracelet adorning your lithe wrist? Or-

“God, Joshua. You won’t even shake hands with me?”

He doesn’t know why his heart falls. He shakes hands with you, and laughs about his error, before you divert the topic into other matters. He’s so unfocused, mind going back to how soft your hand had felt in yours.

Your hand feels rougher. Almost as if it’s been burnt at the edges. You have been burnt, though, Joshua thinks, as he looks at your eyes, glimmering with tears shed and unshed, your parted lips, bursting with words said and unsaid, and your face pale with sadness.

To keep himself distracted, he thinks about why your hand feels more rough. Hurt by the worries of the royal family you’ve been forced in? Uncared for in this palace which is not your home? Calloused with the scars of this burdensome relationship? He doesn’t know why there’s an increasing urge in his heart to try and change all of that, all to see you smile widely again. But it’s too daunting of a task, and Joshua is a coward.

Days pass by quickly. Before you realise, you’ve been married for a month and you’re making your first public presence since that disastrous evening of your wedding. Public presence as a couple. It’s at a conference with leaders of neighbouring countries, where Joshua is expected to speak politics and economics and you’re expected to socialise with the women. But that’s hardly what happens.

In preparation for this event, you two had met a couple of times in the last week. Your schedules never clashed, so you hardly met each other, but this time, you had made time to meet him.

“Joshua, I’m not going to that conference to be a flower vase decorating you.”

He had been in the middle of a serious conversation with his secretary, but he signalled everyone out of the room as soon as he realised your mood was off after receiving the invitation to the conference. “No, you’re the Princess. You’re not going to be decorating me.” “I hope so. Joshua, I don’t mingle in your public affairs much, and I stick to the duties I’ve taken up, but I don’t want to be a trophy you carry around. I’m not fit for a trophy anyway-” he coughs, but you continue, “but most importantly, I’m a human with a brain. I need to be able to speak if I feel I want to speak.”

“And you shall. What’s gotten you so worked up?”

You falter for a second, not expecting him to yield so easily. You had expected him to put up a bit of a tantrum, exercising his authority as a Prince, but he seemed genuinely confused with your outburst.

“I don’t know… nothing, I guess. It’s just that. Historically, our royal ladies haven’t spoken at public forums too much. I don’t want to be like that.”

“I don’t think you could ever be like that, Y/N. Even if God had pledged you to be so. You’re too intelligent to stay shut.”

He leans on his desk, and you take in a breath to see him. He’s looking marvellous. Although it’s late at night and you’re already exhausted and in your pyjamas, he seems to be still working, wearing semi-formal slacks and a shirt. Your breath hitches at the rolled up sleeves of his shirt, but he interrupts your thoughts.

“I’ve actually been meaning to speak to you for a while.”

“About?”

“About… this. Like…” you can sense his hesitation, and you drop the arms you had folded to make him feel more relaxed.

“The PR team is asking me to hold your hand… or things like that when we’re in public. To show we’re a newly wedded couple in love.”

“I’m sure the entire world knows that we’re not in love. I’m not some despo who’s in love with Wonwoo one day, and the next day, in love with you.” You almost miss the little wince he makes when you complete your sentence. “But if they ask us to be affectionate, I suppose we-”

“No. I don’t think either of us would be comfortable with it.”

“You’re right. I think holding hands would be the maximum we can go to.” Your voice is steeling up, your heart frozen. He nods in agreement. You say, “Goodnight then, Joshua. Sleep early. You look tired, I’ll ask them to get you some tea?”

“Coffee?” he whines, almost making you smile. “No, tea.” And you leave the room without further words.

Joshua can’t, in fact, wait for the day of the conference. He’s been trying to find excuses to meet you, see you, and talk to you, but he can’t bring himself to do it. It’s just like it used to be back then, seeing you in the corridors, sometimes in the gardens, meeting each other only once in a week. It seems nothing like a marriage to him, but it certainly feels more intimate than anything he’s ever done. Any sex he’s had. Any relationship he’s had. Anything. Because his face burns up simply from your presence in his vicinity. His heart pumps when you call out his name. His fingers tremble after any accidental touch between the two of you. It’s foolish, giddy, and distracting. It’s a crush, he thinks. It feels just like he was fourteen, and he would have feverish dreams of playing with your hair, wondering what you smelled like, wishing to hug you and feel your soft curves melt into him. He knows you’re an adult now, and yet the sensations in his heart are so soft and innocent that he’s taken aback himself.

But all of that changes when he sees you in the black dress you’ve donned for the evening, as he comes to your room to ask if you’re ready to leave. You’re wearing pearls, matching the thin pearl necklace he has worn, and your wedding ring shines on your fingers. He wonders how you look just like paradise without any makeup or any fakeness.

Shit. He has to spend the entire evening with you. He’s doomed.

If anyone thinks they’re doomed, it’s you. You think about it when Joshua walks into your chambers wearing a black turtleneck under a charcoal grey suit, and you wonder why you’ve not burnt up in flames yet. His outfit is so contrasting to his smile, which lilts into his beautiful deer eyes that you so loved to dream about as a teen. His bangs are off his forehead, and when he speaks you notice his lips more than what he’s actually saying.

It doesn’t help that you both sit in the backseat, quite close to each other, on the ride to the venue.

It doesn’t help when you hear him rolling out words in English, in the sexiest accent you have ever heard.

It doesn’t help when he walks up on stage as the Guest of Honour to deliver his speech, looking like the man of the moment, and you can’t help the feeling of giddy pride bubbling into you. Maybe it’s the champagne. Maybe it’s you scorning the ladies ogling his beautiful figure on stage (he’s your husband, you think, not theirs). Maybe it’s you simply proud that he’s getting the attention he deserves.

He’s finishing his speech, partly in English, partly in Korean. You can see the media personnel immediately raise their hands for questions. And then you feel your blood boil as each question pours in one-by-one.

“Why does your country still have a monarchy in place? Don’t you think the lack of a democratic system is unfair to your people?”

“What steps are you taking to fill in the gap left behind by your younger brother, especially when you’re unfamiliar with your people now?”

“Do you plan on making Korea the next America? What will you do as the modern leader of the kingdom?”

They’re so intrusive, but Joshua has the sweetest and most patient smile on his face. “I’ll take your questions one by one, thank you.”

“Firstly, I think that there needs to be a clear understanding of what our governance looks like. We’ve held on to traditions and kept the monarchy intact, but what has become quite obvious, honestly, is that our government is not ruled by the king, but by what the people say. That is because all councils are elected into power, all the members of the governing body apart from the royal family are representatives of the people.”

Someone has the audacity to interrupt him, “But your country has the highest proportion of rich nobility controlling so many resources-”

“Please do not break me off mid-sentence. I’ll be patient and hear what you all have to say. That’s why I’m here, ain’t I?” That earns a soft laugh from the audience and shuts up the reporter.

“I understand your concerns, but the statistics are incorrect. Every economy, every nation has a few members of the society who are powerful and have control over resources. It’s quite an open secret. Due to our transparency you know who they are in our country. In other countries, it’s quite often disguised in the form of benevolent capitalists and social change mongering politicians.” Another laugh from the audience. His sarcasm doesn’t go unappreciated.

“But yes, it’s necessary to modernise Korea. I’ll simply be following in the footsteps of my younger brother, who understood the country so well. Apart from his contributions, I have so many programs lined up too. You’ll see them unfurling soon, I request you to be patient enough and allow me to find my footing. Anyway, I have my elected representatives and council members to help me in every step, and my wife’s opinions to guide my thoughts.” He pauses, and suddenly, you feel a blush rising up your cheeks as you feel the spotlight has shifted towards you. But your eyes are still on him, as he smiles the most dazzling smile, and you’re blinded.

With the smile of course, not by the sudden adoration you feel surging in your heart.

His wife. It’s not real, your brain overrides any silly loops of emotions your heart is riding in. It’s all for the show. Oh, but it feels so real. It feels so good. It’s all for the cameras.

And then there is applause and the spotlights are out, and you’re back to reality. You bite your lip to hold back the tears.

iv.

한편의 명작, 하나의 실루엣

우리의 그림은 익어가 빨갛게

“One masterpiece, one silhouette

Our paintings are ripe and red”

Joshua Hong feels dirty and disgusted. He has been nothing but a pervert this past week, and he has no one except himself to blame for it. He wants to flip over and die and repeat that for a million times, but nothing can stop the thoughts that wander into his brain every night, after he finally finishes work. Thoughts in the shower. Thoughts while walking in the gardens. Thoughts while eating ice cream as a late night snack. Thoughts while lying down in his bed.

Thoughts about you.

He wanted to avoid them, he really did. He knew you didn’t want him. Not in that way, certainly. You had made that clear to him, ample number of times. And yet, he found himself wanting you. Was it the lack of sex and increased stress these last six months? Or was it that night in the conference that had triggered it all off?

That night, when he said it aloud for the first time you were his wife. He felt so proud, looking at you from the stage, as you sat so elegantly, so much more beautiful than any other woman in the room, hell, more beautiful than any other woman he had met. That night, something had changed, he felt, or maybe it was a figment of his imagination. He had felt you grazing his arms with your fingers more often, on the excuse of calling his attention. He had felt you staring at him for seconds longer than usual. He had felt you speaking to him more comfortably all evening. And he had felt like a teenage boy, almost like taking out his crush to his first prom. He had been so excited to fill up your plate with food during dinner, and had loved it when you had conversed with all the dignitaries at the conference, using the smartest and most technical terms ever. He could’ve honestly, orgasmed right there.

And that had really triggered something off in him. That night, he had put his hands between his legs for the first time in months, and jerked himself off in his shower, thinking of your voice, your little movements and your incredible smartness. It wasn’t even physical, it was metaphysical, as he explained to himself the next morning, when the guilt hit him hard. It was a one-time thing, it won’t happen again, he had reasoned.

But god, even the heavens didn’t want him to keep his promise.

The next morning, he was called to your room on an ‘emergency’. Turned out, it was a new plan for the dams that you had thought up that night. And you had opted to explain that technology to him wearing a night suit that left nothing to his imagination. Just one thin strap had to slip off and his dirty curiosity would be satisfied forever. Jeez, Joshua Hong. Get a grip on yourself. This is your brother’s lover, she doesn’t even like you back.

But could any rational thought help him when all he could do was stare at your smooth arms and neck, revealed perfectly by the spaghetti tank top, and your thighs which were so beautiful he could-

“Joshua. Are you awake enough to even listen to me?”

God, what was that tone? Were you scolding him? For thinking illegal things about you? Yeah, you should, he thought with a swipe of his tongue over his parched lips, as he stared into your eyes, hidden behind a pair of steel-rimmed glasses. God, you were so beautiful, he was a mess.

“Yeah, I am listening. You can just give me the plans alternatively, and at the next council meeting, I’ll let you know and you can come over and discuss it with everyone.”

Your chest heaved, out of breath with all the explanation you had dished out, and it was a sight for Joshua’s sore eyes.

“Okay,” you mumbled, continuing about how you were sceptical about the idea but-

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

And he had rushed out of the room before you spotted the revival of his morning wood straining through his cotton pants.

You’re determined to make yourself more involved in the governance work, and this means spending more time in close quarters with Joshua. And even though you’re trying your best (you really are), sometimes you can’t help but steal a glance at his chiselled jawline, gaze too long at his beautiful eyes, and wish that his fingers were wrapped around your neck- shit, that was too much. But it’s been over a year that you’ve received any kind of sexual attention (the last being from a friend of Mingyu’s at his birthday party, before your engagement with Wonwoo had been made public), and let’s be fair, it’s really hard to dodge the bullets Joshua Hong, unknowingly, keeps aiming at you. Because, fuck, your brain had been all messed up and you had begun stammering when he had met you during your long late night walk in the orchid garden.

“Fancy seeing you here.” That was the first sentence he had said to you that week, and you weren’t in a mood to speak to him, to be honest. Your period was due soon, and you had hoped the fresh air would cure the cramps.

“My room was too stuffy.”

“Do you want me to shift your room-”

“No! There’s no need for that.”

“I mean, you could always come and stay with me. I’ll arrange for the bedroom adjacent to mine being opened and connected with mine. At least that’ll stop the tattletales in the kitchen about us sleeping apart even though the King and Queen still sleep together.”

He was right. The gossip was getting on your nerves now. It must be because she’s so darn gross and ugly, they said. It must be because Prince Joshua has met sexier women when he was abroad. It must be because she’s a brat and runs her mouth too much. It must be because she had jumped on Joshua once the other Prince had died, but Joshua can’t take her weight, haha.

And you had tried, you really had. Gone on a diet, lost three kilograms, and focused more on the remnants of teenage acne on your cheeks. You, who had never given a damn about appearances, were now trying to please- who, exactly? The public? The press? Or was it all to get a reaction out of your husband?

One night, you cave into the weakness. You find comfort in your fingers fondling with your nipples, gasps escaping from your lips as you lie in the dark, under your heavy blankets, imagining Joshua’s pillowy lips on your neck. It gives you shivers, and you’re thankful for the warm blanket.

But as soon as the shot of pleasure shoots through your veins, his words that you had overheard come to your mind.

It was the day after your first conversation with him, confirming your willingness to enter the marriage. Joshua was drinking with Mingyu in the house you shared with your brother after the death of your parents. You had no idea you’d find the Prince in your house when you returned from the market, bag full of groceries and skirt dirty from the mud in the roods after the rain.

“Hyung, if you don’t want to marry her, you can just tell your parents.”

“Do you think they’ll listen to me, Mingyu-ah?” he had scoffed.

“They’ve always been pretty liberal. Letting Wonwoo break the hierarchy has probably been the most controversial decisions of all time, but they were strong enough to take the call. I’m sure if you explain that you don’t want to-”

“Mingyu, it’s not about want or not. I cannot marry her. It is beyond my moral capacity. I really… ugh, it’s so twisted.”

“Maybe it’s not. Maybe you’re just thinking like this because you don’t know her well enough.”

“I do. I know her enough to know I cannot get myself into this marriage. It’ll be the worst decision of my life, I know I’m going to regret it.”

And the euphoria of pleasure dies as soon as it had begun, leaving you empty, both emotionally and physically. You thrash yourself for becoming that stupid teenage Y/N again, crying for a man who you would never get. Joshua would never love you, no matter how much you wanted him to. Maybe you just didn’t deserve him.

The next few days were absolute torture for Joshua. He knew exactly how you felt towards him, in fact you reminded him of it every second, and yet he could not keep his eyes off you. His stupid puberty crush had been reawakened, and somehow, he felt like he was younger when he was around you. Maybe because he trusted you to take burdens off his shoulder when you showed up to council meetings and convinced the balding, middle-aged men (who only stared at your legs and sighed at every novel idea you presented) to let you take over projects which you felt passionate about. A new legal bill for safety for women in workplaces. New schemes to reduce the drop-out rate in colleges. Revamping incentives to ensure the needy families do not prioritise employment over education for their children.

And he would bask in your warmth. Sometimes it felt like you were the light at the end of his tunnel- when he would be tired after nights of staying awake, worrying about projects or silly politics, you’d turn up, smelling of lavender, wearing your lace night suits and carrying pots of lemongrass tea with you. You were a dream, a mist in the spring, and he was chasing the happiness he felt in your presence.

Seeing the two of you spend more time together meant his parents were happier than ever and they began inviting you to dinners with them.

“Y/N, you ready?”

You open the door to your bedchamber, simply dressed in a white shirt and blue flared jeans that did nothing to hide your tempting ass that Joshua kept wanting to get his fingers on. “Yeah. Not wearing anything fancy, I don’t need to fool them about my looks at least.”

“Fool them about looks, what are you saying?” He asks you softly as you both make your way through the long winding corridors.

“Oh nothing.” He catches on to your disappointed voice, how you move an inch away from him after this statement.

“Y/N-” “Don’t you read the papers, Joshua? I know you don’t have time for society gossip but I’m sure you know what they’re saying.”

Shit. He really doesn’t know. He stops walking and looks at you dumbfounded.

“What are they saying, Y/N?” Please let it not be what I’m thinking it is.

“Never mind Josh.” Josh? When did you start calling him Josh? Not that he’d ever mind.

“I want to know.” He steps in front of you, blocking your way. He can see your pupils dilate and then relax, your beautiful lips part gently to take in air, all while there are clouds in your face.

“I don’t want to talk about this, Joshua. It’s embarrassing already to know they say all that, it’s even worse to be complaining to you about-”

“You’re not complaining. You’re my wife, you can share your concerns with me.” I want you to share yourself with me, please.

You bite your lower lip, and continue after hesitating, “I don’t know- I know I’m not perfect and I’ve never wanted to look like a celebrity or a model or whatever, and I also know I don’t have the same kind of good looks that Mingyu was blessed with, and I know I’m not size zero and-”

He steps in and kisses you.

And steps back almost immediately.

God knows why he did it, but he doesn’t have time to regret it in spite of the shocked expression on your face. “Y/N. You’re so beautiful. I don’t even have enough words to describe how beautiful you are. And I’m not saying this just for the sake of it. I’ve always thought you’re simply perfect.”

It seems you’re still out of breath from the kiss. He is too, he just wants to appear composed in front of you while breaking down inside from the fear of you not wanting it as much as he did.

“Y/N. I don’t care what the media says. And I know you’re not one to care about that bullshit either. I want you to know that those who matter to you, love you, for just who you are. We wouldn’t change a thing.”

And he steps away and continues walking ahead, at a slower pace. You start walking a few seconds later, and finally his own heartbeat stops pumping in his ear like a ticking time bomb.

You cannot focus on dinner after that. It’s not humanly possible, you think, as you steal gazes at your husband across the table as he laughs with his parents over silly dad jokes he’s been cracking all evening. His mood has relatively improved in the last few weeks, and now you actually enjoy his company a lot. Just like when you were younger and you looked up to him with starry eyes, in awe of how he knew so much more than you in spite of being just three years older.

But you’re dying inside. Your stomach is churning, your skin perspiring and a sheen of sweat on your forehead makes your mother-in-law ask you in concern, “Y/N dear, I’ve never seen you pick at your food like this. Are you not hungry?”

You panic and reply, “Umm, no I’m just on a little diet,” and you cover up with a fake smile, avoiding Joshua’s eyes so that you miss out on the furrowing of his eyebrows at the mention of diet. He asks you, not allowing you to escape, “Why are you on this diet? Are you trying to lose weight?”

“Yes.” It’s true, you have been trying to lose weight. You’ve stopped liking how you look in the many public photographs that get clicked of you nowadays.

“Why?”

And all of a sudden, there’s a palpable tension in the room. The mood is dead serious and you know Joshua is angry.

Why is he fucking angry? Does he not want you to go on a diet? Is this continuing from what he said earlier- oh god, forget about the kiss Y/N!

“I just… I want to become fitter. I’m thinking of restarting swimming. You remember how I used to swim a lot earlier?” you casually ask him, not expecting him to almost choke. “Yeah I do… it’s a good idea. It’ll help you get rid of stress also.”

Your parents-in-law say something in enthusiastic agreement, but all you can focus on is how good Joshua Hong looks with his hair slicked back, his plain green sweater hanging loose on his shoulders, and how he’s looking at you like he wants to kiss you again. Not that he would actually want that, though. More likely, he’s looking at you to erase that memory of the kiss.

The Crown Prince of Korea is seconds away from a heart attack and the reason is his wife. He can’t get the kiss out of his head- he’d be lying to himself if he said that he hasn’t been thinking of this for months now. He realises just how futile his attempts of thinking of you only and only as Wonwoo’s lover and his sister-in-law have been, when he thinks of just how long he’s longed to feel his lips on yours. Months? Hell, it must’ve been years. When his first choice of his plus-one to his first prom night had been you, but then the teacher said he couldn’t invite someone three years younger to him. When you had showed up at his farewell party before he left for the States, your hair much longer then, your eyes even prettier under those nerd glasses. When he had seen your selfies with Wonwoo while he was abroad, and an inch of him had wished he could share his new life with you instead of the girls who flocked around him.

But you’re avoiding eye contact like the plague. And he knows it must have been the foolish step on his end to kiss you. So old, and yet no control on his fucking hormones? And yet, how could he, when you continued to talk utter rubbish about the stupid comments about your looks that had been rioting on social media, but he found you just as perfect as the woman he had always dreamt of?

Josh.

A pet name? He mused, as he chewed the steak slowly, savouring it along his tongue. He had tried to make the night lively, bringing up topics he knew you’d want to talk about, but he had failed. Your mood was perhaps permanently damaged now, in spite of whatever uphill improvements he had made in the last month.

But what was marriage if not a labour of love?

Love? Joshua Hong had once been in love with you, for a short time, but now he was not. He knew he was not because he knew it would be unreciprocated. It would be spat upon and crushed with the heels of your shoes and Joshua Hong was a coward. He would never be brave like Mingyu, who was always too courageous for his good, especially after too many drinks. He would never be as determined as Wonwoo, who would turn everything he touched to gold simply with hard work and focus. He would forever be content in the shadows, watching you from aside, waiting for you to look at him with the same want his heart was burning with.

But how long? The ache in his heart had become a familiar friend over these nights. The wish to walk twenty metres and reach your room in lonely midnight hours, and touch your skin with his lips until it cured his insomnia. The wish to see you smile at him without the burden of royal obligations, with genuine care. The wish to hold your hand when you sat together at council meetings, right next to each other, and yet so far apart. How long could he suppress these wishes?

Oh, but he had to. Otherwise he would make mistakes. More mistakes he couldn’t afford to make, such as the mistake of kissing you tonight. There were more mistakes his fingers itched to make, such as brushing his hand on yours across the table when your hand accidentally grabbed his glass of wine instead of your own, such as touching your feet with his own under the table to show you how much he wanted you, such as claiming an emergency and leaving with you right now to beg of you to love him back and let him be yours.

When your plate is clean, and your wine glass empty and you sit back on your chair, a contented look on your face, he wants to kiss you again because it feels like a date. It makes him want to take you on a date. It makes him want to court you and woo you and win your heart as he had originally planned at the age of fourteen.

But even if he had started early, would he ever be able to win your heart? He was simply not good enough for you. Wonwoo had been your perfect fit- both in wit and in warmth. And Joshua, alas, was not. Would never be.

“I'm looking at you, I can't take my eyes off

I don't know what I feel but it's feeling illegal”

“I know there’ll be a time zone difference, but if I call you late at night please pick up because it’ll be urgent.” Otherwise I won’t call you, you felt that the unsaid was quite well implied. You nod. “You eat and sleep well. Don’t get too stressed,” you mumble out, and wave Joshua goodbye as he walks away from you, a cup of coffee in his right hand and his blazer on his left. There’s some international meeting he has to attend, and although the King and Queen had asked you many times to accompany him, you knew it was best to not impose yourself in unwanted spaces. You had given the excuse of spending a few days with your brother, Mingyu, in your childhood home, as you’d been away for too long and you had started missing him, and your parents-in-law had caved in.

“Bye, Joshua!” you call out over the loud noise of the chopper. He stops at your voice, turns back and looks at you once. You think he’s going to walk towards you, his left foot lifted slightly off the ground, but then the bodyguard standing next to him motions him to move towards the helicopter and he puts his foot back on the ground. He whispers goodbye to you, or maybe you just can’t hear him.

It should feel nice to finally get rid of him, you think, as he walks further away from you, now a speck on the horizon. But your heart feels heavy, the journey back home feels empty, and there’s a voice in your head which makes you regret staying back.

“I forgot to pack my blue suit,” he says over speakerphone. Joshua, the silly man he is, couldn’t wait for even an hour after landing, before calling you. As soon as he had landed in London, his fingers had itched to dial the button and call you up but he had resisted. But when he had started unpacking his luggage, he couldn’t stop himself. It’s a gloomy day, the sky overcast with clouds. His assistant is texting him to come to lunch, but he’s not hungry. He wishes he didn’t have to leave you in Korea.

He can hear your laugh on the other side.

“I know, I realised it when I reached home and saw the suit lying on your bed.” “My bed? You went to my room?” There’s a pause. “Umm, yeah… I was actually wondering which perfume you used. I want to buy the same for Mingyu, for Chuseok.” “Oh. Did you find it?” He wonders what else you found.

“Yeah, I did. How’s your suite?”

“Hmm, big?” You laugh again, slightly less awkward.

“It’s obviously big. Is it, like, very fancy, or is it the modern minimalist type?”

“Quite modern, but also fancy. Like there are all these weird lamps- wait let me show you. Do you have time for a video call?”

“Me?”

“Huh, who else am I talking to?”

“Oh. Yeah I mean. One sec! Don’t turn it on until I say so!”

He waits, his heart pumping so loud he can hear it. Then you finally turn on the video call and he sees your face coming through the black screen, and suddenly it’s not gloomy any more in London.

“Hi there.” You smile widely, your bare skin glowing, and he smiles back, almost on instinct. For a second it’s just like that. Showing you the hotel room is a forgotten task, Joshua’s excuse to see your face has worked.

He notices that you’re sitting in your house, as he identifies the different wallpaper easily. “You’ve gone to your house so fast?”

“Hmm, felt like there was nothing to do at home.”

Home. Were you missing him? Could it be-

“Is Mingyu around?”

“Yeah, but he’s calling someone. Practically shooed me from the room when his phone rang. Might be important-”

“Pfft. Important, my foot. Probably a new person he likes.” You smile at his comment, “Yeah probably. When do you think he’ll want to settle down?”

“When he finds someone like I have?”

The words slip out of his mouth before he can even think twice and the truth of what he said only hits him when he suddenly sees your video crashing. “Hey Y/N?”

“Sorry!” Your face is back in focus, all red and flustered. “I dropped my phone. Umm, Josh, I gotta go, there’s someone at the gate.”

“Hmm, okay. See ya?”

You smile at him and wave him a hurried goodbye.

The phone becomes lifeless again.

Shit, he fucked up. Yet again. What are these uncalled-for things he’s doing? And why can’t he just control himself, for god’s sake? It’s not like he… oh god. He’s really messed up now.

There’s something wrong happening. It feels right, but it’s really wrong. You reckon it started from the kiss. Since then everything is changing, bit by bit.

The night after that, he had asked you if you wanted to watch the new film in the theatres, and you had agreed, since you actually wanted to watch it (and not because you wanted to spend more time with him). He had booked out the night show in an entire hall, and the two of you had spent more time giggling over the poorly-made thriller and gasping at the unbelievable action sequences than watching the movie seriously.

Three days after that, you had asked him if he wanted to come swim with you. He knew you had restarted practice but hadn’t said much about it except ask where you were practising.

“Hmm, sure? I mean, if it doesn’t barge into your routine.”

“Joshua, if it did barge in, I wouldn’t have asked you.” He grins, fixing his collar. “Sorry ma’am. I’m free today, when are you going?” “Today?” You weren’t planning on going today at all. “Yeah…” “Umm, in half an hour?” “Cool. Call me when you’re ready.”

And that’s when you realised it was such a mistake to bring him to the pool. Because you were too distracted by him all the time. For two straight hours, you both raced across the 500 metres pool multiple times in a marathon, but towards the end, it became too much fun as you both skipped track divisions and cheated to make it to the end of the race. He would swiftly snatch your goggles and the chlorine would burn your eyes until you had to hold his hands down and get back the goggles from him, all while whining to make him stop laughing like a clown. Sure, you had provoked it first by kicking your leg out midway to smash him in his chest, leaving him dumbfounded and gaining you a solid ten seconds, but this was too extreme an attack.

But at the end of all attacks, he somehow ended up pinning you to the wall of the pool, both too giddy with adrenaline to notice how you had landed in this position.

Thank god the pool was empty.

But your mind was not. You were now extremely aware of his gaze burning into you, his hair wet from the water and bangs falling on his face, his taut chest muscles golden and ripped, his glowing skin looking even more alive.

“I love water.”

“I know, I remember how you used to always have pool parties for your birthdays in school.”

“Hmm, you do?” You’re sure it’s completely platonic, but when he uses his left hand to keep you locked against the pool and his right hand to swipe back his hair from his forehead, there are butterflies in your stomach and you just know you’re blushing. Not even an inch of skin-to-skin contact, just his hungry eyes and you’re dying inside.

“Joshua, I need air.”

“What?” He asks, as if he doesn’t understand.

“I need to breathe.”

“Huh ... you’re breathing, though?”

You bite your lip, and he smirks. You can’t help but think he’s doing it on purpose, but he gently pushes himself away from you, and you take the chance to take deep breaths and rouse yourself to sit on the edge of the pool. He points at you and smirks even deeper.

“I win!” He laughs, his eyes growing bigger in excitement. You laugh too, realising that the moment you got out of water, he had won. But he had won far before that…

He dunks his hair in the water and splashes water over you as he rises up again. You slowly get off the edge and stand up, fixing your clothes. You swear you can see him check you out once, but it may be a figment of your delusions.

“Y/N. I’m hungry.” “Huh?” Did you hear him right? “Yeah, do you wanna get chicken?” Poof.

It feels just like those teenage summer parties he used to host. Just you, Wonwoo, Mingyu, himself, and a couple of other friends from school. You’re feeling just as hot and bothered as then, and he’s looking just as cool as then.

“Sure, but you’re paying. Winner winner, chicken dinner!” And you’re laughing now, as you walk away to the dressing room to take a shower and get dressed again. You just want to escape before he comes out of the water and his body makes you weak in the knees again.

He’s hard.

Joshua Hong is sitting through the middle of the third conference for the day and he’s shit tired at this point. Which has probably made his body want things he doesn’t have. Specifically, you.

So he tries to hide the boner in his suit pants, and he swears under his breath every second because it’s simply impossible. Especially after that picture Mingyu had sent to him a minute ago. He shouldn’t have opened his phone during the conference, but he was too bored.

KMG-[picture]

KMG-in case you’re missing your wifey haha

HJS-what?

KMG-she sure is. she’s whining like a little puppy.

HJS-what?!

KMG-don’t you get it? she’s drunk bro. it’s so obvious?? did you even open the photo?

HJS-i didn’t, sorry. unlike you, i’m in london and it’s afternoon here so i’m at work.

KMG-work?! pfffft. you’re the prince.

HJS-you’re also drunk, gyu.

KMG-not realllly, but defo under the influence seeing that i’m texting you against my better judgement, which is the slap i’m going to get from my sister as soon as she realises who i’m texting.

HJS-jeez. she hates me that much lol.

KMG-huh??? hate? you dumbass???

HJS-can you not curse me? this conference is tiring enough.

KMG-sorry.

KMG-you d*****s???

HJS-what???

KMG-the only thing she’s talking about after eight months of living the royal life is you. and i wouldn’t say you’re the only interesting thing at the palace

HJS-what are you implying

KMG-your assistant is pretty hot

HJS-what? i choked on my water!

KMG-don’t tell me you haven’t noticed

HJS-no i really haven’t.

KMG-eww. what marriage does to a person 101.

HJS-i wouldn’t have noticed otherwise either

KMG-sure, says joshua hong who’s slept with every girl in his uni in the states

HJS-why hasn’t your sister found out that you’re texting me and given you said slap yet?

KMG-oh so you want her to find out that you’re pining for her love?

KMG-you’re so down bad to get her attention huh

KMG-you just wish it was her texting you rn, and not me

KMG-you traitor

HJS-mingyu stop

KMG-you’re missing her so bad

KMG-and she’s missing you too

KMG-ugly missing

KMG-i can see the sadness in her eyeeees

HJS-i think it’s your soju talking

KMG-pls. i can handle my soju v well.

KMG-but you have to admit you’re missing her.

KMG-if you weren’t you wouldn’t have saved that photograph to your gallery

HJS-i didn’t

KMG-liar

HJS-accuser

KMG-cheater

HJS-dumbass

KMG-WHO’S CURSING NOW

KMG-soory this is yn if gyu was disturing you durig he meeing iapopogize. byew

That was a … chat that didn’t help at all. Now his mind is wandering even farther away from the discussion in the conference.

And the photograph.

You in tank tops would really be the death of him. Your silky flesh escaping through the loose edges of the satin tank, your short hair falling casually across your neck, covering up all the places he wanted to kiss. Your tiny mole below your left clavicle, and the way you were smiling, looking at the soju glass in your hand, eyes creasing and lips maroon.

It makes him think of that evening in the pool when he had almost kissed you again, but only the devil in his head knows how hard he had controlled himself from pushing you against the wall of the pool with his chest, feeling your soft skin again his own, and your lips bright red from biting on them all day (they were chapped as he noticed from up-close). He was taller than you even in the pool, and it made him want to devour you even more. Your swimming suit had left nothing to his imagination, the pervert he was.

He hadn’t planned on taking off his shirt that evening. But when he had started feeling the tingling in his dick after seeing the damp swimsuit clinging to your body, he had decided that two can play this game.

And god, he had enjoyed seeing you flustered. It felt amazing to know his body still had that kind of effect on women, especially you. The last he had seen you check him out was several years ago, and even then, his blood had rushed straight to his dick when he had received your attention, just like now. Thank god you both were under water so his trunks didn’t give it all away.

All the thoughts he had conjured up in his mind that night come floating into his mind now. Your husky voice after swimming laps in the pool. Your hair all damp and swept back from your face. Drops of water falling down your neck-

“Mr. Hong?” The lady next to him whispers, and he realises the entire hall has been staring at him. “Your thoughts on how Korea would like to be involved in the new cross-Pacific connectivity project?”

Fuck. Specifically, fuck you. Yes, thank you.

He has called you three times over the period of two days that he’s been away. Tiny calls, not lasting longer than seven minutes in all, but they still count as calls. He has also texted you a little bit, and sent quite a few photographs- a photograph of the brunch he had which had a lot of baked goods reminding him of you since you love baked treats; a photograph of the London Eye which he saw while travelling; a selfie in front of the Big Ben.

And yet you were missing him. You knew it had to be that, because there was no other emotion to pinpoint at the steely ache you felt in your body, a longing for something, a desire to see someone, in vain.

That had caused your outburst that night, when Mingyu had taken out soju and whisky and decided that it was the night to get drunk for the siblings. You were both emotional drunks, Mingyu slightly more teasing and funny than you, but you had straight up started whining about Joshua. Mingyu had, of course, texted him all about it but you had realised it a minute too late when you saw him shut up and focus on the texts on his phone, grinning smugly. You knew it wasn’t the person he liked, because he was specifically frustrated over how they were a goody-two-shoes, slept before 11 pm, and didn’t even go out with co-workers for dinner and drinks. They were a lawyer he knew through social circles, and although they had been talking for some time now, he had yet to make progress into their bedroom.

“But I don’t mind waiting. Aaah, for them I’ll wait forever.” He had giggled, and you had punched him in the back. “Sure, let’s both see where this goes.” You wondered how long this puppy love would last.

You weren’t talking to Mingyu all day because of what he had done the previous night. Not just spread misinformation about you, but also send a photograph of you. You hadn’t been able to read the chats, he had snatched it away from you as soon as you had begun to read them, but you knew he had written enough to damage you when Joshua would come back.

One more day, and your husband would be back.

What did wives do when they missed their husbands?

Call them for hours at night and sleep with their voice on speakerphone? Impossible, you lived in different time zones now. If you called him at night, it would be his afternoon, and if he called you at night, it would be your early morning and you’d be in no mood to sweet talk.

Text more frequently? Again, not possible. There was only so much you would want to do without any expectation of reciprocation.

Send them gifts? A parcel from Korea to London would definitely take a day, if not more. The surprise would be lost.

Send photographs? He did, but you never sent photos to anyone. Anyone. Not even Wonwoo, you were just too shy to send photos. And anyway, nothing special had happened to be worthy of sending photos.

There was truly nothing to do to solve your crisis, but oh, it felt like despair. Two days turned into three, three into four, until you couldn’t wait to have him in front of your eyes again. On the last day, you knew from the clock that this was probably bedtime for him, and you decided to call him. Because he hadn’t called you the entire day before that, and maybe you wanted to hear his voice?

“Hello?”

“Hmm Y/N.” There it was, a voice sounding like mellow honey in a pancake, warm and sweet. “How was your day, Josh?” “Tiring? I’m getting ready to get into bed right now. Wanna switch on videos?”

“Umm, I’ve actually just woken up so I had bed hair-”

Joshua is sending you a request for video call.

“Does it look like I care?” He grins as soon as you switch on your camera, showing him your frazzled hair. “I do! You see me only once in the entire day, I don’t want to look like a stray dog.” “You do look like a stray dog, but you’re cute.” Maybe it’s the morning laziness which hasn’t got off your brain yet, but you melt into his words. “You’re cute too. Your face is all puffy after a day’s work. Did you cleanse well?” “I did. I’m glowing even with the lights off, am I not?” He smirks, and you can’t say he’s lying. Even with the faint nightlight, you can see his features distinctly. He catches you stare at him for too long, and says, “Miss me much? Mingyu-” Your face scrunches up in irritation. “Ignore Mingyu! Ignore whatever he said that day. It was all misinfo. I swear.” “Aww now there, don’t pout.” You don’t even know you’re pouting, but you blush so hard.

It feels so fucking domestic. The bare minimum, and you’re melting into a puddle. It feels like you’ve come home, finally.

“I’m going to eat kimchi jjigae today. I bought the perfume for Mingyu and he didn’t even like it, so I said I’ll take it back because he doesn’t deserve gifts. Then he started whining, saying that he doesn’t want to smell like you because then I’ll get confused between my brother and my-” you pause. You’ve never really said it out loud.

He smiles, devilish but also kind. “Did he keep it then?” “No. I’ve got it back, you can use it. I’m never gifting him anything for Chuseok again.” “When is Chuseok, anyway?” “Next week. You have an entire schedule planned, don’t you remember?”

And then the screen goes black for a few seconds, and then his face returns.

“Hey, someone called. Sorry.”

“No no. Calling so late?”

“She’s actually a friend from college who saw on my twitter update that I’m here in London and wants to meet up.” You mouth an oh, and then he continues. “I guess she had called if we could go party now… you know, for old time’s sake…” he laughs a bit, and then continues, “But I said I’m too tired now, we can go for brunch tomorrow before I return home to Korea.”

You suddenly feel awkward. Out of place. Reminded that you don’t even know him properly, and you shouldn’t dream of waking up with him in the same bed in matching nightclothes.

“Oh, you could extend your trip a bit though? If you have friends you want to meet.”

“No, I just want to get back home and rest a bit. Next week will be hectic.”

“Hmm.”

Then there’s a pause.

“Alright then, I’ll go to sleep. Goodnight Y/N!” And you’re waving him goodnight as he smiles through the camera, before ending the call.

Reality has hit you, real bad. He was never yours. You’ll never be his.

vi.

“But I could never lie to you

I'm going out my mind for you”

On his flight back home, Joshua misses you immensely. If he was being honest, he wished that you’d wait for him at the airport, so that he could hug you as soon as he lands- satisfying a craving to touch you that had haunted him while he was in London. But he knew it was too extreme an expectation. At max, realistically, he could expect you to greet him when he finally reached home after the fourteen hour flight, with a smile. Over the last few weeks he had felt your warmth grow towards him gradually, and thus, this was definitely a realistic expectation in his eyes.

“Her Highness is at a meeting, she asked me to inform you.”

He was stunned at his secretary’s words. “At a meeting? I thought she was with her brother.”

“She is with the Royal Counsel, Sir. They are at a meeting together.”

“At 9.30 pm?”

“It’s a dinner meeting.”

“Why didn’t I know about this?”

“It was finalized just today morning S-”

“And since when are you her secretary too, Seewon? Or has her brother done something-” He sees Seewon’s eyes grow wide and he realises he has overstepped. But what is this searing feeling in his head?

Frustration? Did he really expect you to be waiting there for him? It was absurd, he sees it now. It was absurd to think you treated him any differently than you did a few months ago.

“I’m sorry. I’m just- too tired.”

“Dinner is ready, Sir.”

“Can you get it to my bedroom? I’ll eat there and directly go to bed. I’m too sleepy.”

“Yes, Sir.” Seewon bows deep, but he is already walking away.

“It is for the best, Mingyu-ah.” You reason with your brother for the n-th time as he tries to convince you, futile efforts truly, to confront Joshua about the future of your relationship. “I know he doesn’t want anything to do with me. What we have now is… a nice companionship. We’ve both resigned to the fate that this is it. There’s nothing new going to happen in our love lives, and we’ve accepted it. As a teenager, we probably expected our love lives to be beautiful and magnanimous like in the movies, but this is reality. And you know I’ve never sought romance.”

“We all know why that is.”

“Huh?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly across the table, his eyelids drooping slightly from being tipsy. His shirt is nearly off, the alcohol heating up his body, and in his longer hair, his face looks eerily like yours. Seeing him like this makes you feel colder, and you hug the cardigan closer to your body.

“Wonwoo and I were together. When we found your diary entries about Joshua.”

You’re speechless. How had Wonwoo emitted this very important detail about the biggest secret of your life?

“Hey, Y/N-ie. I know I’m not as close to you as Wonwoo. He was a better friend to you than I could ever be, although we are of the same age. And I know he’d be able to explain this better-”

“Kim Mingyu.”

Now he’s speechless.

Never in his entire life have you called him by his full name, except when you were really frustated over failing your midterms when he had topped the class or when you had suffered the wrath of your parents when it was actually his fault.

“You knew?”

He gulps.

“How come you never said anything to me? I can’t believe Wonwoo- that fucker- that-”

“Hey!”

“No, you don’t get it! I’ve- I’ve kept so many secrets for him. It was our pact you know- never spill secrets. And never keep secrets from each other. I told him everything and he- Oh my god. What else do you know? How much has he betrayed me?”

“Y/N-ie. He didn’t betray anything. It was purely an accident that I was there in the room when he started reading it out aloud. None of us knew what was coming as we started reading that page. And then he swore me to secrecy, and made me promise never to tell you. Made me swear on my face too, can you imagine?”

But you were not in the mood for jokes. Angry, hot tears started rolling down your cheeks. It was truly an uncalled for meltdown, but the tears seemed to be a long time coming.

“I can’t believe you know it. I’m so pathetic-”

“No, aaaah-” He shuffles closer to you, somehow patting your hair, before you smack it away.

“Don’t touch me, Kim Mingyu.”

“Okay, sorry. But Y/N. I don’t think you should be so mad at Wonwoo. In fact I had totally forgotten about it, until-”

“Until?”

“Until Wonwoo said how he was considering proposing to you, to be his Royal Consort.”

You look up at your brother.

“You know why he had proposed.”

“I do. I just thought… maybe if I were him, and if I knew my best friend was in love with my brother-”

“I am not! In love! With his brother!”

“Y/N-aah.”

“It was a teenage thing! A crush! It happens! Hell, Mingyu, you fall in love every week. You don’t have the right to call me out like this!”

“I’m not. But that’s because- that’s just who I am, you know? I feel butterflies and I go for it. I don’t think about it. But you, you’re different. You think twice, thrice, a hundred times, before even feeling something. For the longest time, I thought you didn’t have a heart, you had two brains.”

You scoff a mirthless laugh. “And yet I’m the one stuck in this ugly marriage. How stupid of me. I’m torturing a whole man to fulfill some broken childhood wish of mine- something I don’t even feel anymore. That’s honestly the most pathetic thing in the world.”

“Hey!” Mingyu really wraps his arm around your shoulder now, and unwantedly, you cave into his touch. His body is warm and it feels safe. You haven’t hugged him in a long time, you realise. Wonwoo had always been your cuddling partner, by your side through long days and nights. Wonwoo had been your best friend and so much more. Perhaps your true soulmate.

Wonwoo.

The thought of him brings fresh tears to your eyes, and you’re shaking violently in Mingyu’s arms.

“Y/N. Can you stop beating yourself up? First of all,” you raise your head to look at him, but he shuts you down, “listen to me for once! First of all,” he starts again, “I think you do like him. Maybe it’s not your childhood crush continuing for so long. But somewhere, you do like him. It’s like- a longing you’ve been craving for so long, and now that the sight ebbs closer to you, you can’t help but walk towards it even more.” You look at him again, tears drying up. When did your silly brother become so poetic?

“Second point is. You really shouldn’t beat yourself up for this. He’s - he’s not getting tortured, that’s for sure. He seems really happy to me, and I can read faces well.”

“No, Kim Mingyu, you’re dumb as fuck-”

“No, that’s just what you think! Because you’re my sister. I’m actually very smart. Just like I never think you’re smart, even if you’re a double masters graduate now.”

You sigh. Maybe this was true.

“Anyway, what I’m saying is. Shua hyung doesn’t seem tortured. He talks to me fondly about you, whenever we talk. Yes, he was initially very hesitant. But you know why he was-”

You’re staring at him hard, waiting for him to continue, but he just gulps. Then his eyes widen, and keep widening. Suddenly, he jumps up, and starts jumping in tiny movements.

“Mingyu, have you finally gone mad?”

“He thinks you’re in love with him!”

“What are you saying?” Your jaw drops. “Mingyu, I think you’re really drunk, you should just-”

“Oh my god. Wonwoo Wonwoo. Aigoo, he thinks too far ahead of this time, don’t you think?”

“What are you saying, bro-”

“Even after his death-”

“Do you mean he forethought his death too?”

“No! I mean, of course not. Just. The way things turned out. He really set you up with fate. A true best friend, aah,” leaving you still confused, Mingyu pours the rest of the soju bottle into his glass and drinks it in one go.

“I’m going to bed. I can’t tolerate your nonsense anymore.”

“Hmm, goodnight. Sleep well, cutie sister.”

You throw him a dirty look, and have half a mind to kick his face, but then you feel too tired and you waddle back to your bedroom.

It’s only the next morning that you see his texts and missed calls and call him back. He’s been waiting for the call for hours now, so he picks it up as soon as it starts ringing.

“Y/N!”

“Oh, good morning!”

Your voice sounds groggy. Were you drinking?

“I was w-worried,” he stutters, “Where were you last night?”

“Oh, last night? With Mingyu.”

“Oh. I thought you’d gone for a meeting?”

“Yeah, after that. It was a good one, I’ll send you my notes later. I’m too hungover right now, sorry. Was there anything you needed from me? Any work stuff?”

Your voice? A hope to see you returned to the palace when he wakes up in the morning?

“Nothing. I was just, like I said, worried.”

“Aaah, you shouldn’t have been. I have bodyguards you know. They left me only after they saw me going home with Mingyu.”

“Hmm.”

There’s a pause. He wonders if he should bring up the question of when you plan on coming back. He wonders if you’ll ask him anything about the flight. He wonders if he can ask you what you and Mingyu have been drinking so much over.

“Please don’t worry on my account. Mingyu and I… had some things to discuss. I’ve cleared up my schedule today. I hope you didn’t need me for anything-”

“No. No. Of course not. Enjoy your day.” Even if I won’t.

“Kim Mingyu? Where are you?” As soon as your call with Joshua ends, the painkillers start their magic, and you remember bits and pieces of your conversation last night with your brother. You walk towards his room, but alas, you find him still sleeping in his bed, naked except his underwear, evidently too hot after getting all drunk.

You slap his back sharply, and he jolts up with a groan.

“Kim Y/N!”

“What nonsense were you saying last night? Tell me now, if you have the guts to tell me when sober.”

“Huh?”

Five seconds.

Ten seconds. You give him a glass of water.

Three minutes. You get him painkillers.

Ten minutes. He brushes his teeth.

Thirty minutes, you’re both awake and sober. And yet, radio silence.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember. What were we talking about last night?”

“Yah! Kim Mingyu! You weren’t that drunk!”

He tilts his head from side to side, putting on a show to recollect, but his face is still blank. You have the urge to slap his head, like one slaps a dysfunctional remote to make it work again. But you fear it’s going to damage his few brain cells forever and irreparably.

“I really don’t remember. I just remember… talking about Wonwoo.”

“Mingyu did you drink after I went to bed?”

“Yes, but that’s-”

“Fuck. No wonder you’re out like a light bulb. Did you finish the entire bottle of whiskey too?”

“Hmm, but-”

“Fuck man! Now I can’t even be sure of my own thoughts.”

“So even you don’t remember! Sucker!”

“No I do! But I was just… wondering if I was delusional or if it was real. Mingyu, try and think hard.”

“Umm, I can’t really think so much so early. And today’s a holiday, for fuck’s sake. Can’t a man relax and wake up on a holiday?”

He huffs and walks out of the room, his hair sticking out weirdly. Oh, your brother. Now you have to verify if the nonsense he spewed last night was indeed true or not. And there is, of course, only one way to do so.

vii.

“Turnin’ me up and back off like this

What do you want? Do you not like it?”

He had to know. Joshua Hong had never felt the pangs of curiosity so wildly as he did now. It was too much to bear. This suspense. These mixed signals from you. This wild fluttering of his heart that he had to forcefully drown out with the rational thoughts from his brain. Not a moment of bliss and yet so much happiness even in this riot.

“Can you make a cute pose for me?”

You stare at him, and then at the camera. “What?” Your reaction makes him smile. “Cute pose!” “Yah! I’m the Princess, not an idol! Why should I make a cute pose!” “Because that’s your vibe! All the media goes wild for your cuteness. That’s why you’re so popular with the young people of our country.”

“I’m popular because of my personality. I’ve raised Mingyu, okay? I know how to deal with kids.”

He’s laughing out loud now, he doesn’t care if his bodyguards are suspicious of the whispered conversation the two of you are sharing.

“But I insist. Cute pose, please?” He winks cutely, his face full of aegyo. He’s always been good at this, the baby face among the brothers. The delicate boyish charm he never lost. The mature, serious look he never gained, unlike Wonwoo.

“Joshua. I’ve never done it,” you whisper back, slightly embarrassed.

“Umm, can you do a V sign for me?”

You do it, and extend your hand ahead of you. “Now bring it up to your eyes.”

You bring the hand to your eyes, and Joshua bends your fingers slightly to make it look cuter. “Cha! Now you’ve got it! Smile!”

He smiles for the selca, and you smile too. But your smile isn’t the real one he’s used to seeing. So he pokes a finger into your cheek, just to get a reaction out of you, and clicks the burst shot at the same time.

He’s right.

You blush, smile and laugh in embarrassed giddiness, all in the series of shots. It’s a small touch, far far shorter than anything he would like to do, insignificant, and mostly friendly. But the effect it has on his heart says otherwise.

At least now he has the shots the PR team asked him to prepare.

“Are you going to send that photo?”

“Of course not if you’re not comfortable!”

“No. That’s… okay. I just think it makes us look too… childish. Not the image the PR team would want to project of us, no?”

“You’re right. I’ll not send it. Sorry, I just wanted to make you comfortable and smile.”

“Pulling my cheek was your idea of making me comfortable?” You gasp, in mock anger.

He leans in, ignoring the way your eyelashes are fluttering from his sudden closeness.

“Did it work or not?”

Your shy smile is the answer he needs to satisfy his curiosity for now.

But the ugly demon never rests, and his mind remains wildly distracted for the rest of the day. Your photoshoot may have been over a long time ago, but he can’t get his mind over the photographs. He’s thankful you let him keep the photograph where his finger touches the soft pulp of your cheeks. It seems like the only thing he can look at right now.

It’s just been six hours since you’re back in the palace for good. Your mind keeps going back to your conversation with Mingyu, but you’re too afraid to approach the issue. You know it’s a hopeless cause, there’s absolutely no way what Mingyu was hinting at was correct. He’s a real dumbass about feeling something, definitely a TJ and not an FP, since he was so shit at perceiving and interpreting feelings. He must have been going off on tangents which weren’t even realistic.

But somewhere within you, the curiosity burned you alive. It was hell, sitting next to Joshua at the council meeting, pretending to listen to industry experts talking scientific lingo which basically amounted to how the new slum restoration and water purification project needed more funding, but you kept thinking of the same loop of thoughts. The fact that he whispered to you little jokes about how boring it all was, his fingers sometimes brushing over the net stocking of your knees when he leaned in to hear you whisper back, drove you absolutely crazy. If his fingers slipped slightly, it would undoubtedly find out how heated your core was.

Joshua and you have schedule after schedule, pending work which had been postponed for the trip, which had to be completed before Chuseok so that the festivities passed smoothly. When the day had started with you two eating breakfast together at a public place (actually a gimmick for media to cover it as a romantic date for the wife who missed her beloved husband) and clicking selfies to be released on his twitter, you had thought that was the end of your togetherness for the day.

But it had seemed to stretch on, when Joshua insisted that you sit with him for all the meetings, to keep him updated on everything he had missed out on, now that you were much more deeply involved in the official world.

“You have a secretary though?” you had chuckled, begging him to take the hint and releasing you from this trap.

“Is it too much to ask for a friend by my side when I face the world?” he had all but pouted, and you had, of course, melted.

It reminded you eerily of what Wonwoo had said when he had proposed you. Brothers did think alike, you think, as you flip the pen over and over waiting for the current presentation on tax revenues to get over. You had already thought of questions in the first few slides, realising some loopholes early on, and now the rest of the presentation is predictable. You are, however, waiting for the presentation to end to pounce with your questions, when your eyes go to what Joshua is scribbling on his notepad.

“Hey, I thought of the same concern,” you whisper, showing your own notes on your tablet.

“Telepathy?” he winks at you, and you smile lightly. “The Prince is too cheerful today. Why all the jokes? Did London steal my serious Joshua?”

He leans in slightly closer, until all you can see is his eyes.

“I missed you. It’s good to be back.”

Then he leans away, and almost on cue, the presenter opens the floor for questions and his secretary prepares the mic for him to speak into it. Your questions are all forgotten, your notes forgotten, so all you can do is stare blankly ahead until your mind registers what he just said.

viii.

싫어 하면, 싫어지면 좋겠어

좋아하는 마음을 멈추고 싶어

“If you hate it, I hope you hate it

I want to stop liking you”

It is two days before Chuseok, but there’s a somewhat half-hearted excitement in the country. It seems like everyone is feeling the same way as you. You’re all reminded of how Wonwoo had suddenly left your side last year, exactly 365 days before this.

Your recent visit to home had actually worsened the incisions your thoughts about Wonwoo made to your heart. It had been fun to curse him for betraying your secret to Mingyu, but deep down, as the date kept approaching, you could not bring yourself to sleep at nights. Every waking moment, you felt the same pain jarring your body as you imagined Wonwoo must have felt in the moment of the car accident.

Mingyu and you had drunk every night for the same reason. When you had come home, you had realised soon he was not quite the happy spirit you knew him to be. And when every conversation of yours led to nostalgic memories of the past, somehow centering around the one friend you both had loved so much, but never really talking about him directly, you realised he was grieving too. He knew how to hide it far better, but you wished he would break the dam for you.

And he did.

All it took was playing the album that Wonwoo had bought for you and Mingyu to celebrate your 18th birthday, the first album all three of you had liked (an utter shock since you had disparate music tastes), and Kim Mingyu was a wailing, blubbering mess. His head on your shoulder as you hugged him, urging him to take it all out, even though snot was all over your sleeve. But it felt relieving to see him free his own heart, for you knew Wonwoo hated it the most when Mingyu tried to hide his feelings and thoughts.

“How do you think he is doing?”

“An angel like him must be doing well, Gyu-ah.”

He had nodded, and you both had silently listened to the album on loop.

It was an album about loss. All the songs definitely hinted at losing a loved one. Some could think of it as a romantic loss, but you and Wonwoo had always thought the singer was speaking of losing anyone close to you- a friend, a family member, any beloved human being, or even a pet. It was so fitting for the moment, and you cried too. Ultimately you both had fallen asleep on the couch, for the first time in forever, the two of you on the same couch, cuddling in a desperate attempt to comfort each other.

Once back in the palace, the familiar comfort of your brother, both basking in the shared shadow of grief, was absent. This was an environment you still hesitated to call home, in spite of spending a huge amount of your life between these walls.

Because there is no longer a spectacled calm sea of love called Wonwoo by your side to tie you in during the high tides of anguish, pain and nervousness. To set you free from the clutches of overthinking and the burdens of your own intelligence. To help you escape from the depths of your mind and heart, and see the world that was beautiful without any dangerous inhibitions.

There is another person sitting next to you now, kneeling before the elaborately framed, smiling photograph of Wonwoo that is before you, surrounded by candles and flowers as the Royal Family pays their respects to the death of their maknae. Not just the King and Queen are shedding tears, the thundering sky too seems to be crying too and drowning away the tears of the world with its louder downpour. You want to be stoic, but the wetness on the rim of your eyes are unavoidable. But there are no tears in Joshua’s eyes. His eyes are dark, full of an emotion you cannot place, and suddenly you feel very distant from him.

It is this feeling, primarily, that sets off the tears in you more wildly. The only person you expect to be on your side now seems to be so far away, and it seems so cruel that you cannot help the sudden tears that escape you now. The distanced coldness in Joshua is gone as soon as he sees you in this state, reaching out to hug you, but you can't control yourself. He pulls you in one corner, thankfully, and pats your back until you’re more yourself.

“How are you holding up like this?”

He has the audacity to shrug and break your heart even more. What cruel curse is this that the person you loved the most has not only left your side, but now there is someone you’re left with, who will never love you?

“I’ve been training myself to harden my heart. I cannot cry before my parents, they need me to be strong.”

“But what about yourself?”

“It doesn’t matter what I feel.”

“It does to me.”

He looks up at you, you’re still cowering next to him, your knees pulled up to your chest as you hope to feel warmer.

“There is something comforting in knowing that I’m not the only one who feels like their heart is being broken to pieces by a hammer.”

He winces, but puts a hand around your own.

“If it means anything, it does feel like that to me too. Probably not as bad as you though.”

“But you’re his brother. You’ve known him for longer than I have.”

“But there is nothing stronger than the loss of a lover. Not even the loss of a family member.”

Then someone calls out for him from the crowds, and you’re left to yourself again, as you try to make sense of what he said.

“This is the album we used to listen to all the time. Wonwoo, Mingyu and I.” You show him a faded album cover, and he reads the title.

“Can I listen to it, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course. I wanted to share it with you. Shared grief, you know?” You chuckle, as Joshua goes up to play the album. The first few songs are not even remotely sad, but he can see a tear rolling down your cheeks already. You jerk away the cup of cinnamon coffee from yourself, to prevent it from becoming salty.

When it finishes playing, Joshua lets out a long sigh he doesn’t even know he’s been holding in. This really confirms it for him. It breaks his heart a little more, although he’s known this for years, probably, but it still hurts.

“It’s a very moving album.”

“Hmm. The lyrics are almost poetry.”

“Yes. The way the singer describes the grief of losing a lover…. No wonder you could feel it so deeply.”

You’re looking at him funnily, and he raises an eyebrow.

“It’s not about losing a lover. I think it’s about losing any person who was close to you… the feeling of missing a beloved is not limited to romantic relationships, you know? Do you not feel the same way? Your calmness scares me.”

“No, I… I don’t know how to feel. It does hurt, a lot. But… somehow, the last year has been very hard for me. It’s changed the way I feel things, I think…”

And then you hug him, your fingers squeezing his shoulder blades. You’re impossibly close to him on the sofa, but he can’t hug you back. Not when you’ve literally shown him the album right now.

Not when he knows it for sure that his love for you will be forever unrequited.

He can speak again only when you shift away from him again, breaking the hug.

“Y/N, I… This was the world I wanted to avoid the most. I wanted to run away from it so bad. I did everything I could in the US to convince myself and my family to let me stay away, to prove that I was better off living away. And I had selfishly, left everything to my little brother, who was suddenly pushed into all this without expecting it. And I feel like a terrible person. I don’t deserve to cry-”

“Hey! Wonwoo never thought like that. He knew your reasons, and he never once complained about them.”

“Did he speak to you about it ever? I just feel like a piece of shit for leaving him in the middle of it all, instead of being the reliable hyung he should have leaned his back on and enjoyed the youthful days of his life. I can’t help but feel-”

And he does what he has tried to avoid all day. He doesn’t know what triggers it- your pats on his arm, the way your eyes are glued to his, or the memories of Wonwoo finally flooding his rationale.

“You’re not responsible for his death, Joshua. You deserve to grieve, but do not beat yourself up. He never complained about anything. If anything, he knew he was a natural at this.”

“But Y/N that’s no consolation! I failed him!” He’s positively bawling now, and you shuffle to take him in an embrace again. He fights it at first, whispering something about snot, but you only chuckle and pull him in closer. There are several moments of silence after this, while he continues to sniffle in the crook of your neck.

“The days after he left, they were hell for me. I would hallucinate, I think. I saw him in my dreams, when I woke up I would call out his name, while eating or doing any work I would talk to myself, addressing myself with his name. Everyone thought I was going to lose my mind, but then… I reeled myself in. My stronger sense of intelligence stopped my emotional senses from losing it all.”

“You’re very strong, Y/N. I don’t know what I would do if I lost my lover.”

There’s another moment of silence. Joshua feels his heart beating fast, but then there is another heartbeat bursting in his ears, and it’s way faster than his.

He realises it is yours.

“Wonwoo and I… were never lovers, Joshua. I don’t know why you keep thinking that?”

Suddenly, his world is spinning. Joshua Hong doesn’t know what to say.

“What?”

He moves his body backward to look at you, to see if you’re fucking with him. It’s a cruel joke-

“Wonwoo and I were never in love. Romantically.”

“But you were engaged?”

He sees you take a deep breath in, and his eyes are bigger than the sun as he waits for you to answer. It’s a do-or-die moment for him. He keeps searching your eyes for any sign of a joke, but you look dead serious.

“That’s because… because Wonwoo was gay. He liked my brother. But he could never come out before the world, he knew he would die by public guillotine if he did that. So he decided to do the next best thing to marrying the love of his life. He decided to marry his best friend. That’s all.”

“Marrying his best friend? Wonwoo gay?”

“Yes,” he’s definitely delusional right now. He’s hearing all sorts of bullshit. This is why he was reigning in the tide. Too many tears and he’s light-headed. Drunk in his own pathetic feelings.

“He asked me about his dilemma, and what he was thinking of doing as a solution. We agreed to it as the best thing. I would support him in this tough journey, he knew that. And I knew that it was better to marry him than spend my life in an arranged marriage because I was not even looking for love-”

“Not looking for love?”

It’s your turn to look like your breath had been knocked out of your lungs, but you quickly recover, when you whisper to him, your voice suddenly far softer.

“Joshua…”

“Why did Wonwoo spoil your chances of finding love? You could have found love, you know?”

“Not when the only man I have ever loved was millions of miles away from me.”

No, he’s delusional for sure. It can’t be- no- never…

He sees you freeze, standing up, and suddenly the room is too cold in spite of it being the middle of September. Your body steps away from him, but he can’t move. Can’t seem to get a word out of his mouth, not a single thought in his mind.

“Oh. I fucked up, didn’t I?”

And then you sprint, shutting the door behind you, and Joshua still can’t move a limb.

ix.

“I love the way that you're designed

Love thе way we intertwine

Still don't need a rеason why

You're beautiful and now you're mine”

It seems like an eternity before you can stop crying. An eternity of unrequited love is burning itself down to atoms in your heart, and your whole body seems to be out of control. It’s been a long day, worn down by the grief of losing your friend, and now the pain of ruining the one friendship you had left.

As a teenager, you had anticipated this moment several times. Especially during the sleepless summer nights, when you would wonder how it would be if you ever confessed to Joshua. You had almost done it too, on so many occasions which kept floating to your brain now. When he had come to see you at your first debate finals in school, and he had hugged you after you had won, and treated you (and Wonwoo and Mingyu, who were your teammates) to bulgogi japchae and fried chicken. When he had patted your hair after you had scored your first goal in football, one of the many games you played with the boys. When he had given you the extra piece of dumpling from his plate because there were no more left and you had just remarked that it was the best dumpling you’d ever eaten.

You are so lost in your own thoughts that you miss the footsteps behind you. A shame truly because Joshua is extremely loud in his running. Anyone in their right minds would be able to hear him from miles away. But not you. Your mind is blocked too much with echoes of your own voice, pathetic as you must have sounded when you had confessed your silly little infatuation.

An infatuation that had lasted the struggles of time.

All the lies you had always said. Not looking for love. Focused on my career right now. Too busy to date. I don’t believe in soulmates and that shit. All excruciatingly stupid excuses to hide the ache your heart made even after years, just at the thought of Joshua Hong. Even when you knew very well he was way out of your league and too far away, physically and emotionally from you, you had chosen him over any other person up your way. That fact in itself was so wretched: you had, like a fool, chosen him over and over, giving up any opportunities to embrace a now that would gratify the innate human need for romance, in hope for an extremely uncertain future. Over Yoon Jeonghan, who had fluttered his pretty lashes and drawled in his cherry sweet voice- but you were insecure that he was way more beautiful than you, and the only reason he was going on dates with you was to boost his ego about his own beauty. Over Xu Minghao, the calm, witty and incredibly romantic boy who matched you in every way possible, almost designed to be your soulmate by your own admission- but even the easily affectionate days you enjoyed with him in your college days had been overshadowed by the flickers of hope that one day, you would make Joshua’s heart race in the same burning, desperate way he still made yours race.

Your body is exhausted from the overdrive.

You’ve cried too much, it’s sucked out all the moisture from your system. You’ve not eaten in hours, and the pain of your heart is overcoming you in whole. So you let sleep take over you, expanding the memories to erase any sense of consciousness you retained for so long in vain.

Sickening how you’re dreaming of him even in your sleep. It’s extremely hazy, but you see his face smiling down at you, the dawn covering his features with shades of pink and orange that make his eyes glitter even more brightly than usual.

He’s an angel, you think.

Except your body is feeling too warm for it to be a dream. His smile seems to grow wider, and you can slowly see more of his face.

Then he bends down to kiss your forehead. Then you’re asleep again.

When you finally wake up, he’s still staring at you. The slow breaths you take and release as you sleep so calmly in his lap, your head ever so lightly shifting from time to time. The edge of the wooden bench pokes his waist, but he would bear anything to see you sleeping in his arms like this. He can scarcely believe it, and he’s afraid that if he moves even a bit, it will disappear, like a myth he had gaslit himself into believing.

So when you finally wake up, he can’t help but smile at you. The smile that’s been stuck on his lips ever since he realised seven hours ago, that you loved him back. That he was not an absolute fool in hoping he could make you his. That he was not the only one whose heart burned with the desire to touch you every time he saw you.

He finally understood your point about shared grief.

As the stars disappeared when the sun rose, he quietly prayed to Wonwoo. It was mean and selfish, to be grateful to him for bringing you to him by giving up his life. But he was able to ignore the demons in his head by thinking that the kind soul Wonwoo was, he had always brought you to him, he was the only one who had pushed you away in spite of his unending efforts.

Hyung, can you come watch our debate finals? Y/N and Mingyu are also here…

Hyung, let’s call Y/N for your birthday too! She’s your friend too…

Hyung, can you help me choose which photos to post for Y/N’s birthday? I can’t choose, she’s too cute in all of them…

And he had saved all the photos. You were not just cute in all of them, but also the most elegant and beautiful lady he had seen. He was sure he found it harder than Wonwoo to pick just three photos, but he had to suppress the storms that blast his heart from time to time whenever he thought of you.

To think that you were in his arms now, waking up on a beautiful, clear, warm morning, your soft body shifting against his own. Your bright eyes finally opening to see him, as he continues to smile at you, urging you to wake up so that he could finally see the stars in your eyes, although they were long gone from the skies.

“Good morning, princess.”

You’re hallucinating. Or you’re just still sleeping.

But it feels too real. Joshua’s warm body engulfs you as you wake up.

“Good morning, princess,” he says again when he thinks you haven’t heard him. Oh, but you have.

“Joshua?” your voice is cracked, from sleep and tears.

“Yes, Y/N?”

His voice is like honey dripping from a fountain of all things sweet and delicate.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking at you?”

“What? Why?” you’re genuinely confused as you try to get up, but his strong arms prevent you, and keep you trapped in the warmth of his soft lap.

“Because I’ve waited for thirteen years to see you wake up in my arms. And I’m not letting go now.”

You have to sit up now, so you resist his arms, and sit up, your body twisting to face Joshua.

“What are you saying, Joshua Hong?” A single tear rolls down your cheek, fighting the urge to smile before you’re fully convinced this is real.

“I love you, Kim Y/N. I have, forever. Ever since I realised what love is. I never-”

“What?” Your jaw is open, so he smiles at the sight.

“I never imagined you would like me back.” His voice is softer as he leans closer to you.

You touch his cheek slowly, hesitantly, before completing placing your palm on cheek as he leans into your touch. It’s not real. No. You’re…

“Are you for real?” He smiles again, that angelic smile.

“Is it that hard to believe?”

“Are you kidding me? Joshua! Please don’t joke with me. I’m dead serious!”

“So am I!” His eyes go wide, and you know now for sure.

It’s still so unreal, that you’re suddenly overcome by embarrassment and you hide your face in his shoulder. He chuckles, a melodic sound.

“Y/N, will you have me as yours?”

You can’t even look up at him, unable to look at the way he’s looking at you. The loving gaze in his eyes that makes your stomach somersault. You better get used to it, Y/N, you tell yourself.

“As long as you want me as yours.”

“Always have, princess. And always will.”

“Spend a summer or a lifetime with me

Let me take you to the place of your dreams”

The next few days are a dream. A dream you had never dared to dream for longer than five seconds. But now, it seemed to engulf your entire existence.

For loving and being loved by Joshua Hong is a happy heaven beyond imagination. It’s waking up, in his arms for the first time, on wooden benches in the lawns. It’s waking up next to him, in his arms again, as the sun catches your eyes and breaks your slumber. It’s waking up to the scent of rose and vanilla, which you think is his natural scent even without any perfume.

It’s also sleeping in his warm embrace. It’s sleeping with minimal clothes but still feeling hot in the night because of how closely your bodies are entangled. It’s sleeping with your faces touching each others, so close you’re breathing in the carbon dioxide he is exhaling.

It’s an elixir that adds a million years to your life.

It’s a honeymoon phase you know will never end. Not as long as Joshua Hong looks at you with the edges of his eyes crinkling up in explicable fondness, when you explain to him why it’s not correct to use each other’s toothbrushes. Not as long as he kisses you all over your neck and shoulders, complaining about how you had teased him for months in your tank tops. Not as long as he knocks out the breath from your lungs whenever you look at him, and you know that’s a feeling that’s never going to go away.

Or maybe it is just the happiness of Chuseok that permeates into you now, making you feel happier than ever.

Joshua knows this is what a dream coming true looks like. It looks like you wearing the softest, fluffiest yellow hanbok, designed to match with his own golden hanbok. Your hair is pushed back, revealing your full cheeks even more prominently, and when you smile, you look like the cutest strawberry.

As you walk up to him, still blushing, as the flashes of the cameras go off, he whispers, “You’re so beautiful, Y/N. I’m so lucky to be your husband.”

“Shut up! Don’t make me more shy than I already am.”

He latches his own arm to yours as you both bow to the crowds waiting ahead of you to open the celebrations for the day.

“I love it when you’re shyly blushing like that. Boosts my ego like nothing else.”

“God, Joshua Hong! You menace!”

“I know,” he whispers later at night, in your ears, almost a low growl, when you say the words again to him, but the annoyance in your voice is now overcome by a desperate neediness that not just boosts his ego but also shoots straight to his dick. For Joshua can’t think without his dick these days. Not when he strips you out of the hanbok, thanking god you had hidden up your curves all day, because if he knew you were wearing his favourite pearly white bra today, he’d not be able to function all day. Not when he kisses your nipples with growing fondness, having quickly realised how sensitive your breasts were. Not when his fingers slide easily into your wet cunt, almost like a habit now after the last few nights.

He can cry thinking of how many times he’s imagined this, but when finally sinks himself into you, he loses it. Every fucking time he does it, he loses it.

Tonight, he flips you to sit you down on him, and your eyes are going wide at the new angle, and you try bouncing on him, eager to make him feel good. And you are making him feel amazing, especially when he feels your breasts bounce on his face as he licks the valley between them. But he knows you’re getting tired with how many times his dick slips out when you raise yourself and you have to push yourself back again.

“Let me help you, baby.” And he thrusts himself up into you, causing a scream to leave your mouth, as you lean back against his knees. “You feel so good, Josh! Aaah- aah-” he cuts off your words and makes them into moans with his continuous thrusts. He whispers little words of encouragement to bring your orgasm faster as he feels himself getting closer with every little clench of your cunt. And when you finally cum, he shakes all over and cums into you too. Thank god you gave him the green light to fuck you raw, as you were habituated to your birth control pills.

“I love you,” he says even later into the night, when he’s kissing you again, the post-orgasm bliss dissipating into a soft love that seals you both into a bubble of love that he thinks can never be broken.

“I love you too, Joshua.” You kiss his forehead, and wrap your legs around him. As he feels his breathing stabilise against your own, he knows he wants nothing else from life.

#joshua #hong jisoo #svt #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt fluff #joshua fluff #joshua x reader #seventeen joshua #seventeen fanfic #double take joshua #seventeen hong jisoo #joshua angst #joshua smut #seventeen angst #seventeen smut #seventeen fic

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msafterhours · 6 months

Text

Two Hands

Male Reader x woo!ah! & EL7Z UP Nana (Nayeon)

~25k words

“We should do this more often,” Nayeon murmurs into your chest.

“I mean, sure, I’d be happy to come support your group any time I’m not—”

“No, not that!” she exclaims, giggling slightly as she pulls away just enough to look up at you. “I mean this.”

And she pulls you in even tighter, leaving you short of breath in more ways than one.

Nights like this make you wish the world was a bit kinder to you. You’re bundled under multitudes of layers of thick clothes, thin mask and scarf completing your near head to toe coverage, yet you still can’t seem to keep your teeth from chattering incessantly. Your efforts manage to preserve some of your warmth, but another shiver reminds you of the urgent need to get inside and get some food inside of you. It’s really, really cold outside.

Thus, you swear the gleaming gates of heaven themselves stand before you when you catch a glimpse of the bright lights of your favorite little ramen shop. Fighting against the harsh winter air, you trudge through the icy slush, cursing the severity of the snowstorm and the stupidity of your decision to splurge on a new pair of casual shoes instead of investing in more functional footwear. It’s really, really cold outside.

A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you open the door and feel the warm embrace of the heated air, but your solace is swiftly supplanted by dread as you look around and notice that the shop’s well over full capacity, with little if any seating room available.

"Whatever, let's just get in line and hope for the best," you think to yourself as you take your place in line behind a pair of old ladies.

“I swear, it was a rabbit that ran past us!” one exclaims.

“Absolutely not, I know a squirrel when I see one!” the other insists, stomping her foot in frustration.

tick...

tock...

After a few surprisingly entertaining minutes, you finally make it to the front of the line and the familiar face behind the counter.

"The same as the last hundred or so times?" the old lady asks with a wry smile.

"Hey hey hey, ninety-two times, thank you very much!" you answer with mock indignation. "But yes, I’m well aware how much of my budget goes to your shop, Aunt Kim."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," she fires back, tapping away at the screen as she yells your order to the kitchen. "Would you?"

"Absolutely not," you answer without hesitation as you leave a generous tip. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna attempt the impossible and try to find somewhere to sit in your stupidly crowded shop."

"Good luck!" she calls out as you turn and walk away. "You're going to need it!"

You sweep the room once, twice. Neither survey produces anything but depressing results. A third time, just in case. Nothing’s changed. A heavy, dramatic sigh escapes you as you ready yourself to accept your seemingly inevitable fate. But before you can concede, a bright glint in the corner of your vision offers hope, causing you to turn and find what you've been desperately looking for.

A girl, seemingly around your age, with glowing golden hair that shines brilliantly, reflecting the warm yellow lights scattered around the shop, sits alone. Your heart leaps for joy as you see, most importantly, an unutilized chair across from her. You cling to that shred of hope, quickly making your way over before coming to a stop in front of her table.

A few moments more than you can endure pass as she continues to tap away her phone, either not noticing your presence or choosing to ignore it. Eventually, you clear your throat and wave your hand in front of her, causing her to jump slightly and finally look up at you. Your eyes meet, and you feel the words escape your mind in the moment you hold her gaze. It takes a second, then another, but you finally remember your goal and cease your staring.

"Um, sorry to bother you, but … there are no other seats available, and I really, really, don't want to have to go outside again yet," you hurriedly explain, praying to whoever’s listening that this random, empyrean being you just met might miraculously take pity upon you. "Would it be alright if I sat here with you?"

She regards you for many moments, each feeling like an eternity as you stand there awkwardly. She stares, deep into your eyes then deeper still, hunting an ulterior motive. Her eyes flash and dart, scanning the singular you as if you’re an entire crowd. You know not what she searches for, but whatever test of virtue you’re subjected to, she seems satisfied with the result as she nods and gestures to the seat across from her.

You finally release the breath you hadn't realized you were holding, thanking her profusely as you join her at the table.

Your display finally earns a crack in the ice, shifting her skeptical expression to one of sick amusement as she comments, "If you’re this scared of the cold, why are you out so late? Surely you didn’t forget to go shopping before the snowstorm … right? Surely."

You feel your ears burning with a warmth from deep, deep within as your embarrassment flares up. Your initial response tells truths, but her smug expression leads your words elsewhere. "Would you believe I just really wanted ramen from my favorite shop and was willing to suffer the consequences to do so?"

Her sinister smile widens as she leans in and counters, "I just might … if you didn't sound like a guilty schoolboy who got caught trying to copy someone's test answers."

She holds your gaze once again, deep brown eyes delving into the depths of your soul, trapping you within a pocket of agonizing silence amongst the shop’s raucous atmosphere.

"Well?" she whispers breathlessly. "Are you gonna use your words? Or are you just gonna let those firetruck red ears do the talking?"

You exhale heavily, feeling your faux hubris exit your body as you confess, "Alright, fine. You got me. No more lies. I might've sorta ruined up my planning for the week and ran out of food last night, alright? Now, please, I beg you, stop looking at me like that."

Your response catches her off guard, but you’re quick to join her in shock as she bursts into a quiet fit of laughter. Her mirth immediately entrances you; each note a part of the chorus that dances on your eardrums and seals itself deep into your heart.

You wrack your brain for a proper retort, hoping to turn the tides of this war of words, but your rebuttal is prevented by the arrival of Aunt Kim with your meal. You thank her profusely as she sets it down, earning a smile before she turns to address your companion.

"Would you like me to take your bowl, Nayeon?" she asks, smiling at your companion in a way you’d believed was reserved for only you.

"Yes please, thank you, ma'am," Nayeon responds, picking up the bowl and handing it to her.

"Bah, you and your stubbornness," Aunt Kim grumbles. "With how often you come here, the formality just feels stuffy. Just call me Aunt Kim like this other addict does."

“I could probably do that. You could also agree to call me Nana like all my other friends do,” Nayeon answers back, a genuine smile gracing her features for the first time you’ve seen.

Aunt Kim rolls her eyes dramatically as she pats your head affectionately in the way she knows you hate, then walks away with that same warm smile that you’d thought was saved exclusively for you, but now know is also shared with the girl sitting across from you.

"Oh, you’re a regular too?" you ask as you begin to enjoy your meal. "I'm surprised I haven't seen you before."

"I'm usually here later," Nayeon responds as she idly taps away on her phone again. "Not huge on coming here when it's so busy."

"I totally get that. I'm usually here earlier, before the big rush, but this week has been crazy. Add the storm on top of that, and I guess that leaves me here, forced to settle for getting swept up in the dinner surge."

"Oh, so you're settling for my company, huh? I see how it is," Nayeon replies, feigning indignation as she crosses her arms and huffs in disbelief. "I guess next time a popsicle wants to share a table, I'll make sure to send him back to the freezer."

"Hey hey hey, easy now," you reply, raising your hands in surrender. "I'm not a huge fan of this chaos either, but I am eternally grateful for your company and your great sacrifice of existing in my vicinity."

"You're very welcome," Nayeon offhandedly remarks. "Your expression mid-head pat was almost hilarious enough to justify my continued tolerance of your presence."

And just like that, you feel the conversation derail, coming to a screeching halt as hints of embarrassment creep up your neck and render your face even more flush. With a grumble and a rather undignified pout, you let your eyes fall to the far warmer bowl of ramen that awaits you and begin enjoying your meal, causing Nayeon to hum in amused satisfaction at your surrender as she returns to her phone and resumes tapping away at what sounds like a game.

While you'd begrudgingly admit that you’ve enjoyed the conversation thus far, you’re pleasantly surprised at how easy it is to simply enjoy the serene feeling of sharing Nayeon's company. In fact, the silence grants you a brief chance to study the countenance of your dining companion, and you’re more than happy to seize the opportunity.

It seems that the only thing sharper than her words is her jawline, which is itself a sharp contrast from her other, softer features. As much as you wish you could stare back into her eyes once more, her downward gaze and focus on her phone makes doing so impossible, "forcing" you instead to focus on her lips, which she occasionally bites in frustration, causing your heart to swell in a way that feels unsafe yet anything but unnatural.

"Enjoying the view?"

Well shit.

Your eyes barely have to drift upwards to meet her gaze, where her eyes await you once more with a scrutinizing yet intrigued twinkle. While only moments ago you were wishing you could stare into her eyes once more, the combination of the intensity of her stare and your embarrassment forces you to look down in shame as you meekly mutter a quiet apology.

"Nah, you're not getting off that easily," Nayeon says, setting aside her phone and leaning in. "What'd you think? And please do be honest. You wouldn’t want to break your promise, would you?"

After only a moment's hesitation, you stare back into her eyes and open the floodgates.

"Well, it's only been a couple minutes, but I've decided that I love the way your hair glows like golden honey in this light, I'm pretty sure your jawline is sharp enough to cut through diamond, and I'm definitely sure that if you keep biting your lip the way you do whenever you're focused or frustrated or whatever that I'm going to be too dizzy to walk home."

“...”

tick...

“Oh.”

tock...

The raucous atmosphere of the shop seems to once again fade away as you intently hold the gaze of the girl you recently met but feel like you’ve known forever. You can’t shake this odd sense of familiarity, like you had seen her before somewhere, but can’t quite put your finger on where.

Regardless, by this point, the silence between you has stretched to an uncomfortable length of time. After bearing it a moment longer as you attempt to gather your resolve, you ask, "So, uh, what do you think? I mean, I'd also prefer it if you were honest, but I don't have a promise to hold you to, so I guess I'll just have to settle for asking nicely and hoping for the best?"

Your follow-up seems to finally shock Nayeon out of her reverie, leading her to finally pick her jaw up off the floor and respond, "I mean, okay, good to know. A little much, not gonna lie, but keep talking like that and I might have to let you keep doing what you're doing. Can’t say I hate the attention."

She pauses for a moment, allowing her eyes to run across your upper body before meeting your gaze once more and adding, "And hey, you're not too rough on the eyes either."

tick...

Only a single serene second slips by as you hold each other's gaze before you see inspiration flash across her visage. The glimmer in her eyes is quickly joined by a familiar smirk as she glances down to your lips before returning to look you in the eyes.

Then she steals your heart.

Again.

With that unreasonably sultry lip bite.

Again.

"And I thought the cold was going to be the reason I died tonight," you whisper, quietly enough that only she could hear.

Just in case she hadn't yet properly staked her claim on your heart, Nayeon responds with potentially the only thing more charming than her lip bites; her laughter, which once again resonates across the table directly through your eardrums, across your inner bridge, and into your heart.

You open your mouth, hoping to continue the conversation further, but find yourself abruptly cut off by a sudden series of discordant cacophonies as her phone vibrates harshly against the wooden table. You watch on in poorly hidden dismay as she checks it and her mirthful expression transforms into a grimace at the messages' contents.

"Ugh, I need to get back to my place," she explains as she begins to gather her things.

"Oh, okay," you sigh. "Thanks again for letting me sit with you and for the … mostly pleasant conversation."

Her frown fades, revealing hints of the smile hidden within. "Sure, no problem. I'm sure Ms. Kim would have wanted me dead if she heard I mistreated her other major source of income."

You can’t help but chuckle at her words, though the laughter feels cheerless in the face of more pressing concerns. "Am I going to see you again?"

Her eyes stare into your own once more, piercing through to your core. "Who knows? We've been coming to this shop as frequently as we have for as long as we have for who knows how long and haven't run into each other until now. Who's to say it won't take another couple of years until our paths cross again?"

And with that sobering perspective, the girl you’ve come to know as Nayeon stands, giving you only the slightest nod in farewell before stepping away from the table. You watch her as she takes her first few steps, feeling your heart sink lower and lower as the distance between you grows larger and larger.

tock...

But suddenly, you almost swear you can see a lightbulb go off above her head, causing her to turn and walk back to the table.

"You know, I never did catch your name," Nayeon remarks casually.

Despite the exhilaration of your heart soaring at her return, you try to maintain a neutral expression as you reply, "Perfect, now we both have a reason to meet again."

While it might just be your imagination, you dare to hope that it’s your words that transform her sly smirk into a genuine smile that reaches her eyes.

"Oh yeah? What's your reason?"

"Who said I only have one?"

With her curiosity sated and ego sufficiently inflated, Nayeon gives you a small smile as a farewell, then turns and walks out of the ramen shop. And as the clock ticks ever onward and you sit alone at the table, pondering what impact this night might have on the rest of your life, you can only hope that she hasn’t walked away for the final time.

tick...

tock...

tick...

tock...

It really was bearable the first couple of days.

But the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months and the months began to feel like years. And as time mercilessly continues to pass by, you unsurprisingly find yourself increasingly affected by the thought of her.

You realized something was seriously wrong when entire weeks began to blur together and each visit to the ramen shop left you feeling colder and lonelier than your previous visit. It isn’t long before the intrusive thoughts remodel your mind and claim it as their own, leaving you wondering if you had lost your love for your favorite restaurant and your best chance at love in a single night. Despite the depressing potential of those dramatic notions, you attempt to cast them aside, instead focusing your efforts on maintaining your previous routine and, more importantly, meeting Nayeon again.

Since you assume Aunt Kim will rat you out to Nayeon if you’re too desperate in your attempts, you choose a more subtle approach. Instead of showing up every night, you alter your schedule to better fit hers. The awkward “middle” shifts at your work are rarely prioritized, so you’re easily able to make the change and justify your abnormally late arrivals to the shop.

However, your efforts fall short, leaving you wanting, craving even a glimpse of the radiant smile that graces your dreams far more often than you’d readily admit. And even though you desperately want to ask Aunt Kim if she’s even seen Nayeon, you’re well aware that outside assistance would break the unspoken rules of the game. So, even as your heart yearns for her, you choose to continue playing. Even in the face of defeat, you persevere.

All the while, a nagging feeling remains in the back of your mind. Though you can’t figure out why, you’re sure you know her from somewhere. The passage of time allows that nagging to fester, growing exponentially until it becomes all you can think about.

It’s not long before the pressure becomes unbearable, forcing you to cave. Nayeon’s a fairly popular name, but luckily, you’re able to fall back on her nickname of “Nana”. Thus, on a day that’s become your new norm, you dedicate part of your shift to searching through Naver pages, eventually finding what you’ve been looking for. Kind of.

You find that she’s the main dancer and leader of a girl group named woo!ah!, one of the seemingly endless number of new K-Pop groups that’ve slipped under your radar. As you scroll through the pages and watch video after video, you unsurprisingly enjoy their music, yet feel a sense of unease grow with each passing video. You’d expected feelings of excitement and joy to burst forth with each of Nayeon’s appearances, but instead you’re met by dread, trepidation, and a plethora of other unpleasant emotions that you can’t identify amidst the maelstrom rampaging in your heart.

You finish their MV playlist depressingly quickly, finding far more questions than answers at the end of this rainbow. Unfortunately, before you can reach a satisfying conclusion, the clock strikes twelve and begins to sing, signaling the end of your shift. After packing up your things, you depart, and, following a short bus ride, you arrive at the intersection where you turn right to visit the noodle shop once again.

And an hour later, after you’ve stood in line, placed your order, found somewhere to sit, enjoyed your meal, and looked over every square millimeter of the room, you find yourself alone.

Once.

Again.

tick...

tock...

Seemingly a moment later, you’re surprised to find yourself at home. You rationalize that your body must have moved on its own and your brain must not have cared to encode the memory of walking this familiar path, but even this explanation leaves you with serious concerns. As you reach into your pocket and feel the warmth from your fingers being sapped by the key’s cold metal, you simply feel … tired.

What’s the point of changing your routine if your days are bound to end the same as always?

What’s the point of searching for warmth if you continue to be left alone in the cold?

What’s the point of listening to your heart if all it leads you to is the deafening silence of your empty apartment?

You can feel it in the air as you turn the key, open the door, and enter the suffocating silence of your apartment. The air’s cold. Heavy. The room’s dark. Empty. And you’re sure. Ready. As much as your heart yearns to chase Nayeon, your mind is telling you that it’s time. Time to return to the routine you’ve relied on for so, so long. You begin by sending a quick email to your supervisor, requesting a change back to your previous schedule. Then, after a few more hours that won’t be worth remembering, you willingly wade into the darkness.

You mourn the loss of what could have been. You allow the clouds to roll in, allow the falling rain to drown out the sounds of your heart beating against its cage and its cries for freedom. You pray that the storm will wash away the memories of that night. You hope, as desperately as ever, that you’ll find her. But if your heart can’t have what it wants, you’ll ask your mind to forget her.

tick…..

tock.

tick…..

tock.

Is it eight days later? Nine days? Ten? Your memory might have failed you again, but routine provides you necessary stability once more, helping you through the motions of working the once familiar morning shift before guiding you through the short bus ride to your stop and the subsequent walk to an always familiar intersection and a newly unwelcome decision.

If you simply continue forwards, you’ll arrive at your apartment, where you know that leftovers and loneliness amidst the silence of solitude awaits. However, if routine truly is still in the driver’s seat, you’ll turn to your right, towards Aunt Kim’s, where you know that ramen and loneliness amidst the voices of others awaits.

Thus, despite the clear blue sky and the bright sun that signaled the early signs of winter’s departure, decision paralysis sets in. The light flashes yellow, yet you need to decide, now. Then, it flashes red, yet you know you need to go. Finally, the indicator flashes green, yet you remain motionless as the crowd begins to surge past you.

It’s there, in that moment, where you stop fighting anxiety’s powerful pull, allowing it to drag you under, away from your routine. It’s there, in that moment, where you give up, instead electing to return home. Yet, it’s there, in that moment, where you feel a gentle tug on your arm and see a flash of warm golden light in your periphery.

"Come on, you gotta get there before it gets busy," Nayeon whispers, mock urgency masking her features and veiling her words. "Otherwise, you might have to ask some weirdo if you can share a table with them."

You’re all too eager to allow yourself to be dragged along, heart nearly bursting out of your chest as you loudly exclaim, “Nayeon! I—”

Your words are a jumbled mess, bouncing around the inside of your skull, desperately trying to escape all at once, but you hold them all back as the other pedestrians turn, glaring at you as they judge your sudden outburst. Once you finish offering meek smiles and apologetic waves, you whisper back, “You’re right, that sounds terrible! Let’s go!”

As she continues to drag you along, you take the opportunity to study the beaming visage of your guide once more. The passage of time allows you to view the literal girl of your dreams in a new light, and you find Nayeon’s just as radiant in today’s pleasant sunshine as she was so many weeks ago, hidden away from the harsh snowfalls of the early Korean winter.

"What should I say?" you wonder to yourself as you allow her to lead you down the busy sidewalk. "Would it be too forward to say I missed her after only meeting her once before?"

A familiar cadence, the ringing of a very particular bell, cuts your internal musings short, shunting you back into reality as Nayeon opens the door to Aunt Kim's ramen shop. Nayeon finally detaches from your arm, leaving you feeling cold and empty. Not unlike your freezer that fateful night, so many months ago.

After shaking off the last remnants of your reverie, you step forward and join her in line. Despite being a fair bit taller than her, you can’t seem to make out what exactly she’s doing on her phone as you both wait to place your order.

It only takes a few moments of snooping before a wave of guilt washes over you as you realize your invasion of her privacy, causing you to shift your gaze elsewhere, to other areas of the shop. Areas such as the table where you had sat the previous time, which currently sits unoccupied.

"Another missed opportunity," you think to yourself as you grieve the lost potential and come to another realization. "Not to mention the fact that she held the door for me because I was so lost in thought! Ugh, you're blowing it! Stop overthinking everything."

After a few short minutes idly spent looking anywhere except towards Nayeon, all of the customers in line in front of you finish placing their orders and go to find a seat. You aren’t surprised as Nayeon needs mere moments to recite her clearly well-practiced offer, but you are caught off guard when Aunt Kim leans close to Nayeon, whispering something you can’t make out amidst the low murmur of the crowd inhabiting your second home.

The rational part of your brain informs you that, at most, a few seconds pass. Your emotions tell a far different story, flooding your overwrought mind with a deluge of disquieting dangers and forcing you to consider each of the painful possibilities and worst-case scenarios that comprise the tsunami attempting to drag you into the depths of self-doubt. Eventually, the two part, and as Nayeon turns to face you, her mischievous expression and gleaming smile ignites a flame in you, burning away any frost that’s formed since you left her embrace.

Her eyes flick over towards Aunt Kim, seemingly challenging you to approach the elderly woman who stands behind the counter with crossed arms and a dangerously amused expression. This time, however, Nayeon doesn’t even give your words enough time to get caught in your throat, instead simply walking past you and allowing the silky strands of her hair to brush your shoulder and convey all the intent she needs to.

As you gather what little cognitive function remains, you’re especially grateful for the familiarity of this place as Aunt Kim enters your order with well-practiced quickness. You’re uncharacteristically afraid of meeting her eyes as you sign your name and begin to enter the same generous tip you’ve always given, but her scoff of indignation as you meekly hold out your hand for your order number forces you to do so.

"So." she says bluntly, withholding the plastic indicator as she awaits your response.

"Yes ma’am?” you ask, voice laced with saccharine innocence.

“Oh gods, don’t tell me that that girl’s stubbornness has infected you too,” Aunt Kim responds exasperatedly. “You finally managed to meet up with her again, eh?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you respond as you delete your previous number, instead entering an extra-large tip before braving Aunt Kim’s gaze once more, silently conveying your plea for mercy as you literally attempt to buy her silence.

Aunt Kim’s eyes flash down briefly, widening for a moment before a deep, jovial laugh echoes out from her, reverberating throughout the room as she holds your gaze once more.

“All right, act sly all you like. I'm just tired of seeing someone come in alone fifty times in a row just to spend their time here hoping and searching for a certain someone.”

The banter is unique, odd, and comfortably routine as you ease into its familiar warmth. Your brow arches dramatically as you declare, “Why Aunt Kim, I can’t stand these accusations! It’s only been forty-six times since then!”

You watch as Aunt Kim’s smile fades, shifting from a display of mirth to a thin obfuscation of sadness as she responds, “You’re not the only one who’s been sitting alone at a table for two. Now go!”

And as she pushes your number into your hands and sends your mind into a tailspin, you’re left with no other option but to turn and allow the next customer to set up. Your body’s autopilot takes over, turning you further until you face the table where this all started, only to find it occupied.

By none other than Nayeon herself.

You lock eyes for the briefest of moments before she avoids your gaze, poorly pretending to be enthralled by the black screen of her phone. As the slightest hints of confidence begin to emerge from within, you walk up to the table, acting as casually as you can, pulling out a chair and taking a seat across from her.

After offering up a prayer to whoever’s listening, desperately hoping that you wouldn’t blow this chance, you look straight at her and ask, “So, how have you been?”

“Oh, so we’re just getting right into it, huh?” Nayeon asks, already crafting the thin veneer of the haughtiness she’d used to shield herself before. “Not even going to thank me for saving you a seat? I know you’ve had issues finding them before.”

You raise your hands up in mock surrender as you admit, “Alright, fair enough. I am very grateful for your act of charity once again, and I’ll be sure to make it up to you.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve come to your senses,” she declares, obvious satisfaction in her smirk as she nods in approval. “To answer your question, I’ve been fortunate enough to be busy, so that’s always good. Aside from work, I guess it’s mostly just been working out, spending time with those I’m closest to, and coming here. What about you?”

“I’ve …” your voice trails off for a moment, granting you silence as you meticulously craft your next line. “I’ve had better months, but I honestly can’t complain too much. Work’s been consistent, so like you said, that’s always good. Plus, I always have this place to come back to, so that’s a big plus.”

“So, you come here often?” Nayeon asks, waggling her eyebrows in the most tropey, dramatic way possible. It’s clearly meant to be humorous, and you’re all too eager to reward her efforts with a smile. You just also hope it buys you time to reclaim the breath she steals so easily.

"Yeah, I guess you could say that," you say, chuckling slightly as you struggle against all the unwelcome thoughts and emotions that continuously threaten to boil over. "Especially the past couple of months, I'm fairly sure I've made a sizeable contribution to the 'Kim Family College Fund'. What about you, have you also been a generous donor?"

And there it is. For the first time since that night a lifetime ago, your words strike a chord, and your just reward is the melodious laughter that bursts free from the alluring lips of Nayeon before gently drifting across the table and imprinting itself once again upon your soul. And all you can wonder is why you’d ever choose to stop chasing her.

After the briefest of stanzas, her mirthful song quiets and her words shift to a whisper. "Listen, if my friends ever find out just how often I've been coming here and how much I've spent, it’ll be the last day I see the sun! So shhh!"

The quiet laugh that resonates out straight from your heart may not be planned or voluntary, but anyone paying a modicum of attention can easily tell it’s genuine. You feel free, weightless even, to an extent you haven’t felt since a certain night so many weeks ago. And as you savor this moment of warmth, of dethawing even, you’re glad to see that same joy mirrored in the eyes and smile of Nayeon too.

"Alright, fair enough. Not a word to your friends, and you won't rat me out to mine? Deal?"

"Deal!" she responds eagerly, extending her hand out to shake yours.

Without hesitation, you reach out and seal the pact, cherishing the influx of warmth generated by even the swiftest second of your fingertips grazing the soft skin of her palm.

But then, just like that, it’s gone. The briefest moment of contact ends all too soon, and you find yourself in silence once more.

Fortunately, this time it doesn’t last, as Nayeon speaks up once more.

"So … any particular reason you've been around more often recently?" she asks as she looks around in a familiar pattern, seemingly fascinated by the decorations of the place she must have visited hundreds of times.

"I might have a reason," you respond suavely as you lean back in your chair. "Maybe even a couple."

"Oh yeah?" she asks, ending her search as she reaches her destination: your eyes. "Pardon my vanity, but is there any chance … I’m one of those reasons?"

In this moment, this secular moment of confession, this seductress needs no lip bites nor any promises of sweet nothings to ensnare your heart even further. All you need is to look into her eyes, where you see the same earnest anticipation mirrored within your own soul.

So, in this moment, you give yourself no time to second guess yourself, acting on pure instinct as you take out your heart, affix it to your sleeve in full view of everyone within the restaurant, and admit, "Yeah, I mean, you’re the only reason that mattered. I guess … I was scared of the thought of never seeing you again. I really missed you."

tick...

Another moment passes. But this stretch of silence is far shorter than the last and her response is far quicker than last time you’d shared a confession. This time, it’s her words that shock you.

"Thanks, I … uh, really missed you too," she whispers softly, perhaps trying to preserve the serenity of this moment between the two of you.

tock...

Milliseconds begin to feel like minutes as you desperately rack your brain, searching for an adequate continuation to the conversation. Fortunately, just as desperation tips over into despair, none other than Aunt Kim comes to your rescue, carrying a pair of bowls in her hands and a complicated collection of emotions across her countenance.

First, she offers Nayeon her warm bowl with an even warmer smile, which Nayeon is happy to return in kind. Then, just as you recover from being blinded by Nayeon’s radiance, Aunt Kim turns to you, deliberately holding back your bowl as she offers nothing but a quirked eyebrow and an expectant expression.

You raise your hands in surrender once more, internally cursing the developing trend as you ask, “What, Miss Aunt Kim, could you possibly be expecting from me? Ma’am.”

You aren’t sure if it’s your sheepish expression or Aunt Kim’s sigh of exasperation that sparks it, but whatever semblance of a train of thought you’d begun crafting is sent careening off the rails by the return of that same singsong laughter that’s lifted your spirits up from the depths they’d plummeted to.

While Nayeon continues her chorus of joy, you watch as Aunt Kim’s frosty exterior thaws, causing her to gently place the bowl in your hands before pulling away just the slightest bit.

“I’m just glad things finally lined up,” Aunt Kim says with a knowing smile and another ruffling of your hair that earns another round of laughter from Nayeon.

Finally, that last embarrassment inflicted, Aunt Kim elects to leave you in peace.

After months of waiting, the culmination of all your fantasies is … a conversation. About nothing. About everything. About your job as an editor at a K-Pop news / blog site and how the recent schedule change left you saddled with a writer who’d recently gotten in trouble for “not including all the members when describing a group’s latest comeback” or something. About her job as an idol and the years of struggle and the stress of debuting and her relationships with her members and fan interactions and on and on and on.

It’s the most mundane human experience you’ve ever had, but it’s warm. It lasts from your usual arrival time until Nayeon’s usual time of departure, yet time seems to pass by in an instant. It’s nothing you would have expected yet everything you could possibly ask for, like a waking dream. It’s almost unfathomable how much you enjoy yourself.

It also has to end.

“Hey,” Nayeon says suddenly, allowing her voice to soften. “The shop’s closing soon.”

“Oh, right,” you say, feeling your smile fade for the first time in hours.

“We should, uh …”

“Yeah, let’s—”

“Yeah.”

The dusty old chairs creak against the stained floorboards of the shop as you both slowly slide them back, hoping that your sluggish movements will elongate this experience. Each of you bids farewell to Aunt Kim in your own special way, then turn to depart. And as you open the door for her and the brisk evening wind leaves you scrambling for the right words, it’s Nayeon who finds her courage first.

“We’ll be performing next Saturday,” she begins, speaking just loud enough for her words to reach your ears before the cruel winds can whisk them away. “I understand if you’re busy, but—”

“I’ll be there.”

And just as the door closes and you put forth your promise, the jingle of the bells and Nayeon’s relieved laughter join in harmony, creating a melody that wraps itself around you and promises to protect you from the cold.

“I haven’t even told you where it is yet!” she exclaims, meeting your eyes once more.

“Then I should probably give you my number, no?” you counter, holding her gaze as she looks back with the softest eyes and warmest smile.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Nayeon says, eagerly pulling out her phone and handing it to you.

You quickly punch in the digits and hand it back to her, earning a frown in response.

“What is it?”

“You still haven’t told me your name.”

So, you tell her. And she repeats it back to you. And it’s no surprise that the sound of your name in her mouth is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard. And you’re still reeling from that when she texts you, “Hi it’s me!🐇”. And when you finally manage to tear your eyes from the screen, you’re met with the sight of her meekly looking down at the sidewalk below.

“Hey,” you say softly, giving her a moment to meet your eyes before opening your arms. “You—”

Your words don’t even have a chance to be whisked away by the cruel winds before Nayeon darts over and crashes into your chest, driving the air from your lungs as she wraps her arms around you. Instinctually, you wrap your own arms around her, holding her close and refusing to let go.

“Stay warm, okay?” you whisper, only for her ears.

“I think I’ll be just fine,” she whispers back, just as softly.

And it’s hard when you two untangle yourselves. And it’s harder to say goodbye. And it’s nearly impossible to turn away. But it’s easy to turn back and look at her. And you see Nayeon walking, no, almost skipping away down the sidewalk. And you know that the months-long wait was worth it. And the next ten days will feel like a decade.

But that’ll be worth the wait too.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

This time, you know exactly how long it’s been. You’ve checked the clock every hour of the past ten days, desperately awaiting the chance to see her again. Absolutely dreading the thought of seeing her again.

Your anxiety certainly isn’t helped by the sea of lightsticks and legions of chanting fans wielding them. Amidst this squall of rabid passion, you can’t help but feel underprepared. You can’t help but feel nervous. You can’t help but feel insignificant.

Fortunately, by the time you’re able to make your way up closer to the front, the performances have started and begun to wash away some of that negativity. You lose yourself in the stages, showing support to these young adults, these kids, who’re giving everything they have to try and achieve their dreams. It really is an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon.

Yet your throat still dries up when you hear them announce who’s performing next. All of a sudden, the room floods, dragging you under; the blood rushes in, waves deafening you.

tick…

They come out on stage.

tock…

Your eyes can’t look anywhere else.

tick… tock…

“Nana” says something that you can’t hear.

tick…tock…

They get in position. tick..tock..tick.. They begin. ticktockticktockticktocktick

And then, just like that, it’s over. The performance ends and the group bids the crowd farewell, leaving you with far fewer thoughts than you anticipated but far more emotions than you’re prepared for. At the forefront of your mind, a singular idea, the catalyst of the storm, reverberates incessantly with a single realization.

Nayeon’s eyes didn't meet yours a single time throughout the whole performance, yet she spent the entire time smiling brighter than you’ve ever seen.

You somehow manage to stumble through the crowd, moving towards an exit as they roar in excitement at the announcement of the next performers, a group you’ve followed since debut and one you like quite a lot. A group that doesn’t matter.

It’s only once you get outside, once you’re able to take a moment amidst the early evening air, that your breathing begins to slow. It’s there that the blood pumping in your ears begins to settle. It’s there that the vibration on your leg nearly makes you jump out of your skin. But once you nail the three-point landing, you pull out your phone and read the new message:

Nayeon 🐇 (6:02pm): Hey, were you able to make it? I just peeked my head out but couldn’t find you anywhere.

You (6:03pm): I did! Sorry, I just stepped outside after watching your performance, needed some air

You (6:03pm): You guys were great!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm): Awww, thanks so much!!

Nayeon🐇 (6:03pm): You should come around the back, I wanna introduce you to everyone!

Nayeon🐇 (6:04pm): Meet me at door E35, I’ll let you in

You (6:06pm): Sure, I’m on my way

You hit send, finally responding after needing a minute to calm the upswell of sanguine tides that continue to thrash within. Your steps are heavy, echoing loudly throughout the packed parking lot and even louder in your mind as you begin discerning which feelings surround this storm’s catalyst.

The unfamiliar feeling doesn’t remind you of the anxiety you’ve faced before, nor does it remind you of the self-doubt you’ve suffered in your past. No, when you round the corner to see Nayeon’s head poking out the door, looking for you, and you hear the crowd’s thunderous applause, you know exactly which ugly emotion torments you. And despite having no right to feel the way you do, you know that jealousy gnaws at your core.

So, when Nayeon turns and locks eyes with you, you hope your smile shows delight, not despair. And while you don’t quite match the radiance of her reaction, you’re inviting enough for her to throw open the door and begin dashing towards you. Fortunately, your limbs seem to have higher priorities than jealousy, as you too begin closing the distance and opening your arms, meeting her halfway and tightly wrapping your arms around her as she does the same to you.

Your ability to string together sentences escapes you as you hold her close, feeling her heartbeat hammer against your chest at as rapid a pace as your own.

“We should do this more often,” Nayeon murmurs into your chest.

“I mean, sure, I’d be happy to come support your group any time I’m not—”

“No, not that!” she exclaims, giggling slightly as she pulls away just enough to look up at you. “I mean this.”

And she pulls you in even tighter, leaving you short of breath in more ways than one.

“But also, thank you for coming to see us perform. You have no idea how much I appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you say, heart penning your words before your brain can intervene. “Anything for you.”

“Anything?” Nayeon asks incredulously, finally breaking the hug as the mischievous glint in her eye returns. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”

“I stand by my word,” you respond, acting far more confidently than you truly feel. “Besides, how dangerous could you possibly be?”

“Are you looking to find out?” she asks, smiling deviously as you see the turning gears in her head shift into overdrive.

“Maybe one day,” you say with a shrug. “Must admit, it’s not high on my list of priorities though.”

“Oh yeah? What’s number one?”

“Why spoil the surprise? Gotta keep you coming back somehow.”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise as Nayeon scoffs in response. “Yeah, like that’s a concern.”

“I, uh, thanks?” you sputter, unable to do anything further as the mechanisms of your mind malfunction.

“Oh!” she exclaims, face alight with merriment and mischief alike. “You are in danger.”

All you can do is shrug. Why try to hide what you both know to be true? Why not join her in laughter instead?

“Hey,” you say a few seconds later as you catch a brief glimpse of your breath in the air. “We should get you inside, it's too cold for you to be out here in a sleeveless top and those ‘shorts’.”

“What do you mean?” Nayeon asks incredulously. “I think my stylist absolutely nailed it today.”

“Yeah, like anything you wear could look bad,” you scoff. “I'm just worried about you turning into a popsicle.”

“Oh? I guess I'll just have to find someone to keep me warm,” she drawls as she walks back to the door. “You wouldn't mind, would you?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not,” she repeats, flashing the smallest of smirks your way before turning back and stepping up to the door. “Anything for me, right?”

“I mean …” you begin to say. Unfortunately, your train of thought is brought to a screeching halt by the rather rude sound of the unmoving door handle within Nayeon’s grasp.

“Wonderful,” Nayeon says, exasperation coating her words as she runs her fingers through her hair. “And on the one day I forgot to charge my phone too.”

“You can borrow mine,” you offer, reaching into your pocket and holding it out to her. “Can you call someone inside who can open it?”

“Yes, I can!” she says, eagerly accepting your offer and taking your phone. “Give me a second, I'll see if Wooyeon's willing to help.”

A few moments later, after she's punched in the numbers and the phone's begun to ring, she looks up with that same cheeky smile she wears so frequently around you.

“Guess you're stuck with me a bit longer,” she dramatically declares.

“Woe is me,” you respond in kind, pressing the back of your hand to your forehead like you're about to faint.

Nayeon opens her mouth to fire back, but her reply is superseded by a muffled, vaguely familiar voice emanating out from the speaker.

“Hey, it's me,” she remarks casually, as if calling someone from a random number is a totally normal thing to do. “I need—”

She stops mid-sentence, seemingly allowing the person on the other end to voice their apparently substantial list of frustrations at Nayeon.

“Yeah, I, uh, sorry about slipping away like that,” Nayeon replies sheepishly as her cheeks flare in an entirely new way. “It's a very long story that I very much don't want to get into tonight, but can you please come open door E35? I might have locked myself out.”

It's a tense few moments of silence before Nayeon gets a response. What you assume to merely be a few words at most still manages to shock Nayeon, leaving her wide eyed as she responds, “That's a lot to ask for just—”

Her words are suddenly cut off by what you assume to be Wooyeon's response, causing Nayeon to roll her eyes in resignation before responding, “Okay! Sure, fine. Both rooms, before the performance on Wednesday. Got it.”

“Alright, see you soon,” she continues. “And Wooyeon? Thank you.”

“Here, thanks for letting me borrow that,” Nayeon says, handing you back your phone.

“Of course,” you respond. “What were you two arguing about?”

“Honestly it was more bargaining than arguing,” Nayeon groans, throwing her head back in frustration. “A trade I horribly lost, mind you. Apparently in her mind, a three-minute walk is worth me having to clean both bedrooms at the dorms.”

“That seems … harsh,” you say, earning a shrug in response.

The silence goes unbroken for a minute. Then another. But when it's finally broken, it's not by words, but the chattering of teeth. Hers.

Fortunately, your movements are so instinctual that by the time your brain has even begun to consider overthinking things, you've already taken off your jacket and wrapped it around her. Nayeon’s shivering swiftly slows, but you leave your arm wrapped around her. Just in case.

tick…

tock…

It ends up being ten minutes, not three, that you share in silence. Not that either of you notice or care.

As soon as you hear the handle begin to turn, you immediately pull away, earning the smallest of whines from Nayeon before she too hears the door opening and turns towards it.

“There you are!” both girls exclaim as you see one of the other members from the earlier performance poke her head out.

“What took you so long?” Nayeon asks. “I thought it'd take four minutes max to find us.”

“Listen, we can discuss whether or not I got lost once you get inside,” Wooyeon huffs in response. “Come on, it's freezing out here!”

“You're telling me,” you mutter, causing Nayeon to quietly chuckle as she looks up at you with wide, apology-filled eyes.

You both follow Wooyeon inside, where Nayeon introduces you to one another and informs Wooyeon that she had invited you. After an exchange of slightly awkward bows, Wooyeon speaks up.

“Okay, so this story involves you and a guy, alone, in the middle of a parking lot on a dark and stormy evening? I don't care how long it is, you're telling me everything.”

“I … fine. We can talk on the drive back,” Nayeon begrudgingly accepts.

“Good. Speaking of, we should head back. Now, preferably. They're probably waiting on us,” Wooyeon says, shooting you a sympathetic glance.

“Hey, it's alright,” you tell Nayeon as she turns to look at you. “I'm just glad I got to see you. The performance and everything else were just icing on the cake.”

“Everything else, huh?” Wooyeon asks, seemingly more invested suddenly. “How late is this story going to keep me up?”

“Oh relax,” Nayeon scoffs, shaking her head at Wooyeon's instigation attempts.

“But seriously,” she says to you. “Thanks for being understanding.”

“Also, thanks for this,” Nayeon continues, smirking at you as she points to your jacket.

“Of course,” you immediately respond. “Anything for you.”

You watch as Nayeon’s cheeky expression morphs into confusion, like your response was outside the rules of the game you’re both playing.

“I, uh, thanks?” she sputters. But that confusion doesn't last, and a warm smile is quick to replace it.

“Here then,” she murmurs, closing the distance between you two quicker than you're able to respond. “This is for you.”

And there's a lot of small details that you'll forget in hindsight. Like the way Nayeon stands up on her tiptoes, or how she tilts her head just the slightest bit, or even the glittery eyeshadow that gleams in the light. But there's one detail you'll remember. Because you'll never forget the feeling of her soft lips against your cheek.

You can't help but hate the moment she pulls away. But when she locks eyes with you, you're brave enough to hope that you'll feel that sensation again.

“Bye,” she whispers.

“Bye.”

“...”

“Bye?” Wooyeon says, offering you a slightly awkward wave as you turn to face her.

You look back to Nayeon, and neither of you can help but laugh at Wooyeon's shell-shocked expression. One theatrical sigh and an eye roll later, Wooyeon turns and begins to walk away.

“Bye Wooyeon!” you call out at the retreating form. “Hopefully next time we meet, it'll be a little more normal!”

“Hard not to be!” she calls back, earning another duet of laughter from you and Nayeon.

“I should probably follow her,” Nayeon says. “We're performing Wednesday night, so I guess I'll see you at the shop on Thursday? Unless you—”

“I'll be there,” you say, fighting back the jealous feelings that surge up at the thought of her performing again.

“You're the best,” she says, throwing her arms around you for the briefest of moments before turning and hurriedly following Wooyeon. “I'll text you the location!”

“Sounds good, see you there!” you call out in response. You can't help but feel glued to the floor as you watch her walk away, remaining motionless until she rounds a corner and leaves you alone in the hallway.

An odd mix of emotions twirls around your mind as you depart the building. Many of them, the vast majority even, are undeniably positive. But voices, ones eerily similar to those found in the fanchants from earlier, echo in the back of your mind and entrench those unshakable feelings of jealousy.

But even as the bus takes you away and you pray to reach home before the rain begins to fall, you know that this inner storm isn't one you can outrun.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

You hope that you’re as good at hiding your emotions as you think you are. Because the way you feel when you’re with Nayeon, your friend, when you’re both excitedly talking a little louder than you should be and occasionally have to pause the conversation to apologize to the other customers nearby, it’s euphoric. It’s exhilarating. It’s everything you could have ever dreamed of and more.

And it could not be more different than the way you feel when you’re with “Nana”, the idol. Because you should still feel that euphoria, that elation. You have no reason not to, especially since Nayeon acts the same way, even going so far as to find time somewhere in her crazy schedule when you two can meet. The joy you find in those moments should be enough. But your jealousy proves gluttonous, leaving you with an awful feeling in the pit of your stomach that grows harder to ignore. It’s inescapable. It’s everything you can’t control threatening to take away everything you hold dear.

And you haven’t the slightest fucking clue what to do.

Unfortunately, the tempest doesn’t give you much time to find a solution before boiling over. It’s only a couple of weeks and a handful of performances later when Nayeon pulls you into a small alcove hidden amongst the towers of sound equipment and piles of wires. Almost immediately, she begins sharing a story about a fan interaction, further fanning the flames of the ugly side of your emotions.

It’s not long before you’re overwhelmed by the turbulent emotions within. Nayeon’s in the middle of a sentence when you lean in, cupping her cheek in one hand as you press your lips against hers. You kiss her gently at first, but after her initial shock, she begins to kiss you back. Firmly. Insistently. You let the sounds of the nearby stage abate, allowing yourself to instead lose yourself in the only senses that matter right now.

Like how the smell of her conditioner reminds you of coconuts and cherry blossoms. Or how she tastes sweeter than honey. Or how her lips are somehow softer than clouds.

You pull away only once oxygen deprivation forces you to, leaving you both staring at each other as you desperately attempt to catch your breath.

“I’m so sorry,” you say as soon as you’re able to. “I shouldn’t have—”

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Nayeon interjects. “Shut up and kiss me again.”

This time, she catches you off-guard as she leans in, pulling your head down slightly as she kisses you with as much intensity as before, if not more. You’re more than willing to match her zeal, eliciting murmurs of satisfaction and small gasps for air from her as you battle back and forth.

It’s intense. It’s electrifying. It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and—

“There you are—oh!”

You and Nayeon hastily separate and turn to face the unexpected spectator, finding none other than poor Wooyeon and her shell-shocked expression awaiting you once again.

“Wooyeon?! I, you, we, uh …” Nana says, trailing off mid-sentence as she steps away from you and attempts the futile task of trying to return her hair to some semblance of normalcy.

“We have to figure out a better way for you to introduce me to your friends,” you tell Nana, earning a stare of disbelief from her and an unexpected bit of melodious laughter from Wooyeon.

“You seriously do!” Wooyeon exclaims, fanning her face in an attempt to disperse the crimson flooding her cheeks. “Honestly, I hate that they keep sending me to find you two, why can't it be Sora getting traumatized for once?”

“Because they know you're way too good at finding things for your own good, especially us apparently,” Nayeon says, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration.

“Oh, don't worry! I won't tell …” Wooyeon trails off for a moment, looking at Nayeon slyly. “Too many people.”

“Hey!” Nayeon exclaims. “Be careful what you wish for, I'm sure plenty of people would be interested in my stories about you.”

“That wasn't what I'd hoped to hear, but you can write me an apology later,” Wooyeon fires back, turning her head away from Nayeon to hide the red that refuses to leave her cheeks. “I hate to do this again, but we really do need to get going.”

Nayeon's indignation seems to flare even further as she steps closer to Wooyeon, but you can't help but chuckle at the image of the shorter Nayeon attempting to intimidate the much taller Wooyeon. Nayeon spares a moment to glare at you before turning back to Wooyeon and saying, “Listen, I'm sure we can—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” you interject. “I’m sure we’ll have time to talk later, right Nayeon?”

“Oh sure, I’m positive that she’ll have plenty of time for a lovely conversation later,” Wooyeon comments, earning a glare from Nayeon that’d likely be scathing if not for the obvious embarrassment coloring her countenance.

“Hey, not so loud!” you jest, smiling just as wide as Wooyeon. “Seriously though, I really am sorry Wooyeon. I’ll make it up to you sometime, hopefully next time I see you. Surely next time we meet it’ll be more normal, right? Surely?”

“Suuurrrelyyyy,” Wooyeon responds, stringing out the single word just long enough to fit every emotion other than sincerity into its delivery. She takes the opportunity to step away from Nayeon, who seems temporarily frozen between states of frustration, embarrassment, and something else entirely.

“Hey, no worries,” you gently tell Nayeon, taking her hands in your own and turning her to face you. “Your members need you.”

“Besides, you should probably go willingly before Wooyeon drags you back, kicking and screaming the whole way,” you joke, smiling as Wooyeon grins and hums in agreement.

“Surely you wouldn't do that to me, right Wooyeon?” Nayeon asks, turning and pouting at her in an exaggeratedly cute manner.

“The option's never been more tempting,” Wooyeon replies, sticking out her tongue in response.

“Okay okay fine, I surrender,” Nayeon tells her, raising her hands in a manner all too familiar to you before turning back to you. “I'll see you Saturday?”

“Wouldn't miss it for anything,” you tell Nayeon, pulling her into a tight hug that finally dispels the vast amount of tension she'd built up in such a short time.

“Neither would I,” Nayeon murmurs back before pulling away just enough to capture your lips one final time.

“Alright, let's go,” Nayeon tells Wooyeon, interlocking arms with her as they begin to walk away.

“So, for the first part of my apology, I want …” Wooyeon's voice trails off as they walk out of earshot. But you remain in place, watching their retreating forms until they leave your field of view. And then perhaps a minute longer, just in case.

But eventually, you also turn away and begin your departure. The only topic on your mind as you walk, ride the bus, and then walk again on your journey to reach your home is the storm of emotions within. On the one hand, it gave you the confidence to act in a way you wouldn't have been willing to normally, leading to an amazing and memorable moment. But on the other hand, you can't shake the feeling that this upswell wasn't the final manifestation of these detrimental feelings. All you can do is hope that if they do flare again, that night won’t be memorable for all the wrong reasons.

tick…

tock…

As you walk alongside Nayeon, you can’t help but marvel at how normal this new norm feels. Even just a few weeks ago, you would have desperately lunged at the chance to see Nayeon a single time, but now, seeing her multiple times a week feels routine. Normal. Unremarkable?

Definitely not unremarkable, as the memory of your arms wrapped around her waist and her lips pressed against your own is just as vivid as it felt in that moment a few nights ago. Even the restlessness of flaking on the group’s performance for the first time last night feels insignificant in comparison to the contentment you feel right now.

Which is why it’s so jarring when you’re met by a “CLOSED” sign on the shop’s door for the first time ever.

“‘Apologies for the sudden closure’,” you read aloud. “‘We’re visiting family this weekend and will be closed for the next couple of days.’”

“‘We’ll be open once again on Monday. We hope to see you then!’” Nana concludes. “I mean, I hope she has a nice time, but what do we do now?”

“I mean, I’m sure we can find somewhere else that sounds good. There are a couple places nearby that I usually order delivery from,” you offer.

“Wait, isn’t your place nearby?” she asks, earning a nod in response. “Why don’t we just pick something up on the way and eat there? We could watch a movie too, it’ll be fun!”

“Wait wait wait,” you say, mind reeling at the implications. “Did you just invite yourself into my apartment?”

“Yep!” Nayeon announces, shame nowhere to be found within that radiant smile. “Now figure out which chicken place you want to order from and let’s go!”

All you can do is laugh at the absurdity of the situation as you pull out your phone and do as she asks. After a few minutes of walking and a quick stop to pick up food, you arrive at your apartment. Your one-bedroom apartment might pale in comparison to some of the more upscale living areas in Seoul, but you genuinely appreciate the place you call your home, and you show it to Nayeon with pride. After a brief tour, you both unpack the large assortment of dishes that usually accompany any Korean meal and begin your dinner.

“How was your performance last night?” you ask her, forcing yourself to smile even as the initial hints of your jealousy begin to stir.

“It went well, thank you!” Nayeon responds, smiling softly at you. “The fan turnout was amazing, so it was super easy to enjoy performing for them. What about you, how was your night?”

“Pretty good, thank you for asking,” you say, attempting to match the warmth of her smile but unable to due to the ice in your heart. “It was a pretty unremarkable evening in general, but I did appreciate the chance to catch up on some much-needed sleep.”

“That’s good to hear! I missed having you there, but I’m glad you were able to rest.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry for not being there to support you, but at least Wooyeon got to enjoy a night where she didn’t have to hunt us down.”

“She actually told me that she was sad you weren’t there! She said on the ride over that she was sure last night was going to be your guys’ first ‘normal’ conversation.”

“Really? That’s unfortunate, hopefully it’ll happen next time I see her.”

“Hopefully!” Nayeon agrees, and you both go back to enjoying your dinner.

A few minutes later, once you’ve both finished and cleared away the table, you pull out your favorite oversized blanket and lounge on the couch, inviting Nayeon to join you. She’s more than happy to oblige, taking the remote from you and immediately pulling up some recently released horror sequel. You can’t help but voice your surprise, but your concerns are swiftly and eagerly shut down as she gets up and begins messing with the light switches, trying different combinations in an attempt to properly set the mood. Once she finally achieves her desired lighting, she hops back onto the couch, pulling the blanket over herself and laying against your side.

As she snuggles in closer, you do your best to relax and simply enjoy the experience. And, if nothing else, the experience is certainly entertaining, as Nayeon seems to be terrified of the jump scares that seem to occur every couple of minutes. Yet despite her screams, she refuses every time you ask if she wants to watch something else, insisting that she’s having a great time. Well, for the first hour at least.

“Can I ask you something?” Nayeon says suddenly as she pauses the movie.

“Of course,” you say, your mind flooding with concerns and thoughts of worst-case outcomes.

“Is everything alright?” she asks, sitting up and turning to face you.

“Like, right now? Couldn’t be better,” you respond, fighting through your concern as you offer a strained smile.

“Mostly just in general, but you don’t seem relaxed even now, despite the fact that we’re under this stupidly soft blanket on this insanely comfy couch,” Nayeon says, smiling for a moment before her expression shifts back to seriousness. “But honestly, you’ve seemed kinda off for a while. It's not all the time, but often enough for me to be concerned. Is there something you want to talk about?”

“No, it’s okay, I—” You stop yourself, searching through the dark and finding nothing but obvious care and trust in her eyes. So, knowing you can do better, you start over.

“I’m not going to lie to you. I promise I won’t. So, yeah, there’s something that’s bothering me, but it’s … hard to explain. I don’t want to hide anything from you—and I promise I will tell you, but I don’t know the words to tell you what I want to say right now. Can I ask you to be patient with me, just for a little bit?”

“Okay,” she says, visible concern on her face as she nods. “Whenever you’re ready.”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you say, awkwardly turning back to the TV.

You’re unable to focus on the rest of the movie, deafened by the silence between you two and shivering from a coldness unrelated to the setting sun. Even once it’s over and Nayeon gets ready to leave, neither of you are able to put on a convincing enough performance to hide your emotions. You exchange awkward goodbyes, waving farewell instead of hugging like you’ve always done as she walks away.

Thus, it’s anything but surprising when, mere hours later, the girl of your dreams becomes the subject of your nightmares. Spectral visions of her pained expression haunt you as the thoughts of causing her stress, pain, and suffering bind and isolate you. You swear you can hear the haunted cackling of the manifestations of anxiety and jealousy in your mind as they cast a spotlight on your inability to quell the storm. And as the nightmare begins to fade and you feel yourself being dragged away from her, you finally get it.

As soon as you awaken, unsurprisingly covered in sweat, you immediately grab your phone and begin composing a series of messages. Because you refuse to let your selfishness hurt someone else, especially Nayeon.

You (5:01am): Hey, I’m so, so sorry about last night, especially how it ended

You (5:01am): There’s somewhere I’d love to show you, it’s a private place where we should be able to spend some time together and talk

You (5:01am): If you have an afternoon free sometime soon, please let me know

You (5:02am): Thanks so much

Between the restless night and the anxiety of hoping for a response, the miserable day you end up having is anything but a surprise. You check your phone at every available opportunity, but the response you're hoping for never arrives.

It isn't until after you return home, when you're sitting alone in the stale air of your frigid, empty apartment that Nayeon answers.

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Hey, I'm so sorry for taking so long to respond, there were a lot of things I ended up needing to take care of today

Nayeon🐇 (5:01pm): Does tomorrow work? I'm sorry if it's sooner than you were expecting …

You (5:02pm): No, that would actually be perfect! Thank you so much, I'll send you the address

You press send, feeling a great weight lifted off your shoulders as you confirm the location and time with her. Unfortunately, just as you feel yourself begin to relax, your mind begins compiling a list of the things you’ll need for tomorrow.

So, once again, you bundle up and step outside to face the harsh winds. But this time, as the grocery store comes into view, you're eager to brave the storm. Because you know what's waiting for you on the other side.

tick…

tock…

Noon. The brightest point of the day. A time of warmth. An important part of any day for a multitude of reasons. Specifically, the most important part of today because it's when you plan to meet Nayeon.

You scramble onto the bus just in time, sighing in relief as you check the clock and see that you’re scheduled to arrive a bit early, just as you’d hoped. So, with a bit of free time during the thirty-eight-minute journey awaiting you, you first check all your belongings, happily confirming that nothing's been lost in transit. You look out the window, frowning slightly at the clouds slowly rolling across the sky, blocking out the clear sky you'd hoped would be the backdrop to this crucial day. You cast that aside, choosing instead to focus on what you can control. Like what exactly you want to say to her. How you want to convey your feelings to her.

Is this a confession? A request? An invitation? A farewell? No, you know it's definitely not a farewell. But you still don't know what exactly you want to tell her.

Actually, that's not entirely true either, because when you’re with her, you can't help but want to talk to her about anything and everything. But just for today, you hope that you can be greedy. You hope that you'll somehow find the exact words you need to convey how you feel. The exact words she needs to hear. The exact words that'll help you solve this problem. The exact words she wants to hear. The exact words that'll steal her heart.

A familiar little robotic voice echoes throughout the bus, informing you that you’ve arrived. You gather up your blanket, basket, and jacket, then exit the bus and turn to walk towards your destination.

As you slip your sunglasses on, you look around, smiling slightly at the memories resurfacing at the sight of so many familiar shops from your past. You see the pet store where you cried because your mom wouldn't buy you a chinchilla for your fifth birthday. You see the small ice cream shop where you celebrated your first soccer tournament victory with your friends. You see the hair salon where the stylist always teased you for growing out your hair over your ears as a teenager.

And when you turn the corner, you see the bridge where you had your first kiss. There, standing alone, a familiar flash of gold hides beneath a cap and scarf, and the sight of her finally makes you see the truth. Waiting for you atop that bridge, you see your first love.

“Of course.”

Your knuckles whiten as they tightly grip the wooden handle of the basket. You feel your legs attempt to lock up, but you force yourself to break free of anxiety's cold grip and begin to close the distance. You barely make it onto the small bridge before she perks up at the sound of your footsteps and turns to face you.

“Hey, I'm so sorry for making you wait, I tried to be here as soon as—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it,” Nayeon says, lips upturned in a hint of a smile. “I’m used to being the first one to arrive and I only got here a couple minutes ago.”

You both pause for a moment, an uncharacteristically awkward silence filling the air between you two as you both search for the right thing to say.

“Thanks for inviting me here,” Nayeon says after a few moments. “I've never been to this neighborhood before.”

“No, thank you for being willing to come, especially so soon!” you quickly respond. “I’m sorry for being vague about it earlier, but this is actually where I grew up.”

“Oh really?” Nayeon asks, looking around with a renewed interest. “I'm sure you have so many stories to tell about this place!”

“Something like that,” you say meekly, looking down at the sidewalk. Where you remember standing as you kissed your first crush so many years ago. Where you remember standing as your tears hit the pavement when that same girl said goodbye for the last time. Where you stand now, hoping that you can convince the best thing that's ever happened to you to stay.

“Well then, where are we going?” Nayeon asks. “Don't tell me you're going to ask me to cheat on Aunt Kim by going to another noodle shop!”

“Of course not!” you exclaim, feeling your vigor return as you laugh with her.

“That's probably for the best. I don't suppose it's that ice cream store either?” Nayeon asks excitedly.

“Maybe after,” you say, chuckling at her dramatic pout.

“I did come with a plan for lunch,” you continue, holding up the basket and showing it to her.

“Oh, that's amazing!” Nayeon exclaims, finally closing the distance between you two and hugging you tightly. “You're the cutest!”

You're initially baffled by Nayeon, who's so much shorter than you, calling you cute, but you're more than willing to bite back your response and simply hold her close. After a minute or so, you force yourself to pull away.

“Alright, so where are we going?” Nayeon asks as her eyes eagerly explore the area.

“It's about a fifteen-minute walk from here, maybe twenty if you want me to act as a tour guide.”

“I'm in no rush when I'm with you,” Nayeon immediately responds. “Tell me everything.”

After taking a second to make sure your heart hasn’t overloaded, you extend your hand to her. “Alright, but only because it's you. Follow me.”

Nayeon happily obliges, and with her hand in yours, you begin the journey upstream through the sands of time. You spend the first few minutes of the walk pointing out the local stores and restaurants that you fondly remember, initially avoiding any mention of places associated with less flattering memories. But as you continue on and grow more comfortable, you begin to share all of the most memorable pieces of your past, much to the delight of Nayeon, who's happy to laugh with and at you as you tell her about the defining moments of your childhood.

After roughly ten minutes, you come to a stop, staring up at one tall, gray building in particular amongst the half-dozen duplicates in the area.

“What about this place?” Nayeon asks, noticing your hesitation.

“This is … the place I grew up,” you explain. “My parents and I lived in this apartment building until I graduated high school and went off to college.”

“Oh, so this was your home?”

“You could say that, but I don't think of it that way. This is the place where I lived, but it isn't the place where I made the most memories.”

“Hmm, I think I understand. Did you have a place you'd call your home instead?”

“I did,” you confirm, gripping her hand tighter. “We're going there now.”

You continue on, allowing the air to grow quiet as you walk under the canopy of trees hanging over the path between two streets. After a few minutes of this comfortable contemplation, you speak up.

“I know this is gonna sound weird but hear me out.”

“That's certainly one way to start a conversation,” Nayeon jokes, squeezing your hand slightly. “But sure, I'm listening.”

“I really appreciate how easy it is to just … enjoy being with you,” you explain. “How you make me feel comfortable even when we're being quiet, because just being together is enough.”

“Uh huh. And you wanted to convey this to me by breaking the silence to do so?”

“Listen, I … yeah, I guess so. I just wanted to let you know how you make me feel. I'm far from the best with words, as I'm sure you've noticed.”

“I might have,” she jokes, pulling herself closer against your side. “But I don't think you give yourself enough credit.”

“Oh? Why do you say that?”

“Because I already knew you felt that way,” Nayeon says, looking up at you with bright eyes and a brighter smile. “And because I feel the same way too.”

You share a few more minutes of soft silence as you walk along the road, traveling under the canopy until it parts and you see the clouds above. A couple of streets and turns later, you arrive at your destination.

“This is the park where I used to play soccer,” you explain. “To your right is where I scored a goal to win a tournament match, and if you look wayyy in the back left, you can see where I made an opponent so angry, he shoved me to the ground and nearly broke my wrist.”

“Oh wow!” Nayeon exclaims, covering her mouth as a snippet of laughter threatens to escape. “You must have a lot of fond memories of this place.”

“Yeah …” you say, trailing off as you cast your mind back to those times ten, fifteen years ago. “I made a lot of friends—and enemies—on these fields.”

“Do you still keep in touch with many of them? Your friends, not your enemies,” she clarifies.

“No, almost none of either group actually,” you admit. “It gets hard when people move away and college or work takes over your life. I make sure to stay in contact with one, my best friend from those times, but even that’s a bit of a struggle. I haven’t seen him in who knows how many years, just talked with him online.”

“I—wow…” Nayeon says, eyes sweeping the empty grass that you’ll always remember as full of life. “I can’t even imagine being separated from Wooyeon.”

“Well, it’s probably different when you see each other, what, 350 days out of the year?” you point out.

“That’s fair,” she admits, finally releasing that pent-up chuckle. “Thank you for showing me this, I’m sure it means a lot to you.”

“Of course,” you say, offering her a smile. “Now I want to show you the place that became my home.”

“Then let’s go!” Nayeon announces, returning your smile and allowing you to lead her across the expanse that seemed endless when you were younger.

Eventually, you reach a small chain link fence, which you follow until you’re met with the familiar sight of a rusted gate with a faded combination lock.

“Let’s hope they haven’t changed this,” you say, mostly to yourself, as you input the code: 090301.

To your great joy—and mild surprise—it unlatches, allowing you to open the gate and lead Nayeon inside. Within, you easily navigate through the branches and brush, memories coming back in a rush as you delve deeper and deeper. After about a minute, you arrive, pulling back a branch and allowing Nayeon to pass by you into the small clearing. Surrounded on all sides by trees, a pair of smooth, plateau-like rocks sit a couple meters from a softly flowing creek, granting you both the solitude that this private sanctum had always blessed you with.

“This is it,” you explain, nearly whispering the words as Nayeon takes in the scene. “This was … everything, really. This is where I came when I needed to think, needed to decompress, or … needed to know what I needed, I guess.”

“This is incredible!” Nayeon says, eyes wide as she frenetically scours every centimeter of the area, committing it to memory. “How did you even find this place?”

“Everyone I’ve ever brought here has asked me that exact question,” you say, a sentimental smile spreading across your face. “But I’ll tell you the same thing I told the other two; I feel like it honestly found me. I just … went out looking for a sign of something on a night where I needed direction and found myself here.”

“This is actually the first time I’ve come here since moving away for college,” you continue. “It’s crazy how as much as things change, they stay the same.”

“I guess so …” Nayeon says, trailing off before turning and meeting your eyes. “Thank you for bringing me here. I can tell this place holds a special place in your heart and I deeply appreciate you sharing it with me.”

“Of course,” you say after a moment, struggling to formulate words under the intensity of her gaze. “You hold a special place in my heart too, so I appreciate you trusting me and coming here with me.”

Nayeon is content to let her smile be her response, so you lay out the blanket across the smooth rocks and take a seat on one, gesturing towards the other. “Come on, let’s talk.”

“Talk?” she asks, implication obvious in her voice as her eyes harden.

“Talk,” you confirm with a nod.

“Okay,” Nayeon whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear above your pounding heartbeat as she takes a seat beside you. She shakes her hands like they’ve gone numb, then continues, “Please, tell me what’s going on. Everything that’s going on.”

“Nayeon, I want to make sure you know something, something very important,” you tell her, earning a nod in response. “I care about you. So much. Maybe too much. I know I haven’t been returning the warmth that you’ve shared with me, and for that, I am so sorry.”

You pause, release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, and deeply inhale before continuing, “It’s just—sometimes when I’m with you, negative emotions start building up inside me that feel like a storm threatening to pull me under. Sometimes, I can’t help but feel jealous when I see you on stage or when you talk about your fans, because it feels like there’s so many of them and I’m just … me. I feel like they’ve known you longer, seen more of you, and that you can’t help but prioritize them because your job depends on it. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, and I know that it’s selfish.”

You force yourself to stop and look at her. She sits patiently, listening attentively as she nods once again, waiting for you to continue. So, you do. “I want you to know, more than anything else, that none of this is your fault. And I am so, so sorry for putting you in this position. But after you asked me if everything was alright, I knew that I couldn’t hide it from you any longer. I knew that if I kept this inside, it would boil over and end up hurting you in the process. And I can’t allow that to happen—I can’t let you get hurt because of how I feel—but I can’t walk away without telling you the truth. And I know I have no right to do this to you and I understand if you’re upset and if you want me to leave I—”

“Hey, hey, listen to me,” Nayeon says softly, cupping your face in her ever so delicate hands. “Thank you, so much, for telling me this. I don’t and won’t ever blame you for feeling those kinds of feelings. I wish I could tell you that I understand and that everything will be alright, but I can't. Honestly, I probably won’t ever truly be able to.”

“But I need you to trust me when I tell you that you mean everything to me,” she continues. “And I need you to trust me when I tell you I’m willing to face this problem as long as it’s by your side. And when I say that we can get through this, together, I mean it with every fiber of my being and all of my heart. All I can ask is that you put your faith in me, in yourself, and most importantly, in us. Can you do that for me?”

“Just like that?” you ask, dumbfounded. “I’m being completely unfair, presenting you with this problem, and you’re somehow still willing to give me more support?”

“For you? Absolutely,” she responds resolutely. “I don’t know if I’d ever be able to piece my heart back together if you broke it by leaving.”

“Then yes, I—Yes,” you declare, placing your hands on hers and holding them tightly. “Absolutely, I can. I will. I promise.”

She beams with joy, immediately responding, “Anything for me, right?”

You gently pull her hands away from your face, interweaving your fingers with hers as you tell her, “Of course Nana, it’s always been you. You’ve been the only thing that matters to me since the moment I saw you. It’s always been you and always will be.”

You watch as her eyes go wide. “You’ve never called me that before.”

“I guess so …” you say, trailing off as the realization hits you too. “I’m sorry if you’d—“

You stop yourself as Nana untangles her fingers from yours in an instant, wrapping her arms around you and squeezing you so tightly that it’s nearly impossible to continue.

“Please say something,” you manage to get out, chuckling awkwardly. “I kinda just poured my heart and soul out to you and I’d really appreciate you sharing your thoughts.”

“My arms are getting tired from how tightly I’m hugging you and you still need me to tell you what I’m thinking?” Nana scoffs, nuzzling into your chest and refusing to let go.

“Fair point,” you admit, contentedly wrapping your arms around her, though nowhere near as tightly as she’s hugging you. “Thank you, Nana.”

“For what? The hug?” she asks, somehow squeezing you even tighter.

“I mean, yes, the hug is amazing, but that isn’t what I meant,” you choke out. “For being so good to me. From that first day we met all the way until today, I feel like I’ve been the one with the problem and you’ve been the one with the solution.”

“Maybe, but that won’t always be the case,” Nana responds, loosening her hold on you just enough to allow you to breathe again. “And if a storm comes and attempts to drag me under, I like to believe you’ll be there, holding on for dear life and refusing to let go.”

You don’t even try to respond verbally, instead releasing your hold on her and using your newly free hand to cup her chin. As your thumb slowly traces patterns across the soft skin of her cheek, the rest of your body closes what little distance remains between you, allowing you to brush the faintest of kisses onto her lips. You kiss her gently, tenderly, barely making any contact as your lips land on hers and then depart before she can kiss you back. You repeat these featherlight flits over and over again, attempting to convey all the feelings you’ve left unsaid. And finally, when she tightens her hold on you and mewls in frustration, you fervently capture her lips and refuse to be the one who pulls away.

Your conviction ends up just barely lasting long enough for Nana to pull away first, but the light-headedness and dizziness that blocks your view of the only thing you want to be seeing right now is a powerful reminder that oxygen is, in fact, important. For a short while, the sound of both of you panting is the only sensation that keeps you tethered to consciousness. But eventually, when you manage to part the darkness and open your eyes, you’re met with the sight of Nana, her chest expanding and contracting just as rapidly as yours as you both amend your oxygen deficits. And if her smudged lipstick, flushed face, and wild, wide eyes staring into yours are any indication, you’re fairly confident she’s satisfied with your response.

“So … lunch?”

“Just like that?” she asks, dumbfounded. “You literally take my breath away and that’s all you have to say?”

“Oh, I did have something else!” you remark, acting far more nonchalantly than you feel. “I love you, Nana.”

It can’t be instantaneous. But you don’t quite know how it happens either. Your heart skips a beat when you see a blur of motion in your periphery, then you blink and you’re on the ground with Nana holding you down. Somewhere around the second or third second of Nana kissing you, it finally connects in your mind. She actually just tackled you off the rock.

“I—love—you—too,” Nana tells you, whispering each word into your ear in the moments between her own featherlight kisses. Your heart soars at her reciprocation of your feelings, and as soon as she decides the time for words is over, you’re more than happy to oblige. She melts into you as you wrap your arms around her back and return her kiss, matching her fervor and maybe even exceeding it. You both know to pull away much sooner than you did last time, respecting the harsh lesson your bodies had given you.

“You know, a little warning would be nice,” you tease, smiling up at her.

“You’re one to talk!” Nana exclaims, hitting your chest with one small hand as she fans her crimson visage with the other. “Don’t you know that it’s downright irresponsible to just drop something on me like that?”

“To be fair, I was under the impression that we both expected you to be the responsible one here,” you say, bringing out your puppy eyes and painting faux innocence across every centimeter of your face.

“I … you … ugh!” she grumbles, a rainbow of emotions flashing across her face before she finally leans away from you. “Yes dear, lunch sounds wonderful.”

It’s right then when you realize another thing that makes Nana special. She makes your cheeks hurt with how much you smile around her. And even minutes later, after you’ve both gotten up, unpacked the basket, and you’ve both begun to eat the home cooked meals out of the little plastic containers they’re stored in, the smile she so easily coaxes out of you hasn’t left your face.

“I didn’t get to say it earlier after you blindsided me, but thank you too,” Nana says midway through your meal.

“Blindsided is a bit rich coming from you, the only person here who literally tackled the other, but I digress,” you respond, smiling warmly at her amused smirk. “What for?”

“For being my friend,” she says, turning away from you and staring into the woods. “It’s … hard to make friends as an idol. There are so many expectations for how we’re meant to behave and we’re often too busy to really spend time with others. I really appreciate your willingness to be flexible and even come to our performances, especially now that I know how it was affecting you …”

“Of course, I’m always happy to be flexible, it’s for you,” you tell her, taking her hand in yours. “Even if you’re only able to spare a few minutes after each performance, I’m sure we could make it work.”

“But it doesn’t have to only be then, that’s not fair to either of us,” she says, squeezing your hand back. “Days like this are worth clearing my schedule for.”

“Wait, you cleared your schedule for today? To see me? Yesterday? Before you even knew if I was available?” you ask, receiving a quartet of nods in response.

“That’s why I took so long to respond yesterday, I was running around taking care of all my responsibilities in the dorm and doing the choreography practice I’d planned to do today,” Nana explains. “I trusted that you’d make it work. When I saw your text that early in the morning, I figured that you hadn’t been able to sleep either.”

“Wow … I … didn’t even realize … thank you for doing so much for me,” you say, idly tracing circles against the back of her hand. “But truly, I am always happy to see you, regardless of time or circumstance. I’m really looking forward to seeing you perform in the future; it’ll be nice to be able to really enjoy you doing what you love without jealousy blinding me.”

“That’s great to hear!” she responds, turning back and smiling at you. “You taking the time to come see us means so much to me … the first thing I do whenever I get on stage is find you in the crowd.”

“Oh, I—oh. Thank you,” you say, grateful that you manage to reply before those words join the rest in vacating your mind.

“Of course!” Nana responds, smiling warmly at you before you both return to your lunch. After you both finish your meals, you look up to the sky, grimacing as you see the consolidation of the clouds as they blot out the sun.

“Hey, Nana,” you say, pointing up to the sky as she turns to you. “We should definitely get going before we end up stuck in the rain.”

“Okay,” she says, nodding resolutely. “Let’s get packed up and go.”

You both work together in harmony, loading the containers back into the basket in a fraction of the time it took to unload them. You take her hand once more, hastily leading her along the trails and roads you've traversed alone countless times.

“We might have to skip the ice cream today,” you tell Nana as you both quickly walk down the streets that house so many memories.

“Oh no! I guess you'll just have to make it up to me later …” Nana responds, smiling in understanding.

A minute or so later, just as the first few drops of rain begin to fall like your tears that night on the bridge, you arrive at the bus stop.

“This is where I need to get on the bus,” you say to Nana. “Where are you going, can I call you a taxi? Were you intending on someone picking you up? What's the plan?”

Nana smiles in a very particular way, the same way she always seems to smile whenever she realizes that she knows something you don't. “I'm going wherever you're going. That's been my plan for a long, long time now.”

You're grateful for the rain, as the sounds of its fall are the only sounds to be found in the seconds that pass before you're able to respond. You wrap your jacket around her shoulders, sheltering her from the cold as you stare directly into her eyes and tell her, “I … I don't know what I did to deserve the trust you put in me, but I'm incredibly grateful for it. I promise you that I will never take it for granted. I promise you, with every fiber of my being and all of my heart, that I will never break that trust.”

“I know,” Nana responds, her whispered words bouncing between the raindrops before barely reaching your ears. “You showed me your heart today, the least I can do is give you mine.”

You pull Nana close and gently rest your forehead against hers. Each falling raindrop and each flowing teardrop helps you paint the picture, telling her the thousands of words you can’t verbalize but need her to know. In this shared moment, as echoes of your past remind you of those sorrowful tears shed so many years ago, your joyful ones return you to the present and the gift in your arms. So, at least in this moment, you hold Nana tight, vowing to never let her go.

You pull away only when the bus arrives a few minutes later but remain hand in hand as you walk forward. After stepping on, paying for both of your fares, and finding a pair of seats, you pull out a pair of earbuds and offer Nana one. She's more than happy to accept, and as she rests her head on your shoulder and you queue up a series of serene love songs from your favorite artists, you hope their words can do a better job of telling Nana how much you love her.

tick…

tock…

“We're here,” you whisper to Nana, gently shaking her awake. “Just take my hand, I'll lead you home.”

“Okay,” she murmurs, interweaving her fingers with yours and following you through the bus, down the steps, and into the monsoon that immediately jolts her back into consciousness.

“Oookaaayyyy, I'm up!” Nana declares, pulling your jacket tight against her small frame. “Lead the way, I don't think these pants are gonna do much against a storm like this!”

You take off immediately, leading her as quickly as you can down the sidewalks before eventually stopping at an interaction where you ask her, “But really, why does it always seem like your outfits are in no way at all suited to the weather?”

“Because my outfit looks cute!” Nana exclaims indignantly. “And you of all people should be glad that’s my priority!”

“Of course, you're right,” you respond, kissing her on the nose in apology. “Then again, I'm convinced you'd make anything look good, but I do genuinely appreciate that you care and that you put thought into your outfits. It makes me feel special.”

The crosswalk finally flashes green, and you take off once again, leading Nana towards your apartment as she scolds you. “Seriously, you can't just keep saying things like that so casually! There are at least four heartwarming things in that statement that make me want to kiss you, but your question was so stupid that I still kinda want to slap you! And this stupid rain isn’t helping anything at all! And I’m cold! Ugh!”

You're grateful that you're ahead of Nana, because you know that if she sees the goofy smile on your face, you'll be in big trouble. “Okay dear, I'm sorry I made you feel that way,” you respond, speaking in the most soothing tone possible. “We’re almost to my apartment, where it’ll be n-nice and warm, and w-we’ll make everything better. I p-promise.”

Neither of you speak another word for the remainder of your mad dash, too busy fighting off the shivers to do so. After a few more minutes, you arrive back at your home, where you tear the key from your pocket, hurriedly unlock the door, and shepherd her inside.

“O-Okay, I’m g-going to start the sh-shower f-for you and g-grab a dry set of clothes for y-you to change into, please f-feel free to d-discard that j-jacket l-literally anywhere,” you manage to tell Nana, taking off as she begins to do as you request.

You fight off the shivers as you quickly dash around your apartment, flipping the shower on and grabbing yourself a towel before darting into your bedroom and grabbing some dry clothes for both of you, then returning to Nana.

“Okay, t-the shower should b-b-be nice and h-hot, and there’s a c-clean towel in t-t-there y-you can u-use,” you stammer as you round the corner. “H-Here’s something t-to … change … into …”

Your voice escapes you as you see her, back turned as she watches the rain mercilessly paint the cobblestone. You first see the soaked cotton of her top and how it shakes as her small figure shivers in the cold. But that isn’t what catches your eye and leaves you dizzy. It’s the way her pants have tightened, showcasing the sculpted definition of her thighs and how they flow upwards to display the perfectly round curve of her ass.

As she turns, you force yourself to pull your gaze upwards, feeling your face flush as your pulse continues to quicken. You drag your eyes up her body, past her toned stomach that hides beneath the sopping garments, past her pert breasts and stiff nipples that strain against the soaked fabric, past her shaking shoulders and kissable neck and diamond jawline and roseate lips and adorable nose until finally you meet those chocolate eyes that stare back at you.

“T-Thank you s-s-soooo m-much,” Nana responds, fighting off her own shivers as she takes the clothes from you, then darts off towards the warmth awaiting her, leaving you frozen in more ways than one.

You do your best to ignore how difficult it is to remove your soaked pants, especially as they cling to your skin and especially because of your hardening erection that’s impossible to miss. After removing all of your drenched attire and placing the dripping bundle alongside the jacket you loaned Nana, you attempt to dry yourself off, saturating the towel with frigid water far quicker than you’d hoped you would. Once you’re sure that you’ve gotten your money’s worth, you add the towel to the pile in the sink, then put on the pajamas you’d grabbed and turn up the thermostat to its highest setting.

Once you're confident that you’ve done all you can, you collapse, couch creaking in protest at the impact. In this moment to breathe, the events of the day begin to hit you, flashing across your mind in sync with the droplets of rain against your window. You think of all the places that defined your childhood. You think of faces long forgotten. You think of faces you’ll never forget. You think of echoes. You think of her atop that bridge. You think of her atop that bridge. You think of all the words that escaped your lips. You think of Nana’s small hands lifting the weight of the world off your shoulders. You think of her body on top of yours as she pinned you down with kisses. You think of her body. You think of the cold. You think of heat. You think of your soaked clothes clinging to your skin. You think of Nana’s soaked clothes clinging to her skin. You think of Nana, dripping wet. You think of Nana, dripping wet.

As you stare out the window, your mind vaguely registers the sound of a hair dryer. But soon even that sense joins the others, consumed with the thoughts of Nana. One storm for another. You’re not even sure if the words escape your lips.

The door opens, and you get up to face Nana. She’s radiant, each strand of gold and each centimeter of porcelain glowing in the dim light of your apartment. She’s wearing glasses. She’s wearing your favorite shirt. She’s wearing nothing else.

“Hey,” she whispers, somehow slotting seventy emotions into that single syllable as it floats over to you.

You've always viewed Nana as pretty. She's always been cute. She'll never not be beautiful. But as you fight off the arctic chill that permeates your bones, you realize you've never looked at her this way. You can't help but notice how hot she is. You see Nana as sexy for the first time.

“Hey,” she calls again, tilting her head and leaning to the side. It’s unfair, the way she sinks against the doorframe. It’s immoral, the way she makes herself look even smaller as she hides in the folds of your shirt. It’s incomprehensible, the way the wide rims of her glasses make her pleading eyes look even bigger. It’s criminal, the way she hides her intent behind that innocent smile.

“Are you just gonna sit there with your jaw on the floor for the rest of the night, or are you going to say something?”

“N-Nana, if you could s-see what I see, y-you’d be speechless t-too,” you manage to get out, unable to suppress the shivers as you respond.

“Well, you could walk into the bathroom that I might have sorta turned into a sauna,” Nana offers, the smallest of smiles beginning to show.

“Or …” she continues, taking her time as she closes the distance between you two. “I could warm you up …”

Your arms wrap around her instinctually as she presses her body against you. You can feel the sculpted frame hidden beneath the oversized shirt. You can feel the tension. You can feel the heat. And as your eyes drift down to her lips, you can feel your reservations flying out the window to join the falling rain.

You kiss her. Gently. Delicately. And she shoves you backwards onto the couch.

“Absolutely not,” Nana declares, climbing into your lap. She wraps her arms around your neck, licking her lips hungrily before pulling you close. Within a second of her claiming your lips with her own and beginning to grind against your lower half, any questions you might have had join your reservations on the pavement outside. You match her intensity, running your tongue along her lips patiently, then expectantly, and claim her mouth as soon as she lets you in. Your hands roam, dragging your fingers like ice cubes across her hips and down her thighs as she hisses into your mouth.

You work your way up her body, past her waistline and under your her shirt. You travel further, past the lean abs she’s worked so hard to sculpt, across the ridges and valleys of her expanding and contracting rib cage, all the way until the tips of your fingers brush the sensitive underside of her breasts. The whimper that escapes her mouth into yours is immediate. It’s needy. It’s pathetic. It’s the hottest sound you’ve ever heard.

The soft, malleable skin becomes a pair of perfect handfuls as you explore the fringes of Nana’s breasts, sending sparks through her synapses and shockwaves down her spine. You break away from her kiss, just for a moment, just long enough to watch her collapse onto you as you finally knead her swollen nipples between your fingers. You take the opportunity to access the curve of her neck, mentally noting where earns the loudest moans as you suck, kiss, and nip the sensitive skin.

“Look at you, so desperate,” you whisper into her ear, grinding your hips against hers and forcing her to moan. “I’ve barely even touched you, but somehow you’re even more drenched than earlier.”

“And you know what’s the worst part?” you murmur, stretching a single second across the tension before continuing. “That’s nothing compared to what you’re doing to me. I’ve never been so hard in my fucking life.”

“You—you’re—OH!!!”

You know what you’re doing when you latch onto that particular spot on the base of her neck; that her response is going to be lost, lost in the sound of her moan echoing against your walls. But you also know what she wanted to verbalize, what her body has been telling you as it tenses up even further. So, when you feel her shaking, on the precipice, you’re more than willing to lend a hand. You’re happy to detach from her breast, brushing against her sensitive folds with the back of your hand. And so, when you’re kind enough to simply graze her clit with an icy fingernail, you also make sure to hold her as she comes undone.

The first orgasm you give Nana is a cinematic experience, with a soundtrack of the most ungodly of moans alongside her quivering limbs and the deathly grip on your shoulders as if you’re the only thing keeping her afloat. You gently trace circles along her back, whispering sweet nothings into her ear and holding her as she rides out the high. You wait, long after the quivering has ceased and she’s unclenched her hands, long enough for her to meet your eyes and show you that the fog has lifted.

“Hey,” you murmur, goofy grin growing wider as you see her eyes flash with outrage.

“You can’t keep doing this!” Nana exclaims, huffing in frustration when all you have to offer is your gleaming smile. “You can’t just blow my mind and change my life and end it with a ‘Hey’!”

“Who said that was the end?” you ask, humor discarded as your tone drops. “You did what you said you would, now we’re both hot and bothered.” You look into her eyes, see the recognition and excitement. Then, you see the desire reignite as you thrust upwards, teasing her sex with only a bit of friction. “What are you going to do about it?”

Nana meets the challenge with equal passion, whispering into your ear, “I’m going to show you a side of me that no one has ever seen before.”

Having adequately spiked your blood pressure, Nana climbs off you, moving with idol-like grace as she sashays towards your bedroom door. Having reached the end of the runway, she turns, throwing off her shirt and modeling her pristine form for you. She’s divine. You somehow tear your eyes away from her flawless figure, staring instead into her molten eyes. She captures her bottom lip between her teeth, slowly dragging them across the soft, pink skin before twisting her innocuous expression into one of sinister glee. She’s sin incarnate.

Then, she’s gone, retreated back into your bedroom. You’re off the couch in a blur, flinging off your shirt and pajama bottoms, discarding the soaked pieces of clothing as they join the rest. You round the corner, entering your bedroom, and you have to pinch yourself to make sure you aren’t dreaming.

You’ve seen Nana dozens of times at this point, seen her in outfits ranging from luxury goods to school uniforms to casual attire to athletic wear. You’ve seen her when doted on by professional stylists, just after a dance practice, and everywhere in-between. But when you see her here, in your bed, wearing nothing but a smile and absolutely glistening in anticipation, you swear your heart stops.

You climb onto the bed; you climb on top of her. You kiss her. Not lightly, not lustfully, but lovingly. And when she kisses you back, you feel that exact same longing. Despite the sincerity in the kiss, you don’t feel the heat in the room diminish at all. No, you just realize it’s everburning.

You pull away. Barely. Just enough room for words. Just far enough to see her eyes.

“No interruptions this time, it's just you and me,” you murmur, causing her to shudder in anticipation right up until a thunderclap echoes throughout the apartment and makes you both jump.

“We really need to work on our timing, don’t we?” Nana jokes, harmonious laughter escaping her as you see her anticipation, affection, and arousal merge, forming the euphoric expression she wears earnestly.

“Yeah, so maybe one interruption,” you say, laughing along with her until her mess of giggles comes to an end.

“But you are mine, Nana,” you whisper, your hot breath inflaming her senses as each syllable reaches her ears. “I am yours, and tonight belongs to no one else. Just us. Tonight is ours.”

“Perfect,” she whispers back, that single word a lit match she drops directly into your heart. “What now?”

“Show me,” you say, rolling you both and flipping your positions so she’s atop you. You give her control. Earnestly. You give her your trust. Easily. You give her your all. You give her everything.

When she takes your length in her hand, giving you your first hints of pleasure, you groan in relief. When she lines you up with her entrance and drips arousal onto your tip, you inhale through your teeth, hissing as if you’d been burned. And when she lowers herself onto you and takes you inside her, it literally takes your breath away.

“Fuuuck…” Nana hisses, sending your heart rate into the stratosphere. “It feels … so … fucking … amazing …”

“You’re incredible Nana,” you growl through gritted teeth, hands latching onto her hips and gripping tighter than you probably should. But any expectation of you being perfectly in control of yourself is entirely unreasonable when she’s moving like this, taking you deeper and deeper into her warmth at an agonizingly slow pace. You can’t help it; her face, her body, the way she quivers - you can’t tear your eyes away, not when you see the beads of sweat splattered across her furrowed brow. Not when you can practically hear the grinding of her tensed jaw. And certainly not when her closed eyelids hide those rich chocolate eyes.

“Take your time,” you whisper soothingly. “No need to rush, I’ll stay here forever as long as it’s with you.” You see some of the tension evaporate from her shoulders, but that does nothing for the vice grip she still has around your cock. Her progress accelerates slightly, taking on more and more of you with each passing moment before finally, finally your hips collide.

“There we go,” Nana mumbles, reopening her eyes and regaining a bit of that hubris you’ve come to know and … like. Having finally reached her destination, you can see the gears turning in Nana’s head as she starts to experiment, rolling her hips against yours and exploring all the possible sensations she can experience. One particular angle catches you off guard, causes you to moan even louder than before. You see it in her eyes, see how they immediately ignite. She repeats the motion, ripping another of those moans from deep within your chest as you see that gleefully sinister smile return.

The image of Nana bouncing up and down on your cock is obscene yet puts all other art to shame with its beauty. You simultaneously appreciate and despise her dancing background as she moves with unyielding precision. She places her hands on your shoulders as she continues exploring, utilizing her flexibility and strength to adjust her position and flex her muscles in ways you’d never thought possible, much less experienced.

“Oh my god Nana …” Your words trail off, lost to the pleasures of her latest findings, but they fan the flames all the same.

“Tell me how good that feels,” Nana purrs, punctuating her point by sliding herself back down onto the base of your cock. Then again. And again. And again.

“It feels so—FUCK!—ing good,” you manage to choke out, throwing your head back in pleasure. Almost instantly, Nana grabs you by the chin, pulling you forward and making it impossible to look anywhere else.

“Don’t you dare look anywhere else,” she growls, sending a new sensation down your spine as her ceaseless riding continues to chip away at your sanity. “Tell me how I make you feel.”

“You—ugh!” Words escape you, your mind unable to comprehend things other than pleasure and pain and Nana. Your grip tightens, tight enough to bruise, as you desperately try to cling to something, anything. “You feel amazing.”

“What else?” Nana asks, picking up the pace.

“You drive me insane,” you tell her, sparing her hips further punishment as you focus on her breasts once again.

“Tell me more,” she demands, riding you even faster.

“You’re unbelievable!” you yell, mustering what little oxygen remains as you match her volume.

“More.” Even faster.

“You’re perfect,” you say, voice dropping as her pitch rises.

“More!” Faster.

“I love how you make me feel.” Even quieter.

“More, more!!” she demands greedily, hips bouncing at a delirious pace as her face tenses once more.

“I love you Nana,” you whisper sweetly. But you refuse to let the sentiment disrupt the moment, following her hips up as you thrust into her and throw off her rhythm. “Cum for me.”

“FUCK—”

Nana somehow manages the impossible, staring through you with misty eyes as she succumbs to pleasure, drenching your lower half and the sheets below in her nectar as her orgasm violently overtakes her. It takes everything you have to remain motionless, cock painfully throbbing as you try not to overwhelm her. Each of you experiences the seconds as if they were lifetimes, you on the verge of pleasure and her well over the edge of it.

“You didn’t cum?” Nana asks, shifting slightly in your lap and forcing you to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from exploding inside her right then. She raises herself off of you, maintaining eye contact the entire time she moves away and positions herself between your legs. As she leans forward, opening her mouth and letting her warm breaths torment your torturously erect shaft further, she has the audacity to wink at you.

“Time to change that.”

The sight of her fucking tongue teasing the sensitive skin of your cock all the way from base to head is ungodly, and you know immediately, no camera flash required, that this image will be burned into your mind for all eternity. It’s almost demeaning how casually she destroys you, idly wrapping her fingers around your shaft as her tongue begins to swirl around the head of your cock. “Fucking hell Nana …”

If your words affect her, she’s doing a damned good job hiding it, drooling unapologetically all over the fingers that twist and pump your shaft, priming it as her mouth continues to work its way further and further down. And all the while, the entire time she molds you to her desires like putty in her hands, she holds your eyes. Lovingly. Expectantly. Enticingly.

“I’m close …” You try to warn her, but her hum in response sends an all-new type of shock all the way down your shaft, cutting off any further waste of oxygen. Your hands tangle into your sheets, threatening to shred them in your grip as you fight to keep the desire to let loose and absolutely defile her throat. “I’m gonna—”

Nana ignores your words, listening to the signs of your body as she delicately unwraps her small hand from around your shaft. The faintest flicker of disappointment flashes in the back of your mind, but it’s immediately eradicated as Nana forces herself downwards, catching you completely off-guard as she takes you into her throat, consuming you entirely.

“NANA!!” She rips her name out from deep within you, sending you soaring over the edge of orgasm as you are unmade by pleasure. Your body tenses and contracts, overwhelming pleasure pulsating from head to toe and every centimeter in between. Wave after wave after wave after wave of your cum fires into her mouth, but you’re unable to bear witness as your eyelids shield you from the unholy sight. It’s so much, so fast, that it drives you to the perfect intersection of pain and pleasure, leaving you unable to do anything but feel.

Eventually, your orgasm comes to an end, as all things must. The first thing you do is open your eyes to see Nana, mouth still snugly around your cock as she swallows the last of drops of your deluge. The second thing you do is remember to breathe. You watch as she detaches herself from your cock, then joins you, for the second time today, in an agonizing minute of shaking shoulders and heaving chests as you both attempt to force enough oxygen into your lungs to be able to speak. Fortunately, you’re both able to. You just happen to do so first.

“So … dinner? Or are you good … after …”

“I’m actually going to murder you,” she mutters, and you don’t even try to stop the laughter that forces its way out.

“You know, I was going to be upset at you for the whole ‘not maintaining eye contact’ thing,” Nana says with a smile of her own, climbing up the bed to lay against your side. “But considering I’m the one that made you nearly black out, I’ll give you a pass this time.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you offer, smiling sheepishly as you wrap an arm around her. “But you were—”

“Yeah, uh …” she interjects, trailing off as her rapid pulse quickly delivers a crimson flush to her cheeks. “I don’t know … it was just really nice—and really hot—to hear you say those things about me.”

“Any time,” you say as you lean in, gently kissing her on the crown of her head. “By the way, did you … I didn’t really see …”

“Oh, this?” Nana asks, opening her mouth wide to show you the tongue and walls, unbesmirched by white. “I’m sure you agree that was pretty hot, but I guess that means you don’t wanna—”

You roll over slightly, propping yourself up on your elbows as you climb over her once more, leaning down and cutting her sentence short as you capture her lips. A small squeak of surprise escapes before she matches your passion, wrapping her arms around your neck as your tongues begin to dance. As the intensity rises your heartbeat follows suit, sending blood all throughout your body and especially one place in particular.

“Not done, huh?” Nana murmurs, capturing your bottom lip between her teeth and gently sucking on it as she looks at you with her seductress’ gaze.

“For you? Never,” you murmur back, intent and invitation clear in your eyes.

“We’ll have to test that sometime …” Nana responds, mirth and mischief manifesting in her smile as she releases your lip. “For now though … show me.”

The kiss you leave on her lips is fleeting, acting more as a palate cleanser than any declaration or escalation. You grab a pillow with one hand, lifting Nana up with the other and placing it under the small of her back as you set the stage. With a bit of additional leverage gained and anticipation built, you line yourself up with her entrance, looking to Nana who nods in confirmation as you enter her once again.

You push further into her slowly, eager to reach the previous round’s intensity but mindful of her pleasure as her tightness suffocates your shaft. Ravenous for more, you lean in, greeted by the mixed scents of coconuts and cherry blossoms and sweat and everything else about her that makes your head spin. You’re quick to attack her neck again, latching onto one of the many spots you noted earlier and sucking relentlessly.

“Wait wait wait, no marks!” Nana exclaims, placing her hands on your shoulders and pushing you away from your target.

“I’m so sorry, I should have—” Your apology grinds to a halt as Nana, sinful gaze meeting your own, delicately lays a single finger against your lips.

“No … visible marks,” she clarifies, smirking seductively as she lowers her arms and offers you free reign once more.

You’re more than happy to seize the opportunity, capturing one of her nipples between your teeth and beginning your oral assault as you suck, swirl, and tease her with your tongue. One hand begins exploring her body, creating only the tiniest bit of contact as it glides over each area of her flawless skin, searching for unexpected pleasure points anywhere you can reach.

“Be vocal,” you murmur, breath rolling like fog over her breast. “I want nothing more than to know every single spot on your body that drives you wild.”

You see out of the corner of your eyes Nana opening her mouth, as if to respond, but as your hips collide once more and you fully bury your length inside of her, a deep, heady moan bulldozes through her best laid plans and tears free instead. As you begin to thrust faster, deeper, you sink your other hand below her waistline, searching only a moment before finding the sensitive bud of her clit and adding it to your list of ministrations.

“Tell me Nana, tell me what feels good,” you say, soothing voice a stark contrast to the frenetic pace at which you chase her pleasure.

“Your fucking mouth, I love how you suck on my—ugh!” Another day, you’d feel cruel for cutting her off so rudely, but honestly, who could blame you for doing what she asks? “And the way you feel inside me, thrusting in so deep …” This time, it’s a sharp intake of air, but you’re happy to earn another moan as you thrust deep inside her again. Then again, for good measure. One more time. “And I love the way you … with your hand … on my thigh … yesssss …” You’ll have to make a special note for that one, apparently figure eights are the best pattern to trace along the inside of her thighs. Who knew?

You get lost in the perfection that is Nana, thrusting wildly as you ride the high all the way up to the summit. You mar her flawless skin with marks of desire, leave little reminders of pleasure where no one else will see them. You feast on her skin, attempting to satiate a hunger you both know will never be sated. Your hands roam as well, acting with a mind of their own as one roams every uncharted inch of her skin while the other stays glued between her thighs, toying mercilessly with her most sensitive area. It’s plenty for you to keep track of, but if Nana’s reactions are anything to go by, it’s bordering on too much for her to handle.

Time’s a relative thing in general, but here, in the bedroom with Nana, there’s no eternity better spent. You chase your pleasures together, call and response, back and forth, her and you, united as one. You cherish the opportunity to care for Nana for once, bringing her pleasure in as many ways as possible. “Fuck!” You seek those profanities. “Oh god—” You crave those indecencies. “You’re gonna make me …” You hunt her peaks, and as she thrashes, shakes, quivers, and cries in your arms, you’re there to hold her the whole way down.

“Nana, I’m getting close,” you tell her, growing delirious as pleasure begins to overwhelm you. “Where—”

“I swear to god if you cum anywhere other than inside of me …” Nana threatens, though her glassy eyes and lolled tongue diminish the impact a bit.

You feel Nana’s legs wrap around your waist, pulling you in as her arms do the same. Her lips claim yours, capturing any senses that weren’t already completely overwhelmed by her and her alone. As you lean into her, tongues dancing as your body disconnects from your mind, pleasure shoots through your veins like a shot or seventy of adrenaline. If you were any more coherent, you might’ve been able to enjoy the details, like the way your cock’s twitching or the way Nana shudders slightly each time you fire another shot into her or the way you keep pumping, refusing to let any of your cum go anywhere but as deep as you can fuck it inside her. Unfortunately, all you experience is the taste of Nana on your lips and the red, foggy haze of rapture that permeates your fucking soul. Unlucky, really.

Your orgasm ends, eventually. You force yourself to pull away, force yourself to focus so that you can see the elated expression of a well-fucked Nana. There’s the faintest hint of tears in the corners of her eyes, each one earned at her own apex of pleasure. You withdraw further, pulling out of her fully, then lay beside her and pull her into your arms.

“Hey there beautiful, you alright?”

“Not the word I would use,” Nana murmurs into your chest. “We should get caught in the rain more often …”

Once again, quiet laughter escapes you, as it always seems to when you’re with Nana. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you promise. “In the meantime, we should probably get cleaned up and showered.”

“Not yet …” Nana groans, lightly smacking you like you’re an alarm clock disrupting her beauty sleep.

“Okay okay, no rush,” you respond, pulling her close and allowing the sounds of the gentle rain to fill the room. You treasure the tranquility, basking in the simple sensations of her hands in yours and her soft breaths against your chest. Many stanzas later, the storm’s song softens, then slowly comes to a close, but you stay there together, finding solace in each other’s embrace. Eventually, once Nana’s fully recovered, you get up to turn the shower on and begin grabbing things, giving her everything she needs: tissues, wipes, water, hugs, kisses, and your undivided attention.

“I know this is an incredibly egotistical question, but can you walk?” you ask, smiling sheepishly as she rolls her eyes. “Or do you want me to carry you?”

“Yes, I can, but carry me anyways,” Nana declares, throwing open her arms and waiting expectantly.

“As you wish,” you declare with a flourish, bowing deeply before scooping Nana into your arms and carrying her bridal style into the bathroom.

“Showering together?” she asks suggestively and shamelessly.

“Showering together,” you reply warmly, setting her down and testing the water. “Let me spoil you for a bit, no need to rush.”

“Very well,” she accepts, stepping into the shower. “Now hurry and get in here so I don’t have to warm you up all over again.”

“Yes ma’am,” you respond, climbing in after her. You’ve never been more grateful for your replacement shower head and its absurd water pressure, though you make sure to get close to Nana just in case.

Even as you two rinse yourselves off, you can’t help but be mesmerized by the water flowing down Nana’s perfect figure. You watch as the many drops coat each long strand of her flowing golden locks, run down each beautiful feature that comprises her face, then finally succumbs to gravity after tracing every last millimeter of her jawline. From there, you follow their journey as they land on her collarbone and continue on into sacred territory. Thousands of individual droplets gently caress the curvature of her breasts as they pass by, while thousands more race down the soft skin of the arms and hands that inspire so many fans to dream of their embrace. For those droplets lucky enough to remain attached after traveling past her abs and below her waist, a pair of gently toned legs defined by years upon years of dance await. Finally, between the pale skin of her inner thighs, the perfectly shaven holy place of indecent desires and fantasies awaits a lucky few. Lucky you.

“You’re staring again,” Nana says, breaking you out of your reverie as she smiles shyly.

“Nana, I absolutely am,” you admit freely, shamelessly. “You’re right here in front of me and I still can’t believe you’re real.”

“Oh, um … thanks,” Nana mumbles, turning away from you just as you see a familiar splash of crimson.

“You’re welcome, now hold still,” you tell her, grabbing a bottle of conditioner and squeezing some into your hand. “Let me wash your hair.”

“Oh! I mean, okay …”

You spread the viscous liquid across your hands, then begin massaging it into the many, many strands of gold that flow together and form her hair. “This conditioner worked wonderfully back when I had lighter highlights, so hopefully it should be fine for you too.”

You trail off, focusing on the task at hand and the silk between your fingertips, but you can’t help but add, “But I wouldn’t mind buying some of whatever you normally use and keeping it here … just in case.”

Nana turns back, glaring at you for a moment before allowing you to continue. “That’s a sentence with a whole lot of implications, but you’re cute so I’ll let you get away with it.”

“Good to know! I promise to not use that information responsibly,” you jest, grinning uncontrollably as Nana huffs in indignation. “Okay, let that sit for a couple minutes before rinsing it out.”

Nana turns, stepping closer to you and keeping her hair out of the waterflow as she does so. “Can I wash yours?”

“Of course,” you tell her, handing her the bottle before closing your eyes and leaning down to allow her easier access.

“Thank you …” she murmurs. After a few anticipatory moments in the dark, you feel her hands start working their way across your head, massaging you and coating your own strands in that same liquid that you apply on a daily basis, but have never experienced like this.

A whine slips past your lips as she finishes and pulls away, causing a score of giggles to emerge as you open your eyes to see the adorable, joyous expression of Nana’s smiling face. “So, what’s next?”

“I’m going to wash my body with this,” you tell her, holding up a bottle of body wash as you hand her a different one. “And you can wash yourself with that, because if I end up putting my hands all over your body, we’re never getting out of here.”

“You’re probably right,” Nana admits, mischief taking over her smile. “However …”

“You’re not the one paying the water bill, shush!” you exclaim, turning away and beginning to lather yourself up. Nana’s laughter rings out once more, reverberating off the tight walls of your shower as she too begins to wash herself of the improprieties that cover every centimeter of each of your bodies.

Somehow, you both manage to behave, rinsing yourselves off before getting out and toweling yourselves dry. Nana sits as you brush her hair like Rapunzel, blow drying it slowly as you meticulously work your way through her golden mane. It isn’t easy to find a comfortable set of clothes for her to wear, but with a pair of rolled pant legs and a hair-tied shirt, you’re able to make do. Together, you eagerly order delivery from your favorite chicken restaurant, and while you’re waiting, begin the process of cleaning up.

Nana helps you strip your sheets, the most traumatized victims of your shared endeavors, off your bed, then assists you in wrangling a new set onto the mattress. Your heart glows with warmth at how right it feels to perform such a mundane household activity with her, even as the fitted sheet snaps up once again and nearly hits you in the face. Nana’s laughter rings out first, but yours is close behind, warding off any frustration as you enjoy the little simplicities of spending time with her. You both clean up your kitchen, sending your soaked clothes to join your laundry as hers go into the wash, cleansing them of the rain’s influence as you both settle on the couch.

“I think that’s everything we needed to take care of,” you say, just as a thought crosses your mind. “Do we need to get you some—”

“Don’t worry, I’ve been taking precautions for a bit. You know, just in case,” Nana tells you, tone relaxed but eyes alight with mischief.

“You—what—just in case?!” you sputter. “Since when?!”

“That night Wooyeon walked in on us,” Nana remarks casually. “I wasn’t gonna let you kiss me like that without finishing the job.”

You’re frozen in silence, unsure whether to follow-up with confusion, accusations, questions, gratitude, or something else entirely, but the familiar cadence of the delivery man’s knocks on the door saves you from needing an answer. After enjoying your meals and making some light conversation, you both end up on your insanely comfy couch, curled up together under your stupidly soft blanket as Nana selects another movie, this time opting for a cheesy romance flick that she swears is different from the rest. Ultimately, she’s not wrong, as any experience shared with Nana ends up being far more enjoyable than the alternatives, and you end up enjoying yourself quite a bit. You lay with her, laugh with her, and hold her close as you wipe away her tears.

Enthralled by Nana and her investment in the movie, you barely even notice as the hours pass, the clouds dissipate, and the sun shines bright for a fleeting flash before disappearing below the skyline. It’s not until the movie finishes, fading to black for the final time, that you note the darkness that’s overtaken the world outside your little corner of paradise. After confirming with her other members that she’s free tomorrow, Nana joins you getting ready for bed.

“Here, this has barely been used,” you tell her, handing her a toothbrush and smiling as a thought enters your mind. “I guess I’ll just have to get you one of those too.”

“You just might have to,” Nana says, wide grin mirroring your own as you both begin your nightly routines.

A short while later, after locking up and killing all the lights, you join Nana in bed. It’s an odd sensation as you turn off your alarm clock, something you haven’t done in months, maybe even years, but when you see the weary eyes Nana’s fighting to keep open, you decide it’s for the best. You turn to her, exchanging good night’s and I love you’s before she closes in, kissing you tenderly before turning away and snuggling close against your body. You two form a perfect fit as you hold her, refusing to let go even as sleep overtakes you. Tonight, you have neither prayers nor requests, simply gratitude for the blessing in your arms. Tonight, you dream of neither girl nor ghost, simply a warm silence that wraps itself around you in a familiar embrace.

tick…

tock…

For once, for the first time in a long, long while, your awakening is not sudden, but serene. Your eyes slowly open, witnessing the twin golden glows that illuminate the tranquil space in their soft, mellow light. You’re forced to squint slightly at the brightness of the rays of light filtering through the window, but even the rising sun pales in comparison to the radiance resting within your embrace. Nana’s resting expression is one of bliss, subtle curves of a smile hidden at the edges of her lips even as she leisurely draws breath.

Somehow, sometime in the middle of the night, she seems to have interwoven your hand with hers, clutching it tightly against her breast as she lies dormant. You can’t help but feel, in this moment, it seems almost too perfect to be a dream. Like your mind wouldn’t even entertain this as achievable in a best-case scenario. Yet here you are, blessed beyond imagination.

You get an idea, hoping to surprise her with breakfast. You slowly, delicately attempt to remove your hand from hers, but are stopped suddenly as her grip tightens. “Stopppp …”

“You’re awake?” you ask in surprise.

“Of course, since before you woke up,” Nana murmurs, pulling you closer. “I just wanted you to hold me longer.”

“Nana, I …” Your words trail off, your mind unable to even form words as you try to comprehend how you could possibly deserve something this perfect. “Thank you … Are you hungry? I was going to go make breakfast—”

“Breakfast can wait,” Nana interjects, flipping over to face you as she snuggles in even closer. “Just stay with me, like this. Please.”

This time, at least, you know exactly what to say. “Of course, Nana. Anything for you.”

She remains silent, but the pounding of her heart tells you everything you’d ever need to know. You do as she asks, pulling the covers back over you as you wrap your arm around Nana, pulling her closer as you plant a gentle kiss atop her head. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you know that the clock ticks ever onwards. But as you look down and see the little smile that only you seem to bring out of Nana, you realize there’s no better way to spend an eternity than moments like this with the one you love. You’ll stay. Forever, if she wants. And with the way she clings to you, like you’re the only thing keeping her on Earth instead of up with the other angels, you trust that she’ll stay too. Maybe even forever.

tick…

tock…

tick…

tock…

“So, is hugging a common thing with you? Like, do you greet everyone you meet by trying to break their ribs?”

“Are you complaining about my hugs?!” Nana gasps, unwrapping her arms from around you and pulling away.

“No, absolutely not!” you exclaim, nearly tripping over your words as they leave your mouth at the speed of light. “I’m just curious, okay? It seems like a big thing with you.”

“Fine, I’ll answer your ridiculous question,” Nana says, retaking your arm. “I occasionally give hugs to people I’m close to. I often hug those I care about most. I always hug you.”

“Oh,” you manage to say. Your curiosity sated; you allow the comfortable silence to return. As you two walk together, you marvel at the vibrant streets, delighted in the changing of the seasons as spring brings its warmth to what was a desolate Korean winter wasteland.

Unfortunately, a single dark shop stands out amongst the rows of brightly lit stores that litter both sides of the street. Your destination, Aunt Kim’s noodle shop, seems empty.

“Oh no, it’s closed! If only someone had an apartment nearby where we could spend the evening instead,” Nana announces dramatically, looking up at you and waggling her eyebrows shamelessly.

“If only,” you say, tugging her along. “Let’s go see if she left a note saying when she’ll be back.”

“‘Closed this evening for a special occasion’,” Nana reads aloud. “‘Will return to normal business tomorrow.’ That’s strange, I wonder what’s so important that she was willing to close the shop.”

“Strange indeed,” you agree, searching around in your pocket for a moment before pulling out a key. “Wanna find out?”

Before she even has the chance to respond, you unlock the door, pushing it open and holding it for her as you invite her in.

“Give me a sec!” you call out, venturing into the darkness as she follows you inside.

“What? How did you …” Nana trails off, covering her eyes as you flip the switch and restore light to the establishment. Within, two steaming bowls wait upon a small table near the left corner of the store; upon “your” table, the one where you two have always sat over the past couple of months, the one with the edge broken off, the one that’s imperfect, but that’s okay, because nothing is. Well, except Nana.

“No but really, what is going on?” Nana asks, walking as if in a daze as she joins you at the table.

“I wanted to do something nice for you for your birthday,” you explain, pulling out the chair for her. “I thought it’d be nice to have the place to ourselves for once, and Aunt Kim was kind enough to agree. She seemed more than willing to help out, probably because of our … ahem, ‘generous contributions’ to the store.”

“Ah, I see,” Nana chuckles, smiling brightly. “Thank you, but you really didn’t have to do all this …”

“Maybe,” you admit with a shrug. “But for you, I’d do anything. This is the first time I’ve gotten to do something sweet for you, just let me spoil you for one night.”

“Alright, fine,” Nana says, huffing in mock exasperation. “Then let’s eat!”

You both eagerly dig in, savoring the familiar tastes of your favorite meals. Unsurprisingly, even as the flavors dance along your tastebuds, the sight of Nana in front of you is all that matters. Even with her golden color replaced by a dark chocolate brown, her radiant visage shines under the warm amber glow of the Edison bulbs above. You lose yourself in the sight of her, food long forgotten until her voice brings you back to reality.

“This is soooooooooo good, did you make this?”

“Oh, gods no,” you exclaim, earning a laugh from each of you. “Aunt Kim was kind enough to make it just before we arrived.”

“Okay good,” Nana replies, wry smirk locked and loaded as she continues to fire shots. “I don’t think I would have ever been able to forgive you if you brought me here just to subject me to your cooking.”

“Oh, come on,” you say, rolling your eyes and turning away to hide the smile you can’t contain. “You know you love me.”

“Obviously.”

That single word has no right to hit as hard as it does, but you can’t help but whip back around to face her. You pause, allowing the smile to slip as your voice drops. “I love you.”

“Believe it or not, even more obvious,” she responds, still attempting to hide behind levity. But you see it in the faint glimmer of her eyes, in the way her lips part slightly, in the way she leans in just the slightest bit closer.

You don’t have to move far to close the distance, leaning in and gently pressing your lips against hers. The combination of the dishes’ flavors explodes across your senses, adding a new type of spice to one of your favorite activities. Even more than usual, it drives you crazy, amplifying your hunger as you greedily up the intensity, wrapping your hand around the back of her neck and—

“Honestly, at this point, I’m not even surprised.”

Nana immediately breaks away from the kiss, turning to see Wooyeon walking in, a box in one hand and her forehead in the other.

“Seriously, we just keep having the worst timing,” you say, laughing warmly as you stand to greet her. “Thanks again for picking this up, I really appreciate it.”

“You’re very welcome,” Wooyeon responds, taking a seat next to Nana. “Your place is nice by the way.”

“Wait, you’re telling me Wooyeon got a key to your place before I did?” Nana asks indignantly. “Unbelievable, really.”

Your laughter follows you as you retreat to the kitchen, where you grab Wooyeon’s meal and return to the table. “That is a good point, I should be careful who I give those out to.”

“Indeed,” Wooyeon says, smirking sinisterly. “I might just invite myself in some time.”

“Alright alright, enough,” Nana declares as you burst into a quiet fit of laughter. “Please, can we try to have a normal dinner? It’d be nice to have an interaction between my two closest friends that isn’t awkward or cut short for once.”

The two of you agree and all three of you dive back into your dinners, casually conversing about your days, how good the food is, and basically anything at all. You happily join in, enjoying the chance to get to know Wooyeon better and seeing a new side of Nana that only her friend and fellow idol can bring out. A month ago, you never could have imagined seamlessly going from conversations about your work to stories about their backstage adventures to what movies they’d watched recently. Yet, on this especially significant day, you’re happy to join Nana at the intersection between her personal and professional life. You’re happy to make a joke and be blessed by the harmonization of Nana and Wooyeon laughing together. It’s musical, it’s magical, it’s meant to be.

“Now, will you tell me what’s in the box?” Nana eventually asks.

Wooyeon looks to you for confirmation, then reaches down and opens it, revealing an overly frosted, downright cartoonish-looking piece of cake that looks like it was taken right out of a Kirby game.

“Oh my god it’s perfect!” Nana exclaims, eagerly grabbing for her phone as you take a finger and run it through the icing. “Hey! I was gonna take a picture of that!!”

A devious smile creeps across your face as you lean forward, booping Nana on the nose and getting frosting everywhere. “HEY!”

You immediately lean away, desperately attempting her wild assault as Nana attempts to return the favor. Within a minute, you’re out of breath from laughing so hard, and from the corner of your eye you can see Wooyeon not faring much better. Nana catches you, of course, and you’re forced to suffer the consequences of your actions as bits of frosting are smeared all across your face.

Eventually, the commotion settles and you’re all able to enjoy the piece in peace, savoring the wonderful flavors as you share it together. Well after the sun sets, well after the streets outside go dark and the clock ticks past the shop’s normal closing time, the three of you remain, sharing stories, telling tales, and enjoying each other’s company. As always, a small part of you rues the passage of time, knowing that this too must come to an end. But for as long as you possibly can, you preserve this moment, refusing to take it for granted as you treasure the memory being made. Because you know that you’ll remember this night for the rest of your life. Because nights like this make you realize you’ve been gifted everything you could have ever wished for.

(My sincerest gratitude to @braaan and @majorblinks for reviewing this fic, I can’t thank you enough for how much your insights improved it and how much your love & support meant to me. This fic is dedicated to @capslocked, a known believer, and @okaylikesmomo, the newest member of the cult. I hope you enjoyed reading this story about hugs that happened to feature smut; the next story idea I intend to finish features far more snark and smut, with no hugs in sight. Anticipate it at your own risk.)

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #idol x reader #idol x male reader #nana smut #nana fanfic #wooah nana #el7z up #wooah #kpop fluff

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