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kyunghwannie · 4 days ago

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"Second Chances" (Part:1)

Yoo Jeongyeon x M!Reader

➤Genre: Romance, Smut, Second Chances in Love, Slight and minor little angst(?)

➤Tags: It's just fluffy lovemaking (Still a smut though)

➤Teaser: Losing the one you loved doesn’t mean you can't find that love in someone else. Because you certainly changed her mind about that. (A/n: Small rant: I hate the 1000 Block limit)

Chapter 1: A Night to Remember

Scene: Jeongyeon’s House – Late Afternoon

The sun peeked through the half-drawn curtains, casting a soft orange hue across the modest living room. Toys were scattered here and there—plastic dinosaurs, crayons without caps, a half-built LEGO tower leaning like it was exhausted too.

Jeongyeon stood in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, a pot simmering quietly on the stove. She stirred out of habit more than need, her eyes drifting toward the living room where her five-year-old son was sprawled out on the carpet, deeply engrossed in a cartoon.

There was peace in this routine. And a quiet loneliness she didn’t talk about.

"You should really get a dishwasher," came Nayeon’s voice from behind as she leaned against the kitchen counter, munching on a baby carrot she’d stolen from the fridge.

Jeongyeon didn’t even flinch. "You should really stop showing up uninvited."

"Please. You’d miss me if I didn’t." Nayeon smirked, tossing a piece of carrot toward Jeongyeon, who dodged it with the grace of someone who’d been friends with her too long.

"Don’t encourage her," Jihyo chimed in as she stepped through the front door, holding a bag of groceries. "You know how she gets when she's bored."

Jeongyeon shot both women a tired look but smiled anyway. "You two act like you don’t have lives of your own."

"We do," Jihyo said cheerfully, placing the bag on the kitchen counter. "But this is more fun."

"Intervention, actually," Nayeon added, brushing imaginary lint from her jeans. "We came for a mission."

Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow. "A mission."

"Operation: You-Need-To-Get-Laid," Nayeon said with zero shame and both hands in the air like she was announcing a game show prize.

Jeongyeon blinked slowly. "You’re unbelievable."

"No, she’s just observant," Jihyo defended, lifting out a bottle of wine and setting it aside like a prop. "And she’s right. When was the last time you went out just for yourself? No kid. No work. Just... Jeongyeon."

There was a pause. Jeongyeon stirred the soup again, slower this time.

"It’s been five years, hasn’t it?" Nayeon asked, her tone softening. "Since he passed."

Jeongyeon didn’t answer, but the shift in her posture said enough.

"You’re still young, Jeong," Jihyo said gently. "You deserve more than just bedtime stories and reheated soup."

From the living room, her son let out a laugh—small, pure, and full of joy. Jeongyeon’s lips curled into a faint smile.

"He’s enough."

"He’s your whole world, we know," Nayeon replied, stepping closer. "But you’re still part of that world too. You can’t forget yourself forever."

Jeongyeon met her eyes, and for the first time in a long time, she didn’t push the thought away instantly.

Jeongyeon leaned against the counter, arms crossed now, as if trying to shield herself from the invisible pull of their words.

"I'm serious, guys," she said, though her voice was softer. "I’m not ready for... anything like that."

"No one's asking you to marry a stranger," Nayeon replied, leaning her hip on the counter, voice smooth. "We just want you to remember what it feels like to be noticed. To laugh with someone new. To look at a man and know he’s looking right back at you—not because you're a mom, or a widow... but because you're you."

Jeongyeon’s throat tightened. She looked away, but Jihyo stepped into her line of sight, eyes shining—not with pity, but with affection.

"You're still beautiful, Jeong," Jihyo whispered. "You still deserve to feel adored."

"You act like I’ve turned into a ghost," Jeongyeon mumbled with a light chuckle, trying to defuse the weight in the air.

"You act like you’re not the most effortlessly stunning person in any room you walk into," Nayeon shot back, flashing her a look. "Do you know what it’s like watching men glance your way when we go shopping? Or that barista last week who practically melted handing you that latte?"

"He spilled milk on his own shoe," Jeongyeon said dryly.

"Exactly," Nayeon grinned. "You're still magnetic. But you’ve locked all that charm away like it’s a sin."

Jihyo stepped closer, voice softer now—more persuasive than pushy.

"We’re not trying to push you into anything," she said, gently taking Jeongyeon's hand. "But tonight... let yourself just exist. No titles. No expectations. Just Jeongyeon. Let her breathe a little."

"Let her dance," Nayeon added, her eyes twinkling. "Let her flirt. Hell, let her be kissed."

Jeongyeon held back a smile, but it flickered at the corner of her lips. The warmth in the room shifted, like the wind had changed direction.

"And if something... or someone... catches your eye," Jihyo said, squeezing her hand, "you don’t have to run from it. You’re allowed to want more."

"More what?" Jeongyeon asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Nayeon stepped beside her and whispered with a teasing smile, "More smiles. More sparks. Maybe... more hands in your hair and whispers in your ear. You know. The good kind."

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, but she was laughing now—and the laugh sounded like a piece of her long buried under grief had peeked out again.

"You two are dangerous."

"No," Jihyo said, tugging her toward the hallway. "We’re your best friends."

"And tonight," Nayeon added, already flinging open Jeongyeon’s closet, "we're your fairy godmothers. Now go shower. You're not wearing those mom jeans to meet your destiny."

As Nayeon tore through outfit after outfit, tossing half of Jeongyeon’s closet onto the bed with theatrical grunts, Jihyo remained quiet—just watching her best friend with that knowing, grounded look only she ever truly mastered.

Jeongyeon sat on the edge of her bed, arms limp at her sides, her smile from earlier fading into something more solemn. She stared out the window, watching the sun dip lower, as if uncertain whether she should let the night arrive.

"You know what this feels like?" she said softly. "Like I’m betraying him."

The room stilled. Even Nayeon froze mid-blouse toss, her arms half-raised.

"Jeong..." Jihyo said carefully, stepping forward.

"I know you two mean well," Jeongyeon continued, not looking at them. "But every time I think about putting on a dress, or letting someone flirt with me, I see his face. And it hurts. It makes me feel like I’m choosing someone else over him."

Her voice trembled on the last word.

And that’s when Jihyo stepped in—slowly, purposefully—and knelt in front of her.

"You’re not choosing someone else over him," she said, taking Jeongyeon’s hand. "You’d be choosing someone because of him."

Jeongyeon blinked, eyes glossing.

"You remember that letter he wrote?" Jihyo asked gently. "The one you let us read that night after the funeral... when the baby was just a few months old?"

Jeongyeon swallowed hard.

"I remember."

"Then you remember what he said in the last paragraph," Jihyo pressed, squeezing her hand. "That he didn’t want to be the reason you stopped living. That if you ever found someone who made your heart skip again... someone who could hold your hand when things get quiet and the grief comes creeping back... he wanted you to take it. Take the chance."

Jeongyeon’s lips parted like she might speak—but no words came.

"That’s not betrayal, Jeong," Jihyo said softly. "That’s honoring him. He gave you permission to keep loving. Because he knew you’d have so much of it left after he was gone."

Nayeon slowly walked over, holding a soft navy dress in her hands—simple, elegant, understated.

"You’re not forgetting him," she said, her voice quiet for once. "You’re just remembering yourself."

A silence settled, deep and meaningful. Then finally—after what felt like a century—Jeongyeon exhaled.

Long. Shaky.

And nodded.

"Okay."

Nayeon’s eyes widened. "Okay?!"

Jeongyeon smiled, this time with something lighter in her chest. "Okay. I’ll go."

"Girl, you better—!" Nayeon squealed, rushing forward and throwing the dress into Jeongyeon’s lap.

"But if I end up in the news for kicking some sleazy guy’s shin," Jeongyeon warned, pointing at them, "I’m blaming both of you."

"Please. With that face, that voice, and those legs? They’ll be the ones crawling to you," Nayeon grinned.

Jihyo chuckled. "Let’s just get her ready before she changes her mind."

The navy dress was gently set aside as Nayeon sprang to her feet with a dramatic gasp.

"No, no—wait! I just remembered something better."

Jeongyeon blinked. "Better than that?"

Nayeon darted out of the room like a storm on heels, yelling from the hallway,

"Jihyo, remember that vintage dress we got on that impulse shopping trip last year? The one we said Jeong would never agree to wear?"

Jihyo's eyes lit up. "The polka dot one with the pleats and the bow?!"

"Yes!! Get the steamer ready!"

Jeongyeon raised an eyebrow, skeptical but too exhausted to argue.

"You two are acting like I’m about to walk a red carpet."

Jihyo shot her a look. "You’re walking into a bar with us. That’s our red carpet."

Moments later, Nayeon returned, dress draped over her arms like she was presenting a priceless treasure.

"Tada!" she beamed.

Jeongyeon’s eyes widened. It was beautiful—more than she expected. The fabric shimmered subtly under the light, the light beige and dark green tones catching her breath. Black polka dots danced across it with just enough flair to be playful. Ruffles framed the front and sleeves, not in an overpowering way, but enough to make a statement. The bowtie neckline sat just beneath the striped high collar, all wrapped up in vintage sophistication.

"You seriously expect me to wear that?" Jeongyeon asked, eyeing the sheer sleeves and dark green pleated panels along the sides.

"I expect you to wear it and make men cry," Nayeon replied proudly.

After a few playful protests and a whole lot of laughter, Jeongyeon found herself standing in front of the full-length mirror, now dressed—unrecognizably so.

Nayeon was behind her, carefully working on her hair. A few elegant twists, pinned and tucked, turned her soft brown strands into a messy updo, with a couple wispy tendrils curling by her cheeks and ears. A faint spritz of floral mist hung in the air.

"I look..."

Jeongyeon didn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t.

Jihyo, sitting on the edge of the bed, gave her a soft, satisfied smile. "Like a woman who deserves to be loved again."

"You’re not just a mom," Nayeon added, tying the bow around Jeongyeon’s collar. "You’re still you. And tonight, we want the world to remember that too."

Jeongyeon looked at herself in the mirror. The dress, the hair, the gentle blush of makeup across her cheeks—it was like seeing a memory of someone she used to be, but now stronger, wiser... ready to feel again.

And in her chest, something fluttered. Not fear. Not guilt.

Something closer to hope.

The sound of the front door creaking open was followed by a sudden thud and a loud:

"AUNTY CHAEYOUNG!"

A flurry of small footsteps galloped across the hallway tiles before Jeongyeon’s son, Minjae, launched himself toward the door like a mini cannonball. The boy’s squeal of excitement echoed through the house.

"I’m here! I’m here! I brought snacks, I brought games, and—yes—I brought slime!" Chaeyoung’s voice rang out with chaotic energy, right before Minjae practically tackled her knees.

"SLIME?!" he gasped in awe, his voice bouncing with uncontainable joy.

"Shhh! Indoor voices, tiny human," Chaeyoung teased, ruffling his hair before tossing her oversized tote bag onto the couch.

She crouched down to his level, holding up two fists like she was unveiling treasure.

"Okay, tonight’s options: galaxy slime, or... glow-in-the-dark dinosaur goo. Choose wisely, young warrior."

Minjae’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. "BOTH!"

"Wrong answer," Chaeyoung grinned, scooping him up and spinning him once. "But I like your spirit!"

From the hallway, Nayeon called out,

"Don’t spoil him too much or he’s going to start thinking you’re the fun mom!"

Chaeyoung peeked around the corner with Minjae clinging to her like a backpack.

"I am the fun mom. Just ask him."

Minjae stuck his tongue out at his actual mother. "She lets me eat ice cream before dinner!"

Jeongyeon stepped into the living room, her arms crossed—but a smile tugging at her lips.

"And that’s why I said no sugar tonight, Son Chae."

"Relax, I brought sugar-free fruit snacks. I’m not trying to turn him into a raccoon," Chaeyoung said with faux offense, setting Minjae down gently. The boy immediately ran toward the kitchen, yelling something about showing her his new toy spaceship.

As soon as he disappeared, Chaeyoung walked over to Jeongyeon, her eyes traveling up and down with impressed delight.

"Whoa."

"What?" Jeongyeon asked, fidgeting with the sleeve of her dress.

Chaeyoung gave a slow whistle. "I didn’t know we were sending royalty to the bar. Who are you and what did you do with Minjae’s mom?"

Jeongyeon flushed. "I feel ridiculous."

"You look beautiful," Chaeyoung said sincerely, placing a hand on Jeongyeon’s shoulder. "Like... vintage Chanel magazine-cover beautiful."

"I told you!" Nayeon shouted from the kitchen, grabbing a juice box for Minjae.

Jihyo appeared behind her, holding Jeongyeon's coat like a fashion stylist on standby.

"Honestly, if you don’t get hit on at least twice tonight, I’m filing a complaint with the universe."

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"You three are too much."

"You’ve been ‘too little’ for too long," Nayeon murmured, her voice softening.

Chaeyoung caught the tone and stepped back, giving them their moment. "Don’t worry. I’ll make sure this little whirlwind is fed, washed, and not jumping off furniture. Go be hot, have fun, and come back with a mysterious story I can pretend to believe."

Jeongyeon turned to her, gaze grateful. "Thank you, really. I don’t think I’d feel comfortable leaving him with anyone else."

Chaeyoung smiled. "Hey, he’s my favorite human under four feet. You deserve one night where your name isn’t ‘Mommy.’"

Minjae came running back, clutching his spaceship in one hand and a crayon in the other. "Aunty Chae! Look, I made him a jetpack! Wanna help me draw fire?"

Chaeyoung dropped to the floor like it was her natural habitat. "Let’s make it explode!"

As Minjae giggled and dove onto the living room rug with her, Jeongyeon stood watching for a moment. The sound of her son's laughter, the softness in the air, the gentle tug of her ruffled dress—it all swirled into a moment of stillness in her heart.

Maybe... just maybe... tonight could be a good thing.

Maybe she was ready to feel something new.

The car engine purred to life as Jihyo pulled out of Jeongyeon's driveway, the city lights starting to flicker in the distance like they were winking at them.

Jeongyeon sat in the passenger seat, her hands clutched around her purse like it was a lifeline. In the backseat, Nayeon had already kicked off her heels and was cranking up the volume on the car stereo.

“Okay, I need to set the tone for tonight,” Nayeon announced. “We’re not going out with the ghost of Jeongyeon’s past clinging to her ruffles. We’re going out with her future sitting on her neckline like a damn diamond.”

Jihyo laughed. “Preach, Sister Pastor.”

Jeongyeon turned with a sigh. “I didn’t even want to come out in the first place, you maniacs.”

“And yet,” Nayeon drawled, sliding forward to point at Jeongyeon’s legs, “those silky stockings say otherwise. Don’t lie to us with your mouth when your calves are giving single-but-open-to-fun.”

“She’s right,” Jihyo added, grinning as she switched lanes. “Your dress says Downtown Abbey, but your eyes say Downtown Daddy.”

Jeongyeon groaned, covering her face. “Why did I let you two do this to me?”

Nayeon reached forward and gently tugged at the bowtie at Jeongyeon’s neck. “Because deep down, under all that ‘Mom Mode,’ there’s still a woman who misses feeling wanted. Touched. Adored. You don’t have to marry someone tonight, Jeong. Just remember what it feels like to be the center of someone’s attention.”

Jihyo nodded, voice softening. “You were always the quiet beauty. The kind people don’t forget. You didn’t stop being that just because life got hard.”

Jeongyeon didn’t reply for a moment, staring out the window as streetlights brushed across her face in a golden rhythm.

“He really wanted this for me,” she murmured.

“Who?” Jihyo asked gently.

“My husband.” Jeongyeon smiled faintly. “He left me a letter. Said he knew I’d bury myself in motherhood and grief. Told me I deserved to smile again. Even if that smile came from someone else.”

The car fell into a still silence.

Even Nayeon, who was rarely quiet, simply leaned forward and rested a hand on Jeongyeon’s shoulder. “Then tonight... we honor him by letting you feel alive again.”

Jeongyeon swallowed hard, blinking away the unexpected sting behind her lashes. “God. Why do you two have to make me cry right before I walk into a bar?”

“Don’t worry,” Nayeon smirked. “If your mascara runs, just cry on some hot guy’s shirt. Works every time.”

“I’m not you.”

“No one is.” Nayeon leaned back smugly. “But tonight? You’re my protég��. Mama Bunny’s teaching you how to flirt again.”

“I don’t need flirting lessons.”

“You haven’t flirted in five years, Jeongyeon. That’s like... 35 in Flirt Years. You're practically a fossil.”

“Then you’re my fossil friends dragging me into extinction.”

Jihyo cracked up, slapping the steering wheel. “Shut up, that was actually good.”

“See?” Nayeon grinned, reaching over the seat to nudge Jeongyeon’s arm. “The sass is returning. She’s back, baby.”

“Halfway back,” Jeongyeon muttered. “Still feel like vomiting.”

“Totally normal,” Jihyo replied. “That’s just your body rebooting its hot-girl system. Happens to all of us after a dry spell.”

Nayeon tapped on her phone and held it up as a familiar beat filled the car.

“Okay. Final prep song. Cue confidence.”

The unmistakable bass of Doja Cat’s “Woman” flooded the car, and Nayeon howled.

“JEONGYEON, CLAIM YOUR INNER GODDESS!”

As the beat picked up, Jeongyeon couldn’t help but laugh, covering her mouth as her two best friends screamed lyrics and danced like lunatics in a moving vehicle. It was wild. Ridiculous. Loud.

But it was also warm.

It was home.

And somewhere between the thumping bass and the city lights growing brighter, Jeongyeon realized...

Maybe she was ready.

Meanwhile…

You tug your jacket over your shoulders and slide into the driver’s seat of your modest but clean car, the scent of worn leather and fresh air settling into your lungs like a balm.

The key turns. The engine hums awake.

It’s been a good day. A quietly fulfilling one.

Not loud. Not thrilling. But the kind that leaves a gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips—like something inside you has finally exhaled.

“Alright,” you mumble to no one in particular, eyes on the soft orange hues bleeding into the horizon. “Just a drink. A soft seat. And a little music.”

It wasn’t about meeting someone. It never was.

You weren’t dressed like a man on the hunt—no cologne, no sharp-cut blazer, no coldblooded swagger. Just a loose button-up rolled to the elbows, slightly tousled hair from the breeze, and a book still sitting in the passenger seat like your most loyal companion.

The city moved around you like a lazy river. Headlights flickered past. Some couple laughed on a sidewalk. A dog barked in the distance.

You tapped your fingers against the steering wheel in rhythm with the faint hum of jazz spilling from the radio.

You weren’t rugged. Or overpowering. There was nothing loud in your presence.

But people noticed you.

The way your eyes lingered just a second longer on a moment. How your words seemed like they were chosen from a shelf of poetry instead of a bin of clichés. How you smiled like you’d seen heartbreak... and forgiven it.

You were the type that women remembered long after forgetting the names of men who shouted for their attention.

“Peace and a pint,” you muttered, parking outside a small tucked-away bar you’d passed a dozen times but never entered.

It didn’t look wild.

It looked... right.

Dim lights. Soft music. A little warmth spilling from its windows like it knew you needed it.

You stepped out, closed the door gently behind you, and with one hand tucked into your pocket, walked in like a breeze—not a storm.

There was no story waiting for you inside.

Or at least, that’s what you thought.

But the universe doesn’t always ask your permission before writing the next chapter.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in the dimly lit parking lot behind the bar, the neon glow from the front sign casting flickers of amber light across the windshield. Inside, the music was muffled, more like a heartbeat than a song.

Jihyo popped the door open first, stepping out in sleek heels with a casual grace. She took a moment to stretch, arms overhead, as if preparing for battle.

“Alright, ladies,” she announced like a general. “Tonight, the mission is clear: make Jeongyeon remember that she is hot, wanted, and not a ghost living in a Victorian novel.”

“Says the woman who brought two backup dancers to a low-key bar,” Jeongyeon muttered, but her lips were already twitching upward as Nayeon rounded the car.

“Backup dancers?” Nayeon scoffed, flicking her hair dramatically as she shut the passenger door. “Please. We’re the main act. You’re the special guest star. Mystery. Vintage. Forbidden fruit. You're like... emotional Dior.”

Jeongyeon laughed, trying to suppress it, but Nayeon knew that tone was a win. She circled her arm around Jeong’s and looked her up and down.

“No but seriously, this dress is insane on you.”

“It's... weird. I haven’t dressed up like this in years,” Jeongyeon admitted, smoothing the pleats near her hip, feeling the way the silky fabric clung and flowed. “I look like a time traveler who got stuck in the wrong decade.”

“Yeah, the decade where she was the heartbreaker every poet cried over,” Jihyo added, meeting them at the back of the car. “The messy updo? The ruffles? The bow? Jeong, you’re walking cinematic tension. Men will write songs after this.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Jeongyeon’s voice was quieter now. The nerves were creeping back in, her thumb grazing her ring finger out of habit. “I don’t want to be anyone’s song. I just... want to have a night where I’m not ‘Mom’ or ‘Mrs. Yoo.’”

The air turned softer. Nayeon’s grip on her arm loosened but didn’t let go.

“Then that’s all this night has to be.”

“And if something more comes along,” Jihyo added, nudging her side with a wink, “that’s just... dessert.”

Jeongyeon glanced at the warm glow leaking from the bar windows. Inside, she could hear laughter. Glasses clinking. A low hum of music and life.

She hadn’t felt part of something like that in... years.

Not since her world became smaller. Quieter. Not since everything good she had felt like it belonged to someone else first—her son, her job, her memories.

Tonight, maybe she’d belong to herself again.

“Okay,” she said softly, squaring her shoulders. “Let’s go inside before I change my mind.”

“Too late.” Nayeon grinned. “Operation: Jeongyeon Glows begins now.”

And just like that, the door to the bar opened with a low chime.

Unaware, just a few feet away, someone else had walked in not long ago—quietly, gently, without expectation.

The door swung open with the soft chime of a bell overhead, spilling warm golden light into the cool evening air. The three women stepped inside, and immediately, the world outside melted away.

It wasn’t what Jeongyeon expected.

No pounding bass. No crowds grinding against each other. No headache-inducing neon. Instead, there was soft jazz laced with the occasional acoustic cover floating through the air. Amber pendant lights hung low over dark wooden tables. Shelves lined with books and vintage record covers adorned the walls. And in the far corner, a modest bar glowed with the gentle flicker of candlelight and a smiling bartender polishing glasses like a movie character who probably had sage advice.

Jeongyeon slowed her steps, eyes scanning the space with open surprise.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” she whispered, a low whistle slipping from her lips. “You two really didn’t bring me to a hookup factory.”

Nayeon gave a knowing smirk. “You thought we’d dump you in some club with twenty-year-olds doing body shots?”

“Yes,” Jeongyeon deadpanned. “That’s exactly what I thought.”

Jihyo giggled beside her, slipping off her coat as she surveyed the scene like she owned it. “This place has an energy. Like... slow-burning romance. Or whispered secrets.”

“Or freshly-divorced writers meeting strangers who buy them tea,” Nayeon added, pointing to a pair in the corner, laughing quietly over what looked like a plate of shared fries.

“That’s oddly specific,” Jeongyeon muttered as they approached an empty table near the window, tucked just enough into the shadows to feel cozy.

“Point is,” Jihyo said, sliding into her seat, “we picked this place because it felt like... you. Not some version of you we think should exist. The actual you. The real Jeongyeon.”

Jeongyeon paused before sitting, fingers brushing over the back of the chair. That simple statement... it settled deep. Like honey stirred into tea.

She looked around again. The quiet laughter. The clinking of soft drinks and wines. The music drifting through the space like it had nowhere else to be.

It didn’t feel like a bar.

It felt like possibility.

She sat down slowly, exhaling in a way she hadn’t done in months.

“I like it here,” she admitted.

Nayeon reached across the table and took her hand for a second, squeezing it. “We knew you would.”

Jeongyeon sat in the soft velvet seat, letting herself settle into the unfamiliar comfort. The place still wrapped around her like a new coat—foreign, but warming fast.

The low hum of conversation, the clinking of glasses, the flickering candlelight on the table—it all created an atmosphere that felt suspended in time. She watched the way people leaned in a little closer here, spoke a little softer, smiled a little slower.

It was…intimate. Not in the way that begged for rushed romance or one-night blurs. It was the kind of intimacy built from noticing—the small details, the pauses between sentences, the second glances.

“You good?” Nayeon asked, chin propped on her palm.

“Mm-hmm,” Jeongyeon replied absently, eyes drifting across the bar. “It’s... peaceful. Not what I expected. But in a good way.”

“You look like you’re actually thinking of relaxing,” Jihyo teased with a smile. “Careful, or we’ll think you're enjoying this.”

Jeongyeon chuckled, rolling her eyes before standing. “I’ll grab us some drinks. My treat.”

“Ooh, responsible and generous,” Nayeon smirked. “You really are a catch, Jeongie.”

“Shut up,” Jeongyeon muttered, brushing her fingers through her loosely styled updo as she made her way toward the bar.

The floors creaked softly beneath her boots, the scent of old wood and citrusy cocktails mingling in the air. She wasn’t in a hurry—just letting herself drift between thoughts and the ambiance.

And then—

Thump.

She bumped into something—or someone—solid yet warm.

Her balance tilted, just slightly. Enough to send a quick flutter of panic through her chest, until—

A hand caught her arm. Gentle. Firm.

Steadying.

You.

You looked down at her, brows lifted in gentle surprise, the corners of your lips pulled into the beginnings of a smile.

"Oh—careful," you murmured, your voice a soft lilt, calm and melodic. "You alright?"

Her breath caught.

Not because she was hurt. But because—god—who the hell did she just bump into?

And across the room, Nayeon’s elbow met Jihyo’s ribs.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, her eyes laser-focused on the scene.

“Did Jeongyeon just bump into some novel protagonist level man?”

Jihyo blinked once, then again.

“Is he glowing?”

“He might be glowing.”

They both leaned slightly forward, drinks forgotten, curiosity taking full control.

Jeongyeon, meanwhile, blinked up at you, stunned into silence for a beat too long.

"I—uh, I’m okay. Sorry," she finally managed, her voice laced with that involuntary softness that came from being caught off guard.

Your hand lingered just a second longer on her arm, not presumptuous—just enough to make sure she was stable.

"No harm done," you smiled again. "You’ve got the kind of entrance people write about, though."

And that was it.

Something shifted. In the air. In her chest. In the quiet way her fingers curled inward when you let go.

She didn’t even notice Nayeon and Jihyo staring like they were watching the start of a drama they didn’t know they’d been waiting for.

You didn’t move just yet.

Your fingers slid away from her arm slowly, respectfully, and your head tilted just a little as your eyes met hers—curious, but warm. There wasn’t a trace of urgency in your gaze, nor anything predatory. Just... wonder. The kind of wonder reserved for art you didn’t expect to find hanging quietly in a forgotten hallway.

And then you said it.

Soft. Clear.

"You’re... stunning."

Jeongyeon blinked.

There was no smirk behind your words. No suggestive lean-in. No glance downward or over her shoulder. Your compliment wasn’t aimed at the shape of her or the dress she wore. It was aimed at her.

The energy she gave. The quiet grace. The way she stood there, framed in polka dots and soft light, still a little dazed from the bump, still grounded by your presence.

"There’s something about your aura," you added, voice as smooth as old vinyl on a rainy night. "It’s peaceful… like you’ve lived through a lot, but it didn’t break you. It just made you glow differently."

Her lips parted. Nothing came out.

What the hell do you even say to that?

Across the room, Nayeon nearly spilled her cocktail as she leaned into Jihyo’s shoulder with a giddy squeal.

“Jeongie’s blushing.”

“That’s not a blush, that’s a slow emotional meltdown,” Jihyo whispered, her eyes wide with delight.

“He’s like a soft-spoken Miyazaki character—with a jawline."

Jeongyeon felt the heat on her cheeks rise. This wasn’t a line. She knew lines. She could sniff them from ten feet away. But this? This was… disarming.

“Thank you,” she said, quieter than she meant to, eyes searching yours as if trying to find where the strings were hidden.

There were none.

Your smile remained, gentle and easy.

You didn’t reach for her again. You didn’t push. You simply looked at her like someone who’d bumped into beauty and couldn’t help but say so.

Back at the table, Nayeon elbowed Jihyo again.

“This is it. Push her. Go.”

“Push her where?” Jihyo whispered, still entranced.

“To the bar. To him. Push her into fate!”

“You’re insane.”

“You love it.”

Jihyo gave her a look—and then stood.

She approached with all the grace of a seasoned general in stilettos, catching Jeongyeon’s eye and mouthing something quick and quiet:

“Get drinks. With him. We’re watching.”

Jeongyeon’s brows shot up in panic, but her mouth betrayed her with a small, flustered smile.

She opened her mouth like she had something to say… then closed it. Then opened it again.

“W-Would you… maybe—want to sit? A drink? With me, I mean? Just—if you’re not busy.”

Her fingers fidgeted with the bowtie near her collar as she said it. Her voice wasn’t the smooth, commanding tone she used when managing a house, calming a child, or brushing off small talk. This voice… was shy, unsure, yet blooming with something that hadn’t stirred in years.

You let out a warm, air-soft chuckle—not at her, but in gentle amusement. She was adorable in the way a spring bloom is after a long frost—uncertain, but undeniably vibrant.

“I’d love that,” you said with a small nod.

Then, you made no move to lead. You let her take the lead.

Her hand gestured toward a more secluded two-seater table, half-tucked near the warm golden light of a wall lamp. The bar buzzed with a calm hum of conversations and clinking glass, but this little corner? It might as well have been its own world.

She sat first, a little stiff. You took the other seat slowly, giving her time to adjust to this unfamiliar gravity between you both.

You smiled again—this time introducing yourself, voice gentle like you were speaking not just to her ears, but to the hesitation in her chest.

“I’m L/N Y/N.”

You didn’t add more. No title. No job. No posturing. Just… a name. Like it was an offering.

She nodded, her fingers still lightly fidgeting with the edge of her sleeve.

“Jeongyeon.”

Then, like realizing how dry that sounded, she added quickly,

“Sorry, that was—Just. Jeongyeon.”

You smiled deeper, folding your hands on the table as you leaned in just enough to show you were fully present, fully listening.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

She looked down at her hands for a second… then smiled. That rare smile—the one people wear when something inside them dares to believe they’re still allowed to be noticed. Desired. Human.

Meanwhile, Nayeon and Jihyo, a few tables down and half-hidden behind a tall potted plant, were peeking like teenagers watching the first episode of a drama they instantly knew they’d binge.

“He said her name like it meant something,” Jihyo whispered, stunned.

“If she doesn’t marry him by winter, I’ll do it myself,” Nayeon muttered, sipping dramatically from her drink.

You didn’t rush anything. The moment had a rhythm of its own, and you let it breathe.

Jeongyeon sat across from you with a polite posture, one hand resting on the stem of her drink, the other slightly curled in her lap. But her eyes—they searched yours like they couldn’t decide whether to retreat or lean in.

You leaned forward slightly, just enough to make your voice feel closer.

“You know… you carry a kind of stillness with you.”

Her brows arched.

“Stillness?”

“Yeah,” you said, with a soft smile. “Not silence. Not distance. Just… something quiet and strong. Like you’ve been through storms, but never let them take away your sun.”

Her lips parted, the compliment slipping into her like warmth after a cold breeze.

“That’s… oddly poetic.”

You tilted your head with a small grin.

“I like finding poetry in people. Especially ones who don’t realize how much of it they carry.”

Jeongyeon chuckled—really chuckled—and something about it loosened the stiffness in her shoulders.

“That’s new,” she said, brushing a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Usually when I get approached, it’s a ‘You look like you’ve got secrets’ or ‘Are you a model from the 80s?’”

“Oh no, definitely not from the 80s,” you teased, your eyes gleaming. “Maybe timeless. Or someone who looks like they stepped out of an old French film, wearing ruffles and stealing hearts with one uncertain smile.”

Her hand flew to cover her mouth, half from laughing, half from surprise at how easily your words slipped under her skin.

“Are you like this with every woman you meet?” she asked playfully, narrowing her eyes with a tiny smirk.

“Only when they make me forget I came here alone,” you answered, sincere, no pause in your tone.

Her fingers tightened slightly on her glass, but her gaze didn’t turn away. She wasn’t used to this—being looked at like she was more than just a pretty face, more than a passing interest.

You gently asked, “So… Jeongyeon. What makes you laugh when the world’s heavy?”

That question. It surprised her. She looked away briefly, then back, and something in her shifted. The part that had been locked behind grief, behind duty, behind years of putting herself last.

“My kid,” she said quietly. “He’s… five. And wild. Like a spark that just never dies out.”

You leaned in slightly.

“He sounds like someone who inherited that spark from you.”

She smiled—this time without hesitation.

And she continued. Talking about her son's obsession with dinosaurs, his habit of making up bedtime stories, how he once dressed as a ‘superhero doctor chef’ because he couldn’t pick just one career. You listened with real curiosity, eyes steady, head tilted occasionally, a soft smile gracing your face like you were learning the story of your new favorite book.

Her guard melted more with each passing minute.

And somewhere between her laughing about her son drawing on the walls with jam, and you sharing a story about how you once tried to "fix" your microwave with YouTube tutorials and nearly blew the kitchen up—Jeongyeon… relaxed.

She leaned her elbows on the table. She played with her straw absentmindedly. She met your gaze without flinching.

The soft hum of conversation and mellow jazz threaded through the bar like silk, gentle and soothing. The lights above cast a golden warmth on the table between you two, but Jeongyeon hadn’t spoken for a moment.

Not since she noticed it.

You hadn’t flinched when she said “my kid.”

You hadn’t leaned back, blinked rapidly, asked, “Wait, you have a child?”

You hadn’t done what every other man she’d met over the years had done—turn that curious sparkle into retreat.

She turned her glass slowly in her hands, watching the condensation bead down its side. And then, after a quiet beat, her voice came out gentle but testing.

“You didn’t react.”

You glanced at her.

“To what?”

“When I said I have a kid.”

You tilted your head, a small, curious smile playing on your lips.

“Was I supposed to?”

She hesitated. Then offered a dry, self-aware shrug. “Most do. Some ask how old. Most don’t ask anything. They just politely excuse themselves. Or they stay… but you can see it in their eyes. That they already checked out.”

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms loosely on the table. Not defensively. But comfortably. Like you were settling in to listen to something important.

“A woman like you,” you said softly, “doesn’t walk into a bar like this alone unless something’s changed. A woman with a child wouldn’t come here on a whim—not unless there was someone to trust the child with. And not unless… maybe she needed to breathe again.”

You paused. Met her eyes fully.

“So I figured. Either you’ve parted ways with the man you had him with… or…”

You trailed off—not out of fear, but respect. Leaving space. Letting her choose.

Jeongyeon exhaled slowly. Something flickered across her face—recognition… and permission. She didn’t even realize how tightly she’d been gripping the ruffles of her sleeve until she let go.

“He passed.” Her voice didn’t break. Just softened. “Five years ago. Illness.”

Your expression didn’t shift into pity. Not the patronizing kind, anyway. Just a stillness. Reverence.

“I’m sorry,” you said gently. “That must’ve been a cruel weight. Especially right after bringing life into the world.”

She looked at you with a mixture of surprise and reflection.

“He knew.” She smiled faintly, not bitterly. “We didn’t talk about it much, but he knew he didn’t have long. He was sick before I even got pregnant, but we hoped… we tried anyway. And when the baby came, he said it was worth it. That even if he couldn’t stay, he wanted to leave part of us behind.”

You didn’t say anything. Just listened. Her eyes glossed over slightly as her words tumbled out, careful but unfiltered now.

“After he passed, I didn’t try again. Not dating, not intimacy, not… being wanted. That part of me just shut off. I had a baby. I had grief. I didn’t have space for anything else.”

A silence sat between you both. Not awkward—just… honest. She wasn’t someone who aired her heart often. And you? You treated it like something sacred.

Your fingers brushed against your glass absently before you leaned in just enough.

“You know…” you said, voice a low murmur, “you don’t wear sadness the way people think grief should look. You wear it like armor. Beautiful. Silent. But heavy.”

Jeongyeon blinked. Slowly.

“You don’t see me as… broken?”

You smiled, the kind that curved with warmth but didn’t lighten the gravity of her question.

“No. I see you as… someone who’s been full of love. Enough to carry two hearts. And maybe now, your own heart wants to feel something for itself again. Not out of guilt. Not out of need. But because you’re still here.”

Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for her drink again.

Your voice lowered even more.

“If love came once… it can come again. And I don’t mean to replace anything. Some things aren’t meant to be replaced. Just… honored, as we allow more in.”

Jeongyeon swallowed thickly. She had been strong for so long. Smiling for others. Crying in quiet corners. Rebuilding herself piece by piece after the storm.

And now, here was someone… offering to see her. Not save her. Not fix her. Just see her.

“You’re kind,” she whispered, her eyes soft now. Exposed. “Maybe too kind for someone like me.”

You tilted your head with a soft laugh.

“I’m not sure you get to decide who you’re worthy of, Jeongyeon.” You met her gaze. “Not tonight, at least.”

And for a moment… she smiled. A real one. Not the polite smile she offered in passing or the practiced one for her son. But a smile from her.

And somewhere near the bar’s far corner, two pairs of eyes—Nayeon and Jihyo—watched with glimmering awe and matching grins.

Jeongyeon didn’t even notice how close she’d leaned in.

Maybe it was the warmth of the booth light catching on the curve of your jaw, or the calm way your fingers played with your drink as if nothing in the world could startle you. Or maybe it was the way you didn’t press too hard, didn’t try to perform.

Whatever it was… she liked it.

And she was liking you.

She straightened slightly, brushing a finger over the ruffles of her sleeve with a smirk tugging on her lips. Her voice came with a familiar lilt—cool, teasing, a bit challenging.

“So…” she started, eyes narrowing playfully, “are you always this smooth, or do you just turn it up when you see a hot single mom in a vintage ruffle dress?”

You blinked, then let out an easy, low laugh.

“Only when the dress comes with a woman who could silence a room just by raising her eyebrow.”

She scoffed. “Okay, that was smooth.”

“I practice in the mirror,” you quipped. “Sometimes I imagine I’ll bump into someone who looks like she walked out of an old film reel.” You gestured to her whole ensemble with a nod of appreciation. “Guess I manifested it.”

Jeongyeon chuckled and rolled her eyes, but it came with the kind of blush she didn’t even try to hide.

“Manifested a woman with a kid, emotional trauma, and sarcasm issues?”

You leaned in slightly, gaze steady.

“No, I manifested a woman who knows who she is. And looks like she could flirt and win a bar fight in the same breath.”

That made her laugh—head tilting back, one hand instinctively reaching for your wrist for support as she wheezed.

From their spot at the bar, Nayeon let out a small squeal and practically slapped Jihyo’s arm.

“Look at her, Jihyo! She's touching him. She's literally touching him.”

Jihyo, biting back her grin, sipped her drink and said, “They’re matching energies already. We should leave before it turns into a drama series.”

Back at the booth, Jeongyeon finally composed herself and gave you a mock squint.

“Alright, Mr. Novel Character. You’ve clearly been trained by romantic comedies. What’s your tragic flaw?”

You blinked like you had to think seriously about it. Then leaned in and said solemnly,

“I snack on cereal at midnight like it’s a drug.”

She bit her lip to suppress another laugh.

“Okay, fair. But if it's cornflakes, I might walk out.”

“Only the sugary kinds,” you said with mock offense. “I’m a man of decadence, Jeongyeon.”

She smirked, her elbow propped on the table now, fingers resting under her chin.

“That so?” she asked, eyes gleaming. “Then tell me, decadent man—what made you come here tonight?”

You paused for a second. Not for dramatic effect—but to be real.

“Good day. Clear sky. Thought I’d end it quietly. Something about mellow bars and soft jazz just makes the soul… hum, y’know?”

She hummed softly, mirroring your answer.

“Maybe we both came for quiet… but found something that made the hum turn into music.”

You smiled at her. Genuinely.

“Maybe.”

And that was when the tension shifted. Still playful. Still dancing on the edge of something flirtatious.

But now it pulsed with something warmer, more magnetic—an energy not born out of want, but mutual curiosity. The kind that builds not from fast-paced sparks but from slowly lit candles.

Jeongyeon tilted her head at you, eyes unreadable but glowing softly.

“I don’t know if I want to kiss you or roast you for being this poetic.”

“Why not both?” you teased, resting your chin on your hand.

“Dangerous man.” She smirked, but her fingers—delicate and slow—tapped twice on the table, her subtle sign of wanting the conversation to keep going.

And so, it did.

Jeongyeon swirled her glass lightly, the ice clinking as her gaze floated from the amber liquid to your face. Her tone stayed casual, but there was a softness behind her next question—curious, not prying.

“So… have you ever had anyone?”

You didn’t pretend to misunderstand. You leaned back a bit, resting one arm on the edge of the booth, your lips quirking up.

“Only once. After high school.”

Jeongyeon blinked. “Wait—just once?”

You nodded. “One. Singular. Dramatic. Cringeworthy. Absolute first love type.” You let out a soft laugh, not bitter, just reflective. “The kind where you think you’d give up everything and leap off rooftops for them if they asked.”

“Yikes,” Jeongyeon muttered, amused. “So what happened?”

You offered a soft shrug, your fingers now lazily tracing the rim of your glass.

“Got two-timed. The guy was older, richer, and apparently knew how to talk like a movie character. And I was just... me.”

Jeongyeon winced, tilting her head. “Ouch.”

“Yeah,” you smiled faintly. “Cried over her for two whole years. Proper main character arc. Even wrote bad poetry and drank instant coffee like it was whiskey.”

That made her laugh—loud and unfiltered. “You’re not serious.”

“I am,” you chuckled, raising a hand in mock surrender. “Dead serious. Like tragic-boy-in-a-hoodie serious. It was my full-time job, grieving that heartbreak. Nine years ago, though. And no regrets.”

Jeongyeon blinked at you for a moment, mouth parted just slightly. Not just from amusement—but intrigue. You didn’t tell the story like it was a badge of honor or a dramatic wound to show off. You told it honestly. Easily. With enough distance to show you healed, but not so much that you forgot the weight of it.

“That’s…” she started, voice a little lower, “...honestly kind of beautiful.”

“The heartbreak?” you raised a brow.

She smiled softly. “No. The fact that you grieved it, and then grew from it instead of pretending you didn’t care. Most people fake it. You sat with it.”

You met her eyes, and this time you didn’t speak right away. Just smiled.

“Yeah. I think pain’s only useful if it becomes fertilizer.”

Jeongyeon stared at you for a beat longer than necessary. Her lips were still curved in a half-smile, but her throat worked in a subtle swallow. Something warm spread along her spine.

It wasn’t just your words—it was the way you said them. Like they had been marinated in years of lived experience, then served up gently without expectation.

And suddenly, she was aware of how close your knees were under the table. Of how the booth light caught the slight gloss of your lips, the graceful tilt of your neck, the calm way your body existed without trying to command attention.

She crossed one leg over the other, maybe just to ease the tension. Or maybe to release it.

“So you’ve been single for… a while then.”

You grinned at her teasing tone. “A long while. Nothing’s stuck since. I don’t chase. If someone stays, they stay. I’ve learned people leave no matter how tightly you hold.”

Jeongyeon’s smirk flickered—there was heat behind it now, tucked beneath her cool exterior. Your honesty had drawn her in. But it was your patience and lack of motive that made her feel safe... and uncomfortably curious.

And you? You hadn’t noticed. You were too busy admiring how expressive her eyes were when she listened. How she sometimes bit her lip to keep from smiling too much.

But the sexual tension? The way her body subtly shifted toward you, her breath slowing when your hand brushed the edge of the table near hers? You were still clueless. She wasn't.

Jeongyeon’s next words came a little quieter, her head tilted.

“You talk like someone who’s had a lot of time alone.”

You smiled faintly. “Alone’s not bad. It makes you more aware of how lovely company can be.” You looked at her with a little tilt of your own. “Present company, especially.”

Her breath hitched just slightly. She covered it with a smirk. “Careful. I’ve got a weakness for poetic men who don’t realize they’re flirting.”

“Ah,” you grinned, playing along, “then I must be a danger to your type.”

“You really are.” Her tone came almost under her breath.

A brief silence passed. Not awkward. Just thick with something. Something warming between the two of you like a low flame.

From across the bar, Nayeon whispered to Jihyo:

“She’s doomed. She’s totally doomed. Look at her! Her legs are crossed, her head’s tilted, she’s—God, she’s in trouble.”

“He doesn’t even know,” Jihyo murmured, sipping. “That’s the worst part. He’s just existing and she’s two inches from falling for him.”

Back at the booth, Jeongyeon was still watching you, her fingers now idly brushing a strand of hair from her neck.

And for a brief second, she wondered what your voice would sound like in the dark. Not just the flirting, not just the clever lines… but the voice that came when lips were close and breaths were shared. And that thought made her shift in her seat. Just barely. But enough to feel her own pulse.

Your booth was dimly lit, with the warmth of golden lights painting her skin like candlelight. Jeongyeon leaned her elbow on the table now, chin cradled in her palm as her eyes fixed on you like a cat sizing up a very interesting beam of sunlight. You weren’t trying. That’s what killed her the most.

You weren’t leaning in too close, weren’t dropping cheesy lines or overly-present hands. You were just you. Calm. Curious. That unbothered charm with no strings dangling behind your words.

And it was working better than any rehearsed move she’d ever known.

She caught herself laughing again—hand over her mouth this time, her head thrown slightly back as you told her the story about trying to cook dinner for your date once and nearly setting your curtains on fire. The way you reenacted it, flailing like an idiot with a flaming towel and a fire extinguisher that wouldn't work, had her wheezing.

But then she looked at you again, and realized something even more dangerous than your sense of humor.

You were handsome, yes. But it wasn’t that. It was how present you were. How your eyes didn’t wander. How you noticed the way she twisted her ring and asked about it. How you smiled like she wasn’t one woman in a sea of options—but like she was the most interesting story you'd found that night.

Her chest tightened. She shifted again—closer without meaning to. Your knees brushed lightly. You didn’t flinch away. You just smiled, and asked her what kind of music she listened to when she couldn't sleep. And that did it. Jeongyeon exhaled, subtly pressing her thighs together under the table.

Across the bar, Jihyo leaned back against the counter, sipping her drink with a raised brow.

“She’s on a roll.”

Nayeon turned, her cheeks already pink from the wine. “Mmhmm. It’s getting warm in here or is that just her sexual tension?”

Jihyo didn’t look away from the booth. “Girl’s vibrating like she’s sitting on a speaker. But she won’t pull the trigger unless we give her a little nudge.”

Nayeon’s lips twisted into a devious smirk. “You want me to go save her with a bathroom break?”

“Save her? No. Coach her.” Jihyo turned, holding her glass lazily. “Tell her to go for it. Just for tonight. Feel it out. Doesn’t have to be a forever-thing. Just a moment.”

Nayeon chuckled. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m a realist,” Jihyo said, swishing her drink. “She deserves something that doesn’t come with baby bottles and snack crumbs. Tell her—impulses can be good. Sometimes they lead to the best decisions.”

A minute later, Jeongyeon blinked as Nayeon slid into the booth beside her, gently tapping her on the knee.

“Bathroom. C’mon.”

“Huh—what, why?” Jeongyeon glanced at you, then at her, confused.

“You need air,” Nayeon whispered with a knowing smirk. “And also, I need to talk to you.”

You politely smiled and gestured. “Take your time.”

As they disappeared into the hallway, Nayeon tugged Jeongyeon into the women’s bathroom and locked the door behind them.

“Alright,” she whispered, leaning back against the sink, “here’s the thing. I’ve seen you flirt. I’ve seen you date. But I’ve never seen you like this.”

Jeongyeon scoffed, brushing her hair out of her face. “Like what?”

“Like you’re two seconds from crawling into his lap and whispering Shakespearean sonnets.”

Jeongyeon tried to laugh it off, but the fluster in her face betrayed her.

“I’m not—look, it’s just... he’s different, okay? He’s not pushy. He’s not weirdly smooth. He’s just... nice. And thoughtful. And hot, like a dark academia dream without the pretentiousness.”

“So?” Nayeon stepped forward, arms crossed. **“You’re here. You’re single. He’s clearly into talking to you. If you feel it... go for the moment.”

Jeongyeon blinked. “You mean... like—”

“Yes,” Nayeon said flatly, “I mean sex. One night. Test the waters. See what it turns into. Maybe nothing. Or maybe something. But don’t overthink it.”

Jeongyeon laughed breathlessly. “You make it sound so casual.”

“It is casual,” Nayeon said, tilting her head. “If you want it to be. But here’s the thing, Jeong.”

She stepped closer, gripping her friend’s shoulders gently.

“You’ve been everything for everyone lately. A mom. A sister. A provider. A protector. But tonight... maybe just be a woman.”

Jeongyeon swallowed. The words hit her harder than she expected.

“If it doesn’t feel right, walk away,” Nayeon added, softening her voice. “But if it does… then don’t. Don’t rob yourself of a good moment just because you’re afraid of how it might end.”

Silence hung for a few seconds. Then Jeongyeon exhaled. Looked at her reflection in the mirror. And for once… she didn’t see just a mother. Or a tired woman trying to hold everything together. She saw someone a man like you looked at like a warm story.

Back at the booth, your fingers were tracing a ring of condensation on your glass. You glanced toward the hallway, smiling softly to yourself—no rush, no expectations.

Just hoping she’d come back. And she would. But when she did… something in her eyes would be different. And maybe the night wasn’t going to end as quietly as you thought.

The women’s bathroom wasn’t silent anymore.

The moment Jeongyeon turned from the mirror, still processing what Nayeon had just whispered into her soul, the door creaked open—and in stepped Jihyo, heels clicking, lips curled in that “don’t-worry-I’m-already-caught-up” kind of smirk.

“You look like someone who’s about to back out,” she teased, closing the door behind her.

Jeongyeon groaned and leaned her head against the tiled wall, both palms braced on the sink. “This isn’t just ‘hook up and go,’ Jihyo. He’s different. I know it. What if I mess it up?”

“Or what if you don’t?” Jihyo replied simply. “What if this time… you get to be the one who wins?”

Jeongyeon turned to say something, but Nayeon cut in with a grin so smug it could start a fight.

“Well, if you’re not going to make a move,” she began, sliding her lipstick back into her clutch, “I might go take your place.”

Jeongyeon blinked. “What?”

Nayeon shrugged casually. “I’m single too. Divorced. Been through hell. That man outside? Looks like someone who could make me forget my ex and probably massage my back after I collapse from joy.”

She grinned and added slyly, “And you know… my daughter does deserve a good male role model someday.”

Jeongyeon’s jaw dropped.

“Yah—Nayeon!”

But the way her hands immediately gripped the edge of the sink… the way her eyes flared with something protective, possessive, primal—didn’t go unnoticed.

Jihyo raised both eyebrows and crossed her arms. “Ohhh. That’s new. You jealous?”

“I’m not jealous.”

“You’re jealous.”

“I’m not—!”

“Jeong,” Nayeon cut in, chuckling now. “If you don’t want to act on it, then don’t. But don’t expect me to just sit here when I’m watching someone give you exactly the kind of attention you haven’t had in years.”

“He’s mine,” Jeongyeon muttered without thinking, her voice low, like it belonged to someone more confident than she’d felt in ages.

There it was. Jihyo gasped dramatically. “Okay, ma’am.”

“Didn’t know we were doing declarations tonight,” Nayeon added with a grin. “Go then. Take your seat back. Before I do.”

Jeongyeon rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the tiny smirk tugging at her lips. She fixed her hair in the mirror one last time. Her cheeks still had that warm flush—not from the wine—but from you. When she walked out, she didn’t hesitate.

You were sitting exactly where she left you. Elbow resting on the table, chin on your hand, slowly rotating your glass by the rim like you were passing time with your thoughts. But the moment your eyes caught hers across the room, something happened.

They widened. Not dramatically—but just enough to be noticeable. You tilted your head slightly. A subtle furrow creased between your brows. There wasn’t a trace of suspicion or discomfort—just simple, gentle concern.

Like: "You okay?" “Did I do something?” “Was it something I said?” And for some reason, that tiny, honest reaction knocked the breath out of her. God, he’s so—adorable. Not even trying. And here she was burning up inside.

She slid back into her seat, fingers lightly trailing over the edge of the table before resting neatly in her lap. She tried to say something casual. Didn’t work.

“Sorry, bathroom break turned into girl gang therapy.”

You chuckled softly. “I figured. I was close to sending the bartender with a search party.”

That made her giggle—husky, warm, from deep in her chest. She tilted her head as she looked at you, feeling herself slip right back into that easy current you seemed to create around you.

You smiled at her, eyes still holding that soft glow.

“You okay?” you asked gently. “You seemed a bit… out of it for a second.”

Jeongyeon leaned her cheek against her knuckles now, eyes narrowing playfully.

“You always this observant?”

“Only when I care,” you replied with a playful wink. “Which apparently is… now.”

She laughed again—fully this time. “You’re dangerous.”

“I’m honest.” You sipped your drink, then added with a tilt of your brow: “Big difference.”

The air between you thickened again, but now it was warmer. Heavier. Like something shared and unspoken was starting to wrap around you both.

Jeongyeon ran her thumb along the base of her glass.

“You really wouldn’t have blinked if I said I had five kids, huh?”

You leaned back and grinned. “I’d probably ask if they’re all carbon copies of you or if the world got lucky and mixed in some chaos.”

She blushed—again. And it hit her again: this… whatever this was? It was starting to feel dangerously good.

So when her knee brushed yours again, she didn’t pull away. When your elbow grazed hers while reaching for your glass, she let it linger. And when she caught your gaze lingering on her lips—just for a split second—she didn’t look away.

Maybe Nayeon was right. Maybe it was just a moment. But maybe… just maybe, it was her moment.

The glasses between you both were nearly empty, the clink of melting ice cubes in yours the only sound between the playful laughter and the occasional brush of arms.

Jeongyeon’s eyes had grown a shade softer, lashes fluttering a little slower, gaze lingering longer with each sentence you said. There wasn’t much left of her mask—the cool sarcasm, the effortless hot girl energy. It was still there, sure—but softened now. Not because she was hiding anything. But because, for the first time in what felt like years, she didn’t feel like she had to pretend anything.

She looked up from her drink, resting her cheek in her palm again, but this time her fingers swept lightly across her jaw, showing more of that easy, quiet flirtation.

“You know…” she began, voice slower now, lower, “you’re kind of annoying.”

You blinked, half-laughing as you tilted your head.

“That so?” you grinned. “Didn’t realize I was causing you such distress.”

She leaned forward just a little, elbows on the table, her chin now resting on the back of her hand. “Mmhmm. You’re all… kind, and real, and charming in that annoyingly comforting way.”

“Annoyingly comforting?”

She smiled, shoulders swaying just slightly with that husky chuckle of hers. “Yeah. Like, you say the right thing without even trying. You’re gentle, but not boring. Funny, but not trying too hard.”

You rested your forearms on the table now, mimicking her posture without realizing it. Your smile softened as you replied:

“That’s a lot of overthinking for someone who called me dangerous a few minutes ago.”

She smirked. “You are. That hasn’t changed.”

The music from the bar's speakers shifted to something smoother, more sensual—but not overtly romantic. Just enough to make the space feel closer. More personal.

You didn’t notice it at first, but Jeongyeon’s knee had moved again. This time not brushing—but resting lightly against yours under the table. Her body slightly turned toward you. Like she had stopped debating with herself and simply decided to be there with you. Fully. No hesitations.

You hadn’t pulled away either. Maybe it was the slight warmth from the whiskey. Maybe it was the way she tilted her head when she laughed. Or how your name sounded softer in her voice every time she said it.

But your voice dipped slightly now, your words a little more careful. A little deeper.

“You’re fascinating, Jeongyeon.”

She blinked at that. Not pretty. Not hot. Not fine as hell. But fascinating.

She swallowed once, and that shift? That invisible line between playful flirting and something smoldering underneath? It flickered into place.

“No one’s called me that before,” she admitted, letting her fingers lightly trace the condensation ring from her glass. “It’s always something skin-deep. Sexy. Gorgeous. Fun.”

You tilted your head, voice softer now.

“Well, you’re all that too. But you also got layers. Hidden storms. Quiet confidence that doesn’t beg to be noticed.”

Jeongyeon was suddenly very aware of how warm her chest felt. How the alcohol wasn’t making her dizzy—it was you.

Her lips curled into a softer smile than any before, a hint of shyness breaking through her usual confidence. Then she said:

“What about you? Feeling brave yet?”

You raised a brow, amused. “Brave?”

“To say something about me that’s not poetic,” she challenged gently. “Something bold. If you dare.”

You chuckled lowly. “You sure?”

“Mmhm.”

You leaned in a little closer—nothing dramatic. Just enough so she had to breathe you in a little more.

“I think you’re dangerous too,” you murmured. “But in a slow-burn kind of way. The kind that sneaks into people’s heads at night when they’re alone. And keeps them warm without asking for permission.”

Jeongyeon laughed again, but this one was breathy. Flushed. That laugh that happens when a woman hears something she didn’t expect to love so much. She reached out this time. Fingertips grazing your wrist where your hand rested near your drink.

You looked down, then back at her. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t move. Just let her touch linger. She was quiet for a moment. Then:

“If I kissed you right now… would you stop me?”

That made your throat tighten. You blinked once, expression unreadable for half a beat. Then, your voice—low, calm, honest—spoke:

“I’d ask why you waited so long.”

And her smile—slow, dangerous, magnetic—curled at the corner like the start of a fuse being lit.

But she didn’t kiss you. Not yet. Instead, she let her fingers trail back to her lap, let the tension thrum between your locked eyes, and said with a whisper:

“Good answer… L/N Y/N.”

The game had shifted. And neither of you were playing anymore.

The song shifted again.

A slower groove now—a rhythm with soul, laced with light percussion and that kind of bass that could make your chest thrum if you stood close enough to the speakers. The bar’s lighting dimmed just enough to cast soft golden hues on the scattered dancers by the wooden floor near the back.

You had just taken another small sip when Jeongyeon suddenly stood, smoothing her shirt down casually and reaching for your hand.

“C’mon,” she said.

You looked up, one brow rising with a laugh already building in your chest. “What?”

“Let’s dance.”

“Jeongyeon,” you chuckled, keeping your voice low, a little teasing, “I’m warning you. I dance like Mr. Bean. Real floppy arms. Wrists everywhere. A national tragedy.”

She didn’t even blink. She leaned down slightly, grabbed your wrist, and tugged.

“Good. I need a partner who isn’t afraid to embarrass himself with me.” Her grin was pure fire, teasing and electric. “Besides, camaraderie, remember? Shared humiliation builds stronger bonds.”

“That’s not in any psychology book.”

“Yeah? Sue me.”

You let yourself be pulled, half-laughing, letting her lead you out of the booth like a dare you never intended to take. But here you were, feet moving across the cozy wooden flooring toward the not-so-crowded dance floor.

The first few steps were awkward—on your part.

You did try. It was maybe one part shoulder shimmy, two parts foot shuffle, and ten parts ‘what the hell am I doing with my limbs?’ Jeongyeon, however, was swaying like it was muscle memory. The bass carried her hips, her shoulders relaxed, her body confident.

She turned her head, grinning as she caught your effort.

“You’re not that bad,” she said, laughing.

“You’re lying.”

“Of course I am. But you look hot doing it.”

You gave her a look—mock offended, mildly stunned, and deeply amused. She laughed again, that husky giggle echoing as she moved in closer now, until her hands found your sides, fingertips brushing the hem of your shirt.

You froze slightly at the contact—not because you were uncomfortable. But because it was the first time she touched you with intent. Not teasing. Not playful. But guided. Sure.

Her fingers gripped gently and guided your hips just a little. “Follow the beat. Let your body loosen. Just… feel it.”

You weren’t great—but you let go. You didn’t care anymore. You let the beat thump in your chest. You let your hands lightly hover near her waist, careful not to assume anything. She noticed that too. The respect.

She rewarded it.

Jeongyeon stepped in again—this time much closer. Her body pressed just enough to your front to feel the low warmth between your ribs. And her arms, snake-like, slipped around your neck as she whispered:

“There… better already.”

Her eyes were on you again. Those mischievous, unreadable eyes—burning under dim amber light.

You were about to say something, maybe tease her back—

—but then she tilted her head.

And kissed you.

There was no pause. No hesitation.

She leaned in slow, lips brushing yours like a soft question, then answering it herself with a kiss full of ease and quiet fire. Her fingers curled slightly against your nape as her mouth moved against yours—testing, savoring, not rushing anything.

You froze for half a second.

Then your hands found her waist, light and respectful but steady. You kissed back—slowly, honestly. Letting her lead. Letting her decide where this moment would go.

But you met her there. With warmth. With intent. She pulled back just an inch, breath brushing your lips.

“You kiss like you speak,” she whispered.

“How’s that?”

“Like you mean every fucking word.”

She kissed you again—hungrier this time.

And something in your chest opened like a floodgate. All the warmth, all the tension, all the soft affection now rushing toward heat. Toward something that went beyond playful drinks and dancing.

Jeongyeon pressed closer, her body flush with yours now, her lips moving in sync with yours as the music wrapped around you both like a cocoon.

You didn’t notice the others. The other dancers, the bar chatter, even the world outside. Just the smell of Jeongyeon’s perfume—earthy and elegant—and the feel of her body leaning into yours like gravity had finally found its way.

She murmured against your lips between kisses:

“Still think you’re embarrassing me?”

“Not unless this is a public punishment.”

She chuckled, breathy, one hand sliding behind your neck to tangle softly in your hair. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew where this night was going. But neither of you said it. You didn’t need to.

Jeongyeon had barely broken the kiss when something over your shoulder caught her eye.

She blinked, a little dazed but still sharp enough to spot the two culprits near the bar—Nayeon and Jihyo watching like a live drama audience.

Nayeon’s smirk could be seen from a mile away, glass in hand like a toast to Jeongyeon’s success. Jihyo winked, subtly mouthing, “Get him out of here.”

Then Nayeon raised her brows and pointed to the door like some sexy, smug Cupid.

Jeongyeon bit back a laugh, shook her head slightly, but gave the smallest, most evil smirk in their direction. She tilted her head like, “Yeah yeah, I got it.”

The girls made no effort to stick around. They waved off any sign of goodbye and subtly slipped out the side exit—grinning like they’d just passed a romantic baton into Jeongyeon’s hands.

You were still breath-warm and dazed when Jeongyeon turned her head back toward you, biting her lower lip, debating something silently.

But instead of asking… she just acted. Her fingers slid down from your nape and slipped into your hand—intertwining with a grip that left no room for questions.

“Let’s go.”

“Go?” you echoed, amused.

“Somewhere private,” she said with that same low, husky edge you were growing more addicted to by the second.

And then—without waiting for your nod—Jeongyeon tugged you by the hand, threading through the low-lit bar, through the blurred dancing bodies, and out into the cool evening air.

You didn’t resist. Not once. Your heart was thudding behind your ribs, not out of nerves—but anticipation. A calm, assured pull toward something magnetic and raw.

The two of you reached the curb, breaths fogging lightly in the cool spring night. She stopped, realizing the pause.

“I can’t go home,” she said, almost apologetically. “My son’s with Chaeyoung tonight. I don’t… want to explain why I’m bringing a man home at 1AM.”

You nodded. “Makes sense.”

“There’s a hotel I know. Cozy. Clean. Not a hookup spot. Just…” She paused, eyes locked with yours. “Nice. And quiet.”

You pulled your car keys from your pocket and held them up between two fingers.

“Lucky for us—I drove.”

Jeongyeon blinked at the keys, then looked at you.

Then she smiled. Not a cheeky smirk. Not a flirty grin. A real one.

Like for the first time all night, she was letting herself be present in the idea of this. Of you. No more nudges, no more jokes. Just something that felt right. Spontaneous, but not stupid. Impulsive, but safe.

She led the way to your car, still holding your hand like a quiet lifeline. Neither of you rushed—but there was a tension, a hum beneath the silence.

And when she slid into the passenger seat, she looked over as you settled behind the wheel.

“Is this okay?” she asked softly, even though she had been the one to drag you outside.

You turned your head slowly, meeting her gaze, voice steady.

“It’s okay if you want it.”

That made her inhale. Sharp. Soft. Honest. She nodded, her voice nearly a whisper:

“I do.”

You pulled onto the quiet road, the world around dim and hushed. Only the occasional passing car or night breeze filling the gaps in conversation. Jeongyeon rested her elbow on the edge of the window, her other hand still linked with yours over the gearshift.

Nothing more needed to be said.

The hotel wasn’t far. It wasn’t grand or flashy—but when she led you through the lobby and up the elevator, you saw it was exactly like she said. Quiet. Warm lighting. Comfortable.

You entered the room behind her. She didn’t speak, didn’t joke. She just turned to you once the door closed.

The silence in the room wasn’t awkward. It was full. Loaded with all the unspoken things you both wanted to explore.

She stepped closer again. Hands finding your collar. Eyes scanning your features like she was trying to memorize how you looked before things changed.

And her voice was a soft hush when she said:

“Still not regretting letting me pull you to the floor like that?”

Your smirk was gentle, your tone even more so.

“I think you’ve got a talent for making good decisions.”

She leaned in, forehead pressing to yours. And kissed you again. And this time… it wasn’t just fire. It was home.

The moment the hotel door clicked shut behind you, the air thickened—charged with something slow, deliberate, and intoxicating. Jeongyeon’s hands were still tangled in your collar, her breath warm against your lips as she kissed you again, deeper this time. There was no rush, no frantic urgency—just the quiet, aching need to savor every second of this.

Her fingers slid down your chest, tracing the outline of your muscles through your shirt before settling at your waist. She pulled back just enough to look at you, her dark eyes searching yours.

"You’re sure?" she murmured, her thumb brushing over your hipbone.

You answered by cupping her face, tilting her chin up to kiss her again—softer this time, lingering against her lips. "I’ve never been more sure of anything."

A small, breathless laugh escaped her as she leaned into your touch, her body pressing flush against yours. The heat between you was undeniable, but neither of you moved to undress just yet. Instead, Jeongyeon’s hands roamed over your back, fingers kneading into the fabric of your shirt as if memorizing the shape of you.

Her lips trailed from your mouth to your jaw, then down the column of your throat, her teeth grazing lightly over your pulse. "Mmm… you smell good," she hummed, her voice low and husky.

You shivered as her hands slipped beneath your shirt, her palms warm against your skin. She took her time exploring—tracing the ridges of your abs, the dip of your waist—before sliding back up to push the fabric up your chest. You helped her pull it off, tossing it aside, and Jeongyeon exhaled sharply at the sight of you.

"Fuck…" she whispered, her fingers ghosting over your collarbones. "You’re—"

You didn’t let her finish. Catching her wrist, you tugged her closer, your mouth finding hers again in a slow, deep kiss. One of your hands slid up her side, thumb brushing just beneath the curve of her breast through her blouse. She gasped into your mouth, arching into the touch.

"Jeongyeon…" you murmured against her lips, your other hand slipping to the small of her back, pressing her even closer.

She let out a soft, shaky breath, her fingers tightening in your hair. "Yeah…?"

"Tell me what you want."

She pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, her cheeks flushed, lips slightly parted. For a moment, she just looked at you—like she was deciding how much of herself to give. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she took your hand and guided it to the first button of her blouse.

"This," she said quietly. "But… slow."

You nodded, your fingers working the first button free, then the next, revealing smooth, pale skin inch by inch. Jeongyeon watched you, her breath hitching as your knuckles brushed against her stomach. By the time the last button came undone, her blouse hung open, the lace of her bra just barely concealing the swell of her breasts.

Your hands settled on her waist, thumbs stroking over her ribs as you leaned in to press a kiss to the hollow of her throat. She tipped her head back with a quiet sigh, her fingers threading through your hair.

"God…" she breathed, her voice trembling. "You have no idea how long it’s been since someone touched me like this."

You kissed lower, your lips brushing the curve of her breast just above the lace. "Then let me remind you," you murmured against her skin.

Jeongyeon shuddered, her grip tightening in your hair as you continued your slow descent, worshipping every inch of her with your mouth and hands. The air between you was thick with want, but neither of you rushed—content to let the moment stretch, to savor the way her body responded to every touch, every kiss.

This wasn’t just about pleasure.

It was about rediscovery.

And Jeongyeon was letting herself feel it—all of it—for the first time in years.

The bed dipped beneath you as Jeongyeon guided you both backward, her fingers still tangled in your hair as you continued to trail slow, open-mouthed kisses down her throat. The vintage fabric of her dress whispered against the sheets, the high collar and ruffled sleeves framing her like something out of a dream.

You pulled back just enough to take her in—really take her in. The way the soft lamplight caught on the sheer panels of her sleeves, the way the dark green pleats contrasted against her smooth skin, the way the bow at her neck trembled slightly with each unsteady breath.

"God, you're beautiful," you murmured, your fingers tracing the edge of her collar.

Jeongyeon’s cheeks flushed darker, but she didn’t look away. Instead, she reached up, slowly undoing the bow at her neck with deliberate fingers. The high collar loosened, revealing more of her throat, the delicate hollows of her collarbones.

"This thing…" she said, voice husky, "is a pain to get out of."

You smirked, catching her wrist and pressing a kiss to her palm. "Then let me help."

With painstaking slowness, you worked your way down the tiny buttons at the back of her dress, each one giving way beneath your fingers like a small victory. The fabric parted gradually, revealing the smooth slope of her back, the delicate straps of her bra, the faintest hint of lace at her waist.

Jeongyeon shivered as the cool air hit her skin, but she didn’t rush you. She just watched—felt—as you pushed the dress from her shoulders, letting it pool around her hips.

"Fuck…" you breathed, your hands skimming up her sides, over the dip of her waist, the gentle swell of her ribs. Her body was a masterpiece—soft yet toned, curves that begged to be touched, skin so smooth it felt like silk beneath your fingertips.

You leaned down, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, then the crook of her elbow, then the slope of her shoulder. Every inch of her deserved reverence.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched as your lips found the curve of her breast just above her bra, your tongue flicking over the lace. "Ah—" Her fingers tightened in your hair, not pushing, just holding, like she needed something to ground her.

You took your time, lavishing attention on every exposed inch of her—the dip of her navel, the subtle arch of her hipbones, the sensitive skin just beneath her ribs. When your fingers finally brushed the waistband of her panties, she tensed for a fraction of a second before melting into your touch.

"Okay?" you asked against her skin.

She nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "More than okay."

You hooked your fingers into the lace, dragging it down her legs with agonizing slowness, kissing every new patch of skin as it was revealed. By the time the last scrap of fabric fell away, Jeongyeon was trembling, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

You settled between her thighs, hands sliding up her legs, thumbs brushing the inside of her knees. "Look at you…" you murmured, your voice thick with awe.

Jeongyeon bit her lip, her messy updo coming undone in soft waves around her face. "I—I haven’t let anyone see me like this in…" She trailed off, her throat working.

You leaned up, catching her mouth in a slow, deep kiss. "Then I’m honored," you whispered against her lips.

And with that, you began your worship in earnest—hands, lips, tongue mapping every curve, every dip, every shuddering breath she gave you.

Because tonight wasn’t about taking.

It was about remembering.

And you intended to make sure she never forgot.

The air between you was thick with warmth, with want, but neither of you rushed. Jeongyeon’s hands cradled your face as she kissed you deeply, her tongue sliding against yours in slow, intoxicating strokes. Every movement was deliberate—every sigh, every shift of her body against yours spoke of years of pent-up longing finally being set free.

You let her lead, your hands resting lightly on her waist as she explored your mouth with hers. When she finally pulled back, her lips were swollen, her eyes dark with something tender yet commanding.

"Tell me what you want," you murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

Jeongyeon exhaled shakily, her fingers trailing down your chest. "I want…" She paused, considering, then guided your hand to her thigh, pressing your palm firmly against her soft skin. "I want you to touch me. But how I say. When I say."

There was no harshness in her voice—only quiet certainty. A request, not a demand.

You nodded, your thumb stroking absent circles against her inner thigh. "However you want me."

A slow, pleased smile curved her lips before she leaned in to kiss you again, this time with more insistence. Her hands slid down your arms, guiding your touch where she wanted it—first to the curve of her hip, then higher, skimming the dip of her waist.

"Here," she whispered against your mouth, pressing your fingers into her skin. "Just… like that."

You obeyed, kneading gently, relishing the way her breath hitched when you found a particularly sensitive spot. She arched into your touch, her nails scraping lightly over your shoulders.

"Good," she breathed, her voice low and honeyed. "Now… slower."

You slowed your movements, letting your hands roam her body with agonizing patience—tracing the swell of her breasts over her bra, the flutter of her ribs, the softness of her stomach. Every touch was deliberate, every caress designed to draw out another quiet gasp, another shiver.

Jeongyeon’s control never wavered, but her breaths grew uneven, her kisses more desperate. When your fingers finally brushed the lace of her panties, she stilled your wrist with a firm grip.

"Not yet," she murmured, her lips grazing your jaw. "I want to feel you more first."

You let her guide your hands back up her body, let her set the pace, her quiet commands leaving no room for disobedience—not that you’d ever want to disobey.

This was her night.

And you were more than happy to let her take what she needed.

The room hummed with quiet breaths and the soft rustle of fabric as Jeongyeon arched beneath you, her fingers threading through your hair to guide your mouth lower. You obeyed without hesitation, lips brushing the delicate column of her throat, savoring the way her pulse jumped against your tongue.

"Mmm… right there," she sighed, tilting her head to give you better access.

You nipped lightly at the sensitive skin beneath her ear, smiling when she shivered. Her bra straps had slipped down her shoulders, the lace barely clinging to her curves, but neither of you moved to take it off—not yet. This was about the almost, the not quite, the torturous pleasure of feeling but not taking.

Jeongyeon’s hips rolled up against yours in a slow, deliberate grind, the thin barrier of your boxers and her panties doing little to dull the heat between you. She let out a shaky exhale, her nails scraping down your back.

"Touch me," she murmured, guiding your hand to her waist. "But don’t—ah—don’t move yet."

You stilled, palm pressed to the warm skin just above her hipbone, letting her set the rhythm. She rocked against you again, her breath hitching when your cock strained against the fabric separating you.

"Fuck…" she whispered, her forehead dropping to yours. "You feel so good."

You kissed her deeply, swallowing her moans as she ground down again, her thighs trembling with the effort to keep the pace slow. Her hands slid down your arms, fingers intertwining with yours as she pinned them to the mattress beside her head—not to restrain, but to share the moment.

"Like this," she breathed against your lips. "Just like this."

And so you let her lead, let her take what she needed—your bodies moving together in a haze of want and restraint, every touch, every kiss, every whispered plea building the tension higher.

The air between you was thick with reverence, every touch a whispered prayer against her skin. Jeongyeon lay beneath you, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths as your lips traced the slope of her shoulder, the delicate hollow of her collarbone. The straps of her bra had long since slipped down her arms, the lace clinging to her curves like a final, flimsy barrier between you and heaven itself.

You took your time.

Your mouth followed the path of your hands—kissing the inside of her wrist, the soft skin of her inner elbow, the gentle swell of her breast just above the lace. Jeongyeon shuddered, her fingers tangling in your hair, not pushing, just feeling.

"God…" she breathed, her voice trembling. "You’re killing me."

You smirked against her skin, nipping lightly at the curve of her breast before soothing it with your tongue. "Good."

Her bra was a work of art—black lace, delicate straps, the kind of thing meant to be seen but not worn for long. Your fingers traced the edge of it, teasing, toying with the clasp at the front.

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched.

"You gonna take it off?" she asked, her voice low and husky.

You hummed, pressing a kiss to the lace-covered peak of her breast, feeling it harden beneath your lips. "Not yet."

She groaned, her head falling back against the pillows as you continued your torment—kissing, licking, worshipping every inch of her through the fabric. The lace grew damp with your saliva, her nipples pebbled and desperate for more.

Finally, when her hips were rolling restlessly against yours and her breaths came in ragged gasps, you unhooked the clasp with a single, practiced flick of your fingers.

The bra fell away.

And fuck—

Jeongyeon was gorgeous.

Her breasts were full, perfectly shaped, her nipples flushed and begging for attention. You didn’t rush. You just looked, drinking in the sight of her like a man starved.

"You’re staring," she murmured, her cheeks pink.

"Yeah," you admitted, your voice rough. "Because you’re fucking perfect."

Then you leaned down and took her into your mouth—slow, deliberate, savoring the way she arched off the bed with a broken moan. Your tongue swirled around her nipple, your teeth grazing just enough to make her gasp.

"Ah! Fuck—" Her hands fisted in the sheets, her thighs squeezing around your hips. "Don’t stop, don’t stop—"

You didn’t.

You worshipped her like this for what felt like hours—sucking, licking, switching between her breasts until she was writhing beneath you, her skin flushed, her body trembling with need.

And when you finally pulled back, her chest glistening with your saliva, her nipples red and swollen from your attention, she looked at you with hazy, desperate eyes.

"You—" Her voice cracked. "You’re mean."

You grinned, kissing your way back up her body. "You love it."

She did.

And you were far from done.

The moment your palms cupped her bare breasts, you felt the difference—the way her flesh yielded more generously under your touch, the weight of them heavier in your hands, the faintest stretch marks like silver threads against her skin. Motherhood had reshaped her body, and god, it was perfect.

Jeongyeon let out a shaky breath as your thumbs brushed over her nipples, already stiff and flushed. "They're... softer now," she murmured, a hint of self-consciousness in her voice.

You answered by leaning down and taking one into your mouth, sucking deep—not rough, but with enough pressure to make her back arch off the sheets. "Mmmf—fuck," she gasped, her hands flying to your hair.

The taste of her skin, the way her breast molded against your tongue—it was intoxicating. You lavished attention on one while your hand kneaded the other, your fingers sinking into the impossibly soft flesh. Every gentle pull of your lips drew another broken sound from her throat, her hips rolling helplessly against the air.

"S-sensitive—" she choked out as you switched sides, your tongue flicking over her nipple before drawing it back into the wet heat of your mouth. Her back arched beautifully, pressing more of herself against you. "Oh god, right there—"

You worshipped her like this—sucking gently, then harder, then easing off to lap at the stiff peaks until they glistened. Your free hand roamed the fuller curves of her stomach, her hips, committing every new slope and swell to memory.

When you finally released her with a wet pop, Jeongyeon was panting, her chest heaving, her skin flushed pink from collarbones to cheeks. A thin string of saliva still connected your lips to her nipple for a second before breaking.

"Look at you," you murmured, thumbing over her slick, swollen nipple. "So fucking beautiful like this."

Jeongyeon whimpered, her thighs pressing together. "You—ah—you really love them, huh?"

You answered by sealing your mouth over her again, sucking hard just to hear her cry out, your hand squeezing the other breast possessively. The way her body gave under your touch, so soft yet so responsive—

It was enough to make you dizzy.

A quiet moment settled between you as you pulled back, your lips leaving her flushed skin. Jeongyeon’s chest rose and fell with unsteady breaths, her eyes half-lidded but searching yours—not with hunger now, but something softer. Something vulnerable.

Her fingers brushed your cheek, hesitant. "You’re... not what I expected," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head, thumb stroking the curve of her hip. "What did you expect?"

She exhaled a laugh, though it trembled at the edges. "Someone in a hurry."

The honesty in her words made your chest tighten. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead—slow, lingering, letting your lips linger against her skin like a promise. "I didn’t come here for expectations," you murmured. "I came for you."

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched. For a heartbeat, she just looked at you, her dark eyes shimmering with something unreadable. Then, with a quiet sigh, she pulled you down into a kiss—not heated, not desperate, but deep, her fingers curling into your hair like she was anchoring herself to you.

When she finally broke away, her voice was steadier. "Then show me more."

And so you did.

Your mouth returned to her breasts, but slower now, savoring. Each flick of your tongue, each gentle suckle drew a sigh from her lips, her body melting further into the sheets. Her hands roamed your shoulders, your back, not guiding, just feeling—relearning the pleasure of being touched without urgency.

The room filled with quiet sounds: the rustle of fabric, the soft wetness of your lips against her skin, her breathy murmurs of encouragement.

No rush.

No demands.

Just her, and you, and the slow, aching pleasure of rediscovery.

Your lips left a trail of slow, worshipful kisses down the soft plane of her stomach—each one a silent question, each pause a chance for her to breathe. When you reached the delicate lace of her panties, you hovered there, your breath warm against the damp fabric.

"Jeongyeon," you murmured, lifting your gaze to meet hers. Her eyes were dark, her lips slightly parted. "Can I keep going?"

A shiver ran through her. For a moment, she just looked at you—really looked—as if weighing the years of absence against the heat of now. Then, with a slow exhale, she nodded.

"Yes," she whispered. "But... go slow. It's been—" Her voice caught. —"a long time."

You pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, feeling the tremor that raced through her. "However you need," you promised.

And then, with aching slowness, you hooked your fingers into the lace and drew them down her legs, revealing her fully.

She was beautiful—flushed and glistening, her thighs pressing together instinctively before she forced them to relax. You didn’t rush. You just kissed the crease of her hip, the softness of her inner thigh, letting her adjust to the vulnerability.

"Okay?" you asked against her skin.

Her fingers tangled in your hair—not pushing, just holding on. "Yeah," she breathed. "Just... gentle."

You obeyed.

Your first touch was featherlight—a slow, reverent stroke that made her gasp. Your name spilled from her lips like a prayer as you leaned in, your mouth following where your fingers had been.

And when you finally tasted her, she arched off the bed with a broken cry, her hands clutching the sheets.

"Oh—god—"

You held her hips steady, your touch as tender as your kiss had been. This wasn’t about claiming.

It was about remembering.

And you’d take all the time she needed.

The first slow drag of your tongue through her folds drew a sound from Jeongyeon that was half gasp, half sob—her hips jerking instinctively before she forced them still. You could feel the tension in her thighs where your hands rested, the way her body trembled with each careful stroke.

"Breathe," you murmured against her, your lips brushing her sensitive skin. "Just feel it."

She let out a shaky exhale, her fingers flexing in the sheets. You took your time, mapping her with unhurried laps of your tongue—learning what made her shiver, what made her whimper, what made her thighs tighten around your shoulders. Every flick, every slow circle was a question, and her body answered in trembling sighs and hitched breaths.

When you finally closed your lips around her clit and sucked gently, her back arched off the bed with a broken cry.

"Oh—oh—" Her voice was raw, unfamiliar with this kind of pleasure after so long. "That’s... different, it’s—"

You hummed against her, the vibration wringing another gasp from her lips. Her hands flew to your hair, not pushing, just holding on, as if she might float away otherwise.

And you didn’t rush.

You licked into her like you had all night, savoring the way her taste bloomed on your tongue, the way her body clenched around nothing, desperate for more. Every soft noise she made, every twitch of her hips, was a gift—a reminder that she was here, with you, relearning what pleasure could be.

When her thighs began to shake, her breaths coming in ragged pants, you eased back just enough to meet her dazed gaze.

"Good?" you asked, your thumb brushing her inner thigh.

Jeongyeon stared at you, her chest heaving, her lips parted around unspoken words. Then, with a helpless laugh, she covered her face with one hand.

"I... forgot," she admitted, her voice muffled. "I forgot it could feel like this."

You kissed her hip, smiling against her skin. "Then let me remind you."

And as you lowered your mouth to her again, her fingers tangled in your hair, her body opening to you like a flower to the sun—slow, aching, and so damn beautiful.

The moment your lips returned to her, Jeongyeon made a sound like shattered glass—high, fragile, beautiful. Her thighs quivered where they bracketed your shoulders, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, her fingers wove through your hair, not guiding, just anchoring herself to the sensation as your tongue traced slow, worshipful circles around her clit.

"That’s it," you murmured against her, your voice honey-warm between her thighs. "Just like that. Let me take care of you."

She whimpered, her hips lifting in tiny, involuntary rolls against your mouth. You rewarded her with a long, luxurious lick from her entrance to her aching peak, savoring the way her taste bloomed sweeter with every passing second. Her breath came in staggered sighs, her stomach fluttering like a trapped butterfly as you teased her—alternating between broad, flat strokes and pinpoint flicks that made her jolt.

When you finally sealed your lips around her clit and sucked—gentle but insistent—her back arched clean off the mattress.

"Ohgod—ah! AH!—" Her voice cracked, her thighs clamping around your ears as she trembled. You didn’t relent. You hollowed your cheeks, drawing her deeper into the heat of your mouth, your tongue swirling in relentless, perfect circles.

Jeongyeon dissolved.

Her orgasm crashed through her with a sob, her body bowing tight as a drawn bowstring before collapsing back into the sheets. But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not when she was this radiant—her skin dew-kissed, her lips parted around silent cries, her cunt fluttering around nothing as you gentled your touch but never ceased.

"T-too much—" she gasped, her hips twitching away instinctively, but you caught her waist with careful hands, holding her still without force.

"Shh, I’ve got you," you soothed, pressing a kiss to her inner thigh before returning to her with a slow, savoring lick. "Just a little more. You’re doing so well."

And Jeongyeon, oversensitive and shuddering, let you.

Her thighs fell open wider, her fingers tightening in your hair as you laved at her with unhurried devotion, coaxing out every last ripple of pleasure until she was writhing again—not away, but into you, her breathy moans rising in pitch like a hymn.

"I—I can’t, I can’t—oh!"

Her second climax was slower, deeper, a tidal wave rather than a crash. You drank her in, your name spilling from her lips like a prayer as she trembled through it, her body pliant and boneless when you finally lifted your head.

Jeongyeon blinked dazedly down at you, her chest heaving, her lips kiss-swollen and parted. For a long moment, she just stared, her expression caught between awe and something dangerously close to reverence.

Then, with a shaky laugh, she covered her face with both hands.

"You’re…" Her voice cracked. "That was filthy."

You grinned, pressing a kiss to her hip. "And you loved every second."

She peeked at you between her fingers, her blush deepening.

She couldn’t deny it.

Her stomach quivered beneath your lips as you traced idle patterns across the soft expanse—kissing the faint silver lines left by motherhood, the gentle curve of her waist, the warmth of her skin as it rose and fell with each shuddering breath. Jeongyeon exhaled a laugh, half-dazed, her fingers combing through your hair with lazy affection.

"Mmm… what’re you doing down there?" she murmured, her voice still thick with pleasure.

You smiled against her skin, pressing another kiss just below her navel. "Admiring you."

She huffed, but you felt the way her body arched subtly into your touch, seeking more. "Flatterer."

"Truth-teller," you corrected gently, smoothing your palms up her sides in a slow, worshipful glide. "Look at you. All unraveled and glowing. Like something out of a dream."

Jeongyeon’s breath hitched—not from overstimulation this time, but something quieter, more vulnerable. Her hands stilled in your hair, her thumbs brushing your temples as she watched you through heavy-lidded eyes.

"Been a while since someone looked at me like this," she admitted softly.

You lifted your head just enough to meet her gaze, your lips grazing the dip of her waist. "Then they were blind."

The sound she made was barely a whisper—half a laugh, half a sigh—before she tugged you up by your hair, her mouth finding yours in a kiss that tasted like shared warmth and something dangerously close to tenderness.

When she pulled back, her cheeks were pink, her lips swollen, her eyes brighter than you’d ever seen them.

"Keep talking like that," she murmured, nipping at your lower lip, "and I might just believe you."

You grinned against her mouth. "Good."

The kiss lingered—soft, unhurried, her lips moving against yours with a sweetness that made your chest ache. When you finally pulled back, Jeongyeon’s eyes fluttered open, her lashes casting delicate shadows on her flushed cheeks. You brushed your thumb along her jaw, marveling at the way the dim light caught the faint sheen of sweat on her skin.

"You’re staring again," she whispered, but there was no teasing in her voice now—just quiet wonder.

"Can’t help it," you admitted, tracing the curve of her bottom lip with your fingertip. "You’re…" Words failed you for a moment. How could you describe the way her laughter lines crinkled at the corners of her eyes when she smiled? The way her breath hitched when you touched her just so? The way she looked at you—like you’d hung the moon and stars just for her?

Jeongyeon tilted her head, waiting, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of your neck.

"You’re alive," you finally murmured, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Like… sunlight through leaves. Or that first sip of coffee in the morning."

She let out a breathless laugh, her nose scrunching adorably. "That’s the cheesiest thing anyone’s ever said to me."

"And yet," you teased, nipping lightly at her lower lip, "you’re still blushing."

She was. A pretty pink flush spread from her cheeks down to her chest, her pulse fluttering beneath your lips as you kissed your way along her throat. Her fingers tightened in your hair, tugging just enough to make you groan—and god, the way her breath caught at the sound, like she was filing it away somewhere precious.

"Say it again," she breathed, arching into you.

"What? That you’re beautiful?" You grinned against her skin, relishing the way her stomach muscles tensed at the words. "That you taste like honey?" Another kiss, this time to the hollow of her throat. "That I could spend forever learning every way to make you sigh like that—?"

Jeongyeon cut you off with a searing kiss, her hips rolling up against yours in a slow, deliberate grind that stole the air from your lungs. When she pulled back, her eyes were dark, her lips swollen, her voice a husky whisper:

"Keep talking. Please."

And so you did—between kisses, between touches, between every shared breath—until the room spun with nothing but her name and the honeyed weight of your admiration.

Her hands were gentle but insistent as she guided you onto your back, her lips trailing fire along your collarbone as she settled between your thighs. You could feel her smile against your skin when her fingers brushed the waistband of your pants—the way she paused, just for a heartbeat, to savor the way your breath hitched.

"Let me," she murmured, her voice thick with promise.

And then, with agonizing slowness, she peeled the fabric down your hips, freeing your aching cock into the cool air. Her breath caught—a soft, reverent sound—as she took you in, her fingers hovering just above your length like she was afraid to touch something so sacred.

"God, you're beautiful," she whispered, her thumb brushing the swollen head, smearing the bead of precum that had gathered there.

You shuddered, your hips lifting instinctively, but Jeongyeon pressed a firm hand to your stomach, holding you down with a smirk.

"Patience," she chided, her eyes flicking up to yours. "I want to savor this."

And then she leaned in, her lips parting, and took just the tip of you into her mouth.

The heat of her tongue was electric—a slow, swirling caress that made your toes curl into the sheets. She hummed around you, the vibration shooting straight to your core as her fingers stroked the base of your shaft in lazy counterpoint.

"J-Jeongyeon—" you gasped, your hands fisting in the sheets.

She pulled off with a wet pop, her lips glistening. "Mm? Too much?"

You shook your head frantically, your cock twitching against your stomach. "Not enough."

Jeongyeon laughed—a low, throaty sound that went straight to your already throbbing length—before diving back in, her tongue lapping at your slit like she was tasting the finest wine.

And as she worshipped you—with her lips, her hands, her words—you realized:

This wasn’t just about pleasure.

It was about belonging.

Her lips were softer than you remembered—or maybe you'd just never noticed before how tenderly they could worship. Jeongyeon took her time, her mouth a slow, searing brand against your length as she kissed her way down your shaft, pausing to nuzzle the sensitive skin of your inner thigh before returning with deliberate care.

"You taste like sunlight," she murmured against your heated flesh, her breath ghosting over your tip. "Warm. Sweet."

The words alone made you throb, but it was the way she looked at you—eyes dark with affection rather than hunger—that unraveled you completely. When she finally took you into her mouth again, it wasn't with the frantic pace you'd expected. Instead, she lavished attention on every inch, her tongue tracing the veins along your length as if memorizing them, her lips sealing around you in slow, sucking pulls that drew moans from your chest rather than your groin.

"Jeongyeon—" Your voice cracked as her thumb brushed the base of your cock, her other hand cradling your balls with a gentleness that bordered on sacred.

She hummed in response, the vibration traveling straight to your spine. When her eyes flicked up to meet yours—holding your gaze as she swallowed you deeper—it felt less like a blowjob and more like a confession.

Every movement was a whispered I see you.

Every suckle a silent I adore you.

And when your hips jerked involuntarily, she didn't pull away. She simply pressed a soothing hand to your stomach, her rhythm never faltering, her devotion never wavering—

Until the pleasure crested like dawn breaking, spilling into her waiting mouth with a gasp of her name that sounded more like a prayer than a curse.

Jeongyeon swallowed every drop, her lips lingering at your tip to kiss away the aftershocks before resting her cheek against your thigh with a sigh.

"Beautiful," she whispered, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your hip. "You're so beautiful like this."

And for the first time in your life—

You believed it.

The moment your lips brushed her temple, Jeongyeon stilled beneath you—her breath catching in that fragile way that had nothing to do with pleasure. You paused, your hand hovering over her hip, waiting.

"We don’t have to—"

"I know," she interrupted softly, her fingers tracing the line of your jaw. A single tear slipped free before she could stop it, glinting in the low light. "It’s just… he used to say that. ‘Be happy.’ Like it was that simple."

Your chest ached. You caught her tear with your thumb, cradling her face as if she might dissolve under your touch. "And are you?"

Jeongyeon closed her eyes, her lashes fluttering against damp cheeks. For a long moment, the only sound was her unsteady breath. Then, with a shuddering exhale, she pressed her forehead to yours.

"I think," she whispered, "I could be."

The kiss that followed was salt-edged and slow, her lips trembling against yours before steadying—choosing, with every brush of her tongue, every sigh into your mouth, to stay here, in this moment, with you.

When she finally guided your hips between her thighs, it wasn’t with desperation, but something far more vulnerable: trust.

"Show me," she breathed against your lips. "Show me how you love."

And as you slid into her—slow, reverent, achingly careful—Jeongyeon didn’t cry. She bloomed.

The first push inside her was met with a gasp that had nothing to do with pain—her body arched like a bowstring, her nails scoring lightly down your back as she adjusted to the stretch. You stilled, forehead pressed to hers, your breath mingling in the scant space between your lips.

"Okay?" you murmured, your voice rough with restraint.

Jeongyeon nodded, her hips canting up in silent demand. "Mmm… more."

You gave it to her—not with a snap of your hips, but with a slow, rolling thrust that drew a moan from her throat. Her legs wrapped around your waist, her heels pressing into the small of your back as if to keep you there, deep, where the heat of her threatened to unravel you.

The way her body clung to yours was obscene—every inch of her fluttering around you, her inner walls pulsing as if trying to memorize the shape of you. You groaned, your fingers tangling in her hair as you angled your hips just so, watching her eyes flutter shut at the new pressure.

"There?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongyeon bit her lip, her thighs trembling where they bracketed yours. "Y-yes—god, yes—"

You set a rhythm then—not fast, not frantic, but deep, each thrust a deliberate stroke designed to wring every ounce of pleasure from her. Her breasts swayed with the movement, her nipples pebbled and begging for attention, but you resisted. This wasn’t about chasing an end.

This was about savoring.

Her fingers traced the sweat-slick planes of your back, her breath coming in ragged pants against your ear. "You feel—ah—so good—"

You swallowed her words with a kiss, your tongues tangling as you moved inside her, the slide of your bodies slick and sinful. The bed creaked beneath you, the sheets tangled around your ankles, but neither of you cared.

Not when she was looking at you like that—like you’d hung the moon and stars just for her.

The room filled with the slick, sinful sounds of your bodies moving together—each thrust drawing Jeongyeon higher up the sheets, her breasts bouncing slightly with every deep stroke until her head nearly touched the headboard. You caught her hips, pulling her back down your length with a groan, the muscles in your arms straining as you angled yourself just right to watch her face crumple in pleasure.

Her thighs trembled where they hugged your waist, her slick folds clinging to every inch of you as you withdrew only to sink back in with deliberate, aching precision. A pearl of sweat rolled down between her breasts, catching on her peaked nipple before disappearing into the valley of her chest. You followed its path with your tongue, laving over the stiff peak until she gasped, her back arching off the mattress.

"Mmm... sensitive?" you murmured against her skin, your lips brushing the flushed swell of her breast.

Jeongyeon whimpered, her fingers scrambling against your shoulders. "Y-you know I am," she panted, her voice honey-sweet even as her hips rolled up to meet your next thrust with a wet slap. "A-ah! Right there—"

You obliged, your pace never faltering as you drove into her again and again, the heat between her legs bordering on scalding. Her inner walls fluttered around you, her body trying desperately to pull you deeper even as you kept the rhythm slow, maddening.

Her hands found your face, her thumbs brushing your cheekbones as she pulled you down for a kiss—deep and messy, her tongue sliding against yours between breathy moans. When you broke apart, her lips were swollen, her gaze hazy with need.

"You're beautiful like this," you breathed, your voice thick with awe as you watched her body take you—her stomach quivering with each thrust, her thighs squeezing your hips in silent plea.

Jeongyeon whined, her nails digging half-moons into your biceps. "T-talk too much," she managed, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her.

You chuckled, rolling your hips in a slow, circular grind that had her seeing stars. "You love it."

She did.

And as the room filled with the sounds of your lovemaking—skin against skin, breathless laughter, whispered praise—neither of you cared about anything but this moment.

This feeling.

This love.

The moment your hands found her waist, rolling her hips against yours in a slow, filthy grind, Jeongyeon shattered—not with an orgasm, but with something deeper. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her nails biting into your shoulders as she clung to you like you were the only solid thing in a spinning world.

"F-feels like—" Her voice broke as you angled your hips just so, the head of your cock brushing that sweet spot inside her that made her thighs quake. "Like I'm waking up—"

You understood.

Every drag of your length inside her was a reminder—of heat, of sensation, of the way her body could still sing beneath someone's touch. Her back arched off the mattress, her breasts flushed and heaving as you set a pace that was less about friction and more about feeling—deep, rolling thrusts that had her seeing stars with every slow withdrawal, every aching push back in.

Her legs locked around your waist, her heels digging into the small of your back as if to keep you there, buried to the hilt where the heat of her threatened to undo you. The way her walls fluttered around you—clenching rhythmically like a heartbeat—was obscene, the slick sounds of your joining filling the room alongside her breathy whimpers.

"Look at me," you murmured, your voice rough with restraint as your thumbs brushed the damp hollows of her collarbones.

Jeongyeon's eyes fluttered open, glassy with unshed tears—not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelm of it all. The way you moved inside her, the way your breath hitched when she clenched around you, the way your hips stuttered when she rolled her own to meet you.

"I see you," you whispered, your forehead dropping to hers as you pressed in deep, holding there as her body trembled beneath you. "God, Jeongyeon—alive, so alive—"

Her answering sob was muffled against your lips as she kissed you—desperate, messy, her teeth catching your lower lip as her hips lifted to take you even deeper. The stretch burned, her inner muscles fluttering wildly as if trying to memorize every ridge, every pulse of your cock as you moved within her.

And when your hand slid between you, your thumb finding her swollen clit in slow, deliberate circles, she broke—her back bowing off the bed as her thighs shook, her walls clamping down on you in rhythmic waves that had you seeing stars.

But you didn't stop.

Couldn't stop.

Not when every gasp, every twitch, every tremor was proof that she was here—Alive, Loved, Maybe...yours

Her orgasm hit like a slow-moving storm—building in the tremors of her thighs first, the way her toes curled against your calves, the desperate clutch of her fingers in the sheets. You felt it everywhere: in the way her breath stuttered against your neck, in the sudden flutter of her walls around your cock, in the choked-off whimper that escaped her lips as the first wave crested.

"Oh—oh god—"

Jeongyeon's back arched beautifully off the mattress, her head tipping back as pleasure rolled through her in relentless waves. Her breasts heaved with each ragged gasp, her nipples pebbled and flushed, her stomach quivering as the sensations wracked her body. You held her through it—your thrusts gentling but never stopping, your lips pressed to the frantic pulse at her throat as she trembled beneath you.

"That's it," you murmured, your voice thick with awe as you watched her come undone. "Let go. Just feel it."

And she did.

Her climax was a living thing—rippling through her in slow, syrupy pulses that had her clenching around you rhythmically, her inner muscles milking your length as if trying to draw you deeper. Her thighs shook where they bracketed your hips, her heels digging into the small of your back as if to anchor herself.

"T-too much—" she sobbed, her hands flying to your shoulders, her nails biting into your skin. But even as she said it, her hips rolled up to meet your next thrust, her body demanding more even as it threatened to overwhelm her.

You obliged, your pace never faltering as you guided her through the aftershocks—each slow, deep stroke prolonging her pleasure until she was gasping, her eyes screwed shut, her lips parted around silent cries.

When the last tremor finally subsided, Jeongyeon went boneless beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin glistening with sweat. Her fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, her touch feather-light as she floated back to earth.

"Alive?" you teased, brushing a damp lock of hair from her forehead.

She cracked one eye open, her lips curving into a drowsy, sated smile. "Mmm... very."

The room was quiet save for the sound of your mingled breaths, the sheets tangled around your legs like afterthoughts. Jeongyeon lay sprawled beneath you, her skin still flushed, her chest rising and falling in slow, contented waves. You traced idle patterns along her hip, smiling when she shivered at the touch.

"Tickles," she murmured, her voice drowsy and thick.

You hummed, leaning down to press a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. "Good tickles or bad tickles?"

She cracked one eye open, her lips quirking. "Annoying tickles."

You laughed, your fingers dancing higher, skimming the dip of her waist. "What about here?"

Jeongyeon squirmed, her breath hitching when your thumb brushed the underside of her breast. "You," she accused, though there was no heat in it—just a fond exasperation that made your chest warm.

You grinned, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. "Me."

She huffed, but her arms wound around your shoulders anyway, her fingers carding through your hair in a way that was more affectionate than teasing. "You’re insufferable."

"And yet," you murmured, kissing the spot just below her ear that always made her gasp, "you haven’t pushed me away yet."

Jeongyeon sighed—a long, exaggerated sound—before rolling you onto your back with surprising strength, her thighs straddling your hips with practiced ease. Her hair was a mess, her lips still swollen from earlier, her eyes bright with mischief.

"Who said anything about pushing you away?"

And then she leaned down, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that was less about heat and more about promise—slow, sweet, and entirely too confident for someone who’d just come undone beneath you minutes ago.

You groaned, your hands settling on her waist. "You’re gonna be the death of me."

She smirked, her teeth nipping at your lower lip. "Good."

The words left her lips in a breathless rush, her fingers tracing idle patterns on your chest. "I love how you love me," she murmured, her voice still hazy from her first climax. "But... I need you to ruin me now."

A shiver ran down your spine at the quiet plea in her tone. You cupped her face, kissing her with a reverence that bordered on worship—slow, deep, your tongue sliding against hers in a silent promise. When you pulled back, her lips were parted, her eyes dark with anticipation.

"How bendy are you, baby?" you asked, your thumb brushing her swollen lower lip.

Jeongyeon blinked, her brows knitting together in adorable confusion. "I—what?"

"Yoga. Stretches. That kind of thing," you clarified, your voice dropping to a husky murmur as your hand trailed down her body, skimming the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip.

A slow, dawning realization lit her features, followed by a smirk that was all mischief. "Oh, please. I could out-stretch a pretzel."

You grinned, pressing one last kiss to her lips before shifting your weight. "Prove it."

With careful hands, you guided her legs up, folding them toward her chest until her knees brushed her shoulders. The position arched her back beautifully, her body open and achingly vulnerable beneath you. Jeongyeon gasped as you settled between her thighs, the new angle allowing you to sink into her with a single, devastating thrust.

"F-fuck—!" Her voice cracked, her nails scrabbling at the sheets as you bottomed out inside her, the stretch bordering on too much.

You stilled, your forehead dropping to hers as she adjusted, her inner walls fluttering wildly around your cock. "Okay?" you breathed, your voice rough with restraint.

Jeongyeon nodded frantically, her hips canting up in silent demand. "More—"

You obliged.

The first pullout was slow, deliberate, your cock dragging against her walls in a way that had her seeing stars. The second thrust was harder, deeper, the head of your length brushing that sweet spot inside her that made her scream.

"There—right there—!" she sobbed, her thighs trembling where they bracketed your shoulders.

You set a brutal pace then—each snap of your hips driving into her with pinpoint precision, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room alongside her broken moans. The angle was obscene, allowing you to watch every inch of your cock disappear into her, her slick folds stretched taut around your girth.

Jeongyeon unraveled beneath you, her back arching off the bed, her breasts bouncing with every thrust. Her hands flew to her own nipples, pinching and tugging at the stiff peaks as if chasing even more sensation.

"Look at you," you groaned, your fingers digging into her hips as you pistoned into her. "—god, you feel unreal—"

She could only whimper in response, her body alight with pleasure, her walls clenching around you in rhythmic pulses as if trying to pull you even deeper.

And as the room filled with the sounds of your joining—her choked-off cries, your ragged breaths, the lewd squelch of your cock moving inside her—neither of you cared about anything but this.

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