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skzdarlings · 2 months ago

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the rescue ; skz; aotm!hyunjin x reader

original ask: requested by @tattywood: ❛ i'm simply enjoying the view. it's not every day i get to fuck someone so pretty. ❜ would 100000% fit Hyunjin 🩶 + requested by anonymous: ❛ you're mine, and i take care of what belongs to me. ❜ with hyunjin? thank you

pairing: hwang hyunjin/reader content info: artist of the month!hyunjin was inspo here. gangster stuff, reader has been kidnapped and is in a see through nightdress, most violence off page though, bad guy hyunjin who is actually a good guy, arranged marriage, multiple smut scenes, not great communication but gets better lol. smut includes fingering, blow jobs, pussy eating, piv, spanking, light choking, husband/wife kink. word count: 6300 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy! <3

“I’ve already explained,” you say, equal parts frustrated and exhausted. “My husband isn’t coming for me.”

The gangster cronies still don’t seem to understand. You are tied to a chair in their basement (because they are preposterously corny goons, tying you up like a comically silly damsel in a ridiculous film) while they berate you for your husband’s tardiness.

You have tried explaining, over and over, that Hyunjin is not coming, but they won’t accept that answer. The fools try in vain to reach him again, but his line leads straight to a dial tone.

He went radio silent after the initial video contact, when your captors demanded a price for your healthy return.

Hyunjin was quiet on the call. Your husband is a quiet man in general, though he knows how to use his charms and work a room, and he has certainly perfected the art of severe intimidation. When your marriage was arranged, one mob family to the other, you mistakenly assumed you were marrying a monster.

Hyunjin is very reserved when not conducting business. He doesn’t engage in any of the more debauched sides of the business, unlike the men in your family. Evenings at home are silent and still, the penthouse view of the glittering cityscape the only real bustle.

Maybe that shouldn’t have surprised you. When he took over his family’s business, Hyunjin altered a lot of their practices, cutting the crueler sectors, opting for illicit crimes of more practical varieties.

The country is in a political chokehold, government affairs conducted none too differently from the criminal underworld. The cops are all dirty, the politicians corrupt, the wealthy depraved. Hyunjin has taken it upon himself to alleviate the pressure suffered by the regular people, the civilians who truly pay the price of a broken system.

In a world with no good guys, sometimes only villains can be heroes.

You think of his face now, how he certainly looked the part of a villain on the video call. Hyunjin has a very austere demeanour, exacerbated by his severe appearance: sharp marble features and dark, vicious eyes often further darkened with heavy lining, sleek black hair, scattered scars and tattoos, and the sort of regard that judges at a glance. He is young, but he has the air of a man who has already traversed the universe and found it wanting.

You think of his face now, the silent perusal he gave your bound body on that video call. You are dressed in your favourite nightgown, your underthings partially visible through the light material, but it was not willingly donned. At the time of your kidnapping, you were attired appropriately for the wealthy wife of a famous gangster. You were returning from a family visit when your captors intercepted you in transit from the airport.

Either to intimidate or threaten or just because they could, they made you remove all your jewelry and fine clothes. They rifled through your luggage and demanded you change into the nightgown.

Hyunjin recognized the nightdress, realized you must have been stripped, and likely inferred the very worst.

“Address,” was the only word Hyunjin said. He ended the call seconds later.

“Oh, he’ll come,” your captor says. He points at you with a hand that feels more threatening than a knife. It makes your terrified heart leap into your throat. “Or else.”

“He won’t, though!” you exclaim. “You’re wasting your time!”

They are not listening. They leave the basement, slamming the door behind them.

You huff and settle back in your bonds.

It is only a matter of time before they realize you are telling the truth. Hyunjin will not waste the money or resources to rescue you. He has always been respectful of the marriage arrangement, but your husband is not sentimental. There is a professional distance between you. His decision will be based in the logic of all his strategies: nothing personal, just a matter of business.

You sometimes see a different side of him, something buried under that quiet intensity. He collects fine art and spends hours poring over his favourite pieces, listening to music, losing himself to artistic fantasies. He always comes back, but you know there are other worlds in his mind.

Every attempt to bridge the gap has been gently rebuffed, but there have been moments when your husband seems curious about you. You often catch him staring. He gets a wistful look that softens his face, even with that shield of make-up. His eyes are gentle when you talk about your passions. You never let his quietude deter your friendly penchant for chatter. He seems more than content to listen. He remembers everything too.

You know he finds you attractive, if nothing else. He has caved on that front several times over, though not right away. He didn’t touch you on the wedding night, nor the honeymoon. He left your beach holiday early to return to business, leaving you in a villa with security and his credit card. It was the first time you realized the material world was no replacement for true companionship. You missed his dark eyes.

Your family also had expectations. There would be consequences if the marriage fell through. You would be blamed, not him. Worried he would renege on the nuptials, you did everything to try and seduce him.

He politely rejected you at every turn.

Just when you were resigned, he arrived home after a job. It was almost three in the morning when he entered the penthouse. You have separate bedrooms but they share a connecting bathroom. You could hear him cursing above the running water.

You only meant to peek. The sliding door on your side was partially ajar so you tip-toed over.

Hyunjin was standing in front of the mirror, shirtless, pressing a rag to his wounded shoulder. There was a mess of blood streaked down his back, making you gasp at the terrible mosaic of pain, his body littered with violent scars.

That gasp contained multitudes, for the horror, for his beauty. His dark eyes were as severely lined as ever, expression intense as he breathed hard through the pain. Smooth black hair fell across his face when he tipped his head.

He froze at the sound of your gasp. His turn was very slow, eyes peeking through the curtain of his short hair. They captured yours.

You held your breath.

Eventually, he straightened, flicking his hair out of his face. He looked in the mirror and sighed.

“You can come in,” he said. “This is your home too.”

You slid the door open, just enough to squeeze through. Your attention was utterly transfixed on his bleeding shoulder. You could see the wound was a thin stripe. It was not deep so stitches were not necessary, but it was slightly out of his reach as it sloped towards his back.

“Oh, Hyunjin,” you said, thoughtlessly taking the rag right out of his hands.

In spite of the violence that raised you, or maybe because of it, you can’t stand to see suffering. You and Hyunjin have had that in common from the start. You were quick to help him clean the wound, wordlessly wiping all the blood then applying cream across the clotted cut.

He flinched when the stinging cream made contact. You went to apologize but your words evaporated when your eyes met through the mirror. You were surprised to find him already looking at you, that expressive gaze as thoughtful as ever.

“How did this happen?” you couldn’t help but ask, eyes rivetted to his reflection. “You – you have people to protect you.” You managed to rip your gaze away, looking at your task, feeling hot in the face.

“I do,” he said. “But I’d never ask someone to do something I’m not willing to do myself.”

This did not surprise you to hear. It is obvious that Hyunjin cares very deeply about the wellbeing of other people. It is a fact known to few. It aggravates you at times, but his reputation does not seem to bother him. He would rather people think him a monster while he secretly does good rather than be praised in public while cruel in private.

You have never known another man like him. Looking at that scar that night, the realization truly struck you.

Your fingers began to tremble where they brushed his bare skin, your eyes widening as you looked at the scar and many others. If something happened to him, what would become of you? Certainly, as his widow, you would be financially sound, but what did that matter? This world would lose something irreplaceable if it lost Hwang Hyunjin. This penthouse could be brimming with silver and gold and it would be empty, worthless.

Tears in your eyes, you succumbed to desire, kissing him very gently on his hurt shoulder.

“Hyunjin,” you said, your eyes closed, lips grazing his skin as you spoke. “Please make sure you always come home, okay?”

He did not answer at first. When you lifted your eyes and looked in the mirror, those dark eyes were so enflamed that you were surprised nothing caught fire.

“Hyunjin?” you said softly.

“You mean that,” he said, not quite a question, more like a realization.

“Of course,” you replied. You looked at his scarred back again, let your fingertips brush down the length of his spine. It made him stand a little straighter. “Have you ever known me to lie?” you asked.

He finally turned around, looking at you with an long-engrained wariness, but also a hunger. He was a starving man presented with a banquet, but one who did not easily trust when sitting at someone else’s table.

“You’re a smart woman,” he said. “I know that. And I know that you’re – good.”

Good was an exhale, like the word was too heavy for his tongue. You realized that his wariness was less suspicion for you than hesitation regarding himself. He was only starving because he though himself undeserving of the meal he wanted.

“You’ve seen – and done – many bad things tonight, haven’t you?” you asked.

Having the full force of his gaze was overwhelmingly heady. You remember how it made your heart race like you were being chased, your breath catching over and over until you were almost panting.

Arousal struck quickly, a sensation like you never experienced before. You thought you understood attraction, but not until that moment when he released a breath, so close to your face, and you became truly aware of his proximity. Of him, of all that he was, all that he did. His character, his hidden depths.

Your husband.

It made your racing heart thunder something fierce, your blood pumping hotly, throbbing places you did not know were so sensitive.

You desperately wondered what was on his mind. The gears in his head were spinning and whirring, delaying his response. Was he feeling the same tension? Were his thoughts the same realization?

My wife.

“Yes,” he finally said.

“Is there something I can do to help?” you asked.

His tattooed hand cupped your head, tilting it just so. It made your lips part with a gasp, eyelids heavy with anticipation for a kiss.

He took his time looking at you, like he was scrubbing all those bad memories away, replacing them with the flustered look on his aroused wife’s face.

“Yes,” he said again, and kissed you for the first time.

You were so glad he rebuffed your previous half-hearted advances, clumsy seductions made out of obligation rather than desire. It was so different to that kiss. You would not have known how to even ask for a kiss like that. You never knew what you were missing.

Your quiet husband and his multitudes. All that simmering intensity, hot just below the surface of his icy demeanour, burned right through his skin. His kiss was ravishing, entirely possessive, like he wished to take your whole essence into him and hold it forever.

He walked you backwards. With a snap of his wrist, he slid the door open the rest of the way, so sharp that it tried to bounce back. He continued onward, kissing you until you were dizzy with it.

He picked you up just to put you on the bed himself. Your kiss separated only then as you landed with a bounce and a breath.

He loomed over the edge of the bed, this man who was both stranger and husband, hero and villain. He looked at you like he already loved you. He looked at you and saw the reciprocation. You had fallen for him without realizing you had ever even stumbled.

He ran his hands through his hair, the sleek black locks fluttering back into place. His eyes were still rivetted to your face, to your body. You were wearing the nightdress you are wearing now. It is why it became your favourite.

He looked down at you, the material translucent enough to see the details of your body. It broke through that last layer of ice. He surrendered with a choked breath.

He unclasped a holster on his thigh, dropped a knife that was hidden in a pocket. Once unarmed, his hands went to his belt. You watched those nimble, efficient fingers, swallowing hard. You were aching to an embarrassing degree, undoubtedly obvious in your desires. No one ever warned you it would feel like this, just being looked at, never mind touched.

Then his belt was on the floor and he touchedyou for real. His calloused hands moved up your thighs, pushing the nightdress up and out of his way. He climbed on top of you, swift as a feline, mouth descending onto yours with that same desperate hunger as before.

Recollection makes you crave another kiss. You think you will always be starving for more.

“Hyunjin,” you whispered, hands on his face, his shoulders, down to his chest.

He took your hands and laced your fingers with his, pinning those hands to the bed. He kissed you again, long and slow. It was all more sensual than desperate.

His voice, however, was desperate when he begged, “Let me make you feel good, please.” He kissed down your face, your jaw, your throat. “Please, my wife.” He kissed further down still, through your nightdress, tracing the curve of your breast with his tongue, wetting the material and awakening every nerve beneath it. “My wife,” he repeated.

“My husband.” The words left your lips in a dizzy, delirious whisper.

It was all the confirmation he needed. Those deft and skilled hands, so quick to assemble weapons and pull triggers, applied themselves with a startling gentleness. He took you apart and put you together with the same efficient ease.

He hooked his fingers in the only material between him and his desire, tugged it out of his way. His fingers went to you, slipping through all that wetness. Those intense eyes rolled back even though it was just his fingers inside you, then he closed his eyes like it was too much, and it seemed he had to temper himself, murmuring nonsense as he let his fingers sink into you.

He kissed you again, drinking down every sigh and gasp and moan while he fucked you with his long fingers. It was like he could taste your pleasure, like he was trying to get drunk on it, every noise you made filling his mouth. He gave them back and brought you over a peak, first with his hands, then with his mouth. He laid between your legs and put your thighs around his head, losing himself entirely in you.

He did not remove a single article of your clothing nor his pants, not that first time. He simply held the material to the side as he unzipped and finally got inside you. It made your whole body keen, coming to life like it never had before. You forgot all your sensibilities and let every wanton sound and action loose.

He responded in kind. His kiss tasted like your pleasure, his heart pounding as fast as yours where your chests pressed together. You were careful near his injured shoulder, fingertips dodging scars. Your soft touch made him whimper, this powerful man entirely undone by a few caresses.

His skin was hot and he worked up a sweat, but his stamina seemed endless. He always wanted more.

You fell asleep tucked in his arms, content to believe the walls had crumbled. However, they revealed themselves in the morning light, as concrete as ever. He slipped away and left a note to excuse his absence as he was called away to business. You thought about phoning or messaging him, but those lines were not always secure, not for such intimate conversations.

When he returned a few days later, he hid behind those concrete walls, but too much had changed. There was now an awareness of your proximity and your distance. The lack of intimacy was not called into question before, the absence of something being a nothing. But now that nothing was something, or had been something for a moment, and it made you both very aware of how it was now missing – and anticipating always when it might again appear.

He tried very hard to keep away, to stay cordial at best, his habitual quietude even heavier than before. But while his silence was significant, so was his glance. Every time you turned around, he was already looking at you, a longing in his eyes and a thought on his lips that he never dared to speak aloud.

You granted him some distance for a time. When it became abundantly obvious he was holding himself in check, you realized that your own vulnerability was required to bridge the gap.

One night you crossed through the bathroom, slid open the door on his side. You found him at his desk, dressed down in a white dress shirt and pants. His blazer was discarded on the floor, his face still made up.

He stood quickly when you entered, though he didn’t say anything.

It was strange to imagine this man would need any reassurance, but you felt that was the case. His fingers fidgeted at his sides, his roving eyes studious.

You said nothing. You approached him, laid your hands on his chest, and gently guided him back into his chair. He sat slowly, his eyes on your face the entire time, even when he had to tip his head back to peer up at you.

You ran your fingers through his hair. When you entered the room, his face was tightly screwed in an expression of aggravation, but all those harsh lines softened as you traced a thumb down the sharp slope of his cheek.

There were some wipes on his desk. You took one and began to carefully remove that shield of dark make-up. His hand lifted but not to stop you, simply to rest his palm on your waist. He began to really touch you, feeling the shape of your body through your robe as you helped him come back to himself.

“Hello,” you finally said, looking at his bare face. Still impossibly beautiful.

“Hello,” he replied.

His fingertips dipped towards the hem of the robe. Before he could distract you with your own pleasure, you sunk to your knees in front of him. This startled him, his hand frozen in the air as you fit yourself between his open knees.

He caught your hand, his reflexes fast, before it could reach his fly. You could see he was already affected, a heavy bulge in the black material making your mouth water and core tighten.

He squeezed your hand and you looked up at his face. He tipped his head, blinked rapidly, an expression of mild confusion.

You took your hand back and unknotted your robe. The silk fell from your shoulders and down, sliding like water right off your body. You were completedly naked underneath.

It clarified everything, his confusion gone, replaced with surprise.

“You—” he began. It was interrupted when you put your head in his lap, resting on his thigh. You led his hand to the back of your neck and kissed him through his pants. It made his fingers clasp tighter around you.

“Please,” you said.

He would never deny you anything. Not the smallest gift nor grandest gesture. When you started a new charity to further your combined philanthropic efforts, he spared no expense in aiding the endeavour. You shared passions, and now you shared this.

He was stiff at the start, but gradually let himself go lax in his seat. His hand kept a steady grip on the back of your neck, not guiding but holding, like he thought you might disappear otherwise. He murmured your name, letting his head fall back as you worked him in your mouth.

You intended to make him finish like that, seeking nothing for yourself at that precise moment. He had other ideas, needing more of your shared pleasure to take him over that brink.

He lifted your face, adjusted his pants, and was on his feet in a matter of seconds. That hand on your neck dragged you up, up, up until your naked body was pressed against his clothed one. He clung to you needily, claiming your mouth in a wanting kiss.

His hands moved over you, every new inch of skin making him moan as he walked you towards the bed. The kiss only broke when you both sat down, his lips against yours as he breathed, almost smiling, “My pretty wife.”

“Hyunjin,” you said, shaking your head, feeling suddenly shy just because of a simple compliment.

He did not allow you to curl into yourself with any shame. When you tried, he seized you, pulling you onto his lap so you straddled it. His eyes moved up and down your body, hands following, from your thighs to hips to waist and up.

“What are you doing?” you said, laughing helplessly when he kissed somewhere ticklish on your throat. The sound made him smile, even softer than before, though it turned a little wicked as his mouth went lower.

“I’m simply enjoying the view,” he said, then wrapped his lips around the stiff peak of your breast, ran his tongue up and over. He licked and kissed back up to your mouth. “It’s not everyday I get to fuck someone so pretty.”

As he said this, he opened his pants again, eyes on yours as he grabbed your thighs and moved you so he could thrust up into you. His hips moved with a slow roll, letting you adjust to him. It had been a little while, and this angle was different.

And Hyunjin is not small. Your husband is built in perfect proportion, his body a long, hard, slender build – everything inside you at that moment was no exception. This angle made you whimper, clinging to him like he was a life preserver in a storm. The roll of his hips kept coming like waves and you were sure you would drown otherwise.

Your arms were around his neck, his graceful but strong hands digging into the meat of your thighs as he fucked you. He felt impossibly deep, every upward stroke feeling like it was bursting past something, pushing everything inside your body up to your throat.

You swallowed again and again, the taste of him still on your lips, the feel of him inside every inch of you. You clenched and tightened involuntarily, just pure animal reaction, and it made him moan and find all those sweet spots to make it happen again.

“Help,” was your somewhat nonsensical request, blurted in the midst of some moaning babbling.

Fortunately, he was and is a smart man. He understood. He clasped you tight to his body and fell back on the bed, thrusting up into you with sharper, more focussed determination, faster until you were weeping on his chest, delirious with pleasure. His shirt was unbuttoned and you accidentally ripped a few buttons right off, trying to press your face to bare skin.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you said as you tumbled over a height you never reached before. You never knew you could come just from that, stimulated somewhere so deep inside you, but it made you come undone in his arms.

He watched you unravel and it made him follow, clinging to you as he just barely pulled out before coming between your dripping thighs. It was all so messy and wet, your legs trembling, but it felt so good that it hardly mattered.

He caught his breath, then looked at your face just lose that breath again. He moaned and dragged you in for another kiss.

Then you were on your back, the night far from over.

That second night is the one that truly opened the door to more. Though your husband can be reticent in other regards, he is not quiet when he is inside you. You have come together again and again, a conversation with your bodies as you look for pleasure in a dangerous world. You always find it, tucked in the protective circle of his arms, wrapped around every inch of him.

You have been out of his arms for too long. Your visit to your family grew tedious before long. Your home is with Hyunjin now and you were eager to return.

Now it seems you may never see it again. You may never see him again.

No.

Just like the night when you took control for yourself, you must take control now. You realize if anything is to happen, then you must take the reins of your own rescue. You would not want Hyunjin to compromise himself or his important business. You know if something bad happened to you, it would weigh on his conscious, even if it was the better business decision. You must eliminate the need for choice.

It turns out, comical rope bindings are truly best suited for silly movies. When the men come to check on you again, you have slipped free of your bindings. There was an array of weapons in the room, so carelessly disposed because the assailants never assumed you would get free – or, if you did get free, that you would not know how to use them.

It is true, you do not like violence.

That does not mean you do not understand it.

You leave the two men unconscious in their basement. Unfortunately, you cannot find your suitcase and you do not want to hang around, so you venture outside in your nightgown. You are debating your next move when a car pulls into the driveway.

You back away quickly, raising the gun you stole as more men get out of the vehicle. You only stay your hand because you recognize one of them, though it takes a second to place him as one of Hyunjin’s lieutenants.

Then Hyunjin emerges. You have seen your husband before and after a confrontation, but never during it. If you thought he was an intimidating figure in the aftermath, he is all danger and darkness as he storms up the driveway now. There is such an energy radiating from him, it makes you stumble and forget yourself entirely.

Then he stumbles, recognizing you. You are both startled, staring at each other with the gun raised between you.

He looks nowhere but your eyes.

“Hyunjin?” you finally say.

“I—” He looks at you, the gun, the nightdress. He shakes his head. Some of that bravado returns when he says, “I’m here to save you.”

“Ah,” you say. You slowly lower the gun, at a loss how to reply. You were so resigned to the idea this was all still business. The reality of your husband risking himself to rescue you from unknown hostiles is making your heart pound.

In the end, all you can think to say is, “Sorry. You’re late.”

That wicked smile crosses his face, his tongue pushing at the corner of his mouth. He is suddenly nothing but amused, looking at you, then at the house.

“I can see that,” he says.

He whistles sharply and gestures to the house with a gloved hand. His lieutenants run past you and charge the door, no doubt heading inside to finish the job you started.

You turn to watch them go. In your distraction, Hyunjin grabs your arm. He is fast, effectively disarming you. He catches the gun with a twirl before tossing it aside.

It is not the gun he wants; it’s you.

Still holding your wrist, he tugs you into him. You throw your arms around him. The hug is surprisingly chaste, his face in your neck as he squeezes you like it is the only thing keeping him alive and standing.

“Are you hurt?” he asks.

When in his arms, it seems impossible to consider you could ever feel any pain.

You shake your head, daring to kiss his cheek. He turns his face to yours, your lips close enough to brush in a swipe.

“I’m all right now,” you say. “Sorry I beat you to the punch. I – I wasn’t sure if—”

His brow crinkles. That gloved hand goes from your wrist to your chin, seizing it between thumb and forefinger. He tips your head so he can look at your face. He always regards you like he does one of his masterpieces, like he can never get his fill, like there is always something new to find. He is enchanted every time.

“You’re mine,” he says. “And I take care of what belongs to me.”

You gasp when those fingers go from your chin to your throat, just enough to pull you in that last breath of a space. He kisses you there in the sunlight, utterly shameless.

“Do not ever doubt that,” he says. His eyes are soft with his affection, but his voice is hard, skirting the edge of a threat he would issue an adversary. It makes you tingle from head to toe. “Do I need to remind you?”

You never actually answer. You are not sure if your answer would have made a difference, as Hyunjin is determined to show you the very second you are home.

You reach the penthouse. There is no time to shower or decompress once you cross the threshhold. He sweeps you off your feet, your arms around his shoulders and your legs around his waist. You are wearing his blazer over your nightdress to preserve your modesty – not that it will last long.

He carries you to the bedroom where so many slow and subtle exchanges took place. Now, he is not slow or subtle. He is a force of nature. He tells you that he held no greater fear than losing you and he tried to keep his distance, but he regretted it the moment he saw you on that video call.

“You’re my wife,” he says, peeling his blazer off your body. “I’m your husband. There is nothing I should be holding back.”

“Yes,” you say, running your fingers through that smooth black hair. You shiver as he bunches the fabric of your nightdress, the material spilling over his fingers. “Don’t hold back,” you say, mouth open against his, stealing his every breath. “Do whatever you want.”

He tells you exactly what he wants, using his words for a change, finally letting those walls come down. He whispers every filthy thought into your ear, between kisses, between bites. You shiver at every suggestion.

And so, moments later, he is sitting on your bed. He arranges you to lay across his lap, facedown in the pillows while he runs his hands down your spine and over the curve of your ass.

“You’re my wife,” he says. The first tap of his open palm is through the thin material of your nightdress. It is truly just a warning tap, just enough to make you bounce. “Don’t ever doubt me again,” he says, swinging that strong hand a little harder.

This time a yelp escapes your lips. You wriggle until he pins you down, a hand on the back of your neck and the other lifting your dress. He already stripped your underthings, his open palm smoothing down all that bare skin.

You tingle with anticipation, braced yet still unprepared for the sharp smack he next delivers. You feel it tingle all the way up to your head, as well as the next one, and the next. You squirm under his firm grip, groaning his name as your thighs get tense and press together.

“Don’t say my name,” he says, and smacks you again. “Who am I?”

“M-my husband,” you say, practically mewling like a kitten when he next brings his hand down. “My husband,” you say again.

“And you are—”

“Your wife,” you say, though it comes out almost like a sob, a desperate gasp as he slips his fingers between your thighs and finds a new way to torture you. With your backside hot and stinging, the pleasure of his hand in that sensitive place feels amplified by a tenfold.

“Husband,” you say, hips bucking. His free hand goes from the back of your neck to your lower spine, holding you in his lap as he slowly finger-fucks you.

“Yes?” he says.

You do not even remember what you were going to say, or beg, or plead. You are overcome with sensation, tingling all over, intensifying the press of his fingers as he curls his fingers into that soft, soft place. Then you are really squirming, helplessly, instinctively, whining into the pillows.

“I make you feel good,” he says. “I take care of you. You, who are so good, and so smart, but so—”

You cry out when he angles his hand just a little differently. Your vision swims with stars as he speeds up.

“So soft,” he says, his own voice going soft, just a whisper as he makes you come all over his hand in a throbbing, aching, desperate wet mess. “Just for me,” he says in that whisper. “Just for your husband.”

“Mmmf,” is all the response you have left in you.

Your thighs are trembling and your pussy throbbing with aftershocks when he picks you up. He stands and turns, laying you on your side in the bed. You are grateful, as your backside still stings, though you suspect he is not done yet.

He strips out of his clothes, tearing through his shirt, leaving the pants in a heap. He forgets to remove his necklace. All that silver is cold against your hot skin as he lays down behind you. You do not have time to linger on it, as he gathers up the hem of your dress and adjusts himself behind you.

He has taken you many times, in many ways, many positions. When you are on your hands and knees, he is overtaken by a primal urge, your hips as leverage in his hands as he pounds into you like it is a chase. When you are on your back, he sinks into you slowly and deeply, rocking his hips into yours like he intends to fuck you forever. When you are in his lap, he rolls his hips in steady, needy waves, captivated by the sight of you in his arms.

He lays behind you now and wraps his arms around you, coaxes your thighs apart. Your nightdress is bunched every which way, leaving nothing to the imagination, and you feel especially exposed and vulnerable in this position somehow. Perhaps it is the fact he is the one holding you open, keeping you in position so he can take you.

You let yourself fall into it, fall into him. You let him tell you, with words and actions, exactly how he feels.

Before it ends, you change position. He lays back and you straddle his hips while stripping off your dress entirely. He keeps rolling up into you, only stopping when you plant your hands on his chest to slow him down. Then he practically sinks in the mattress, murmuring your name. His make-up is smudged, his calloused hands rough on your body. Whatever pains you experienced have been overtaken by his hands, by the smarting on your backside, still tender as you bring your body down onto his again and again. He has completely claimed you for himself and you take the same in turn.

“Hyunjin,” you say. “My husband, oh—”

He kisses your hand, long and hard, like he needs his mouth on some part of you desperately. Your fingers are curled into his pretty mouth when he comes, his hands on your hips and his cock buried inside you.

“Oh,” is your final sound before you slump on top of him, skin to skin.

He rolls you onto your side, though he keeps you wrapped around him, his arms around you in turn. His hair is already a sweaty mess and you rub your thumb through some of his shadowy make-up, but those familiar dark eyes are gazing at you with so much warmth. There is no more ice, no more cold concrete.

“I should let you rescue me more often,” you say with a laugh.

He doesn’t laugh back, but he does smile softly. It should be incongruous with his severe appearance, but it somehow comes together, layers of him exposed all at once as he strokes your cheek.

He looks at you like his favourite work of art.

“You were the one who rescued you,” he says. “Just like you rescued me.”

You cannot find the words to reply, so you kiss him. It speaks volumes, and he replies, kissing back.

You lose yourself to the sweetness, to the heat, to the passion, to all those things more, knowing there are many more to come with this man as your husband.

#hwang hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x reader #hwang hyunjin smut #hyunjin smut #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #skz x reader #skz smut #stray kids x you #hyunjin x you #skz x you #valentinesdaystories

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zayray030 · 4 months ago

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Anon 🍓

I had a thought. So Scar(one of the great seven) let’s just say made a bet with another king or something and now his future descendant is engaged to the other king’s descendant.

So then years later when Leona is 18 he’s attending a family gathering(which he is not happy about) when suddenly Scars spirit appears and is like “Sooo uh I lost a bet and now you’re kinda engaged” and Leona’s like “Who me?” And Scar responds with “Yes you bitch”

Now I’m sure you can figure out who he’s engaged to based on my other asks but I’m just gonna say it.

It’s our favorite Ace Trappola!

Ace is the prince of a forgotten but powerful kingdom and is heir to the throne (looks like Leona does get to be king)

Now the thing is no one is supposed to know about the engagement or that Ace is a prince until he is 18(The kingdom has a thing where prince’s/princesses aren’t allowed to show their faces until their 18. So when their face is uncovered they’re able to go places without being targeted)

So when Ace finally gets NRC him and Leona aren’t allowed to reveal their relationship so it’s a lot of sneaking around to see each other. Sure it’s easier to see each other after book 2 but still they can’t hang out to much

This is annoying for the both of them not only because they can’t spend time together but because people won’t stop flirting with them.

Every time someone flirts with Ace Leona is in the background staring at the person like “get the fuck away from my fiancé” but he can’t say anything.

And when someone flirts with Leona Ace stares at them like “I am going to gut you from the inside out” but again he can’t say anything

They are definitely gonna blow their cover at some point maybe during Playful land or Fairy Gala?

Also randomly Kalim and Ace are most likely besties.

Anyway that’s all I got, what do ya think?

This is even funnier when you think about the fact that this would be during Leona's second year of NRC and Ace would have already ghosted his girlfriend lmao. That combination is horrible and hilarious at the same time 😂😂😂

I feel like Leona is simply now in the mood to deal with someone else's mistakes, especially with Ace being so young and bratty and Ace refuses to date an old man. But then a noble or someone starts getting really annoying so they decide to get with each other out of spite and then end up falling in love

I can imagine their being instances where the secret is almost revealed.

Like, chapter 1, Leona wants to kill Riddle for almost killing his fiancée

Chapter 2, Ace feels betrayed about what Leona's doing

Chapter 3, Azul traps Ace in the contract and there's miscommunication about Ace not wanting to go to Leona for help and Leona hinting at it by bringing up Ace as the reason why he's destroying the contracts

Chapter 4, those two actually sit down and talk PROPERLY about what's been going on and they actually properly cement their relationship properly instead of that wishy washy no emotions crap

I feel like maybe tsum tsum, fair gala or even playful Land are perfect for select people to find out lmao

Like maybe Leona's tsum constantly keeps cuddling and kissing Ace and the same goes with Ace's tsum and Leona

Fairy Gala Leona keeps complimenting Ace teasingly and everyone slowly works it out and vise versa

And playful Land is just Leona holding Ace reassuringly that everything is going to be fine

All I know is that when it does get revealed Ace dials the shamelessness up by 100000

He will randomly go up leona, whether or not he's talking to another third year or club member is irrelevant to him, and pout at him to give him his card so he can go shopping

@lummyzzz has written a leoace fic called Lioheart with secretly engaged Leona and Ace so you should go check that out!

#twisted wonderland #ace trappola #leona kingscholar #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto

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sonderfairy · 2 days ago

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how much rizz do the characters have? Negative numbers are allowed.

Fern: 100 when it’s unintentional, 100000 when it’s intentional

Arcade: -75 except Fern sees it as 75 (for now, might go up later)

Jolene: a solid 50 but she dials it up to 500 for Sonya

Sonya: like, 10

Intermission: ??^#=!€{<&?

#the moth prince #asks #fercade #headcanons #this is too silly

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retroactivebakeries · 1 year ago

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The Scriptures of the Maidens as Dril Tweets

The Eternal Maiden: pissed off by the idea of my ass becoming grass The Desirable Maiden: drunk driving may kill a lot of people, but it also helps a lot of people get to work on time, so, it;s impossible to say if its bad or not, The Maiden at Sea: (witnessing the flaming wreckage of a 6-car pile up) ah. Respect. More power

The Maiden Entombed: my grave is just a huge tv displaying videos of me doing parkour in hell and it makes all the other graves look like shit The Maiden and Shadow: who the fuck is scraeming 'LOG OFF' at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off Lover and Maiden: damn it to piss. my wife replaced all of my anti-wife reading materials with Pro-Wife bullshit The Hunted Maiden: (dismissing waitress handing me the check with a hand wave) no thank you. i dont believe in any of that The Bride: i lvoe and cherish all of the girls of this site, and other websites. you all become my wife more and more with each passing day. Thank you The Dancer: my watch beeps whwich means its time to stand in front of my ex-wife's house and play "Hit THe Road Jack" while dacning and licking her mail The Desperate Maiden: ive signed a 1 Month Pact w/ my wife which grants her the right to viciously berate me online, as long as she watches & supports my Stream's The Clay Maiden: (playing russian roullette and its my turn) hasta the vista mother fucker (shoots the other guy The Drowning Maiden: joke's on you; i actually love being body slammed by one dozen perfect wrestlers. and my mouth isn't filled with bloodm, it's victory wine The Maiden on the Shelf: strongest blade in the world, howeve,r it is so fragile as to shatter when handled by any force other than the delicate touch of a lesbian . The One-Handed Maiden: BOSS TELLS ME I CAN KISS MY FERRETS AT WORK, BUT NO OPEN MOUTH. I PUNCH THE FLOOR SO HARD HIS SCREEN SAVER DEACTIVATES The Maiden at War: astrally projecting my brain into antifa head quarters and memorizing their combat patterns is the easiest shit i have ever done in my life That Old Thing: if someone posts something that is good then i will look at it and think its good. Simple The Savory Maiden: Your replies have been simply Fire. Love the energy but please do keep any talk of boiling me alive to a minimum as that is against the law The Maiden in Terror: big bird was obviously just a man in a suit. but the other ones were too small to contain men. so what the fuck The Maiden in Chains: i was tricked into sending $100000 to a man claiming to be DB Coopers son. and not a single one of my followers even bothered dialing 911 Absence: no The Maiden and the Dust: so long suckers! i rev up my motorcylce and create a huge cloud of smoke. when the cloud dissipates im lying completely dead on the pavement The Maiden and the Scythe: people come up to me and say, "I will never use the bathroom. I will never shit" and i gotta tell them pal, sooner or later youre gonna shit The Maiden's Promise: the doctor reveals my blood pressure is 420 over 69. i hoot & holler outta the building while a bunch of losers try to tell me that im dying The Expectant Maiden: as far as im concerned the best revenge is ordering wolf piss online & pouring it into soneones car. "living well" is too hard The Maiden and the Road: obliviously driving m y car through chernobyl , absorbing lethal anmounts of radiation while looking for cute girls

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genericpuff · 2 years ago

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One thing that has always irked me about LO is that Smythe will more or less sideline or otherwise forget plotlines.

Like, I hate that this latest FP chapter was a bland wedding (where Persephone wasn't able to even choose/create her own dress??? I'm sorry, that makes me so mad. She's just a doll for everyone to dress up with no agency whatsoever. If instead of Hera giving her the "perfect dress," she showed Persephone a selection of dresses, and Persephone picked one out and modified it to be dark magenta/black with her signature crown and chose to make her eyes red, that would've been better. At least then one could argue this chapter served to show Persephone's growth in terms of taking ownership of herself. Smythe could still insert Hera into the scene but then at least Persephone would have a say in HER wedding).

If Smythe absolutely HAD to have HxP get married immediately just to spite Demeter or whatever, I wish she would have inserted a scene or something with Apollo and Leto hearing about the wedding and realizing their plans were foiled or that they'd have to come up with a different way to overthrow Zeus, maybe even incorporate that espionage thing Psyche has going on, or even better, have a Demeter-centric episode in which we see more of her backstory when she hears about Persephone marrying Hades immediately, structured so that we hear her internal monologue while she mourns and fears for her daughter's well being and we see the beginnings of winter. (Not that I trust Smythe with Demeter or her story, but still.)

Like. Somehow Smythe managed to make HxP's relationship the most boring part of the retelling, and this wedding episode was a testament to that. It literally had no substance, nothing new was added, and the story was not advanced in a meaningful way. I highly doubt their dynamic or anything is going to change either. It's just now they're contractually obligated to each other? (Another point of contention. This is Ancient Greece... Smythe couldn't have bothered to google Ancient Greek wedding traditions and incorporated elements from whatever popped up first in the search? I know this is supposed to be "modern" but that increasingly feels like an excuse to just not do research (using that term here loosely).)

I feel like Smythe truly doesn't care anymore, and I think she's just winging the plot and story at this point. (I'm not sure if anyone feels this way, but if I reread the first few chapters of S1, I feel like LO was supposed to have a completely different trajectory and we only got here by accident.) This comic could have been so good and interesting, and it's just disappointing.

I know this ask is already pretty long, and I appreciate you taking the time to read it. I just want to add one last thing.

Your Lore Rekindled?? Amazing. Top tier. Chef's kiss. I love your interpretation of Dionysus, and I LOVED how you ended Ep5 with Persephone calling Hades terrifying. Like. So good. So excited to see where you take Rekindled. Thanks for being the hero we need as LO becomes an even bigger trainwreck with each passing week. You're awesome, and I hope you have a nice day 😁

That's the thing, I would have been fine (still a little upsetti, but I could cope) if LO went for the "Persephone was trying to get away from her mom and the Mortal Realm" take. Because it can come with the positive of having Persephone and Hades' relationship be consensual (even if it ends up being at the cost of her relationship with her mother, considering the fact it also requires the endless winter it's pretty much unavoidable LMAO). But like... it's the fact Rachel can't write anything consistently and will randomly retcon shit or dial the mildest character traits up to 100000 with NO consideration for motives or intentions that boils my piss. It's incredibly manipulative writing and the more it happens, the more I start to get the sense Rachel doesn't have a lot of emotional maturity herself to understand other people's perspectives outside of her own. I know that's probably a harsh assumption to come to but it's hard not to come to it when she keeps doing shit like this (as Demeter isn't the only one in LO to get this treatment). Rachel will basically just make her characters do whatever she thinks needs to be done to get her audience to feel a specific way about them. It's like a lawyer asking leading questions, it's manipulative and cheap writing.

And honestly, that's LO's worst crime among everything else - it's boring. I can handle stories that are spicy around the rim, I can handle problematic protagonists or otherwise plotlines that would NOT fly in real life due to how morally heinous they are, so long as they're entertaining. LO isn't even entertaining. Like, people will tell me LO shouldn't be "taken seriously", that you should consume it the same way as you would trash TV or a telenovella, but I don't get how I can do that either when it's so painfully BORING. A relationship is only as strong and interesting as the characters in it. If your characters are boring and uninteresting on their own, sticking them in a relationship together isn't gonna be much better. Now you just have two boring people being boring together lol

IDK where Smitty's head is at but I do get the feeling she's checked out. LO wasn't even supposed to go on this long in the beginning. But it can be really easy to drag things along for the sake of the money and fame and I feel like that's where we're at, like Rachel's just buying herself time before LO inevitably comes to an end. I definitely don't envy her position there. But she wouldn't be the first Originals creator who essentially "gave up" during production and started phoning it in thinking no one would notice. They do notice though. The sucky thing is that people are noticing what's up with Rachel and she's still like... pretending she's still into it, when she very obviously isn't. And if she is, then... whoof.

Hot take but LO just isn't a comic that should have become popular. Not that the concept itself couldn't have been popular, but like, my take on it in general is that people shouldn't be so concerned with "getting rich quick" especially in the arts industries. Like, to get across what I'm saying here, let me pose you a hypothetical: which would you rather be known for in the end? The first-time comic you got lucky with that reeks because you had no experience managing a longform series and lost your dedication to it years ago and it was literally your "first try"? Or the comic that came after you learned the craft and know what you're putting out is the best version of what it can be and proven to yourself it's what you really want to do with your life?

LO wasn't Smythe's first webcomic (she also created The Dr. Foxglove show which... I'm pretty sure she doesn't want anyone to know about because she's already starting scrubbing her ArtStation of it, oop-) but LO was her first foray into longform serialized storytelling. It might seem like a hot/harsh take, but no one should become instantly famous off their first project like that, as much as it might seem like a "dream come true". Because most of us aren't ready for that sort of responsibility yet. Your first, second, even third project should be learning experiences as a main priority. Getting famous off the first thing you do just because it got lucky or it scratched a certain itch in the market? Doesn't always bode well if you have no prior experience in that industry. Rachel has stated she has imposter syndrome in the past and while I feel like an asshole for saying this, it's one of the few times where I'll say "maybe the imposter syndrome has a point". Some people really do fail upwards. It's not to say Rachel doesn't deserve to be where she is (because god knows she probably isn't enjoying being there now with all the eyes on her that she didn't expect to have when she started out) but like... just because someone is famous for what they do, doesn't mean they're actually skilled at it.

But that might just be me being jaded. I used to want my first comic to become big and famous too but now, looking back at it, I'm so fucking glad it didn't LMAO I still don't know if I'm actually legitimately ready for that sort of thing, if it ever happened. Lucky for me it probably won't but I also didn't expect to end up with any sort of audience here the way I have so... that's been pretty neat LOL A little weird because I've been spending over a decade already just kind of creating for the void, and it's weird that it took an LO rewrite comic to do it, but w/e, the universe does what the universe does.

Sorry, I'm getting sentimental now LMAO This was really just my weird way of segueing into my big thanks for reading Rekindled <3

#lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #antiloreolympus #lo critical #ama #ask me anything #anon ama #anon ask me anything

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hardwinters · 1 year ago

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ₓ ˚ . ˚ ♡ || actress & model & former olympian. STATS. CAREER. PINTEREST. ACCEPTANCE.

howdy everybody! i'm dial and i'm so effing excited to meet everyone and their muses! i am reaching hag status soon at 26 yrs old and roll with she & her pronouns for the most part but i'm honestly cool with anything. anywho, enough abt me, onto my methodical little daffodil who wouldn't hurt a fly unless it was in the path of her skates :o she is one of my favorite muses, but it's my first time playing her in a setting like this and i really look forward to it! if you are interested in any of my listed plotbunnies orrr would like to plot something else just tick the little heart! i also have dsc available upon request ♡

some trigger warnings to keep in mind: anxiety attacks & injury descriptors

born & raised (for the most part) in incheon!!

no siblings unfortunately :( it's a wonder her parents found the time to have her

her mom was an always busy financial analyst who seemed to never not be on the phone talking business, while her father was the most respected divorce attorney in south korea due to his discretion when dealing with high profile cases.

100000% mostly raised by her nannies. her parents were overly serious and not very affectionate. they loved jinseon, but they definitely didn't express that in the ways such a sensitive child needed them to. sort of left her with a lack of self love that she overcompensates with kindness to others.

as her parents wanted her to fall into a high paying career, jinseon was one of those overly scheduled kids who was just shuffled from lesson to lesson to lesson. even her meals were listed in a planner. she learned to love and rely heavily on routine even as a child.

one of those lessons happened to be ballet through which she discovered her love of performing and knack for tightly controlled yet elegant movements. her instructor noted her agility and recommended her for a beginner's figure skating program.

fell head over heels for the feeling of being on the ice...it was the first of her lessons that she really connected with in a major way.

got rly good rly fast and made her coaches take notice. she had tremendous self-discipline and wouldn't miss a practice for anything. TRUE ICE PRINCESS THINGZ! the things she mostly struggled with were anxiety and her own confidence, but she found it easier to fake it than give up.

it wasn't long until she was competing in respected events around the country and eventually, the world!

the way her coaches invested in her allowed her to go far, even though they could be extremely harsh and the practices equally grueling. she did her best to channel everything into motivation and become the best at what she did.

her first championship routine was preceded by her first of many anxiety attacks, but quitting wasn't an option. not with sponsors and coaches and parents all bearing down on her, demanding perfection.

she soldiered on and managed to reach the podium at her first and many other world championship events. she was quickly gaining popularity among fans of the sport; any practices that weren't closed would get increasingly full of spectators wanting to see what she did next.

she especially grew in popularity among younger people with aspirations of following in her footsteps. because of jinseon's charisma and pretty face, there were always the cheeky questions of when her drama debut would come being thrown around. she was so focused on competing however that she had little room for other ambitions.

her routines well known for her wickedly fast scratch spin (nearly six revolutions per second) and perfectly fluid triple axels.

the republic of korea's noc eventually came calling and jinseon was officially chosen to compete in the 2014 winter games in sochi, which is around the same time everlast entertainment first took note of her!

ngl, swiping gold away from russia's almost unbeatable skating team in their own country was an extremely scary time for her, esp being only 16 at the time, but the graceful way in which she publicly handled the pressures of it all was widely praised and eventually earned her a contract at everlast entertainment.

she was getting to do commercials and magazine covers and interviews, as long as her management team signed off on them. it was something that resembled freedom but was actually far from it, not that she seemed to care at the time.

jinseon became so swept up in being the perfect teen role model, and eventually the perfect young adult role model. it was a lot to take on, but she shouldered everything with a smile, only pausing to allow her anxiety to grip her when she was in the confines of solitude.

when the 2022 winter games come around, everything is seemingly business as usual. she's sticking to her status quo and waiting for her ice time when she catches wind of another competitor's intention to bust out a surprise 4lo.

her coaches fly into a panic, thinking this may sink her chances of winning gold. their solution is for jinseon to go even bigger, landing the first ever quad axel, something she nor any other skater had ever successfully done in competition up until that point.

maybe it was her anxiety, maybe it was the olympic mind games, or maybe it was the fact that she simply wasn't skilled enough. she attempted the jump and it went catastrophically. in an attempt to catch herself, her skate hit the ice early and well before she was able to brace for the impact. she felt an excruciating sear through her entire leg, especially around her knee. no one had told her anything yet, but deep down, she knew. as she lay sobbing on the ice, she knew she wasn't coming back from this.

both her mcl and acl were pretty much obliterated, having to be surgically reconstructed shortly after the games. as she expected, she was told she'd never be able to strap on skates at a competitive level ever again, if even at a recreational level.

she felt rly lost for awhile, not really knowing what to do with herself. she had to go through physical therapy to help heal her knee and regain mobility, but a good deal of her pain was mental and emotional as well. she'd essentially gone through a loss and felt as if she'd let down everyone in the process. for awhile, she wasn't rly seen in public and mostly stayed at her home in seoul.

it was quite honestly her fanbase that got her thru this time! their continued support despite her not being able to do cool figure skating jumps anymore meant more than she could ever express to them. their insistence that she try out acting was p much what made her take that leap, once she was mostly back to physical health. for the first time since her injury, she felt like her life wasn't over.

her management team was far from happy about her auditioning for kang hanna in agency. they felt like a less conceited, chaebol role sans a romance plotline would be a better first outing for her, but she wanted something different! something that didn't feel so controlled! something that didn't make her constantly think about what she had lost!

here's some highlights of said plotline from agency.

it was an uplifting experience getting to step outside of herself and take on the role of someone with such a different personality. it allowed her to detach from her own situation for a few weeks and focus on something else entirely.

everlast entertainment is still trying to keep her in the box they've carved out for her, but jinseon is starting to see some rly green grass outside of it 👀

some tidbits about her current day personality:

still widely known for her politeness even as she navigates a new career field. honorifics, bows and respectful distances are all popular tools in her social arsenal, especially when she's meeting someone for the first time.

she's always been the good girl and the nation's olympic sweetheart, but she's increasingly curious about the other side of fame. ppl who just don't give a f*ck?? kinda heroic if you ask jinseon. she just doesn't have it in her. she's far too timid, so she just admires from afar.

she can be overly sensitive sometimes and her feelings have always been reaaaal fragile. she'll pretend she's not hurt by something but it's usually fairly obvious. she gkhgljkj remembers the shit you do to her though like real trust is hard to win back with her. she'll be nice but things won't be the same if true betrayal happens!

loves friendship and love but is often too scared to seek it out! what if it's one sided? what if they downright hate her? she isn't the type to speak up when she likes someone or even wants to be friends due to fear of rejection, but getting past that barrier has been pretty blissful in the past.

wishes she could just be as outspoken as everyone else, but her words get fumbled so easily. that's why instead of trying to appeal to her management team sometimes, she just...does things w/o their knowledge 😭

along with some brief plotbunnies, i also have some quotes & inspo to hopefully inspire some sort of connection ideas!

something based off of this quote pls

some more inspo

bestie vibes like this

a former pr relationship that was organized by meddling management teams due to a shared wholesome image. there was never any true romance, but you both enjoyed laughing over the awkward situation.

her dad represented one of your parents in their divorce proceedings.

you / your idol group performed at the opening ceremonies for the olympics one of the years that jinseon competed and you've kept in touch ever since, even if your chaotic schedules rarely allow you to link up in person.

you and jinseon are ambassadors for the same brand and are about to do your first collaborative photoshoot!

you and jinseon auditioned for the same drama role and now the media is pitting you against one another. there's no truth to the rumors of professional jealousy...is there?

alternatively, i'd love to collab on ideas for future castmate situations! maybe we can discuss a future drama jinseon and your muse can appear on together if you're looking to do something new soon ♡

the secret romance jinseon hid from not only the public, but her management team, if only because she knew they'd try to talk her out of it. things have ended since, and there's a deepening lack of closure between you.

maybe some childhood friends from incheon? you and jinseon knew each other before all the fame and accolades were bestowed upon you.

some fellow athlete friends!! or maybe someone who frequents her gym, takes the same pilates class she does etc.

#thefourintro #〈 𝐅𝐈𝐋��𝐃 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 ⁞ INTRO . 〉#tw injury #tw anxiety #tw anxiety attacks #this is so long i'm so sorry on god i just started rambling #ty for all the welcomes!! i'm about to get to them now ♡

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