#ChaeYoung | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kwilquib · 25 days ago

Text

Driving you Mad

Series: Promised 9

Chapter - 3

Chapter 0 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Lee Chaeyeoung (Fromis_9) X Male reader (ft. Seoyeon)

Word Count: 21.8k+

a/n: See tags...

Recap:

What started as an ordinary weekend after a night with Chaeyoung unraveled into dread when you discovered Jiheon had woven false memories into your mind—crafting a counterfeit love story you’d lived as if it were real.

You wake up, gasping, the weight of two lives clawing at your chest, crushing the air from your lungs. The memories Jiheon shoved into your skull haven’t just buried the real ones—they’ve fused with them, a grotesque snarl of half-truths and lies bleeding into each other like ink dumped in water. You can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, and the chaos is eating you alive.

You see it all at once—her fabricated love story etched in vivid, nauseating detail, every fake touch branded into your skin, every whispered promise echoing in your ears. But the truth screeches behind it, clawing at the edges of your mind, a faint, ragged whisper you can’t ignore. The two don’t even fight—they coil together, mocking you, daring you to pick which one’s real. First dates you never lived, her lips brushing yours in a ghost of a kiss that never landed, vows you swore to nothing but air. Then the jagged reality: Jiheon’s cold, surgical hands slicing into your past, rewriting you like some lab experiment gone wrong.

Your phone buzzes, a violent jolt against your nerves. Friday, 6 AM.

You stare at it, eyes burning, body locked in place. The last thing you can grab onto—Sunday night—slips through your fingers like sand. A whole week, gone. Vanished. Just a black void where your mind used to be, a gaping hole that laughs at you.

You don’t move. Can’t. The sheets cling to your sweat-soaked skin, the cold air biting at your face, and exhaustion sinks its teeth into you, dragging you down. You’re awake, but your head’s trapped, spinning in the wreckage of memory and madness, begging for something—anything—to claw its way out of the mess and make sense.

The morning light slashes across the walls, slow and cruel, but time’s lost its grip on you. In one twisted version of your head, this is her room—yours and hers—the faint stench of her perfume choking the pillow next to you. In the real world, she was here once, just one night, but it’s enough to make you gag on the lie. Your shaking fingers graze your phone, itching to dig through it—messages, photos, something to tether you to the ground. But dread coils in your gut. What if it’s all fake too? Doctored pictures of a life you never lived, texts spelling out a love story you never wrote—proof of her fingerprints all over your soul, even now.

The faucet drips. One drop. Another. Uneven, unhinged, a stuttering pulse drilling into your skull. Drip. Drip. Drip. It’s alive, taunting you, unraveling you. Each sound rips another shred loose: her laugh ringing in a café you’ve never seen, her fingers locked in yours on a beach you’ve never touched, her sobs choking the air in a fight that never fucking happened. The emotions hit harder than the images—warmth that burns, tension that strangles, the gut-punch of losing something you never had. She didn’t just plant memories; she stitched them into you, thread by thread, so you’d feel every cut she made.

Your heart slams against your ribs, erratic, too fast.

You slam your hands against your eyes, grinding until white-hot sparks explode behind your lids, desperate to shove it all out—her lies, your life, the whole damn mess. But it’s a flood now, a screaming torrent of fake and real smashing together, and you’re drowning in it.

Drip.

Your teeth grind, a low growl building in your throat.

Drip.

Your nails dig into the sheets, clawing at the fabric like it’s her skin.

Drip.

Something molten erupts in your chest—rage, raw and jagged, clawing up your spine.

She did this. She broke you. She tore you apart and stitched you back together wrong, left you like this—this twitching, fractured thing.

The faucet drips again, and you shatter.

Fury floods your veins, a wildfire scorching everything it touches. At Jiheon. At them. At the pathetic, trembling mess staring back at you from the void. You let them in—you let their whispers and their twisted games sink their hooks into you, and now you’re coming apart, thread by thread, a puppet with its strings slashed.

Your mind spins, a frantic loop of blame—them, with their cryptic bullshit and their memory-warping tricks, then you, for being too stupid, too weak to see it coming, then back to them, because they’re the ones who lit the match and watched you burn. Your fists ball up, knuckles white. You suck in a breath, ragged and sharp. Let it go. It doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

The anger doesn’t fade—it festers, throbbing behind your ribs, thick and suffocating. You need to do something—scream, smash, find her and make her undo it. Anything to stop the buzzing in your head, the war tearing you in half.

Your phone sits beside you, a cold, mocking weight. You don’t think—you can’t think. Your hand lunges for it, fingers trembling like they’re about to snap, unlocking the screen with a swipe that feels too violent. The glare stabs into your eyes, cutting through the dim haze of the room, and everything’s wrong—the air buzzes with static, your memories twist and writhe like snakes, and your skull feels ready to split open. Rage floods your veins, too much, too fast, a feral thing clawing to get out, and you’re not sure if you’re holding it in or if it’s already tearing you apart.

You scroll past Jiheon’s name—her cursed fucking name—and your stomach lurches. Not her. Not now. You’d scream, you’d break something, you’d lose what little grip you’ve got left if you heard her voice. Your thumb jerks, hesitates, then slams down on Gyuri’s name like it’s a trigger.

It rings once. Twice. Then—

“Hey.” Her voice slides through, calm, steady, unfazed. Like nothing’s wrong. Like the world isn’t collapsing.

The sound of it—her casual, unshaken tone—snaps something deep inside you, a brittle thread you didn’t know was still holding you together.

“You knew.” The words rip out of you, jagged and dripping with venom, barely human.

She doesn’t answer right away. You hear something on her end—rustling, faint, deliberate. Papers? Fabric? You see her in your head, pristine and smug, perched in some sterile office, legs crossed, barely paying attention, already three steps ahead while you’re choking on the wreckage she helped make.

“You fucking knew, didn’t you?” Your grip on the phone tightens, knuckles bleaching, the plastic creaking under your fingers. “That Jiheon was—” You choke on it, the words tangling in your throat, too heavy, too real.

Gyuri sighs—a slow, deliberate hiss, not defensive, not sorry, just tired. “Of course I knew.”

The silence hits like a punch.

Then the rage explodes.

“And you didn’t stop her?!” You’re out of bed now, stumbling, pacing like a caged animal, your voice shaking with something unhinged. “You just fucking—let her do this to me? To my fucking head?!”

“I couldn’t risk it.” Her voice stays level, but there’s a crack beneath it, a wire pulled too tight.

“Risk?” Your laugh is a mangled, vicious thing, scraping out of you like broken glass. “Risk what? What was so fucking precious that you let her shred me apart? Too scared to cross your little psycho queen Jiheon? Or was it just easier—huh?—to sit there and watch while she turned my brain into her fucking playground?”

A pause. You feel it—the way she hesitates, calculating, deciding how much of you is worth her breath.

Then: “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it!” It’s a scream now, desperate, wild, clawing out of you. You need something—anything—to aim this fire at before it burns you alive.

She hums, slow, deliberate, and then she drops it: “You think you were the only one affected?”

Your breath catches, sharp and painful.

“What?”

“You act like you’re the only one suffering,” she says, voice still smooth but slicing deeper now, an edge creeping in. “Like Jiheon walked away clean. Like we’re all just laughing while you fall apart. Do you really think that?”

You stumble, your pulse hammering unevenly, tripping over itself. Because no—you hadn’t thought about it. You’d been drowning in your own splintered mind, your own violation, your own rage, and it never crossed your fractured skull to wonder—

Jiheon’s face flashes behind your eyes. Hollow. Guilty. A ghost of herself, crumbling under what she’d done.

Your fingers twitch, your jaw locks. No. Fuck that. You won’t let her haunt you with pity. You won’t let this twist back into your fault.

“Don’t you fucking—” Your voice shakes, splintering with fury. “Don’t you dare try to make me feel sorry for her!”

“I’m not.” Gyuri’s tone hardens, the polish cracking at the seams. “I’m saying it’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple!” You’re roaring now, throat raw, words slamming against the walls. “I didn’t ask for this—I didn’t fucking deserve this!”

And then—

“Neither did she.”

The silence is a void, swallowing you whole.

Your breaths come hard and fast, ragged gasps that scrape your lungs. Your nails are carving bloody crescents into your palm, and Gyuri’s not saying a damn thing, and that’s worse—it’s worse—because it leaves you alone with the storm in your head.

You feel it shift now, the ground tilting beneath you.

She’s slipping too.

You hear her exhale, sharp and unsteady, like she’s clawing herself back from a ledge, but she’s already falling.

“Do you think I wanted this?” Her voice drops, low and taut, trembling at the edges. “You should’ve asked me for help.”

Your mouth opens—no sound comes out, just a hollow wheeze.

“Do you think I enjoy watching this implode? You think I wanted you tangled up in our shit? You think I don’t—” She stops herself, her breath hitching, and for the first time, she’s shaking.

And it hits you.

She’s burning too.

Not just at you—at Jiheon, at the Promised 9, at the whole rotting mess. At herself. The heat in her words, the tremor behind them—it’s the same feral, helpless rage that’s been gnawing you alive.

Click.

The line dies.

You stare at the phone, hands quaking, heart slamming against your ribs like it’s trying to break free. The rage is still there, a living thing coiled in your chest, but now it’s got nowhere to go—no target, no release.

Gyuri was supposed to be the wall you’d smash it against. But she’s not a wall—she’s a mirror, cracking under the same fire that’s torching you.

And that only makes it worse. The flames climb higher, hotter, feeding on themselves, and you’re running out of things to burn.

You call her again. Once. Twice. Ten fucking times. Each unanswered ring is a blade twisting in your gut, your pulse slamming so hard it’s rattling your skull.

No answer.

The screen glares back at you, a harsh, mocking light. She’s ignoring me. You knew she’d do this after hanging up—Gyuri, with her calculated little sigh, abandoning you to choke on your own chaos—but the silence gnaws, relentless, a living thing sinking its teeth into you.

You rake a hand through your sweaty, matted hair, about to smash the call button again when something slams into focus—something off.

Your phone’s… stuck.

No new notifications. No new calls. No new texts.

You squint, heart lurching. That’s not right. That’s not fucking right.

You swipe to your messages. The old threads are there—random chats, group texts, stupid memes from weeks ago—but nothing fresh. Not a single new word since… when?

Emails? Same deal. Professor nagging about deadlines, pinned lecture notes—all frozen, timestamped days back. No updates, no reminders, no org newsletters clogging your inbox like they should.

A cold, greasy panic slithers up your spine.

You fumble to the call log, stabbing at a name—some guy from class, a nobody, someone too boring to be tangled in their web.

It rings. And rings. No pickup. No voicemail. Just… dead air.

You try again, fingers trembling, jabbing harder like it’ll force a connection. Nothing.

Your breath comes fast, shallow, scraping your throat raw. No. No way.

You stagger to the window, nearly tripping, and mash your face against the glass. Outside, the world’s still turning—students drifting past, cars nosing into the lot, everything mocking you with its normalcy.

You unlock the latch with stiff fingers and shove the window open. Cold air rushes in, biting against your skin.

Then—you yell.

"Hey!"

Your voice cuts through the air, sharp and desperate. A few people pass directly below, their heads tilted in conversation.

No one looks up.

You grip the windowsill, knuckles white. Your breath shakes.

"Can anyone hear me?!"

Nothing. Not even a glance.

It’s like you’re not even there.

Your stomach flips, sour and tight.

You stumble into the hall, the dorm stretching out too quiet, too long. It’s the same as ever—chipped walls, scuffed floors—except every door’s plastered with flyers, loud and garish. Every single one.

Except yours.

Yours is blank, a void in the noise, like you’re not even here.

Rent was due days ago. Your landlord’s a bloodsucker—should’ve been hammering your door down, blowing up your phone with threats. But nothing. No calls. No texts. No knocks.

You lurch outside, past the entrance, into the open. People brush by—chatting, laughing, breathing—and you’re a phantom, invisible. No eyes catch yours. No heads turn.

It slams into you, a frigid, suffocating wave.

They’ve cut me off.

A laugh tears out of you, sharp and unhinged, bouncing off the emptiness.

Of course. Of fucking course. The Promised 9. Gyuri’s bullshit “I couldn’t risk it”—what a sick, twisted lie. Risk what? Protecting you? No, this was them, flexing their claws, severing every thread tying you to the world. No new messages. No new calls. No rent demands. Like you’ve been paused while everything else keeps spinning.

You stare at the crowd—oblivious, alive, real—and it’s like you’re slamming against a glass cage, unseen, unheard.

It’s impossible. It should be impossible. But they bend reality like it’s their toy, don’t they? Always have.

Your fists clench, nails carving into your palms, blood welling up.

“Fine.” The word growls out, low and shredded.

You storm back inside, kicking the door shut so hard it shakes in the frame. The lock snaps into place—a useless little click against their game. You’re trapped, a rat in their maze, and they’re rewriting the walls while you run.

You gulp air, ragged and desperate, trying to claw your way back to solid ground. But your mind’s splintering—rage and paranoia twisting into a jagged, screaming mess.

Are they watching? Right now? Hiding in the shadows, giggling at your collapse?

Your jaw locks, teeth grinding until they throb. You drop onto the bed, slamming your palms into your thighs, gripping so tight your knuckles bleach, fighting to keep from shattering completely.

But it’s slipping. The anger’s boiling now, a scream clawing up your throat, and if you let it out—if you let go

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don’t know what you’ll break. Or who.

Time slips away. You don’t know how much.

Minutes? Hours? Days?

It’s all mush now, a smeared streak of nothing. The silence isn’t just outside anymore—it’s in your head, thick and suffocating, wrapping around your thoughts like damp rot.

It’s just you.

You and the jagged mess clawing inside your skull.

You collapse onto the bed, fingers twisting into your hair, pulling until it stings. Your mind lurches, dragging you down into the undertow—

Jiheon.

A flicker—a memory, or whatever the hell it is.

You’re in the back of a taxi, city lights streaking across her face, sharp and fleeting. She nudges your shoulder with hers, her voice a low murmur, teasing, curling into your ear like smoke. Her hand brushes yours—warm, soft—or did it? Did she ever touch you like that?

Another flash—her laugh, quiet and velvet, a secret carved out just for you, spilling into the dark.

Real? Fake? Does it even matter anymore? You don’t care. You let it roll, let it flood you.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you chase it—her phantom warmth, the shape of her beside you, a lifeline to a past that might be a lie. You breathe it in, greedy, desperate, clinging to the edges of something that could’ve been.

Knock.

Your eyes snap open, wide and wild.

The room’s dead still. Your breath snags in your throat. Then—

Knock. Knock.

It’s sharp, real, slicing through the haze like a blade.

Your heart slams against your ribs, erratic, too loud.

Who—?

You lurch upright, dizzy, palms slick with sweat. You haven’t heard a human sound in—fuck, how long? Days? Weeks? The world’s been a void, and now this—this knock—it’s a lifeline, a threat, a scream in the silence.

Your mind scrambles, tripping over itself. Only one person knows this place. Only one person could find you here, buried in their mess.

“Jiheon.”

The name tears out of you, raw and instinctive, a growl from somewhere deep. Your body’s moving before your brain catches up—stumbling, nearly crashing into the wall, hands shaking as you lunge for the door.

Everything else burns away—the rage, the dread, the memory of her hollow eyes the last time you saw her, the way she broke you. It’s gone, torched in the frantic need to see her, to know, to rip something real out of this nightmare.

Your fingers claw at the handle, slick and fumbling.

You fling the door open, chest heaving, eyes wild—ready to face her, ready to break her, ready for anything—

Eyes lock onto yours through the open door.

Blue.

Not hers. Not Jiheon’s.

Deeper. Mesmerizing. A pull that sinks into you like hooks.

Chaeyoung.

“Missed me?” Her voice slithers out, thick and syrupy, laced with a taunt that makes your skin crawl. You freeze, brain stuttering, but she doesn’t wait—she glides past you, smooth and brazen, like the room’s already hers.

She surveys the chaos—tangled sheets, scattered bottles, the stale reek of too many days alone—and lets out a slow, mocking “Wow.” Her fingertip trails along your desk, collecting dust like it’s evidence, a smirk flickering as she wipes it off. “You live like this?” Her hum is low, teasing, a blade disguised as velvet. “I thought men only crashed this hard after a divorce. But you—” She pivots, those piercing eyes glinting, “you’re shattering over a little heartbreak, aren’t you?”

Your fists ball up, nails biting into your palms, blood prickling under the skin. “What do you want?” The words grind out, rough and unsteady, barely holding back the storm churning inside.

Chaeyoung tilts her head, sizing you up, that knowing smirk sharpening. “Why so tense? You were practically drooling to see who was at the door.” She steps closer—too close—her perfume curling into your lungs, sweet and suffocating. “Did you think I was her?”

Your jaw locks, teeth grinding, and her grin widens, delighted.

She moves past you, slow, unhurried, fingers grazing the door as she swings it shut. The lock clicks into place.

When she turns back, her gaze drips with amusement.

“Poor thing,” she purrs, her hand lifting, fingertips brushing your collarbone—light, deliberate, dragging down slow enough to burn. “Still waiting for Jiheon to crawl back? Begging on her knees, maybe?”

She leans in, her breath hot against your neck, voice dipping low. “Or maybe you wanted something else. Someone else.”

Your exhale is a jagged rasp, and her laugh—sharp and lilting—cuts through you like glass.

“Don’t be shy.” Her fingers dance across your chest, teasing, pressing, stoking something raw. “Locked up in here for days—alone, restless, no one to talk to, no one to touch—” She inches closer, her body brushing yours, “it’s gotta be eating you alive.”

Your muscles coil, heat spiking where it shouldn’t, where you don’t want it to. Your mind’s screaming—trap, trap, trap—but your body’s traitorously still, caught in her pull.

“It’s okay,” she coos, voice softening into something dangerous, something that coils around your throat. “I can make it easier. Just let go. Let me.”

And that’s when it breaks.

Something in you fractures, a dam splitting wide open. Before she can blink—before you can think—your hands lunge.

Fingers clamp around her throat, tight and trembling, and you slam her against the wall with a force that rattles the room. Her head snaps back, breath catching—

But she doesn’t flinch.

No fear. No shock.

Her lips twist upward, a slow, wicked smile blooming under your grip.

“Oh,” she breathes, voice rough but dripping with hunger, eyes blazing dark and wild. “There he is.”

Your grip tightens, pulse pounding in your ears, but her stare—unyielding, pleased—digs into you, unraveling what’s left of your fraying sanity. She’s not scared. She’s thrilled. And that—that—makes the chaos in your head scream louder, teetering on the edge of something you can’t claw back from.

Your grip tightens, fingers digging into her throat, the tendons in your hands straining as rage boils over, uncontainable. Her hands latch onto your wrists, tugging, but it’s weak—halfhearted—like she’s playing at resistance.

“You did this.” Your voice rips out, a guttural growl trembling with fury. “You and the others—you fucking isolated me. Cut me off. Why?!”

Chaeyoung tilts her head against the wall, barely fazed, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. “Torment?” she tosses back, her tone light, mocking, like it’s a game.

“Don’t act fucking clueless!” Your nails bite into her skin, carving faint crescents, your breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. “What the hell did I do to deserve this?!”

She exhales, slow and deliberate, a sigh that’s too calm, too unbothered for the pressure crushing her windpipe. Then—her eyes flicker up, locking onto yours.

A smirk curls her lips, sharp and venomous.

“Did you forget?” she murmurs, voice low, dripping with something dark.

“You chose this.”

Her lashes flutter, her gaze slicing through you—cruel, knowing, peeling back layers you didn’t know were there.

“You wished for this.”

Your mind stutters, a jolt of ice cutting through the heat. “Wished for this? Why the fuck would I—when—?” Then it hits—the memory slams into you like a fist. That night with Chaeyoung, her voice teasing, sultry, whispering ‘Be careful what you wish for’ as the room spun and her laughter faded into the dark. “That night? That stupid fucking wish you threw out there? How was I supposed to know—you didn’t even explain it!”

Her smirk deepens, unfazed by your snarl. “Either way, you’re with us now.” Her voice is velvet over steel. “You locked yourself in when you spent that night with me—and oh, so much more with Jiheon.”

One of her hands, still gripping your wrist, shifts—sliding up, slow and deliberate, caressing your cheek. Then it drops, her fingers brushing lower, rubbing against your crotch through your pants, a bold, taunting stroke.

“Why don’t you calm down for now?” she purrs, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or if you prefer this, I wouldn’t mind.”

Your breath hitches, a mix of fury and disbelief choking you.

“You’re fucked in the head,” you spit, voice shaking, incredulous.

Your grip clamps tighter, fingers sinking into Chaeyoung’s throat, your breath heaving, wild and uneven, like something’s clawing out of your chest. Her gasping, broken laugh spills out anyway, her chest shuddering under the strain, defiant even as you crush her windpipe.

“Ironic,” she wheezes, eyes half-lidded, glinting with something mocking, dangerous, her lips twitching despite the chokehold. “Coming from someone who’s losing his mind.”

“Insane?” Your voice cracks like a whip, jagged and unhinged, your grip tightening until your knuckles bleach. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

She forces a ragged breath, her smile unwavering, predatory. “Haven’t you seen it? Felt it?” she rasps, voice low and cutting. “You’re coming apart. That memory’s eating you alive.”

Then—

A bang at the door—sharp, thunderous, rattling the frame.

“Hey! It’s me—Gyuri!” Her voice slices through, fierce and commanding. “Chaeyoung, open the damn door! I know you’re in there—enough with your fucking games, he doesn’t need this!”

Another bang, harder, the wood groaning under her fist.

“What was that crash earlier?!” Gyuri’s tone spikes, worry twisting into anger. “Open it—NOW!”

Your head jerks toward the sound, but your eyes snap back to Chaeyoung. She meets your stare, her smirk stretching wider, feral and gleeful, like she’s feeding off the chaos.

“What are you gonna do now?” she whispers, voice trembling with delight, strained and taunting under your grip. Her fingers twitch, still clutching your pants, pressing harder against you, shameless. “Unless… you wanna keep going?” Her lips part, a shaky inhale breaking through, her smile teetering on the edge of collapse. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Then—

The world shatters.

The door doesn’t just explode inward—it detonates. A violent eruption of force tears through the room, sending a shockwave rippling outward. The walls groan under the impact, picture frames shattering, glass spraying across the floor. Furniture is upended—your bed slams against the opposite wall with a deafening crack, a dresser topples, scattering papers and broken wood across the floor.

A crimson-red streak of light flares from the splintered remains of the doorway, burning hot, searing bright. The entire building shakes, the foundation trembling under the sheer weight of the force. Dust and debris rain down from the ceiling, the floorboards quivering beneath your feet.

A shard of wood slices past Chaeyoung’s cheek—a thin red line blooms, blood welling up instantly. She barely reacts, eyes locked onto the wreckage, onto her.

Gyuri stands amidst the destruction, breathless, eyes blazing like molten fire. Her silhouette is framed by the carnage—splintered wood, dust still swirling, the faint glow of embers flickering at her fingertips. She takes it all in—one sharp, furious sweep—the trashed dorm, the suffocating tension, the overturned chair, the damp stench of neglect.

And you.

Looming over Chaeyoung. Hand still locked around her throat.

Then—her eyes land on you.

And something shifts.

The raw, furious blaze in her gaze wavers, flickers—just for a moment. The fire dims, softens, but it doesn’t disappear. It settles into something steady, something alive.

She steps forward—slow, deliberate, like you’re a bomb she’s afraid to set off.

“Hey.” Gyuri’s voice cuts through, soft yet insistent, piercing the static screaming in your skull.

Your chest heaves, breaths ripping out in sharp, uneven bursts. You don’t move. Can’t. The world’s a haze of red and shadow, your hands locked, trembling, unrelenting.

Her fingers graze your arm—light, cautious, not forcing, just there, a fragile thread in the storm.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, her hand sliding to your wrist, warm and steady, curling around it like a lifeline. “Look at me.”

Your grip stays iron-tight, nails digging into Chaeyoung’s throat. Her smirk’s vanished—wiped clean. Her lips part, gasping, straining for air that won’t come, her chest jerking faintly. Her eyes meet yours—stripped of taunts, hollowed out, reflecting something shattered.

“Why should I listen to you?” Your voice claws its way out, raw and trembling, thick with rage. “You fucked with my head. You’re fucking with my life. You’re making me disappear.”

Chaeyoung’s gaze holds, unblinking, her wheeze barely audible under your chokehold. No defiance. Just that flat, eerie stillness.

Gyuri exhales—slow, controlled, a thin line of calm threading through your chaos.

“We did that,” she says, her voice deliberate, careful. “And I’m sorry. We could’ve done better—I could’ve done better.” Her fingers tighten around your wrist, not pulling, just grounding. “I should’ve cared for you more. Kept you closer instead of… this.”

Her words hang there, heavy with regret, but they don’t soothe—they sting, like salt in a wound you didn’t know was bleeding.

“We didn’t know how to handle you,” she continues, softer now. “Your mind—it’s fragile. We thought controlling everything, cutting you off, would keep you safe. But I see it now—we fucked up.”

Your vision blurs, red seeping into the edges, the room swaying as your mind teeters on a brittle edge—fury crashing against her confession, tearing you apart.

“Let go. Let’s talk.”

Her hand slides up, cupping your face, her palm pressing firm against your jaw—solid, unyielding, anchoring you. She pulls you in, closer, until her forehead rests against yours, her breath warm, steady, mingling with your ragged gasps.

A faint red glow flickers at the corners of your sight, pulsing faintly, warm and alive.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again, her voice cracking just enough to feel real. Her warmth seeps into you, threading through the tangled mess shredding your head, dulling the sharpest edges.

“Breathe.”

Your fingers twitch, the grip on Chaeyoung’s throat faltering—slowly, haltingly—until your hands drop, heavy and shaking, useless at your sides. She collapses with a choked gasp, air rushing into her lungs, but you don’t look. Can’t.

Gyuri’s hands stay, firm on your face, her forehead pressed to yours, her touch the only thing keeping you from spiraling into the void gnashing at your heels.

Your grip on Chaeyoung slackens, trembling fingers peeling away.

She drops, hitting the floor with a thud, gasping, coughing, hands flying to her throat. She doesn’t speak—doesn’t taunt. Just watches.

Gyuri doesn’t spare her a glance.

Gyuri holds you there, her fingers digging into your skin, a desperate tether dragging you back from the abyss gnashing at your heels. Your pulse thunders, a deafening roar in your ears, your mind spinning—fractured, teetering—but her eyes, steady and unyielding, lock you in place, keeping you from shattering completely.

“You need help. You know it yourself,” she says, her voice firm but laced with a softness that stings deeper than you want. “Let us help you. Me. No more of… this.” Her hand sweeps faintly toward the wreckage—the trashed dorm, the splintered door, the chaos seeping into every corner. “I promise this time.”

Her words dangle there, a lifeline tangled with guilt. You hesitate, chest tight, breath hitching. She’s right—you need help. They broke you, shredded your mind and left you clawing through the debris, but they’re the only ones who can piece you back together. It’s a cruel, twisted punchline, and the bitterness burns your throat.

You nod—just a twitch of your head—too drained, too furious, too lost to fight. Gyuri’s grip eases, her thumb brushing your jaw, a fleeting warmth you hate needing but can’t reject.

Behind you, a faint rustle. Then—Chaeyoung pulls herself up from the floor, slow and stiff, her movements deliberate, like she’s testing if her body still works. Her fingers flex and curl, trembling faintly before she clenches them into fists. “Great. Can we go now?”

Her voice is flat—no teasing lilt, no playful bite. She’s facing Gyuri, her back to you, her tone hollow, drained of its usual spark. You can’t see her face, but the air shifts—something unspoken crackling between them.

Gyuri’s jaw tightens, her eyes flicking to Chaeyoung, then back to you. “I can’t,” she says, quieter, a strain threading her words. “I need to stay. Clean this up.” She nods toward the shattered door, the mess of your dorm, her hands slipping from your face but hovering close, like she’s scared you’ll bolt. “The Mist can only do so much. We shouldn’t strain it more.”

Mist? Your brows knit, confusion spiking through the haze. “I thought we were done with that. Can you just explain—”

She flinches—barely—but doesn’t answer. Her gaze meets yours, heavy with something murky—regret, maybe shame. “Go with Chaeyoung,” she says instead, voice firming up. “She’ll take you to Saerom. She’s waiting. She can… give you answers.”

You scowl, frustration boiling over. “Then why her? Why can’t you do it?” You glance at Chaeyoung, expecting her usual smirk, but she’s still—too still. Her face is blank, no fire, no taunt, just a weary, distant stare. The cut on her cheek gleams, blood still wet, but she doesn’t flinch at it.

Chaeyoung turns to you then, and—like a mask snapping back into place—her smirk flickers on, jagged at the edges. “What’s wrong? Scared to be alone with me after our little dance?” she purrs, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, leaning in just close enough to let her breath graze your ear. “Don’t you trust me, baby? I thought we were getting so… intimate.” Her tone wavers for a split second, a faint crack betraying her, but she covers it with a low, taunting chuckle.

The air thickens, heavy and suffocating, as Gyuri glares at her. A faint red glow pulses at the edges of the room, seeping from Gyuri’s clenched fists, the light flickering like a heartbeat—angry, unsteady. She squeezes her eyes shut, her chest rising and falling too fast, and you feel it—a hum in the air, a crackle of something raw and red bleeding into the space. She’s meditating, or trying to, holding back whatever’s clawing to get out. When her eyes snap open, they’re sharp, glinting with a crimson sheen she can’t fully hide, and she deliberately avoids Chaeyoung’s grin.

“Just go with her for now,” she mutters, her voice tight, strained, like it’s taking everything to keep the red from spilling over. She pulls you aside, her fingers trembling faintly against your arm, and whispers, tense and low, “Chaeyoung acts like teasing’s her only trick, but she’s the one you can trust most. At least you know what she’s after.” The red light flares briefly around her, casting harsh shadows across her face, then dims as she forces it down.

You chew on that, the words sinking in slow and bitter. Gyuri, who seems to care but keeps proving otherwise with every move. Jiheon, who cracked your mind open and left it bleeding. The others, shadows you can’t read. Chaeyoung—at least she’s predictable, her edges sharp but familiar.

“Let’s gooo,” Chaeyoung sing-songs, her lazy grin stretching wide, but her hands fidget at her sides, fingers twitching—a crack in her act she can’t quite hide.

You hesitate. Gyuri’s hand presses lightly to your back, a gentle nudge. “Go,” she says softly, urging you forward.

You step toward the door, but Gyuri’s voice cuts through just as you reach it. “Chaeyoung.”

You both pause. You glance back; Chaeyoung doesn’t.

“I’m serious,” Gyuri says, her voice taut, eyes dark and piercing. “Don’t hurt him.” It’s not a request—it’s a warning, laced with steel.

For a split second, Chaeyoung’s mask slips. Her shoulders stiffen, her breath catches—just a flicker of something raw—before she forces a sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her neck like she’s shrugging it off. When she turns, the teasing glint is back, polished and bright, but her eyes are too tight, her smirk too forced. “I’d do eight other things with him before we get to that kink,” she chirps, voice airy, then leans toward you, dropping it to a mock whisper. “Unless you wanna skip ahead?”

You don’t answer. Don’t look at her. Just step past, out the door, your mind a snarl of rage and exhaustion.

Chaeyoung follows, her footsteps light but uneven, like she’s still steadying herself. For a moment, she’s quiet—too quiet—her breathing shallow, a faint tremor in it she tries to cover with a soft hum. She’s shaken, more than she’ll let on, hiding it behind that brittle grin and barbed words.

You don’t care. You keep walking, and she trails you, the two of you slipping into the unknown, toward Saerom, while Gyuri stays behind in the wreckage—alone with her promises and the mess she can’t undo.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The car hums beneath you, a low, steady purr cutting through Seoul’s streets with effortless precision. It’s not Chaeyoung’s usual blue Porsche, all flash and noise. This is subtler—a Lexus, four-seater, sleek and understated, the kind of luxury that doesn’t scream but commands. Familiar. You’ve seen it before, that night you first stumbled into their world, half-blind and reeling.

Chaeyoung doesn’t fill the silence with chatter. Her hands grip the wheel, steady, her eyes fixed ahead—no music, no distractions, just the engine’s rhythmic drone and a heavy, unspoken weight between you. You don’t ask where you’re going. You don’t need to. She’d dropped it once, casual and dismissive—Saerom will explain when it’s time. That time’s now, and it hangs over you like a blade.

The car slows, but not in front of the gleaming glass tower you’d braced for. Chaeyoung veers sharp down a ramp, plunging into an underground lot. Dim fluorescent lights buzz overhead, the hum of ventilation fans swallowing the Lexus’s glide. The world above fades, muffled and far.

She parks with crisp efficiency. Her fingers tap the steering wheel—once, twice—a quick, restless tic before she exhales and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Let’s go.” She’s out before you can blink, not waiting.

The elevator ride is silent, the numbers climbing higher and higher until they stop at the top. When the doors slide open, you step into a space that feels like the crown of the building. Not just an office—Saerom’s office.

The door is heavier than the others, a polished plaque with her name the only marker. Chaeyoung raps her knuckles against it once, sharp, then shoves it open without pause.

Inside, the air thickens—leather, fresh flowers, a ghost of perfume. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate one wall, tinted to hold the city at arm’s length. The space is pristine, curated, every detail deliberate.

At the center, behind a broad desk, sits Saerom. She doesn’t look up right away, her pen scratching across paper with a final, precise flourish before she sets it down. Only then do her eyes lift, locking onto yours. No surprise. No flicker of doubt. She’s been waiting.

“What took you so long?” Her gaze slides past you, pinning Chaeyoung.

Chaeyoung answers with a smile—thin, tight, not quite reaching her eyes.

You tilt your head, a smirk tugging at your lips despite the churn in your gut. “An actress with her own office, signing papers? Bit much, isn’t it? Almost like you run the place.”

Saerom doesn’t bite, doesn’t even blink. Chaeyoung lets out a low chuckle behind you, soft but sharp, like you’ve stumbled over something painfully obvious.

Saerom rises, smooth and unhurried, crossing the room toward you. When she’s close—close enough to feel the weight of her presence—she stops. “What happened to you?” she asks, her voice calm but edged, her eyes flicking to Chaeyoung.

You follow her gaze. The cut on Chaeyoung’s cheek gleams, still wet, but it’s her neck that draws you now—red marks blooming where your fingers dug in, faint bruises tracing the shape of your grip.

Chaeyoung flinches, just a fraction, caught off guard. “Nothing,” she says, too quick, a tiny hitch in her breath. “Just got a little excited.” Her hands land on your shoulders, rubbing them with forced ease, her smile flashing for Saerom—bright, brittle, a shield snapping back into place.

Saerom studies her for a beat, then turns, satisfied or uninterested—you can’t tell. She moves to the center of the room, settling onto a low couch by the coffee table, her eyes locking onto yours again. Waiting.

Chaeyoung’s hands give your shoulders a final tap. “Well, good luck,” she chirps, already retreating. “I’ll be outside.” Before you can say a word, the door clicks shut behind her, the sound sharp in the stillness.

You sit across from Saerom, alone now, her presence a quiet storm filling the room. Her gaze is unrelenting—steady, piercing, drawing you in whether you want it or not. No assistants buzzing around, no flashing cameras, no polished persona. Just her, seated in this private meeting room atop the city, waiting.

She doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Her eyes lock onto yours, unreadable, and she cuts straight to it. “Do you know the myth of the Promised 9?”

You exhale, sharp and bitter. “Yeah. Conveniently, I do.”

Silence. She’s waiting.

You hesitate, then give in. “Nine women, tied to humanity’s extreme emotions.” Your voice feels heavy, like you’re dragging it out of somewhere dark. “The King begged a deity for help, and they sent nine embodiments to carry that burden. But they needed an anchor—someone to keep them from losing it.”

The words hit differently now, tugging at a thread in your mind. Jiheon’s face flashes—tear-streaked, broken—“I wasn’t myself. Please, forgive me.” It clicks, heavy and sickening.

Saerom, as if reading your unraveling thoughts, breaks the quiet. “You’re that anchor. You keep us from spiraling.”

Your jaw locks. “Why me? Why now? Don’t you have someone else?”

She leans back, crossing one leg over the other, unruffled. “We weren’t always like this. Normal, once. Then one night, we woke up… changed. Something shifted, and we had no choice but to carry it.”

Your fingers twitch against your knee. “How long?”

“A few years. Less than ten.” She tilts her head, studying you. “We managed—until we couldn’t. We knew we’d lose control eventually.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to just step in? I don’t even know if I can—or how.”

Her lips curve, not quite a smile. “You already have. Twice.”

Your stomach twists. You don’t need to ask. Jiheon. Chaeyoung.

She watches the realization sink in, then adds, “And there’s more.”

You meet her gaze, wary.

“You resist us,” she says, matter-of-fact. “Our influence—our magic—it doesn’t take you fully. That’s why you’re different. Why you’re necessary.”

The words press into you, a weight you can’t shake. “You’re the perfect anchor,” she continues, voice low, steady. “Especially when we lose ourselves. Others would’ve broken by now. You haven’t.”

“And what? I just accept it?” Your voice rises, edged with frustration. “Chaeyoung said I chose this, but no one explained shit. You misled me—dragged me into this without a fucking word.”

Her eyes flicker away for a moment, staring past you, lips moving silently—like she’s cursing someone under her breath. Then she refocuses, unyielding. “I see. But what’s done is done. Doesn’t change that you’re what we need.”

“Why should I help you?” You shove up from your seat, voice cracking with anger. “After everything you’ve done? Jiheon fucked my head, and you—you made the world forget me!”

“Jiheon’s effect was… unfortunate,” she concedes, calm as ever. “But the rest? That was to protect you.”

“Protect me?” You laugh, harsh and hollow. “By cutting me off? Making me a ghost? You’re sociopaths—”

“It’s not just us who needs help,” she cuts in, stopping your spiral cold. “You need us too. That mind of yours—those memories—they’ll drive you insane. We can make it bearable, at least. Normal, even.”

“Convenient as hell for you,” you mutter, sinking back into your seat, defeated. “Might as well say you planned it all.”

“You think this is one-sided,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “That we’re just using you. It’s not that simple.”

Your fingers dig into your knee, but you don’t interrupt.

“We’re tied to you as much as you are to us,” she says, her gaze unflinching. “You anchor us, yes. But we take care of you in return. That’s the deal.”

“Sounds like a fancy cage,” you bite back.

A flicker of amusement crosses her face. “If that’s how you see it, fine. But it’s not cold. Not transactional.” She tilts her head, assessing you. “You’re already changing us—more than you realize.”

She leans back, ticking off names like she’s reading a ledger. “Gyuri—never begs me for anything. She did for you, just to get me here faster.”

“Chaeyoung—doesn’t give a damn about anyone outside us. Now she does.”

“Jiheon—reckless, shameless Jiheon—crippled with guilt over you.”

“Seoyeon—avoids responsibility like it’s a disease. Mentioned your name once, and she stepped up.”

Each name lands like a brick, stacking up in your chest. You don’t know what to say.

Saerom lets the silence settle, then drops it, casual but firm: “You should move in with us.”

Not a question. A statement.

It hits like a slap. “What?”

She doesn’t repeat it. Just watches you wrestle with it.

“That’s insane,” you say, shaking your head. “I barely know you. Why would I—”

“Why not?” she cuts in, smooth and sharp. “What’s stopping you?”

You open your mouth—nothing comes out.

“Your dorm was wrecked. No family waiting,” she says, voice low, relentless. “No career you’re tied to. No friends anchoring you. What’s keeping you out there?”

Your throat tightens, her words slicing too close. “I have a life,” you rasp, but it sounds weak even to you.

“Do you?” She leans forward, piercing. “A shitty dorm. Classes you sleep through. A routine you don’t care about.”

The ache settles into your bones. You can’t argue.

“You’d lose nothing by staying,” she says, softer now. “But you’d gain something.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Your voice is rough, brittle.

Her lips twitch—not quite a smile.

“A purpose.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The elevator chime cuts through the haze, a soft ding reverberating in the empty space. The doors slide open, revealing the underground parking lot—dimly lit, shadows pooling under flickering fluorescents.

You don’t move right away. Your hand clenches into a fist at your side, and you draw a slow, deliberate breath. This time, it steadies you.

For the first time in days your mind isn’t a storm of unanswered questions. The weight in your chest hasn’t lifted, but it’s shifted—less a choking fog, more a solid pressure you can finally wrap your hands around. Something real. Something you can face.

Anchor. Necessary. One of us now.

The words echo, but they don’t claw at you anymore. They’ve settled, heavy and certain, like stones in your pocket. It should scare you—shouldn’t it?—but instead, there’s a strange relief in the clarity. A thread to cling to, something to pull you forward when everything else has frayed.

You drag a hand over your face, rough against stubble, and step out.

Then you see her.

Chaeyoung’s leaning against the black Lexus, arms crossed, one boot kicked back against the concrete pillar. The faint light overhead glints in her eyes, sharpening the smirk tugging at her lips—a knowing, waiting curve.

Your gaze locks with hers, and you can tell in an instant.

She thought you’d run.

She thought you’d crack.

Instead, you exhale, a faint shake of your head as you step toward her. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel adrift. The ground’s still shaky beneath you, but it’s there—and that’s enough.

“Waiting for me?”

Her smirk widens. “Obviously.” She shifts, stepping toward you, closing the distance with a predator’s grace. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

You scoff under your breath, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I wasn’t planning on running.”

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice dipping, less tease and more weight—something off, something personal. “You won’t… you can’t… not with me.”

It’s not about Saerom or anchors or any of that. It’s her. Just her. Your shoulders stiffen as the words settle, heavy, like a snare you’ve walked into before.

You shake your head, exhaling hard. “She said you care about me.”

Chaeyoung snorts, amused. “Did she now?”

You shouldn’t ask, but it slips out. “Is it true?”

She steps closer, her gaze unwavering. “Does it matter?”

It does. You want it to. Your fingers twitch at your side. “What about Jiheon?”

Her expression flickers—brief, almost imperceptible—lips parting before she glances away, jaw tight. “You’re worried?” she says, sharper now, edged with something raw. “After what she did to you? Worry about her later.”

Your stomach twists. What if Jiheon didn’t mean it? What if she wasn’t herself when she broke you? The thought gnaws, but you don’t have an answer. So you don’t give one.

Instead, you nod toward the car, grasping for anything else. “This ‘anchor’ thing—what does it even mean?”

Chaeyoung exhales, shaking her head with a faint, bitter laugh. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I’d like a straight answer for once,” you snap, teeth gritted.

She leans in, voice low, teasing but barbed. “You keep asking like you don’t already know.”

You don’t. Or maybe you’re terrified you do.

Her smirk sharpens, a finger tapping her lips before she drawls, “Fine. You’re ours, we’re yours… yet.” She tilts her head, eyes glinting. “Happy now?”

Your chest tightens. “And sex—is that really how I help you?”

Her eyes gleam with mischief. “Why?” She steps closer, her breath brushing your skin. “Wanna test it again—see if I’m still worth it?”

Your lips part, but before you can bite back, she moves—quick, fluid, like she’s been waiting. Her hands slam against your chest, shoving you back through the open car door. You hit the backseat with a thud, leather and her perfume flooding your senses.

Then she’s on you, straddling your lap with slow, deliberate grace. Her fingers trail up your jaw, curling into your hair, tilting your head back to lock eyes. “Still undecided?” she murmurs, lips hovering just above yours, teasing the space between. She leans closer, her smile grazing your cheek. “Need me to remind you how good this gets?”

Your pulse spikes. You swallow hard. “Chaeyoung,” you rasp, “this isn’t the time—or place.”

Her lips curl sharper. “Then stop me.”

You hesitate—too long. She sees it, and the glint in her eyes flares, reveling in the edge she’s claimed.

“Chae—”

Your protest barely escapes before she’s on you, her fingers twisting into your shirt, yanking herself closer. Her mouth crashes against yours, fierce and possessive, a hungry edge to it that leaves no room for doubt—she knows what she wants, and it’s you.

Her lips move with bold, teasing confidence, pressing hard, demanding, like she’s playing a game she’s already won. The heat surges when her tongue brushes the seam of your mouth, coaxing you open—an invitation you shouldn’t take but can’t refuse. You part your lips, letting her in, and she dives deep, tasting like danger, sweet and addictive, pulling you under.

Her weight shifts, hips pressing into yours, her body molding against you with a deliberate grind that screams intent. You should stop this—draw a line before it’s too late. You know it’s a distraction for her, a power play, nothing more. But your hands betray you, sliding to her waist, tugging her closer, feeding the fire. You want her, even if it’s just this fleeting burn.

Then it shifts.

The kiss slows—her lips soften, less demanding, more lingering. The hunger doesn’t fade, but it melts into something warmer, something unguarded. Her breath catches, a faint tremor against your mouth, and the tease gives way to a quiet depth you didn’t expect. Her tongue brushes yours again, but it’s tender now, searching rather than claiming.

Your hand twitches, lifting toward her neck. You hesitate—flashes of earlier, your grip too tight, her gasping under your anger flickering in your mind. Guilt stalls you, but the kiss keeps pulling you in, softer still, and you can’t hold back. Your fingers find her neck, resting there—not choking, not controlling, just cradling, gentle and steady, a stark contrast to before.

She doesn’t pull away. Her lips stay on yours, warm and slow, a scrape of her teeth against your lower lip—not playful anymore, but raw, almost aching. When she finally breaks the kiss, it’s too sudden, a soft gasp slipping out as she stares at you. Her eyes widen for a heartbeat, mask slipping—surprise, vulnerability, like she didn’t mean to let it feel this real.

“Chaeyoung,” you murmur, voice rough, your thumb brushing the graze on her cheek—still raw from earlier, a mark you left behind.

She snaps back fast, that smirk curling her lips like armor, her gaze sweeping over you as if she didn’t just bare something unguarded. “What?” she teases, voice steadying too quick, too smooth. “Don’t tell me you’re hooked already.”

But your hand stays on her neck, light and warm, and for a moment, she doesn’t shake it off—the softness lingers between you, unspoken.

“You’ve been acting pathetic long enough,” Chaeyoung murmurs, shifting atop you. She pulls back slowly, settling her weight onto your hips, pinning you in place. “Let me take care of you.”

Her hands, warm and sure, glide from your thighs to your belt, fingers deftly working the buckle loose.

You catch her wrist, halting her. “Chaeyoung, we’re in public—”

“No one’s coming,” she interrupts, voice soft but firm, cutting through your protest. She leans in, her breath teasing your lips. “You need this.”

Her free hand fumbles blindly behind her, pulling the car door shut with a quiet click. She doesn’t say she needs it too, but the way her fingers tighten on you, the way her pupils flare, betrays her.

Your grip slackens.

A slow, wicked smile curls her lips. She shifts lower, unfastening your belt with a tug, sliding your waistband and boxers down in one fluid motion. Your cock springs free, and her eyes widen—just for a heartbeat—before that grin takes over, sharp and hungry.

Her tongue flicks out, tracing a deliberate, languid stripe up your length. A shudder rips through you as she swirls around the tip, savoring you, then takes you into her mouth. She sinks down, lips wrapping tight, the heat of her throat swallowing you inch by inch. A groan claws its way out of your chest, your hips twitching up instinctively.

She hums, the vibration pulsing through you, her tongue flicking against the sensitive underside as she bobs deeper, faster. Her fingers curl around the base, stroking what she can’t take, while her other hand teases your balls with a gentle roll. It’s too much—too good—pleasure coiling tight and fast. You’re close, teetering on the edge, when she pulls off with a wet pop, a thin string of spit bridging her lips to your throbbing tip.

She rises slightly, hands moving to her jeans. With maddening slowness, she unbuttons them, lifting her hips just enough to peel the denim down her thighs. Her dark panties cling to her, barely a barrier, and she kicks the jeans aside, settling back onto your lap.

Before you can catch your breath, she straddles you, grinding her hips down. The thin fabric between you does nothing to hide her heat, her slickness seeping through as she rolls against your aching length. Your hands grip her waist, fingers digging in, body taut with want.

“Mmm, you taste better than I remember,” she purrs, lips brushing your ear, nails raking your shoulders with a sharp thrill. “I want you inside me. Want you to fuck me ‘til I can’t stand.”

Her words ignite you, heat roaring through your veins. The slow drag of her hips has your breath stuttering, your hands itching to pull her closer, to lose yourself in her—

But then she stops.

Not hesitation. Not doubt.

She’s waiting, her focus shifting past you.

A beat hangs.

Then—click.

The car door creaks open, and your blood turns to ice.

“Chaeyoung…?”

The voice isn’t loud, but it slices through the haze, freezing you mid-breath. You don’t recognize it—not instantly—but the weight of that stare burns into you, heavy and unyielding.

“Oh… fuck—” A woman’s voice falters, stammering.

Panic hits like a flood. You jolt upright, scrambling to yank your pants up, fumbling in a clumsy rush. Chaeyoung, unbothered, slides off you with effortless grace, reaching for her jeans like it’s a casual pause in her day.

“Unnie, you’re here,” she says, voice light, almost bored, as she shimmies denim back over her hips.

You look up, heart slamming, and see her—Seoyeon—standing there, wide-eyed, caught in the doorway.

Your breath lodges in your throat, guilt and shock colliding as her gaze flickers between you and Chaeyoung.

Seoyeon freezes, her wide eyes flickering between you and Chaeyoung before dropping to the ground, like she’s trying to unsee what she just walked into. Her fingers tighten around her bag strap, and a faint flush creeps up her neck, barely visible in the parking lot’s dim glow.

That reaction—soft, unguarded—hits you harder than it should. Seoyeon, the quiet beauty you’d watched from a distance, always so composed, so untouchable. She’d had this effortless allure—serene, distant, captivating. And now, she’s flustered, unraveling before you.

Guilt twists in your chest, sharp and unfamiliar. You hardly know her—just fleeting glances, occasional nods—but her seeing you like this, tangled in Chaeyoung’s mess, stings in a way you can’t explain. Her expression, unreadable yet raw, makes it worse.

She shifts, hesitating, like she’s torn between bolting and pretending this never happened.

Then Chaeyoung moves.

Unfazed, she slides out of the car, rolling her shoulders as if shrugging off a minor annoyance. Her lips curl, eyes glinting as she turns from you to Seoyeon. “Seoyeon-ah,” she purrs, stretching the name with relish. “You’re so cute when you blush.”

Seoyeon stiffens. “I—I wasn’t—” she stammers, voice soft, faltering.

Chaeyoung’s laugh cuts through, stepping closer. “What? Didn’t enjoy the show? Or are you mad you missed your chance to play?”

Seoyeon’s breath catches, her grip on her bag whitening her knuckles. She doesn’t retreat, though—rooted there, trapped under Chaeyoung’s gaze.

You watch, a dark thread coiling in your mind. Chaeyoung’s teasing has shifted—no longer aimed at you, it’s sharper now, laced with an edge that feels almost territorial.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, closing the distance, her tone hovering between irritation and something colder.

Seoyeon hesitates. “You… said you’d drive me home.”

“Ah…” Chaeyoung tilts her head, smirk returning, but it’s tighter, meaner. “Right. I did, didn’t I?” She crosses her arms. “So, your little meeting’s done?”

Seoyeon nods, barely.

Chaeyoung spins back to you, her grin wicked. “Hear that? Our shy little puppy just signed a deal—her book’s getting adapted.” Her fingers trail up Seoyeon’s arm as she speaks, possessive, taunting. “Isn’t she incredible?” Her eyes lock on yours, gleaming. “Go on, praise her. She’d love to hear it from you.”

Your throat tightens, brain scrambling. A writer? You’d seen her in the café—alone, lost in thought, typing by her laptop. You’d guessed student, freelancer, anything but this.

“I—” You clear your throat, forcing it out. “Congrats. That’s… really impressive. I always wondered what you were up to.”

Seoyeon fidgets with her strap, eyes down. “I—I could just go home alone. I don’t want to interrupt—”

“Too late,” Chaeyoung cuts in, smooth and biting. Her fingers slide down Seoyeon’s wrist, tugging at her sleeve, and Seoyeon tenses—but doesn’t pull away.

“Join us,” Chaeyoung hums, tilting her head, lips curving sharper. “Unless…” She flicks her gaze to you, then lowers her voice, “you wanted a different kind of invitation?”

Your breath snags. Her hand drifts lower, fingertips brushing Seoyeon’s waist, pressing just enough to draw a faint shudder. It’s blatant, deliberate—performed for you, like she’s daring you to react.

Your jaw clenches.

Seoyeon bites her lip, face flaming, eyes darting away. She’s unrecognizable from the café girl—cozy sweaters swapped for something sleek, her softness sharpened by the moment, helpless under Chaeyoung’s grip.

And you—you’re still hard, the ache a cruel reminder of where this was headed. Chaeyoung catches it, her smirk flashing like she’s won something.

“Don’t go,” she murmurs, leaning closer to Seoyeon, fingers tracing her blouse’s hem. “Especially after crashing our fun.”

Chaeyoung glances at your still bulging pants.

She whispers something in Seoyeon’s ear—too low to catch—and Seoyeon’s breath hitches, her flush deepening.

Then Chaeyoung grins, turning to you. “Besides… don’t you want me to introduce you?” Her voice drops, eyes flicking between you both. “Show you who she really is?”

She tosses you the keys with a flick of her wrist. “Drive us, sweetie. Follow the GPS,” she says, mischief glinting in her stare. She glances at the backseat. “I want Seoyeon’s company back there.”

You slide into the driver’s seat, fingers clamping around the wheel, knuckles whitening. A quick check in the rearview shows Chaeyoung sprawled comfortably, dark hair fanning over the leather, one leg crossed casually. Seoyeon sits beside her, rigid, hands knotted in her lap, staring out the window like it might save her.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The car hums softly, the GPS’s faint beeps punctuating the quiet. The silence stretches—not heavy, but taut—until Chaeyoung slices through it.

“So… how much do you actually know about Seoyeon?”

Your fingers flex on the wheel, eyes flicking to the rearview. Chaeyoung’s smirking, amused, while Seoyeon jolts slightly, her gaze snapping from the window to dart between you and Chaeyoung.

You clear your throat. “Uh… I see her at Golden Brew a lot. She’s always there.”

Seoyeon blinks, startled—like she didn’t think you’d noticed her.

Chaeyoung chuckles, low and teasing. “That’s it? Just some café girl?” She slings an arm over Seoyeon’s shoulders, tugging her closer with casual possessiveness. “Come on, you’ve got more than that. Give us an impression.”

You hesitate, Seoyeon’s eyes on you now, soft but searching. What do you say? That she always looked so calm there, tucked in her corner, lost in a book—like the world couldn’t touch her? That she’s nothing like the flustered girl beside Chaeyoung now?

“I don’t know,” you mutter, eyes back on the road. “She just… seemed at peace there. Like nothing else mattered when she was reading.”

Seoyeon shifts, a mix of flattered and uneasy, while Chaeyoung hums, twirling a strand of Seoyeon’s hair. “See? He notices you.” Her voice dances with playful mockery, but it lands—Seoyeon’s cheeks flush pink.

The air shifts, no longer awkward but charged, teetering on something new. Chaeyoung’s either diffusing it or stirring it—you can’t tell.

Then—“So,” she drawls, stretching her legs like she owns the car, “when are you moving in?”

Your grip tightens, knuckles whitening. You knew it was coming—Saerom’s words made it inevitable—but resistance flares anyway, a reflex you can’t kill.

“Gyuri called earlier,” she adds, casual but pointed. “Asked if you’ve got anything sentimental in that dorm.”

The question jars you. Gyuri called her—not you? And moving your stuff herself? Your mind scrambles for something sentimental, but it’s blank—Saerom was right. A week with them, and they’ve already peeled back how empty your life was.

Your silence lingers too long.

Chaeyoung clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Still acting like you’ve got a choice, huh?” She leans forward, propping her chin on Seoyeon’s shoulder, eyes glinting in the mirror. “It’s not just about you crashing with us. It’s that head of yours—we’re keeping it from cracking open.”

Your jaw clenches.

“Your mind’s a mess,” she says, smooth and unrelenting. “It’s not a quick fix, sweetie.”

“We—or someone—” she loops an arm around Seoyeon’s waist, pulling her tighter, “has to stop you from losing it completely.”

Seoyeon stiffens, like she’s just now catching the drift. Chaeyoung doesn’t let her squirm away.

“Meet your minder,” she purrs, nudging Seoyeon forward like a prize on display. “Our best little memory-sorter.”

You catch Seoyeon’s reaction in the mirror—her fingers knot into her dress, lips parting in a half-formed protest she doesn’t voice.

“You,” Chaeyoung continues, dragging a finger up Seoyeon’s arm, making her twitch, “never step up unless you’re forced. But when Saerom asked for someone to help our poor, scrambled boy here, you volunteered fast.”

Seoyeon glances at you—quick, fleeting—then down. “I didn’t—” She swallows, voice thin. “It just made sense.”

Chaeyoung snickers. “Oh, sure. Made sense.” She mocks it, tilting her head. “Not because you’re perfect for untangling his head, but because you wanted to, right?”

“Because I’ve got the most experience,” Seoyeon snaps, face reddening.

“Mhm. Purely professional,” Chaeyoung grins, dripping sarcasm.

You keep your eyes on the road, but it’s sinking in—Seoyeon chose this? You’d figured it was thrust on her, like everything else with you. If she wanted it… why?

Chaeyoung leans closer to Seoyeon, voice dropping, teasing but firm. “Then why’re you blushing, sweetheart?”

You swallow hard, no answer forming. Seoyeon’s a stranger beyond café glimpses, but now—flustered, off-balance—she’s the last one you’d expect to sift through your fractured mind.

The wheel bites into your palms, city lights streaking past. You don’t want to unpack Chaeyoung’s words—or why Seoyeon’s quiet gaze in the mirror unsettles you so much.

Then— A sound. Soft, barely there. But in the thick silence, it cuts through like a blade. A… moan? Your grip tightens. Did you imagine that?

"You interrupted us earlier," Chaeyoung murmurs, voice slow, teasing. "He’s still probably hard from before. Don’t you think you owe him a show?”

You keep your eyes forward. You should keep them forward.

Another noise—fainter, but unmistakable—followed by the rustle of fabric, a shift of weight on leather. Your stomach twists, unease coiling tight. What the hell’s going on back there?

Chaeyoung’s voice breaks through, playful but laced with command. “See, Seoyeon’s brilliant with her spells, but there’s something she’s terrible at.”

You could look. One glance in the mirror would settle it. But with Chaeyoung, looking’s a trap—you know better. Still, your mind spins, torn between shutting it out and the nagging pull to understand. Is this her game again? Or is Seoyeon—? No. You kill the thought fast.

A soft, pleading whimper escapes Seoyeon. “Chaeyoung, please—” she mumbles, voice fragile, but Chaeyoung barrels over it.

“She can’t say no,” she teases, mischief dripping from every word. “Or rather, she’ll do anything but say it.” Another moan—clearer now—punctuates her taunt, leaving no room for doubt. “Such a sweet unnie, always so eager to please… or maybe you just love being used like this?”

Curiosity and dread tug your gaze to the rearview. The dim light barely outlines them, but it’s enough: Seoyeon pressed against Chaeyoung, her body yielding to soft, relentless touches. Chaeyoung’s fingers weave through her hair while another hand traces slow, teasing lines under her skirt. Seoyeon’s trembling grip clings to Chaeyoung’s arm, her gasps spilling out—small, desperate sounds of surrender.

“Mr. Driver, eyes on the road,” Chaeyoung chides, her tone sharp with glee. You snap your focus forward, heat prickling your neck, but the image sticks—burned into your mind.

“Sounds like someone’s enjoying herself,” she murmurs, voice curling with delight. “Seoyeon, why don’t you tell him? Describe every little thing I’m doing to you.”

Seoyeon’s breath hitches, her fingers digging into Chaeyoung’s arm. “Chaeyoung, I—” she stammers, voice a whisper, fraying at the edges.

Chaeyoung hums, feigning consideration, but her hands don’t stop. “What? Want me to stop?” A deliberate pause. “When you’re already this wet?”

Silence—thick, heavy. Then, soft and broken: “No… please don’t… I’ll do it.”

“Good girl,” Chaeyoung purrs, satisfaction dripping from the words.

The air turns stifling, filled with Seoyeon’s shaky breaths and Chaeyoung’s low murmurs. You grip the wheel tighter, fighting the urge to look, to let their game pull you in. The city lights streak by, blurred and distant, drowned out by the pounding in your chest.

Seoyeon’s voice trembles, halting. “I… I feel Chaeyoung’s fingers… sliding under my skirt… touching me…” Each word wavers, forced out between gasps. “She’s tracing circles… slow, then faster… it’s—ah—it’s tingling everywhere…”

Chaeyoung’s eyes flick to you in the mirror, a brief, wicked glint, before she leans closer to Seoyeon. “That’s it,” she coaxes, voice a velvet tease. “Let him hear every sound. Show him how irresistible you are.”

Seoyeon swallows, her breaths short and ragged. “Her fingers… they’re higher now… brushing—oh god—brushing my panties… they’re soaked… it’s too much…” Her voice climbs, desperate, unraveling.

You can’t see it, but you don’t need to—the picture paints itself: Seoyeon squirming, flushed and needy, Chaeyoung’s fingers working her into a frenzy. You force your focus on the road, but it’s useless—the sounds, the heat, the tension—they claw at you.

“Getting excited, Seoyeon?” Chaeyoung whispers, lips grazing her ear. “Does my touch make you all fluttery inside?”

A strangled moan is her only answer, nails biting into Chaeyoung’s arm.

“I think he needs to know,” Chaeyoung murmurs, fingers teasing the damp fabric. “How much you’re loving this. Tell him how wet I’m making you.”

Seoyeon whimpers, her body squirming against the seat. “I… I’m soaking,” she confesses, voice trembling, barely holding together. “Chaeyoung’s fingers… they’re making me drip… my panties are drenched… I want—ah—I want her inside…” Her words break into a fractured moan as Chaeyoung’s fingers slip beneath the damp fabric, stroking her slick, eager folds.

Chaeyoung chuckles, low and dark, her touch unrelenting. “You hear that?” she murmurs, voice a taunting caress. “She’s begging for it.” Her fingers plunge deeper, a slick, rhythmic sound filling the car as she works Seoyeon open, drawing out sharper gasps.

Your grip on the wheel tightens, sweat beading on your brow. You shouldn’t look—you can’t look—but the pull is too strong. Your eyes flick to the rearview, catching them in fragments: Chaeyoung’s hand buried between Seoyeon’s thighs, her fingers curling inside with a slow, deliberate thrust. Seoyeon’s head tips back, lips parted, her chest heaving as soft, needy cries spill out.

“Chaeyoung… please…” Seoyeon’s voice is a broken plea, her hips rocking into the touch, chasing it. Chaeyoung leans closer, her lips brushing Seoyeon’s ear, whispering something too low to catch—but it makes Seoyeon shudder, her nails scraping the leather.

The car feels smaller, the air thick and stifling. Chaeyoung’s fingers move faster, a wet, obscene rhythm that syncs with Seoyeon’s escalating moans. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” Chaeyoung purrs, her free hand sliding up to grip Seoyeon’s waist, holding her steady. “Let him hear how good it feels.”

Seoyeon’s response is a high, desperate whine, her body arching off the seat. You can’t tear your eyes away—her flushed cheeks, the way her thighs tremble, the glistening sheen on Chaeyoung’s fingers as they pump in and out. Your breath catches, pulse hammering, the road blurring at the edges of your vision.

She’s unraveling—fast. Chaeyoung adds another finger, stretching her, and Seoyeon’s cry spikes, raw and unrestrained. “Yes—oh god—Chaeyoung—” Her voice cracks, teetering on the edge, and you’re staring now, fully caught, the wheel forgotten as her climax builds.

“Come on, baby,” Chaeyoung coaxes, voice thick with satisfaction, her thumb flicking over Seoyeon’s clit. “Let go for me—for him.”

Seoyeon’s body tenses, a taut bowstring ready to snap. Her gasps turn sharp, frantic, her hands clawing at Chaeyoung’s arm. You’re locked on her—her glazed eyes, her shuddering frame—watching the wave crest, so close you can almost feel it.

Then—a horn blares, loud and jarring.

Your heart lurches as the car swerves, tires skidding over the line. You jerk the wheel hard, yanking it back into your lane, adrenaline spiking as the world snaps back into focus. Shit—too close. Your eyes snap forward, chest heaving, the climax slipping past you in the chaos.

You miss it—the peak.

But you hear it: Seoyeon’s sharp, broken cry, a sound of pure release that cuts through the roar in your ears. It’s followed by a trembling gasp, then a soft, shuddering exhale as she collapses against the seat. Chaeyoung’s low hum of approval weaves through the aftermath, her fingers slowing, guiding Seoyeon down from the high.

You don’t dare look again. The road demands your focus, but the echoes linger—Seoyeon’s ragged breathing, the faint slick sound as Chaeyoung withdraws her hand. Your knuckles ache from gripping the wheel, your shirt clinging to your back with sweat.

“Look at this mess,” Chaeyoung murmurs, her voice smug, lazy, dripping with triumph. “You really enjoy him hearing how perverted you are, don’t you?” She shifts, and in your peripheral, you catch her wiping her fingers on Seoyeon’s skirt—casual, possessive, like marking her territory.

“You do realize this is Saerom’s car, right?” Chaeyoung adds, a teasing lilt in her tone.

Seoyeon’s too spent to reply, her breath still unsteady, a faint whimper slipping out as she slumps against the seat, boneless and dazed.

Chaeyoung chuckles, low and indulgent, leaning closer to Seoyeon. “Oh, don’t even try to play shy now. You loved every second of him listening—didn’t you, unnie?”

Seoyeon’s lips part, a weak protest forming, but it dies in her throat, replaced by a shaky exhale. Her hands twitch in her lap, like she’s grasping for control she doesn’t have.

“You don’t have to say it,” Chaeyoung continues, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though loud enough for you to hear. “It’s obvious. You get off on this—being use freely. Anyone can have you, anytime, anywhere, and you just melt for it.”

Your grip tightens on the wheel, the words sinking in. Free use? Your mind stumbles over it, but Chaeyoung doesn’t pause, her tone turning instructional, like she’s savoring the explanation.

“See, that’s her thing,” she says, glancing at you through the rearview with a smirk. “Seoyeon’s too sweet to admit it, but she thrives on being taken—however, whenever. No boundaries, no fuss. Just… available.” She runs a finger along Seoyeon’s thigh, drawing a faint shiver. “Why do you think she didn’t say no back there? She can’t. It’s wired into her.”

Seoyeon’s breath hitches, her head dipping lower, but she doesn’t contradict it. Her silence is louder than words—agreement by default, too overwhelmed to argue.

“Chaeyoung…” Seoyeon mumbles, voice barely audible, a plea or a surrender—you can’t tell.

“What?” Chaeyoung cuts in, grinning. “You’re not denying it, are you? Look at you—still trembling, skirt a mess, all because I decided to play with you in front of him. You didn’t stop me. You wanted it.”

Seoyeon’s fingers curl into the leather, her face flushed, but no rebuttal comes. She’s trapped—caught between exhaustion and the truth Chaeyoung’s laying bare.

The GPS chimes, a soft ping slicing through the charged air, signaling the final turn. The road stretches toward a towering mansion, its dark silhouette carving into the night sky, stark and commanding.

“Great, we’re here,” Chaeyoung says, stretching with a lazy roll of her shoulders, as if this were just another casual drive. “Park by the gate.”

You guide the car to a stop, tires crunching faintly against gravel, your hands still clamped around the wheel. Your mind’s a snarl—reeling from the sounds, the heat, the scene that burned itself into your skull from the rearview.

Chaeyoung slips out first, the door shutting with a crisp thud, her movements fluid, unbothered. You don’t follow. Not yet. Your fingers flex, uncertain, rooted to the seat.

Your gaze flicks to the mirror.

Seoyeon’s still there, slumped against the leather, her chest rising and falling in slow, unsteady breaths. Her skirt’s rucked up, thighs parted just enough to betray the aftermath—tremors still rippling through her, faint and fading. Her eyes are half-lidded, lost in a dazed fog.

You should say something. Move. Anything.

But before you can unstuck yourself, a light tap-tap raps against your window. Chaeyoung leans down, her smirk glinting in the dim light, sharp and knowing.

“Just leave her for now,” she says, voice thick with amusement, like she’s commenting on a spilled drink instead of a trembling wreck. “She’ll be fine.”

The way she says it—casual, dismissive—makes your fingers twitch against the wheel, a spark of something hot and unnamable flaring in your chest.

You exhale, sharp through your nose, and glance back at the mirror.

Seoyeon hasn’t moved. Her breaths are shallow, her body limp, a quiet shadow of the poised girl you’d glimpsed before.

You don’t respond. The silence settles, thick and unresolved, as Chaeyoung straightens and saunters toward the gate, leaving you with the echo of her words and Seoyeon’s heavy stillness in the backseat.

You shove the car door open, stepping out fast, gravel crunching under your boots as you close the distance. Before she reaches the gate, you grab her arm, pulling her to a stop. “What was that about?”

Chaeyoung turns, smirking like she expected this. “What, the show?” She tilts her head, eyes glinting. “Just giving you a front-row seat to Seoyeon’s little quirk. She’s fine—better than fine. She loves it.”

Your grip tightens slightly, jaw clenching. “Loves it? She could barely speak back there.”

“Exactly,” Chaeyoung says, unfazed, twisting her arm free with a casual shrug. “That’s the point. She doesn’t fight it—never will. Free use isn’t just her kink; it’s her nature. You could take her right now, and she’d let you. Hell, she’d probably thank you.”

You stare, the words sinking in, a mix of unease and heat stirring in your chest. “And you’re just… okay with that?”

She laughs, sharp and low. “Okay? Sweetie, I’m telling you to use it. She’s your anchor duty too, you know—keeping us steady means keeping her satisfied. Plus…” Her smirk widens, eyes flicking over you. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy hearing her fall apart. Take advantage of it. For her. For you.”

You don’t answer, the weight of her suggestion pressing down, tempting and unsettling all at once. Chaeyoung steps back, grinning, then turns toward the gate, leaving you standing there—caught between her words and the quiet, trembling figure still in the car.

The gates slide open with a low hum, machinery purring softly into the still night. Beyond them, the mansion rises—a sleek, modern sculpture carved against the dark. Sharp angles and clean lines meld glass and concrete into something precise, deliberate. Warm light pours from vast windows, pooling onto the manicured garden and the smooth stone walkway that stretches toward the entrance.

It’s grand but restrained—wealth distilled into control, not extravagance. Every detail feels intentional, a quiet flex of power.

Your shoes crunch faintly on the path as you step forward, the sound crisp in the silence. Chaeyoung strides ahead, unbothered, stretching her arms overhead with a fluid, careless grace.

You glance back—just once—at the car, where Seoyeon lingers. Chaeyoung catches it, peering over her shoulder, her smirk deepening as she reads your pause.

“Relax,” she says, voice smooth, gliding over the tension like silk. “She’ll come in when she’s ready.”

The front doors part before you reach them—automated, or maybe someone’s watching. A rush of cool air greets you, crisp and faintly floral, laced with the scent of something expensive and understated.

You step inside, crossing the threshold into their world. “Might as well show you around,” Chaeyoung says, glancing back with a faint smirk. “Wouldn’t want you lost on your first night.”

The interior gleams—sharp, modern, all polished surfaces and muted tones. Chaeyoung takes the lead, her steps echoing faintly in the cavernous foyer as she gestures with a lazy flick of her wrist.

“We’re barely here,” she says, her tone laced with casual confidence. “Busy as hell—shoots, meetings, all that chaos. The place stays empty most of the time.” She shoots you a sidelong glance, smirk tugging at her lips. “Just us. No staff, no stragglers, no visitors. Keeps it clean—literally and figuratively.”

You follow, shoes tapping against hardwood, the silence amplifying each sound. She veers left toward a small hallway—her lobby. “This is me, Hayoung, and Jiwon,” she says, pointing to three doors clustered together, a sleek bathroom tucked at the end. “Our little corner. Hayoung’s … very territorial—don’t touch her stuff unless you want a lecture. Jiwon’s chill, but she’s hardly around.”

She doesn’t linger, heading up a cold, modern staircase—glass steps, steel railing. You climb behind her, the house’s quiet pressing in. At the top, a long hallway stretches out, doors like sentinels.

“Second floor,” she announces. “This is where you’ll be.” She nods toward a lobby with five rooms—Saerom, Jisun, Seoyeon, Nagyung, and yours—flanked by three bathrooms. “Seoyeon’s is closest to you—she likes her quiet.” She nudges a door open with her hip. “Here’s yours.”

You peer in—dark wood floors, a wide bed with crisp sheets, a desk angled toward a towering window framing the garden. Sparse, sharp-edged, waiting to be claimed.

“Not bad, huh?” Chaeyoung leans against the frame, watching you take it in. “Beats that cramped dorm by a mile.”

You nod faintly, the reality of moving in sinking deeper. She pushes off, strolling down the hall. “Saerom’s got the big office up here—barely uses it unless she’s playing boss. Jisun is a neat freak, don’t let her see any of your mess, Nagyung’s… Nagyung.”

She leads you back downstairs, drifting toward the kitchen—a pristine space with gleaming appliances and an untouched island. “Jisun rules this when she’s here,” she says lazily. “Hates us touching her stuff—knife-throwing threats included.” She pauses by a wall of windows overlooking the garden, night pressing dark against the glass.

The tour stretches—past a living area with a plush sectional and stark art, a sleek bar counter, a lounge with low couches and a massive TV, a small gym with mirrored walls, a tucked-away balcony catching the city’s distant glow. “We don’t use half this stuff,” she admits, shrugging. “Too busy. Keeps it nice for crashing, though.”

She veers toward another small hallway on the first floor, two rooms facing a glass wall to the garden. “Gyuri and Jiheon’s lobby,” she says, pointing. “Gyuri’s closer, Jiheon’s farther.”

You stop, staring at Jiheon’s door. A storm churns in your chest—anger, disappointment, longing, hate, forgiveness, disgust, a twisted ache you can’t name. It’s heavy, bitter, and you don’t know what to do with it.

Chaeyoung leans close, her whisper brushing your ear, breaking the spiral. “Wanna knock?”

“No.”

She smirks faintly but doesn’t push, guiding you back toward the second floor. “Let’s check on our little star—give her time to pull herself together.” Her voice dips with that familiar tease.

When you first saw Seoyeon’s room—just down from yours—it felt normal. Quiet, orderly, a haven of books and lavender. But now, as you return, your steps drag, each one heavier than the last, like the air’s thickened, resisting you. Chaeyoung doesn’t knock—just eases the door open and steps inside, claiming the space.

Seoyeon’s there, perched on her bed, changed into an oversized long-sleeved shirt, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair’s loose, faintly tousled, a soft flush still on her cheeks. She glances up as you enter, eyes widening briefly before dropping to her lap, fingers twisting into her cuffs.

You pause, the shift in the room undeniable—something sluggish, unseen, pressing down. But Chaeyoung just smirks, oblivious or unconcerned, and you let it pass, chalking it up to the day’s weight.

Seoyeon’s there, sitting on the edge of her bed. She’s changed—swapped the creased skirt for an oversized long-sleeved shirt that drowns her frame, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair’s loose, still slightly tousled, and the flush on her cheeks has faded to a soft glow. She glances up as you enter, eyes widening for a split second before dropping to her lap, fingers fidgeting with the shirt’s cuffs.

Chaeyoung crosses her arms, smirking. “Look at you, all cozy now. Took you long enough.”

Seoyeon mumbles something under her breath, too quiet to catch, her posture stiff but not defiant. The room fits her—bookshelves packed tight, a cluttered desk with notebooks and pens, a faint lavender scent softening the air. It’s a refuge, even if she doesn’t look entirely at ease in it now.

Chaeyoung tilts her head toward you. “Told you she’d be fine. Didn’t even need a nudge to freshen up.”

You don’t reply, the air between you three thick with unspoken currents—Chaeyoung’s easy control, Seoyeon’s fragile calm, and your own unsettled place in this strange, polished world.

Chaeyoung glances at the sleek clock on Seoyeon’s wall, then back at you, a glint sparking in her eyes. “Still got a couple hours ‘til dinner. Plenty of time for you two to get started.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Started on what?”

“Healing that mess in your head,” she says, smirking as she nods toward Seoyeon. “She’s your little mind-fixer, remember? Might as well dive in now.”

Something nags at the back of your mind. A small, quiet wrongness.

Your gaze flickers to the clock.

The sleek, minimalist hands tick forward, smooth and unhurried. But something feels off. It takes a second to register—the movement isn’t quite… right. The rhythm is steady, but it doesn’t match the weight of the moment, doesn’t line up with the pulse in your veins, the breaths in your lungs.

Seoyeon shifts on the bed, smoothing the oversized long-sleeved shirt over her thighs, her composure steadier now—a stark contrast to the trembling wreck in the car. She doesn’t protest, just nods faintly.

You glance at the time again.

Something feels… off.

The second hand moves, but sluggishly, dragging itself forward in a way that doesn’t match the quiet tension in the room. The tick, usually sharp and precise, stretches—each second stretching just a little longer than it should.

The time is wrong. Not in numbers, but in weight.

Or maybe not. Maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe your mind is more broken than you thought.

“Fine,” you mutter, the weight of it settling in. You’re here, in their world—might as well see what this ‘healing’ actually means.

Chaeyoung steps back, leaning against the doorframe, her smirk widening as she eyes you both. “Perfect. A cozy little session. Just don’t get too distracted, hmm?” She tilts her head toward Seoyeon, voice dipping low and teasing. “Our sweet unnie’s still got that free-use itch, you know. Might be hard to focus when she’s so… available.”

Seoyeon’s cheeks flush faintly, but she doesn’t flinch this time. Her gaze lifts, meeting Chaeyoung’s with a quiet steadiness. “If he needs my help,” she says, voice soft but deliberate, “I’m here.” It’s passive, almost detached—yet the way her eyes flicker to you for a split second carries an anticipating leer, unspoken but undeniable.

Chaeyoung’s grin sharpens, delighted. “See? Always so willing.” She lets out a bright, cutting laugh, pushing off the frame. “You two have fun—I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, she slips out, the door clicking shut behind her, her laughter echoing faintly down the hall.

You’re left alone with Seoyeon, the air in her room thickening—lavender and paper mingling with the weight of her words. She sits there, composed but not entirely closed off, watching you with a quiet intensity that makes your pulse tick faster.

“So,” you say, voice rougher than intended, breaking the quiet. “How does this… healing thing work?”

Seoyeon pats the space beside her, a silent invitation. You don’t move right away, and she shifts, the oversized sleeve slipping past her wrist as she gestures again—patient, expectant, a quiet pull in her motion.

“Come here,” she says, soft but certain. “Lay down.”

You hesitate.

She doesn’t repeat herself, just waits, her gaze steady, unwavering. There’s no push, no command—just a calm assurance, like she knows you’ll come to her.

And somehow, you do.

You ease onto the bed, head settling into the pillow she nudges against her lap. The fabric of her shirt drapes over you, soft and warm, brushing your skin like a whispered promise. Her heat radiates through, steadying you in a way that catches you off guard.

Then she moves.

Her fingertips graze your temple, light as a feather, tracing slow, wandering patterns. Each touch is deliberate, tender—like she’s unraveling you, thread by thread, feeling the knots of tension still coiled beneath your surface.

Your eyes lift to hers.

Her gaze catches you, and something shifts. At first, her eyes are shadowed pools—deep, unreadable—but then they bloom. Color seeps away, melting into a grey that’s alive, liquid silver threaded with dusk, like the tender hush of twilight spilling over a still lake. It’s not stark or cold; it’s a soft veil, a mist kissed by starlight, drawing you into its quiet embrace. Her eyes shimmer with a gentle depth, as if they hold the weight of a thousand unspoken dreams, tender and infinite.

The air thickens—light, hazy, blurring the edges of the world until it’s just you and her in this fragile, suspended moment.

A grey fog unfurls at the corners of your vision, curling like tendrils of smoke. You don’t flinch.

Seoyeon doesn’t blink. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, her fingers still dancing, still grounding. “Just breathe.”

You do.

The pressure against your ribs softens—just a fraction.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Her voice weaves through the haze, a guiding thread—gentle, not pressing, simply offering a space for you to fill.

You swallow. “Too much.”

She hums, a low, knowing sound that resonates in your chest. “Then start small.”

Her fingers press faintly, a quiet nudge, her warmth sinking deeper—sliding into fractures you didn’t know you’d left open.

Your lips part before you mean them to.

And slowly, as the grey haze wraps tighter, pulling you into its tender depths, the words begin to spill out.

You wake to silence.

The room’s dimmer now—not dark, but the warm gold of before has dulled into something softer, hazier, less defined. Your head rests in Seoyeon’s lap, her hand lying still against your hair, a faint warmth lingering in her touch.

You blink, sluggish, piecing together the gap. How long were you out? Something’s… off. Not wrong—just unmoored. Like waking from a dream where the edges don’t align, the fragments slipping through your fingers.

Your eyes drift to the clock on the wall, its sleek hands stark against the muted backdrop. You frown.

The seconds tick—or don’t. The motion’s too slow, a crawl that drags against the rhythm of time, you know. Did it move at all? Or is your mind lagging, stretching moments into something they’re not?

You must’ve been under longer than it felt. That’s it—right?

Your body’s heavy, limbs thick and reluctant, as if they’re wading through molasses. A fog clings to you—not exhaustion, not the ache of sleeplessness, but something stranger, weightless yet suffocating. A spell’s aftereffect, you tell yourself. Just the residue of whatever she did to pull you under, clouding your edges.

Seoyeon shifts beneath you, a faint rustle breaking the stillness. “You’re awake,” she whispers, voice so soft it barely stirs the air.

You swallow, throat dry. “Yeah.”

She studies you, her gaze searching—probing—for something you can’t name. Her fingers lift, returning to your temple, pressing lightly, delicately, like she’s testing a pulse beneath your skin.

You should ask. Should question the sluggish air, the way time feels like it’s pooling instead of flowing. But the words stick, caught in the haze.

Her head tilts, and those eyes—still a quiet, misted grey, like twilight caught in glass—hold you. They shimmer faintly, a silvered depth that seems to stretch too far, too still. “How do you feel?” she asks, voice threading through the fog, gentle but heavy with something unspoken.

You hesitate.

The question lingers, and you realize the room feels softer—too soft. The light bends at odd angles, the shadows too lazy to sharpen. Your thoughts drift, sluggish, curling inward like smoke you can’t grasp. It’s the spell, you think—it has to be. The aftermath of her magic left you dazed and untethered.

But beneath that reasoning, something prickles—a flicker of doubt, a whisper that this isn’t just residue. That the world itself is slowing, sinking, and she’s at the center of it.

You don’t voice it. Can’t.

You shift, pushing yourself upright. The weight lingers, but the room snaps into focus—too quick, too vivid, like a reel jerked back into alignment. For a moment, the air still hums thick, heavy with the promise of something unravelling—but then it steadies, settling into a fragile normalcy.

Seoyeon’s hand hovers near you, hesitating before pulling back. The grey in her eyes lightens, the quiet storm fading into something softer, more contained.

“Ri—right, it’s the first treatment,” she says, voice gentler, a little unsteady. “That was the first time… I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you fully.”

You shake your head, the spell’s residue still fogging your edges. “No, it’s okay. I knew it wouldn’t be instant. But I feel better now.”

And for a fleeting second, you believe it.

Until it strikes.

A flash—too fast, too brutal. Jiheon’s face, warped and sharp, tears streaking her cheeks. Not a memory—a violation, shoved into your skull with searing force. Pain blooms, white-hot, and you clutch your head, breath catching as it digs deeper.

Seoyeon’s eyes widen, concern flashing as she leans in. “Are you okay?” Her fingers graze your wrist, steady and warm. “Tell me—ask if you need anything.”

You force a sharp exhale, the image of Jiheon flickering, unstable, like a signal breaking up. “Actually, there’s something I need your help with.”

She freezes. Then—“Oh—oh…” Her voice lifts, a spark igniting in her tone. Her hand slides from your wrist to your thigh, fingers curling tight, gripping with sudden, eager intent. Her other hand follows, rubbing slow, firm circles higher up your leg, her touch bold and warm through the fabric. Her lips part, breath quickening, eyes glinting with something hungry as they dart to your mouth. “Then… tell me what you need.”

The air charges, her excitement pulsing through her grip, her body shifting closer—too close—her oversized shirt brushing your arm.

You blink, the misunderstanding hitting you late, electric and awkward. “I keep hearing ‘The Mist.’ What is it?”

Her hands stop dead.

“What…?” The word hangs, her eyes widening as the spark snuffs out. Color floods her cheeks, a flush of mortification chasing away the eagerness. She pulls back fast, hands retreating to her lap, pressing her lips tight like she could swallow the moment whole.

“The—The Mist…” she echoes, voice leveling as she forces herself steady.

A breath—shaky, then firm. She exhales, recalibrating, the blush still lingering as she meets your gaze again.

“Think of it as a literal mist or fog,” she begins, voice smoothing into something measured, deliberate. She glances toward the window, eyes tracing the faint glow of the outside lamps before flicking back to you. “Let’s say this morning, Gyuri blew up your door. Shook the entire building. A full-force explosion—undeniably real.”

Her fingers twitch against the fabric of her oversized sleeve. “But what if that wasn’t what really happened?”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“You saw it with your own eyes, right? But to outsiders? To anyone not meant to understand?” She tilts her head. “The Mist works on their perception. To them, it wouldn’t have been a single woman causing destruction. It would’ve looked like a gas leak. A structural fault. Something explainable—because that’s easier. That’s normal.”

The weight of her words sinks in, slow and unsettling.

“Or…” she hesitates, then leans in slightly. “Have you ever walked into a room and forgotten why you were there? Sworn something was different, but you couldn’t place what?”

She taps a finger against her temple. “That’s The Mist, too. It doesn’t erase things, not exactly—it redirects your thoughts. A missing object, a changed detail, a person who was never supposed to exist…”

Your mind flashes back. “That night at the café—when we first met. It felt wrong going back. Like something had shifted.” Your voice is careful. “Did you use The Mist then?”

She nods. “The Mist doesn’t just hide things. It bends perception, guides thoughts. It makes the impossible seem ordinary, the unnatural seem mundane.”

Her gaze holds yours, steady and unreadable. “It doesn’t just mask the truth.” A pause, the air thick between you. “It replaces it.”

"So you created The Mist?"

Seoyeon shakes her head. "No. It’s always been there—thin, spread out, almost insignificant. What we do is draw from it, shape it, use it as a tool. It helps us hide, keeps us at a distance… while letting us live normally."

Before you can respond, the door swings open.

Chaeyoung steps inside, scanning the room—first you, then Seoyeon. Her wound by her cheek, marks on her neck now gone, as if it never happened. Something flickers across her face, a mix of surprise and… disappointment?

"I leave you two alone, and you did nothing?" she asks, voice lilting with amusement, but her gaze isn’t on you. It’s fixed on Seoyeon.

A beat of silence.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," she murmurs, unreadable.

Then, without waiting for a reply, she turns on her heel. "Come on. Let’s eat."

The dining room hums with a lived-in warmth—familiarity etched into the clink of plates and the quiet rhythm of routine. Gyuri and Hayoung move with seamless precision, setting bowls and dishes across the table, a dance they’ve done countless times. You follow Seoyeon and Chaeyoung to your seats, easing into the house’s unspoken flow.

Gyuri keeps her focus on the task, her movements precise, not sparing you a glance. Hayoung’s eyes snag yours—sharp, fleeting—and without thinking, you start, “I’m—”

“I know who you are,” she snaps, voice cutting like a blade, venom simmering beneath. Her hand hovers over a glass, fingers tightening for a split second before she turns away, dismissing you.

You pause, then press on, undeterred. “—a big fan of yours.”

The words land softer, earnest, and Hayoung freezes mid-motion. Her head snaps back to you, eyes widening just enough to betray her surprise. The sharpness in her stance falters—her grip on the glass loosens, and a faint flush creeps up her neck. She blinks, caught off guard, the bite in her fading as something shy flickers across her face.

She doesn’t respond right away, her lips parting then pressing shut, like she’s unsure what to do with the compliment. The hostility doesn’t vanish entirely, but it’s tempered now, her gaze darting away as she fumbles with the glass, suddenly less certain.

You settle in, the air prickling faintly as the first dish remains untouched. “What about the others?” you ask, glancing around.

Chaeyoung, already pouring herself a drink, answers with a lazy drawl. “Saerom and Jiwon are tied up with work—won’t be back tonight. Jisun’s with Jiheon, eating in her room.”

Jiheon. The name drops like a stone in your chest, dragging up jagged, counterfeit memories—her tears, her touch, a love that never was. Your head throbs, the falseness of it clawing at you, and you force a nod, swallowing the ache.

Something’s missing, though. A gap in the tally nags at you—until the chair at the table’s far end scrapes lightly against the floor.

Nagyung sits.

No one reacts.

It’s not deliberate—no one looks her way, no one adjusts to include her. It’s as if she’d been there all along, or never there at all. Gyuri keeps arranging dishes, Hayoung pours water with a taut grip, Chaeyoung sips her drink. Seoyeon doesn’t flinch.

But you see her.

“Hey.”

The word lands like a glass shattering on tile.

Gyuri freezes mid-reach, her arm suspended. Hayoung’s glass clinks hard against the table, her jaw tightening as her eyes flick to you, narrow and edged with something bitter. Chaeyoung leans forward, smirk blooming with intrigue. Seoyeon’s gaze widens, a quiet shock rippling through her composure.

Nagyung tilts her head—just a fraction—brown eyes locking onto yours, flat and unreadable, like a still pond undisturbed by wind.

“What?” You glance around, unease prickling. “Did I say something weird?”

Chaeyoung’s chuckle cuts the silence, her fingers tapping a slow, amused beat on the table. “Not weird. Just… unexpected.”

Hayoung exhales sharply through her nose, a sound laced with irritation. “We’re not used to someone noticing her first,” she says, her tone cold, barbed. Her gaze lingers on you, heavy with something unspoken, festering under the surface.

Your brows knit. “Noticing—?”

Then it clicks.

The vague itch when you’d asked about the others, the way her entrance slipped past everyone like a shadow dissolving into dusk. She’s not just quiet—she’s apathy, a presence that erases itself, deliberately unseen.

And you broke that.

A faint spark—curiosity, perhaps—flickers in Nagyung’s eyes before she speaks, her voice smooth, detached, like it’s drifting from somewhere far off. “You see me.”

Not a question. A quiet acknowledgment, testing the air.

You hold her stare. “Yeah.”

The silence stretches, too long, too still. Then, without a ripple of reaction, Nagyung picks up her chopsticks and starts eating, as if the exchange never happened.

The clink of chopsticks against porcelain punctuates the quiet after Chaeyoung’s offhand comment.

“Oh right, we haven’t told Jiheon you’ll be living here from now on.”

Your chopsticks freeze above your plate, mid-reach.

“I—”

You don’t get further—if you even meant to argue—because Hayoung chokes across the table. A harsh, ragged cough erupts, her hand fumbling for water. The sound jars the room, but no one flinches. No one moves to help. It’s as if they’re used to her unraveling like this.

You exhale, leaning back, letting your chopsticks settle. “I don’t care.”

You do. Too much.

Hayoung wipes her mouth with a napkin, her gaze snapping to you—razor-sharp, venom simmering. “Of course you don’t.”

The hostility isn’t veiled anymore—it’s a blade, honed and pointed.

You don’t bite back. There’s no point.

But you notice.

Each time your chopsticks hover toward a dish—steamed greens, grilled fish, even the plain rice—Hayoung’s move first. Her motions are swift, precise, cutting you off before you can touch anything. Once might be chance. Twice, impatience. By the third, fourth, it’s a game—a quiet, spiteful claim over every bite, every inch of space you try to take.

You let her have it.

The tension coils tighter, a bowstring pulled taut, thrumming between you. It’s suffocating, unspoken—until Gyuri’s voice slices through.

“I’m leaving first.”

You turn, really seeing her for the first time tonight.

Her eyes catch yours, and for a brief, electric moment, she holds the stare. There’s something there—raw, flickering beneath the polished mask she wears so effortlessly. A storm brews behind her calm, a heat she’s wrestling to bury. Wrath, barely leashed, glints in the tightness of her jaw, the way her fingers flex against the table’s edge.

Then she forces a smile.

It’s thin, brittle—never touching her eyes.

And just like that, she’s gone, chair scraping faintly as she slips away, leaving the air heavier than before.

Dinner winds down, the clatter of dishes fading into a quiet hum. The table’s a battlefield of half-empty bowls and scattered chopsticks, the tension from earlier simmering beneath the surface. You push your chair back, the scrape soft against the hardwood, as the others begin to drift away.

Seoyeon rises without a word, her oversized shirt swaying as she heads straight for her room, steps muted and purposeful. Nagyung’s chair sits empty—you didn’t catch when she left, her absence slipping past like a shadow dissolving into the dark. Chaeyoung lingers, smirking faintly as she watches you, already poised to follow.

Hayoung stays behind, stacking plates with sharp, deliberate movements. Her jaw’s tight, her earlier hostility still clinging to her like a second skin. You hesitate, then step toward her, voice low. “Need a hand?”

She freezes, a bowl half-lifted, her eyes snapping to you—wide, caught off guard. The sharpness in her gaze falters, softening just a fraction, as if your offer punched a hole through her armor. “What?” Her tone’s still edged, but there’s a crack in it—surprise, maybe doubt.

“I can help clean up,” you say, reaching for a stack of dishes. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, she doesn’t move, just stares, her grip on the bowl tightening then loosening. The hostility doesn’t vanish, but it dulls—her shoulders easing, her lips pressing into a thin line instead of a scowl. “Fine,” she mutters, turning back to the table, but there’s less bite in it now. A flicker of something—grudging respect, maybe—hints at her guard slipping, your thoughtfulness cutting through her resentment.

You work in silence, clearing plates, brushing past her as she rinses. She doesn’t snap again, doesn’t block you out. It’s not peace, but it’s a truce, fragile and unspoken.

When the last dish is stacked, you turn to leave—and Chaeyoung’s right there, leaning by the stairs , arms crossed, grinning like she’s been waiting. “Aw, look at you, playing nice,” she teases, voice lilting as she falls into step beside you.

You don’t reply, heading for your room, but she follows, undeterred, her presence a persistent hum at your side. Nagyung’s gone—slipped away sometime between bites, unnoticed again—and Seoyeon’s door is already shut when you pass it.

Chaeyoung trails you into your room, flopping onto the bed without invitation, stretching out with a lazy smirk. “So, hero of the night—how’s it feel to crack Hayoung’s shell a little?”

You shrug, the day’s weight sinking into your bones, but her eyes gleam—teasing, daring you to snap back. She’s not going anywhere soon.

You sink onto the unfamiliar bed beside her, the mattress yielding softly beneath you. Turning to Chaeyoung, you let the question drop.

“Hey. What was up with Gyuri earlier?”

She exhales, shifting to lean on one elbow, fingers slipping into your hair, twirling idly. “It’s expected.” Her tone’s light, but there’s a knowing edge lurking underneath.

“Expected?”

“No one told you, huh?” She tilts her head, eyes glinting as her fingers keep playing. “Using our powers nudges us closer to the edge. The more control slips, the less we fight it—a spiral. Gyuri trashing your dorm? That cost her. She’s wrestling it down now.”

You catch her wrist, pulling her hand away. “Then why keep using them?”

She slides her fingers right back, undeterred, smirking faintly. “If you had our gifts, could you really hold back?”

“If it risks my mind, yeah.”

“It’s not madness, exactly.” She tilts her head, considering. “Think of it like drinking. One glass—you’re fine. Two—you feel it, but you’re still sharp. Keep going, and suddenly you’re slurring, drunk on power. Literal power.” She pauses, voice dipping lower. "But we have to. Our powers help us cope with responsibility, make life manageable. So we focus as much as we can on controlling our emotions… ideally.”

“Like The Mist?”

She nods, a flicker of approval in her gaze. “Yeah. Seoyeon told you?” Then, after a beat, “It’s not usually that taxing, though.”

You wait. She’s not done.

“The bigger the cover-up, the more we lean on it, the worse the strain gets. And if someone breaks through?” Her exhale’s sharp, almost a scoff. “Keeping it steady turns into a fight.” She shifts, sitting up straighter, her fingers stilling briefly. “That night at the café, when you cut through The Mist? Seoyeon was holding it. She called it practice—said she’d make sure it never happened again. Since then, she’s been the one volunteering to manage it.”

Her voice drops, tinged with something rare—concern, maybe. “Your seclusion. The dorm explosion. She was probably weaving it together right up until this afternoon. And now?”

Her hand pauses, resting against your scalp, her eyes locking onto yours.

“Now she’s the one piecing your head back together.”

You’re lost in the thought, the weight of it pulling you under—so much so that you don’t notice how close Chaeyoung’s gotten. Her leg’s tangled with yours, her breath warm against your ear, her palm pressing firm on your chest, anchoring you there.

“You’ve yet to explain why you followed me here,” you say, voice low, catching up to her proximity.

“I think you already know why,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your ear, a smirk curling through her words.

“Really, now?” You shift slightly, exhaustion dragging at you. “Chaeyoung, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Is that a no?” Her finger traces a slow, deliberate dance across your chest, then dips lower, her hand sliding to your pants, rubbing your crotch with a teasing pressure that sends a jolt through you.

Her touch lingers, bold and unyielding, her breath steady against your skin as she waits—daring you to push back or give in.

“You really need to stop pretending you don’t love this,” she murmurs, leaning close, her whisper a warm tease in your ear. “I’ll be gentle. Just lie back for me—I’ll make it quick.”

You shift, dragging yourself to the bed’s center, head sinking into the pillow. Chaeyoung stays glued to your side, her leg still brushing yours, her presence inescapable.

“Were you disappointed we got interrupted earlier?”

Before you can answer, she closes the gap, her lips catching yours in a soft, deliberate kiss. She pulls back just enough to flash a smile—teasing, knowing.

“Nothing wild,” she promises, voice low and sultry. “Just one slow fuck…” Her hand moves deftly, unbuckling your belt with a flick, your cock springing free as she grips it, stroking gently, her touch firm but unhurried.

She chuckles, a soft, wicked sound, watching you squirm under her. Leaning in, she pecks your lips—a tease—then lingers, her eyes flicking over your face, drinking in every twitch of pleasure. Her next kiss dives deeper, her tongue slipping past your lips, tangling with yours in a slow, hungry dance.

She tries to pull away, but you’re caught, chasing her lips, entranced, until air runs thin and you both break, breathless.

Her smile doesn’t falter. “Stay,” she commands, voice firm, playful.

She eases back, turning it into a show. Her top peels off slow, revealing smooth skin, then her bra drops, baring her chest. Her pants follow, sliding down her thighs, and when her panties come into view, the damp fabric clings, a dark spot betraying her arousal. She tugs them off, and a glistening thread stretches, refusing to snap, connecting her to the discarded cloth.

“Fuck, Chaeyoung, you’re already wet?”

“Just for you,” she purrs, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and hunger. “Always.”

Chaeyoung shifts, climbing atop you with a fluid grace, her hips hovering just above yours. She straddles you, knees pressing into the mattress on either side, caging your body between her legs. Her heat radiates, close but not yet touching, a tantalizing promise hanging in the air. “I can’t wait,” she breathes, voice low, edged with need.

She lowers herself slowly, deliberately, her slick folds brushing against your length. The first contact is electric—warm, wet, a soft glide that coats you in her arousal. She starts to grind, hips rolling with a lazy rhythm, her wetness spreading over you, slick and hot, marking you with every subtle shift. Her breath hitches faintly, a sound that betrays her own want despite the control she wields.

Each motion teases you further, her folds sliding along your cock, dragging from base to tip in a slow, torturous dance. She moves too far sometimes—deliberately or not—and your tip presses against her entrance, nudging just at the edge of her hole. It’s fleeting, a tease of pressure, her warmth pulsing there, inviting but never quite yielding. She pulls back each time, smirking as your hips twitch instinctively, chasing her.

“Fuck,” you mutter, voice rough, the sensation overwhelming—her slickness, the friction, the nearness of sinking into her.

She chuckles, soft and wicked, leaning forward to brace her hands on your chest, her hair spilling over her shoulders to frame her face. “Patience,” she whispers, though her own breath trembles, betraying the effort it takes to hold back. Her hips tilt, adjusting the angle, and the pressure intensifies—your tip catches again, slipping just past her entrance, enough to feel her clench, tight and eager, before she retreats once more.

Her wetness pools, a glossy sheen coating you both now, strands of it stretching between you with each grind, glistening in the dim light. She rocks harder, just a fraction, letting your length slide through her folds, her clit brushing against you with every pass. A low moan slips from her lips, unbidden, and her eyes flutter, but that smirk stays—teasing, daring you to take more.

“You feel that?” she murmurs, voice husky, grinding slower now, savoring it. “That’s all for you.” Her hips circle, dragging you through her heat, your tip nudging her hole again—closer this time, lingering longer, her body trembling as she fights the urge to give in fully.

Your hands grip her thighs, fingers digging into her skin, torn between pulling her down and letting her play this out. The tension’s a live wire, snapping between you, her control fraying at the edges as her own need seeps through.

Her hips circle, dragging you through her slick heat, your tip brushing her entrance again—closer, lingering, her body quivering as she teases the edge of giving in. Your hands tighten on her thighs, fingers sinking into her flesh, caught between restraint and the urge to pull her down.

Chaeyoung catches it—the tension in your grip, the way your breath hitches—and her smirk widens, eyes glinting with wicked delight. “Oh, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” she taunts, voice a low purr as she slows her grind even more, torturing you with the barest contact. She shifts, letting your tip press harder against her hole—just enough to feel her tighten around it, a fleeting promise—before lifting away again.

“Chaeyoung—” Your voice cracks, rough with need, the word half a plea, half a growl.

She laughs, soft and cruel, leaning forward until her lips hover near yours, her hair tickling your face. “What? Too much for you?” Her hips tilt, and your cock slides through her folds again, coated anew in her dripping arousal. She rocks once, twice, letting your tip dip just inside—warm, tight, a maddening taste of what’s coming—then pulls back with a sly hum. “Thought you were tired,” she mocks, echoing your earlier protest, her fingers trailing up your chest to pin you with her gaze.

You groan, head sinking deeper into the pillow, hips twitching up instinctively. “Fuck, Chaeyoung, just—”

“Just what?” she cuts in, grinning as she straightens, hovering above you again. Her wetness glistens, strands of it clinging to your length, and she drags her nails lightly down your stomach, watching you squirm. “Say it. Tell me how bad you want it.”

You grit your teeth, the frustration boiling over, but her eyes dare you—playful, unrelenting. “I want you,” you mutter, voice strained, giving her the win.

Her smile turns triumphant, and she finally relents. “Good boy,” she purrs, shifting her hips with agonizing slowness. She aligns you, your tip pressing fully against her entrance now, and pauses—drawing it out one last time, letting you feel her heat, her pulse—before sinking down.

The first inch is torture—tight, wet, her walls gripping you as she takes you in, slow and deliberate. She gasps softly, a rare crack in her control, but keeps going, lowering herself until you’re buried deep, her hips flush against yours. Her warmth envelopes you, pulsing, overwhelming, and she stills there, savoring it, letting you feel every shudder of her body adjusting to you.

“Fuck,” she breathes, a quiet, unguarded sound, her head tilting back as she settles. Her hands brace on your chest, nails digging in just enough to sting, and that smirk creeps back.

Chaeyoung’s hips settle against yours, her warmth gripping you tight, a pulse of heat that steals your breath. She lingers there, savoring the fullness, her nails biting into your chest as she flashes that triumphant smirk. “Told you I’d be gentle,” she murmurs, voice husky with a teasing edge.

Then she moves.

Her first roll is slow, deliberate—a long, languid grind that drags her walls along your length, coating you further in her slick heat. You groan, hands sliding up her thighs to grip her hips, but she swats them away with a playful tsk. “Nuh-uh,” she chides, pinning your wrists above your head. “Let me play.”

She picks up the pace, hips snapping faster, the rhythm sharp and relentless. Her breaths turn shallow, punctuated by soft moans as she rides you, her wetness soaking you with every thrust. The bed creaks faintly beneath her, her control absolute—until she shifts.

She slows abruptly, leaning down, her lips brushing yours in a warm, tender kiss. It’s soft at first, a contrast to the fire she’d stoked, her tongue slipping in to dance with yours, lazy and deep. “You feel so good,” she whispers against your mouth, her tone shedding its tease for something sweeter, her hands loosening on your wrists to cradle your face.

Before you can sink into it, she pulls back, sitting upright again. Her pace ramps up—harder, faster, her hips slamming down with a wet smack that fills the room. She tosses her head back, a low groan spilling out as she chases the edge, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” she pants, the affection threading through her voice now, raw and unguarded.

Your hands find her waist again—this time she lets them stay, her own fingers digging into your shoulders for leverage. The heat builds, her movements growing erratic, her walls clenching tighter around you. She leans down once more, kissing you fiercely, all warmth and want, her lips trembling against yours. “Stay with me,” she breathes, a soft plea wrapped in adoration, her teasing gone, replaced by something deeper.

Her rhythm stutters, hips grinding slower now, deeper, as she presses herself flush against you. Each roll is deliberate, drawing out the friction, her moans softening into whimpers. She kisses you again—gentle, lingering—her tongue tracing yours as her body tenses. “I’m yours,” she murmurs, voice breaking with affection, her breath hitching.

Then it hits.

Her hips falter, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat as her climax crashes through her. Her walls pulse hard around you, tight and hot, her body shuddering as she rides it out, grinding slow and deep to milk every wave. She leans into you, forehead pressing against yours, her kisses turning sloppy, warm, her arms wrapping around your neck as she trembles. “Fuck, I—” she starts, but the words dissolve into a soft, breathless moan, her affection spilling out in the afterglow.

Chaeyoung collapses against you, her body still trembling, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. You’re still hard inside her, the heat of her pulsing walls a lingering ache, and she notices—her hips shifting slightly, a soft hum escaping her lips as she feels you.

“You’re not done, are you?” she murmurs, voice soft but laced with a knowing warmth. She doesn’t wait for an answer, sliding off you with a slow, deliberate drag, her slickness trailing as she pulls away. The sudden emptiness makes you groan, but before you can protest, she’s moving—slipping down between your legs, settling there with a glint in her eye.

Her hand wraps around your base, slick with her arousal and yours, stroking once, twice, before she leans in. Her lips brush your tip, teasing, then part to take you in—slowly, her tongue swirling around the head, tasting herself on you. “Can’t leave you like this,” she whispers, breath ghosting over you, sending a shiver up your spine.

She sinks deeper, her mouth warm and tight, sucking with a steady, gentle rhythm. Her cheeks hollow as she works, tongue flicking along the underside, drawing low, guttural sounds from your chest. Your hands fist the sheets, hips twitching up instinctively, but she presses a palm to your thigh—firm, grounding—keeping you still as she takes control.

Her pace quickens slightly, lips sliding down further, taking you to the back of her throat with a soft, muffled moan that vibrates through you. She’s relentless but tender, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, watching your every reaction—your strained breaths, the way your jaw tightens as the pleasure builds too fast.

It doesn’t take long. The heat coils tight, a molten knot deep in your core, her steady suction dragging you relentlessly toward the brink. Her mouth’s a furnace—hot, wet, unyielding—each pull sending jolts up your spine, each swirl of her tongue a spark that ignites the fuse. Your breath turns ragged, chest heaving as the pressure builds, teetering on unbearable.

Then she hits it—her tongue curls just right, a deft, wicked flick against the sensitive head, and you shatter. “Chaeyoung—” Her name rips from your throat, a broken, guttural cry as the climax slams into you, white-hot and blinding. Your hips buck hard, thrusting deeper into her mouth, and she takes it all—lips locked tight, throat flexing as you spill into her in thick, pulsing waves. The pleasure’s savage, shredding through you, every nerve alight as she keeps sucking, drawing out every last shudder, swallowing every drop with a soft, triumphant hum that vibrates through your core.

Your vision blurs, head slamming back against the pillow, a raw groan tearing free as she milks you dry, her tongue still teasing, prolonging the aftershocks until you’re trembling, spent, and gasping for air.

She doesn’t stop there—her lips stay on you, softer now, cleaning you off with slow, deliberate licks, her tongue tracing every inch until you’re spent and twitching from the sensitivity. You both feel it—the pull for more, the raw want still simmering—but she pulls back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Keeping my promise,” she says, voice low, a little hoarse. “You’re tired—I said I’d be quick.”

She slides off the bed, legs still shaky, and pads to the bedside drawer. Pulling out a cloth, she cleans herself with quick, practiced motions—wiping her mouth, cleaning away the mess between her thighs, the glistening trails of her own release. You watch, too drained to move, as she tosses the cloth aside and returns, climbing back into bed.

She slips into your arms without hesitation, curling against you, her head nestling into your chest. Her warmth presses close, soft and steady, her breath evening out as she settles into your embrace—a quiet end to the fire she’d stoked.

Chaeyoung breaks the silence, her voice cutting through the soft hum of the room. “I’ll be gone for a bit. Overseas work.”

You shift, turning to face her, the weight of her words sinking in. “That’s why you were so eager tonight?” There’s a bite in your tone—disappointment laced with the nagging thought that you’re just a tool for them, a convenient fix. “Needed a refill before you jet off?”

Her eyes lift to meet yours, hesitant, softer than you expect. The look isn’t smug or teasing—it’s unguarded, almost reluctant, like leaving isn’t her choice. It makes you pause, reconsider the venom in your assumption.

“What, did you forget that hotel night?” she says, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, though her voice stays low. “You fucked me so hard I’d have to shatter the moon to lose my mind now.”

You narrow your eyes, not fully buying it. “So it’s just horniness then? You’re always this desperate?” The words slip out sharper than intended, brushing against an insult you don’t fully mean.

Her face shifts—something flickers, hurt flashing behind her eyes, a quiet disappointment dimming her usual spark. “You think I’d just screw anyone, anytime?” Her directness hits you square, catching you off guard, and then that smile creeps back, softer now, teasing but warm. “What’s this—jealousy? I’ve already told you, I’m yours. Always will be. The others too, actually, they just haven’t caught up to that yet.”

She holds your gaze, the reassurance steady, her hand brushing your chest as if to seal it, leaving the sting of your words—and her response—hanging between you.

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, warm and fleeting, then pulls back with a small, knowing smile. “Didn’t you say you’re tired?” she murmurs, her voice a gentle tease. “Sleep now—unless you want me to pounce on you again.” Her hand lifts, fingers brushing your face, tracing your jaw with a caress so tender it feels like a whisper against your skin.

No magic flares, no glowing eyes or woven spells—just her, her touch, her words wrapping around you like a quiet lullaby. Your eyelids grow heavy, the weight of the day melting under her steady gaze, and as her fingers linger, you drift—slipping into sleep as if she’d willed it so.

450 notes · View notes

venompinks · 5 months ago

Text

TWICE 𐙚 SEASONS GREETINGS 2025

925 notes · View notes

tae · 3 months ago

Text

241215 𓆩♡𓆪 strategy

544 notes · View notes

ggidolsmuts · 3 months ago

Text

Fromis App Part 16: Deserved Better - Fromis_9 Chaeyoung

You're cuddling Saerom in bed while she's on her phone, and you hear her sigh against you.

"What's wrong?"

"Chaeng needs more funding, there's less kids now, so the daycare needs additional budget to stay afloat."

"Chaeng? Who's that? You have a daycare?"

"Chaeyoung, you met her, at the... discipline session? You've been in and out of our office so often. And yes we offer a daycare for our employees if they need them. We charge a small but cheap fee, so it's usually a little under break even, but recently there's fewer kids, so she needs more funding from us."

"Huh, I didn't know that. Chaeyoung's the tall one right?" Saerom nods. "I didn't know she ran the daycare."

"She really likes being around kids, so when the previous nanny left we offered her the role."

"I see, how come I haven't seen her around the office?"

"The daycare's in a different part of the building, gotta keep the noisy kids away from the offices. You can go see her if you want!"

A few days later with Saerom's instructions on your phone you enter the Fromis building but take a left, down a hallway you've never gone to before. As you reach close to the end of the hallway you hear childish giggling, the hallway walls going from office standard drab grey to child-friendly yellow and blue.

"Everybody, what do you say?"

"Thank you Miss Lee, goodbye Miss Lee!" A chorus calls out. You step aside to let the horde of children pass by. Chaeyoung smiles at each of them before finally seeing you.

"Oh, hello! We haven't spoken since umm, that." She blushes, remembering the last time she met you, a whirlwind of sex with some of the other employees involved.

"Yeah, just wanted to say hi. I never saw you at the offices and Saerom just told me why."

"Oh yeah that's true! Well it's just this little space, I can show you around but there's not much to see." You look around at the messy scatter of chairs and papers and crayons and decide on a better idea.

"If you don't have class soon, want to grab a coffee?" She nods and leads you to the closest cafe.

"Thank you..." Chaeyoung smiles and takes a sip from the coffee you brought her.

"You know, I feel like I don't know anything about you."

"Really? I know everything about you though. Seoyeon's very happy with you."

"You mean— She talks to you about, umm, me and her?"

"Not just her, we have a group chat. Just because I'm not in the office doesn't mean I'm not in the know." A small smirk appears on her lips.

"Now I'm curious, you never reached out, or matched with me on the app. I don't think I'm that bad in the bedroom so... boyfriend?"

"The girls assure me you're not, so you don't have to worry about that. And no, not boyfriend." She pauses and takes a sip of her coffee, giving you time to process her words.

"Girlfriend?"

"No, or at least, none that haven't slept with you too. It's all casual between us." You raise an eyebrow but she says nothing more.

"Illness?"

"If you mean STDs, I'm definitely clean. And nothing else that would prevent us— I mean me, from doing it."

"So you are thinking about 'us', hmm." Chaeyoung drinks more of her coffee and doesn't offer more. "Really won't tell me?"

"No, and I assure you it's not for any physical reasons."

"Now I'm really curious. How about we do dinner, my treat?"

"As long as you don't expect anything afterwards." You agree, now more curious than ever—for whatever reason Chaeyoung's being very standoffish, yet she's blushing right now, and she has clearly been thinking about using the FROMIS app for some time with you, yet she hasn't.

"Tonight then?"

"Sure."

Later that evening, Chaeyoung's quietly nibbling on her pasta, seemingly to wait for you to finally broach the question you've avoided thus far.

"So, mind telling me the reason?"

"Sure. The reason I haven't reached out is because I didn't want to take your time away from the others, happy?"

"I... Have no idea what you mean?"

"I see the others having sex with you as a way of making them happy, keeping them stress free. They are more important than me to the company, so it is more important that you're spending time with them than with me."

"That's a very objective look at things."

"I have a stake in the company too, so I have to look at things that way."

"But I think you're taking too short-term a view. Because of the good job you're doing, the parents of the kids you're taking care of, the many employees of the company, they can do their work without worrying about them, they do a better job because of you! So, I think you are just as important as the others." You place a hand over Chaeyoung's, half-seduction and half-earnestness, wanting her to see her own value.

"You have needs too, and they deserve to be... Met." The flush is instantly apparent on her face—god, when was the last time she was touched like that?

"I said not to expect anything afterwards!" Chaeyoung mumbles, withdrawing her hand.

"I'm not. I just don't want you to feel like you're any less important than the others, okay?"

"I... Thanks."

"We won't do anything tonight, but you're my priority, I will block out whatever time you need when you want to." You grab Chaeyoung's hand again, kissing the back of it smoothly—a little cheesy perhaps, but you gather she liked it from the way she pulled away, blushing even harder.

"I umm, thanks. I should go, I have to get in early tomorrow."

"Of course, I'll see you home."

"No it's okay, I'll be fine." Chaeyoung grabs her bag and quickly hurries out. Later that night her legs are spread, hand between her thighs as she muffles her whimpers. Truth be told if you had seen her home, Chaeyoung would not have let you gone home that night. She would have pulled you in and—

"Nngh fuck!" She rubs her clit and moans into her hand. Even just thinking about your last time with her, where you and Seoyeon edged Chaeyoung until she was begging for sweet blackout release, is enough to push her to a much stronger orgasm than her usual self-satisfaction sessions. Her hips buck against her hand, pushing against the imaginary you that should be pressed against her cunt. When she relaxes she looks at her own fingers—they're wetter than they've been recently. All of her talk about letting the others have you just makes her all the more needy the moment you make yourself available. You said that'd you prioritize her over everyone else...

"Ah!" Chaeyoung shudders as she touches herself again, one hand on her chest and another dipping past her flat tummy—is she actually going for a second round? She spreads her legs wider, biting her pillow to keep quiet.

"O-Oppa!" Tonight was going to be a sleepless night for Chaeyoung.

You don't hear from Chaeyoung for a week or so, but you do run into her as she's leading her class of kids back to the classroom.

"Chaeyoung!"

"Oh hey, what are you doing here?"

"Came to pick up Jiwon. You?"

"We just had a field trip to the nearby museum."

"Nice, nice." A little kid tugs on your pant leg.

"Are you Miss Lee's daddy?"

"Uhh what?"

"I have a mommy and a daddy. Are you Miss Lee's daddy?"

"Oh god..." Chaeyoung mutters under her breath. "No no, he's just a friend, like you have friends too, right? Come on, back to the classroom you go, go follow your friends, they're leaving without you!" She ushers the kid back hastily.

"Sorry, they only know mommy and daddy right now. Husband and wife, boyfriend and girlfriend, still a while to go for that."

"No need to be sorry, they're just kids being kids. Good to see you!"

"Mmhmm, bye!"

You're on Jiwon's floor when you receive a message.

*I want you time tonight, please come over after dropping Jiwon off*

You smile at the typo she missed.

*Of course, I'll drop Jiwon off and come right over*

With a bit of cajoling and consoling you promise to make time for Jiwon next time, and she begrudgingly lets you go.

"Are you going there to fuck her? Be honest." she asks bluntly.

"Probably?"

"Good, fuck her hard, I don't think she's swiped on anyone at all, girl needs to properly get off. I'll let Saerom know Chaeyoung's taking tomorrow off, I want you to fuck her until she can't function properly."

"Who takes care of the kids then?"

"Eh, we'll find someone, that's not for you to worry about!" Jiwon pushes you out the door. "Now go before I change my mind and drag you back in here." You listen to Jiwon and bolt.

"Hey, I'm here," you call out, knocking on the door. It swings open to reveal a gorgeous Chaeyoung, dressed in a strapless black dress and stockings.

"Whoa, going somewhere?"

"Ah umm, no, not really. Come in." You sit down in her cozy apartment.

"You seem like you're dressed to go clubbing, do you want me to go with you to one?"

"Ah about that..." There's a metallic twang as she picks at the tab of her can for a moment. "If I asked, would you go to the club with me, dance a little, have a drink or two, and then end up either back here or at your place?"

"You are assuming a lot, but yes, I'm all yours for the night." Chaeyoung scoots closer to you, a dainty hand rubbing down your thigh and to your knee. In the stunning outfit she looked nothing like the pretty and kind teacher that plays with her children you saw just a little earlier. Now she's pressed against you, breath warm on your ear and neck, like a woman that had her needs, and she wanted them met now.

"I was thinking we could save a lot of time and just skip to the fun part."

"I like that, more time for the fun part." You turn to look at Chaeyoung, and her eyes are already shut, lips lightly parted. You should've answered "Definitely" to Jiwon's question earlier, because when you capture Chaeyoung's bottom lip she whines, a "Why haven't you stuck your tongue down my throat" kind of whine. You correct yourself immediately, capturing her lips a second time and pushing your tongue past them, earning yourself a moan, a promise that Chaeyoung's going to do everything she wants to with you tonight.

You cup her face to kiss her more deeply, but she's grabbing your hand and bringing it down to her chest. It's modest but still a fun handful, made even more fun by the reaction you elicit from her, a whimper when you grind your palm into her dress, massaging a breast roughly.

"Mmm, more!" You give Chaeyoung what she wants, switching to the other breast, wrinkling her dress a little more. You tilt her head back with your other hand, opening up the flawless skin of her neck to you. You're unapologetic in your kisses, sucking and leaving marks on her pale skin, marks that would be oblivious to her childish charges, but prompt many questions from their parents.

Chaeyoung moans loudly, your lips no longer there to suppress her moans—she's already overstimulated, the physical connection with you already too much. She clings to the back your head, pushing you harder against her neck. Short as it was, her dress suddenly felt restrictive, the heat between her legs growing by the second.

"G-Go lower!" Her hand guides yours down, but you stop at her hip, grabbing her and swinging her legs across your lap. With her arms around your neck Chaeyoung's looking at you needily, gasping as you run a hand across her flat midriff, pretending to go straight between her legs before bringing it back up to squeeze a breast.

"Nngh no!" She kisses you before begging with a whisper. "Please don't tease me like last time, I can't take it right now."

"I'm not teasing you. I know you want to cum." Chaeyoung shivers at the word "cum", as if just saying the word has an effect on her. "You deserve to cum hard, I'll get you there." Her eyes are glued to your hand as you bring it back down her body and under her dress. She tenses against you, bracing for your touch against her pussy, but it doesn't come.

Not yet at least. Chaeyoung whimpers when your hand brushes the inside of her thighs, and as soon as she traps you between them she moans—you've sunk your fingers into her flesh, pushing them apart again. You dance across the smoothness of her thighs, teasing her with squeezes, as if giving her a light massage on them. Her hands drifts to your collar, wanting to pull you in for a kiss, but you resist, watching her purse and then bite on her lips as you brush a finger over her panties, pressing against the soaked fabric lightly.

"Oh..." Chaeyoung sighs, moaning and resigning herself to her fate as you "scratch" against her wet spot repeatedly, the motion giving her just enough friction to feel you there, but not enough for her to build towards an orgasm.

"You said you wouldn't— GOD!" Chaeyoung yelps at the end, her voice cracking a little as you press firmly against her wetness, swiping over where you think her clit would be through her panties. Her hands dig into your neck, and she's trembling in your arms. You debated making one more swipe, but at this rate she's due to blow as soon as you do that. You deposit her on the edge of the couch, and before she realizes it you've buried your head underneath her dress, slightly stretching it before her thighs quickly close around you, pressing against your cheeks.

"Huh? Ah!" Slightly dazed from your tease she's confused as to where you went. She sees the slight bulge between her legs, but she doesn't put two and two together until it's too late. Nothing prepares Chaeyoung for the lightning bolt of pleasure when you lick her pussy directly, her head snapping back as she let's out a loud cry.

You barely hear her, but you definitely feel her response, her thighs pressing on you head firmly. Chaeyoung's on the edge but you're not ready to push her over yet, sucking on the left lip and then the right, spreading her pussy with your mouth. She smacks your head not too softly, and you have to grab her hands to stop her from wrecking your head from all angles. Her fingers dig into your palm, and she's twisting left and right, her legs hooked around your neck, trying to get you to properly eat her. She's liable to snap your head off at this rate with how hard she's thrashing—you'll have to finish her off first!

You plunge your tongue deep into Chaeyoung, hands holding her hips down. She instantly goes still, before everything begins. Above you Chaeyoung grunts, core tensing as the feeling of your tongue inside her goes straight to her head.

"God, fucking FUCK!" Unbecoming of a childcare teacher Chaeyeoung swears and screams in pleasure, back arching as she explodes. Her world breaks into a billion brilliant pieces, moans loud and unrestrained bursting from her as she grabs on to you over the dress.

Underneath her dress you barely hear any of it, courtesy of her thighs crushing your ears and your singular focus on making Chaeyoung cum harder than she's ever had before. All you hear is the rubbing of her thighs around your ears, the dress rustling against the couch cushion, and the wet squelch of Chaeyoung squirting. It starts with a small spray, and you catch it with your face. Her pussy contracts around your tongue, and she is sweet and salty on your tastebuds with more slick. You capture her clit with your lips, swirling your tongue over it, and her heels dig into your back, pushing her butt off the couch.

"Hnngh!" Chaeyoung howls into a couch pillow, feeling your hands on her ass lift her pussy to your face. It feels so good but she needs even more! Without even being aware of it Chaeyoung pushes herself higher on you, thighs now resting on your shoulders, legs twisting to lock you in.

"Mmph!" Your surprised moan is muffled by Chaeyoung—she has the core strength to lurch herself closer to you, making sure you bury your face in her. Every little touch makes her squirt now—kiss her pussy, squirt; a single lick, squirt; you exhale against her warmth, squirt; your nose brushes against her clit, squirt. You bury your tongue in her, upper lip nudging her clit, and Chaeyoung gushing all over your face—all you hear is the splash of fluids, her thighs still trembling and muffling your ears. When she finally goes slack and releases your head, by volume there's probably more of Lee Chaeyoung on your face than there is on her couch.

You manage to extricate yourself, and when you take your first look at Chaeyoung in a while you're proud of your work—she looks absolutely shattered, a dopey smile on her face and a pink flush washing over her, like she's had a few drinks at the club she didn't go to. She puts her hands out for you, and when you get close she grabs you, face dripping with her juices and all, and kisses you fervently.

"That was amazing. But I want more, I deserve more, don't I?"

"Yes, but you should take a breather, grab some water—"

"No, I want it now!" She pulls you to the bedroom unsteadily, and you watch Chaeyoung peel off the dress as you remove your own clothes.

"Sorry about your shirt."

"Sorry about your dress." Both are soaked in her slick.

"I'll manage."

"So will I then." Chaeyoung kicks her panties off and you're immediately on top of her, already naked and ready to go.

"Wait, sorry, can we change the position?" You get off her, but she shakes her head. "No, just like this." She takes you by your hands, and she draws it under her legs, making you hook her knees. She continues pulling your hands up, making you lean over her. She keeps raising your hands until they're by her head, and her ankles are by your ears.

"F-Fuck me like this," Chaeyoung mumbles, unable to meet your eyes—she's put herself in a mating press. She lets out a gasp when you enter her, her wetness allowing you to get all the way in right away. "Ah, so deep!"

"You like that?"

"Yeah, mm!" You pull back before delivering a solid thump against her hips. "Yes, just like that!" Chaeyoung gasps as you start pounding down into her, all of your weight translating into pure pleasure for her—no matter how hard she fucks herself with a dildo, there's no way she could ever reproduce this feeling! All those nights when she was alone, knowing that you might be with Saerom, or Nagyung, or Jiwon, or someone else, while she drills away at herself—now she's the one you're with! She doesn't need to sneak a peek at each of them coming into the building, wondering who was the lucky one that got pounded into a barely noticeable limp, or who looked either peppier (Hayoung, Jisun) or sleepier (Seoyeon) the next morning. It's all about her tonight, and she's going to let herself enjoy it to the fullest extent.

"Deeper!" She cries, hands grabbing your arms, feeling them flex underneath her. Chaeyoung flutters her eyes, biting her lower lip—anything to entice you further. "Harder, do it harder!" You put a hand on her lower back, bringing her up to you a little, and you slam down.

"Yes! That's it daddy!"

"Daddy?" Chaeyoung opens her eyes in annoyance at your sudden stop, just before she processes what she just said and wishing she could close her eyes and will you away. She covers her own face with her hands, but you pull them away, watching her blush and squirm underneath you. "What did you say?"

"N-Nothing!" But you knew exactly what she said.

"Is that why you called me tonight?" You grind your tip deep inside her. "The kid asked, and you thought about me being your daddy?" She clenches around you. "And now you can't hold it in anymore?" You thought she would deny, maybe say something to deflect, and you'd have to fuck the answer out of her, but no, Chaeyoung's desperate, folding figuratively and literally as you press her legs further back.

"Y-Yes, I'm sorry! It just came out, ah!"

"I prefer oppa, but you can call me whatever you want."

"T-Thank you, mm! Thank you daddy!" After the first occurrence slipped out with no consequence, Chaeyoung's unraveling rapidly, replacing moans of your name with "daddy". She tightens up every time she says it too, causing you to grunt in appreciation.

"God, so fucking tight!"

"Only for you daddy, only tight for you!" Chaeyoung wails. You had known that she was subby, letting you and Seoyeon tease and edge her endlessly, but this is a whole new level. She's pulling you in for a kiss, allowing her legs to be pushed further apart and back, whimpering as you strike her deep. "I'm so close, so close daddy!"

"Are you going to cum for me?"

"Yes, going to cum for you, tell me when!" With a slight grin you continue pounding down into her, staying silent even as you rub on her clit. Chaeyoung's eyes widen before they disappear into her head, closing tightly as she tries to stave off her climax. She wants to remind you that you're not supposed to tease her, but she can't piece the words together, letting a high pitched whine out instead, like she's boiling up from the inside. The clenching around your shaft becomes tighter and tighter—Chaeyoung's losing it, she won't be able to keep herself from cumming!

"D-Daddy!" she wails, sounding like a whistle.

"Cum for me now!" You stay deep in her and rub her clit rapidly, and Chaeyoung cries out in glorious release.

"Yes!" The words are choked out, and her flat tummy twitches—you feel it in the form of her pussy clenching around you, sucking you deep as you take in the sight. Chaeyoung's a young and pretty childcare provider, kind and caring. An ideal, if not perfect, if not too perfect, type for many perhaps, especially with her looks and figure.

"Hnnngh fuck!" Yet here she is, creaming herself all around your cock, getting the fucking that, in her own words, she deserves.

"That's it, cum as hard as you want, I'm here to give you everything you deserve." The pleasure roils and boils within Chaeyoung, and your lips on her neck, the subtle pump of your hips, the fingerpad on her nipple, it all brings her back to overflowing. She gulps and chokes on air, a small orgasm washing over her from that alone. When she finally stops trembling she finds herself sweating, her arms and legs tangling around you like a clingy vine.

"That was amazing daddy."

"Good, you deserve it." Chaeyoung pulls you in for a kiss, and thankfully she loosens up slightly around you—any more of her rhythmic, perhaps unwitting, tugs on your shaft, and you're close to losing it. You calm down a little, enjoying her warm caress, a satisfied lover glowing from the pleasure. She can finish you off later, but you were in no rush.

Chaeyoung has other plans though, she's not nearly as satisfied as you thought.

"But I think... I think I also deserve it from behind. And I also think I deserve your cum in me."

"What?"

"I want your cum in me, daddy." She's on all fours, and she grabs your shaft, pushing herself back on to you.

"Fuck are you sure?" She's even tighter from behind.

"Maybe I even deserve a baby from you."

"Chaeyoung!" You grip her hips to steady yourself. It's one thing to fuck her, it's another thing to breed her. And she's calling you "daddy", fuck.

"I like being around kids, why do you think Saerom offered the job to me? I asked for it. I want kids." Despite seemingly cockdrunk, grinding herself against your hips, you see that Chaeyoung's serious.

"Are you sure?"

"We're— I mean, I am, ready to have them. You're the only one I'm doing it with, so if it happens, great, if it doesn't, maybe in the future." She pushes herself up, pressing her back to your chest and wrapping her arms around your neck. "So we can have the talk later, but right now please just give me the breeding I deserve, daddy." You hips pull back and snap forward, like a rubber band releasing its energy, and Chaeyoung cries out happily.

"Just like that!"

"Is that what you want? Why you put yourself into a mating press, hoping I'd blow my load before I could do anything else?"

"I-I wanted you to cum in me twice daddy!"

"You didn't think I would last long enough?"

"No, I didn't mean— Nngh! I'm sorry!" You push Chaeyoung down on the bed and pin her there, hips humping down into her from above. You rub against her g-spot on each thrust, and she's screaming into the sheets, delighted at your "punishment".

"Fuck me daddy, please, cum in me!" You're slamming into her now, and when Chaeyoung buckles so do you, pressing down into her prone form and flooding her womb in an instant. Chaeyoung squeals into the kiss she finds herself in, her legs kicking, unable to handle the heat she's suddenly filled with. You grunt and groan, shoving yourself deeper with smaller thrusts, determined to drain yourself fully in her.

"Hnngh that's so deep!" One more spurt for good measure. With that you collapse on top of her, keeping yourself partially propped up to not completely crush her. It is a while before both your breaths stabilize, and you roll off her.

"Thanks oppa, that was everything I dreamed of, and more." You follow her eyes down, watching your load spill out of her. There was always an implicit understanding that Saerom and the other employees you had fun with took care of themselves, that they would ask you to use a condom otherwise, but for the first time ever Chaeyoung's making you question that.

"Chaeyoung, are you— Were you serious?"

"About kids? Yes. It's not a safe day, but it's also not that risky, there's a chance, and that's good enough for me."

"That's a huge decision, you should've—"

"There are big changes coming, we're all making big decisions, so— No, that's for Saerom unnie to break it to you." Chaeyoung shakes her head. "Sorry, just call it baby fever, thinking about 'daddy' just threw me for a loop." She kisses you in apology. "Don't worry, I won't make you take responsibility if—"

"No, that would be irresponsible of me. I just don't want you to make a rash decision while you're... not in the right state of mind."

"You mean needy and horny?" Chaeyoung asks as she cleans between her legs. "If I didn't want the risk, I would've just gotten myself off and called it a night, I have toys you know. So just enjoy yourself, I'm not worrying about it and I don't want you to be. I can stop with the breeding talk if you don't find it hot."

"Right, no umm, do what turns you on. If you want to call me names and think about being reckless in bed, I'll meet you halfway."

"Well when you put it like that, it sounds so... hot." Chaeyoung's rubbing her neck, feeling warm all over again. "But no, I'm too drained, let's just take a shower and hit the bed?"

"You want me to stay over?"

"Please?" She pouts, and you don't have it in you to say no. After she insists that you shower first rather than together ("I'm going to jump you if you get hard again."), you're dozing off as Chaeyoung curls up behind you, spooning you as she falls asleep against your back.

You're jolted awake by the sound of a cupboard door closing.

"Oh, sorry!" Chaeyoung's dressed in a form-fitting black swimsuit, leaving nothing to the imagination, highlighting her stunning curves.

"Going somewhere?"

"Oh, Saerom messaged me, told me to enjoy my day off? So I was going to go swimming in the morning instead!"

"Hmm, sorry, I can't let you do that." You wrap your hand around her waist, pulling her back to bed. "That's on me, I didn't do a good job."

"Didn't do a good job?"

"So Jiwon is the one who asked Saerom for a day off for you, because I ditched her for you."

"What? Oh no, I know I shouldn't have asked you to come over yesterday, I feel so bad!"

"No no, you deserved all of it." You run a hand under her top, and Chaeyoung's blushing pink at your forwardness. "One of the conditions for Jiwon to let me go last night was that I fuck you until you can't function, and she asked Saerom to give you the day off because of that."

"So you failed, here I am... functioning, aren't I? Maybe I should message Jiwon, let her know that you failed, what would she do then?"

"We'll never know." You pull Chaeyoung against you, and she's melting by the second. "I plan to occupy you, sorry, I mean keep you occupied, for the rest of the day." Chaeyoung gasps at the thought, of you "occupying" her for the rest of the day. "Maybe you won't be able to function for about, I don't know, nine months?" Chaeyoung gasps again, growing warm in your arms. She said she was fine with just having a chance at a baby yesterday, but with how wet she instantly got she knows she's wrong—she needs to be bred, specifically by you.

"A-Are you going to, daddy? I won't tell Jiwon about your failure if you do." You respond by peeling off her swimsuit as she pulls you out of your boxers, and having never got up from the bed since you woke up, you're sliding back into Chaeyoung.

"I will if you get so tight and wet every time."

"O-Only for you, only you can give me what I deserve!" You lift her leg, letting it dangle over your hips, and you're easily bottoming out in Chaeyoung again. "You're going to give me a good workout today aren't you? You're— Oh god, working me over so deep!"

"Yes, it's the perfect workout, we can lie in bed while getting the workout you need... And you'll get your fill all the same!"

"YES!" Chaeyoung cries out as both of you cum quickly—there's no need to last long when you're going to be fucking her plenty today, and the moment you cum, her orgasm is triggered as her body tries to milk you for every drop. As you slowly calm down from you climax you spy her closet full of clothes.

"Are those all your outfits?"

"Yeah, most of them, for work, going out, exercise, shopping."

"You have an outfit to go shopping?"

"Yeah, you know, easy to take off, so I can try on other clothes?"

"You could've stopped at 'easy to take off', go put it on." Chaeyoung's a little puzzled, but she goes over and puts it on. "Good?"

"Yeah." She's pushed against the closet door, and in an instant you've unbuttoned her jeans and pushed into her again. "Hnngh! What?"

"Cum for me." An eager finger on her clit and Chaeyoung's whining into your ear, sucking on your neck and leaving a hickey as she clenches around you.

"Next outfit. You deserve to get fucked in every one of them, I'd cum in you while you're wearing each of them if I could, just so you remember me as soon as you're not naked."

"W-What about when I'm naked?" Chaeyoung asks in a daze, still coming down from her orgasm.

"You won't have to remember, because I'll be there." She shivers against you, as if the thought alone gave her pleasure. She steadies herself and grabs the next outfit. Chaeyoung finds herself whirled around, bent over the bed. The air is cool on the back of her thighs as her skirt is swept up—

"Ughhh yes!"

Chaeyoung gasps as her oversized sweater is pulled over her head and her bike shorts pulled down. She can feel herself leaking cum from the previous load, staining the fabric. Your tongue and lips on her nipples make her leak more, but not before your fingers are shoved in her, trying to keep the cum in.

"J-Just put more into me!" she manages to moan out.

Chaeyoung's bent over her desk, her work blouse fluttering open—you're on top of her, coming down from your own orgasm and breathing heavily. The only reason that your load dripping from her isn't heard is because her discarded pants are catching all of it.

"Wear this tomorrow," you mumble, tugging on her blouse.

"Hmm?! I can't, there's lipstick marks all over it!" The collar is pink from when Chaeyoung bit into it, trying to muffle her scream earlier. Your fingers delve into her, scooping up some of your load and rubbing it into the pink spots, as if that would make it clean. It just makes things smell, smell of you.

"Wear it tomorrow," you order as you place your fingers by her lips, asking her to clean them.

"Y-Yes daddy."

Chaeyoung's on the dining table, tiny boy shorts pulled to the side and your cock keeping it there. Her entire body is flushed pink, warm not only from the dishes that were just on the table a moment ago, but also from the pounding you're giving her right now, making her spill slick over the edge of the table and on to the floor.

"You deserve your dessert, don't you?"

"Yes!" Chaeyoung's pulling on her hair, and thrashing about, knocking over a cup of water.

"Good, here's your cream."

Now everything's spilling over the table edge.

In another world Chaeyoung could've been an idol, putting on different outfits for photoshoots, looking prettier than ever, each shot made to appear absolutely perfect. That Chaeyoung may have wondered if the studio would look like her apartment right now, clothes strewn everywhere, the tops and bottoms hanging on her frame for but a second, the time it takes to make a pose, before they're pulled off and replaced with another; Maybe she would have wondered if photoshoots would be tiring, having to change her outfits and poses constantly.

This Chaeyoung is not capable of wondering, carried and pulled and tossed and finally, fucked on every surface. Her mind's mushy, she's picking up random clothing off the ground, mixing and matching—she doesn't even remember which ones she has worn already for you. Splattered randomly on her clothes are fluids of some description—a mix of her squirt and your cum. She's going to have to do one big load of laundry after you leave.

Speaking of big loads, you've left several in her, and as you fuck Chaeyoung in front of the mirror, the sinful schoolgirl outfit she has on, coupled with her utterly blissed out expression as she braces against the mirror frame, is going to make sure that this last load will last her nine months.

"God you deserve everything I have left don't you?" You growl, arms hooking under her shoulders, pulling her back and keeping her upright.

"Y-Yes, give it, please!" Chaeyoung's barely coherent, you think Jiwon will be properly satisfied if you took a picture of how Chaeyoung looked right now.

"You won't be able to wear these outfits again... This midriff? Gone." Chaeyoung's eyes are gone as well, rolling into her head, and she let's out a long, drawn out moan as you fill her womb one last time, cumming with you and eager to fully drain you and finally get some rest. She lets out a rasp, as if choking, as if she can't hold all the cum in her. She sobs, and a little bit of it leaks out from around your shaft—she's completely full! When you finish firing she sighs happily, going limp in your arms—you're the only thing keeping her up now, and you know she's out of commission, content and bred.

You put her down on the bed, and she pulls you in, pouting for a cuddle. Chaeyoung reaches for her phone, and the two of you laugh at Jiwon's messages.

*Yah, you better not see this message!*

*If the "1" disappears early I'll know!*

Chaeyoung types out a quick message.

*We finished, you should reward oppa with whatever he wants*

*Oh we will! Saerom's gonna tell him soon*

"We? What's this about Saerom, you mentioned her just now too."

"Don't worry about that, it will all be fine." Puzzled, you kiss Chaeyoung all the same—she deserves that much at least.

A/N: Well, got it out just in timeish (not really lol), but this is likely the penultimate chapter to FROMIS app. There'll be one more with the other members, hopefully it'll be soonish. Chaeng has always struck me as the super kind, super nice member, she cares a lot for them, so I wrote that in a little. Hope you like this one, have a happy 2025, and fuck pledis, WE FUCKING GO. Thanks for reading!

#smut #fromis9 #chaeyoung

415 notes · View notes

d-oie · 4 months ago

Text

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀　†⠀⠀ㅤֺ⠀⠀⠀gg⠀⠀gifs⠀⠀by⠀⠀d-oie

⠀⠀⠀

596 notes · View notes

bpsmuts · 9 months ago

Text

Day in the Office - Jennie and Rose

Jennie x Rose x Male Reader

Words: 1.697

Summary: You were in the recording studio with your two best friends Jennie and Rose. Bored, Jennie suggests you three play a game of "Never have I ever".

Jennie, Rose, Y/N

"Didn't you say, you wanted to be productive today Jen?" You ask your friend, who had just suggested to play Never have I ever.

Jennie sits over on the couch, with her feet up on the table "Well yeah, but were all have writer's block right now" she responds "And come on, we don't get to spend THAT much time together, plus we've already gotten good progress today" she pouts

"I wouldn't mind playing for a bit, as long as we continue with out actual work later" Rose chimes in from the desk. "You're not scared, are you Y/N?" the kiwi girl mocks you a little.

"What? No! I'm not scared, I just thought you two wanted to be productive, but fuck it, lets play then!" You challenge them as you get up from the chair next to rose and sit down next to Jennie "Who's starting?" You ask into the room

"I'll start" Jennie decides "Rosie, get over here" she orders Rose, who rolls over to the table. All of you put your hand up and Jennie begins the game.

"Never have I everrrr" Jennie thinks for a moment "Uhhh.. gotten a speeding ticket" You and Rose both put a finger down "You have never gotten a speeding ticket Jen?" Rose asks surprised "Of course she hasn't, she is being driven everywhere" You add, taking a shot at Jennie.

"I have driven before..." Jennie tries to defend herself "Okay, my turn" Rose continues "Never have I ever kissed a stranger" to which Jennie and yourself put down a finger "Okay, you two are teaming up on me" You exclaim

"How are we teaming up on you?" Jennie asks while laughing and looking over to Rose "You just are" You retort "Probably cause I wanted to work instead of goof around" I fake your anger "We are not goofing around, were taking a break. Just play your turn" Jennie responds

"Okay. Never have I ever sucked a dick" You grin as both girls put down a finger in shock "Okay, that's unfair" Rosie yells "What?! I'm just evening out the playing field here" you respond to her.

"Okay, next one counts double?" Jennie suggests to the group "Bring it Miss Kim" Rose replies "Never have I ever had sex" Jennie surprised the group as everyone puts down a finger "Now everyone is down to the last one" she smirks

"What happens to the loser?" Rose asks Jennie "Hmmm" she thinks for a bit "How about, the loser has to take their shirt off?" Jennie suggests into the room "Okay Jennie, I don't know if this is very professional" You try and veto the decision but get interrupted by Rose "Done!"

"Okay wait wait wait" You halt the game "This is totally unfair, since its Rose's turn now" You try your hardest to get the rule changed, with no luck "But Jennie could also lose Y/N" Rose remarks "I mean we can change it, if you want to chicken out Y/N" Jennie offers

"No No. Lets do it this way" You accept giving Rose the look to continue the game "Okay. Let me think here" Rose takes a thinker pose, as if she is solving a complex math problem "Okay, Never have I ever had sex with a woman" the kiwi girl grins widely, knowing you lost

You accept defeat and put down your last finger before realizing you were the only person to take one down "Now wait a minute, are you telling me both of you haven't done it with a girl?" You ask visibly confused "Not even with each other like once?" You add

"Ewww" both girls go in unison "Get your head out of the gutter Y/N" Jennie responds "Yeah we have barely even seen each other naked" Rose adds to Jennie's comment "He is probably just upset that he lost" Jennie chuckles to Rose

Still not believe them, you take your punishment as a man and take off your shirt, revealing a muscular physique with a six pack coming through quite visibly. As the room falls silent you see the two girls oogling at your upper body, with Jennie being able to catch herself quite fast.

"Its rude to stare Rosie" You mock Rose, who is still staring at your six pack "Let her be. Six Packs are her thing" Jennie tells you from the side "JENNIE" Rose retorts in embarrassment

"Do you want to touch it?" You offer Rose, who's embarrassment you find cute "Can I actually?" she replies, thinking you are messing with her "If its your thing" You chuckle. Rose gives you a look before getting off her chair and kneeling in front of you, carefully moving her fingers across your six pack

After a bit she looks up at you and quietly asks "C-Can I lick it?" with a big smile on her face "Umm.. I mean yeah, but you have to take your shirt off then too" You negotiate with the sweet kiwi girl

"I'll do you one better then" Rose giggles as she takes off her shirt, revealing her small breasts "Too small for a bra" She giggles as she shows off her chest "Oh wow Rosie, they look amazing" You respond before slowly moving a hand towards her chest, cupping a breast carefully

"Thanks" she responds before slowly licking over your six pack, moving further down towards your crotch. Right as she goes to unbuckle your belt Jennie interrupts the moment "Umm guys... Im still here"

Both you and Rose look over to Jennie, who is just sitting there. Your hand still cupping one of Rosie's breasts and her hand in the middle of unbuckling your belt, Jennie asks "Put a finger down, if you're about to have a threesome?"

Both you and Rose put up your hands before taking one finger down, chuckling. Jennie then moves closer to you and the two of you kiss, as Rose unbuckles your belt. You move your hips upward so Rose can pull down your pants. "Ooohh didn't know you were packing like this Y/N" Rose exclaims in awe as she sees your dick for the first time

"Save some for me Rosie" Jennie tells her as she also removes her shirt, showing off a white lacy bra. As Rose starts to slowly take in your length, your hand wanders from her breasts to Jennie's, cupping both of them as you two kiss.

You cant help but moan, as Rose continues to suck your dick. "Your mouth feels so good Rosie" you encourage the cute girl. Meanwhile Jennie takes off the rest of her clothes, not just revealing her boobs, but also that she wasn't wearing panties.

"What is it with you two and only wearing half a set of underwear" You chuckle. "Rosie doesn't need a bra and well.. I'm just a slut" Jennie answers, pressing her lips onto yours once again.

After a while Jennie breaks the kiss "Okay, my turn" she says to Rose, climbing down from the sofa as Rosie makes way between your legs. "Can I sit on your face Y/N?" Rose asks cutely before being interrupted by Jennie "I have a way better idea" she exclaims

"Y/N! Lay down on the sofa. Then Rosie can ride your face, while I ride you" Jennie suggests "And we can make out" Rose adds, while all three of you get in position.

As Rose climbs onto your face, burying it in her vagina, you can feel Jennie slowly slide down on your dick. You can feel the depth of Jennie's pussy as you grab Rose's ass to make sure the cute kiwi girl doesn't actually suffocate you.

Shortly after, the room is filled with smacking from the lips of Jennie and Rose, as they made out and the smacking of Jennie's pussy lips on your crotch as well as muffled moans from all three of you.

"Yes Y/N, just like that" Rose moans as she breaks her kiss with Jennie before going on to suck her nipples. "You feel so good inside me Y/N" Jennie compliments your dick.

"I'm close, can we switch Jen?" Rose asks in between heavy moans "Just one second baby" Jennie replies as she can feel herself reaching her climax. "JENNIEEE" Rose moans cutely, trying her best to hold her orgasm

Not shortly after that, you can feel Jennie's walls tighten as the Korean moans loudly, before getting off your dick, making space for Chaeyoung. Getting up from your face, you can finally take deep breaths again.

You see Jennie sitting on the floor next to you "That was amazing Y/N" she compliments as you Rose lowers herself onto your dick. You can feel the tight walls of Rose, as she starts to bounce up and down.

Jennie moves over to suck on Rose's nipples, earning even louder moans from her "Oh my god I'm gonna cum I'm gonna cum Y/N!" Rose moans loudly as she also reaches climax.

After she came, Rose also got off and kneeled on the floor next to Jennie. With both girls looking at you, you knew exactly what they wanted. You stood up and positioned yourself in front of them, starting to stroke your dick.

Jennie and Rose look up at you "Cum on us Y/N, Cum on our pretty faces" Jennie encourages you "Please give us all of your cum Y/N" Rose joins in.

You moan as you start to shoot rope after rope on their faces, trying to give both of them an equal amount of your hot cum. After you're done, you look down to two satisfied girls covered in your cum.

"Now for the best part" Rose says, before turning to Jennie and planting some kisses on her mouth. You sit down and watch the girls make out for a bit. "This was so much fun" You exclaim after gathering your breath.

"Definitely" Jennie replies, as she swipes your cum from her cheek into her mouth and swallows it. "Im gonna get us something to clean ourselves up with" Rose says, getting up and walking out of the room.

Author's Note: If you've made it this far, thank you <3

If you want to leave feedback, please either comment or DM me!

#blackpink imagines #blackpink smut #blackpink #blackpink x reader #male reader #jennie smut #kim jennie smut #rose smut #rose x reader #chaeyoung

916 notes · View notes

myth1cs · 4 months ago

Text

That one back Tattoo (Son Chaeyoung x M!Reader)

I swear I'm working on that F!Reader fic. This is smut ... Sorry? (Should I still bother apologizing or...) Word Count: 2,088

Sitting at the bar with my girlfriend Dahyun was something that always made me happy.

"Y/N you're so silly sometimes!"

Dahyun was drunk enough to the point that anything was funny to her. I should have cut her off sooner but seeing her like this was just so cute. "Come on Dahyun lets go home."

"I don't want to go yet Y/N-yah! Can I get another shot?" I giggled at her question. "Come on Dahyun I think you've had a bit too much to drink." I had to pick up Dahyun and carry her back to our apartment. She showed little protest by lightly hitting me on my chest.

"I don't want to leave yet Y/N!"

Having to put up with a drunk Dahyun's protest was something I got used to after a few nights out. Luckily her sleepiness eventually got the best of her and she was sleeping in my arms.

Arriving back at the hotel I went in the elevator to get to our apartment on the third floor. But before the door closed another woman entered the elevator with us.

She was a rather short woman. Her clothes didn't leave much to the imagination. She was showing a lot of ski-

"Are you going to press the button or should I?"

I was quickly pulled out of my thoughts. Must've been staring for too long. "O-oh r-right you can press it first." She nodded at me and clicked on the button for the third floor. "What a coincidence we're on the same floor."

"Really? Well what are the chances of that? You know some people don't think things happen by "coincidence" do you?"

A rather odd question to ask but I guess I'll entertain her thought process. "Well I think some things are meant to happen but I don't think that everything that happens in our life is set by the universe or whatever."

"By the way who's that girl you're carrying."

"She's my girlfriend."

She hummed at my response and the elevator door opened. "Well if you'd like to discuss further you can come to my room at 308."

"Room 308? That's right next to my room 307!" Seriously? What are the chances my and this girl I just met are neighbors?

"Well who knows maybe it's a sign from the universe. By the way I never got your name."

"It's Y/N, and yours?"

"You can call me Chaeyoung. Anyways you better get going carrying your girlfriend must be tiring."

Once she said that she left for her room and I went into my apartment. When I got in I placed Dahyun on the couch and covered her up with a blanket.

I wasn't able to get Chaeyoung out of my mind. She was so attractive her tattoos, small figure, and those lips of hers were such a turn on. No wait what am I thinking?! Dahyun is my girlfriend I shouldn't be thinking of other women like this.

Feeling my cock get hard I went to the bathroom in order to relieve myself. Pulling down my pants and grabbing a hold of my cock I started to work on relieving myself. "Ugh ~ ah ~ Chaeyoung you're such a damn bad influence. You're making me have thoughts of cheating on my girlfriend because of you!"

Eventually I was able to cum and quickly started to work on cleaning up the mess I had just made.

I've been avoiding Chaeyoung for the past few days. Seeing her makes me think of inappropriate thoughts. I can't help but think how warm her pussy must feel. I bet she could suck my dick so well. Agh! Damn it why am I thinking of it again.

I suddenly bumped into someone.

"Shit sorry my bad I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Y/N is that you?"

Looking at the person I bumped into I realized it was Chaeyoung. Shit

"Oh sorry Chaeyoung I have to go-"

Suddenly she grabbed my arm and turned me around so I was facing her. My face was getting warmer and I can only hope she didn't notice.

"Hold on Y/N what's the rush? And why have you been ignoring me for the past few days?"

"Chaeyoung it's complicated."

"Want to talk about it?"

I shouldn't do it. Everything points to me not agreeing with her. I have a loving girlfriend already. No I can't say yes I can't!

But before I could even answer Chaeyoung started to drag me along with her. I wasn't able to get any words out so I just went along with her for the time.

Eventually we arrived at the front of her apartment. She grabbed her keys and unlocked the door. Her room was mostly similar to the one me and Dahyun had except her room was a bit more bare than ours.

She dragged me to her couch and sat me down. Chaeyoung sat next to me and crossed her arms.

"Y/N I don't understand why you've been ignoring me. If you didn't like our first interaction and didn't want to talk to me that's one thing but I feel as if you're purposely going out of your way to ignore me!"

I looked at Chaeyoung in the eyes. Should I tell her? No that's stupid and would be pretty awkward. What would I even say "Yeah the reason I've been ignoring you is because I just get thoughts of cheating on my girlfriend with you."

"I just thought you were a little weird. I didn't want to associate myself with you." A bit rude but I needed Chaeyoung to also get away from me. If she also starts to distance herself from me it would make my life way easier.

"That's a bit rude Y/N. But thank you for telling me even if it does hurt my feelings."

"Yeah, sorry Chaeyoung."

I got up to leave her apartment as silence fell between us. But before I could go she suddenly spoke up.

"Wait before you leave do you at least want to have lunch with me?"

I guess I owe her one. I mean I did say something quite rude to her just now I could at least make up for it by staying over for lunch.

"Sure"

Chaeyoung nodded and got up to go to the kitchen. I couldn't help but stare at her butt as she walked there.

"Do you have any preferences or allergies you want me to be aware of Y/N?"

"No, anything's fine."

She started to cook up something. I sat in silence as I watched her cook. While Chaeyoung was cooking she bent over making her shirt slide up.

I saw her exposed back which had a tattoo. Something about it was interesting to me.

"Why did you get that back tattoo Chaeyoung?"

"Found it interesting. Why, you want to get a closer look Y/N?" She gave me a certain look. If I didn't know any better I would say she's trying to tease me.

My face started to warm up. "Uhm ... kinda."

Chaeyoung started to walk up to me. Her hips swayed in a rhythm that kept me hooked.

She sat down on the couch with her back facing me. She took off her shirt exposing her bra. "Go on Y/N inspect the tattoo to your hearts content."

I felt my whole body get warm.

I put my finger on her back tattoo,I traced the outline. It was quite an interesting design. "What's it called?"

"The birth of evil. You know Y/N I have more tattoos but I'd have to strip for you to see them."

"Well what's stopping you?" I asked more as a joke.

"Absolutely nothing." Chaeyoung turned around facing me before she started stripping off her remaining pieces of clothing. Her body was more attractive than I originally thought. I couldn't focus on her tattoos and was only able to focus on her body.

"Y/N my tattoos aren't on my chest."

"I - uhm - agh." I tried coming up with an excuse but I wasn't able to think of one. My cock was starting to get hard and I tried to quickly hide it before Chaeyoung noticed.

Suddenly she put her hands over mine. "Mmm Y/N I heard you moaning my name the night we met. I'm telling you our meeting was fate."

Chaeyoung grabbed my hand covering my extremely hard cock and removed ir. She let out a coo "It's so big. I wonder how it'll look when it's free."

I started to panic as she started to pull my pants down. I shouldn't even be here when I have Dahyun. But a part of me wants this moment to never end.

My cock sprung out of its constraints and Chaeyoung licked her lips. "My my Y/N a bit eager to cheat on your girlfriend aren't you?" I wasn't able to form words because I knew she was right. I really wanted her.

"Go ahead and kiss me you little play boy."

I latched my lips onto Chaeyoung's perfect lips. They were so soft and perfect for me. Chaeyoung took my shirt off and moved her hands to my chest and pinched my nipples.

"Ouch Chaeng that hurt." I muffled into her lips. Though she didn't listen and only pinched harder.

She started to rub her hands all over my body. "Ah! Ah! Your hands are so perfect!"

I took my lips off of hers and started to move them down to her small breasts. They were a little bit bigger than Dahyun's but not by much. I put my tongue on her nipple and swirled it around and used my other hand to squeeze her other tit.

Chaeyoung moved her hands down to my cock and swirled her thumb on the tip. Some cum started to leak out and it helped her pick up the pace.

"Oh Chaeng your so damn good at this."

"Am I better than your girlfriend?"

Me and Dahyun have never had sex before and I didn't want to admit that I was still a virgin to her.

"Uhm - you're getting there."

Chaeyoung smiled at me "Judging by your long pause I'm guessing you're a virgin. Don't worry I'll be gentle."

She pushed me onto my back and put her mouth around my cock. "Mhm it tastes good. Virgins cocks always taste the best." I felt myself losing control over her words. She was slowly swirling her tongue on my tip and sucked really gently.

I used my hands to push her head down and Chaeyoung took my full length. "Yes just like that Chaeyoung." My cock hit the back of her throat and her muscles tightened around it.

Her saliva coated my whole cock. I started to push her head up and down on my cock roughly. Tears fell down Chaeyoung's eyes as she face fucked me.

Pulling her off my cock she started gasping for air. "Chaeyoung I want to feel your tight pussy on my cock."

"Y/N ... you're so horney! Is your girlfriend that pathetic?"

"Dahyun has never wanted to have sex with me."

"Poor baby Y/N. You deserve to release all of your cum." Chaeyoung got up and aligned her pussy to my cock. She lowered herself engulfing it all in her small tight pussy.

"You're so damn tight Chaeyoung!"

"Now Y/N let me show you what your girlfriend has been depriving you of." Chaeyoung started moving up and down. Her fluids were now all over my cock. I reached for her small and soft butt and started to give them a light squeeze.

Chaeyoung yelped at my sudden movement but went along with it. I started to squeeze harder leaving red marks on her butt. "I'm going to cum inside of you!"

"Yes Y/N fill me up with your thick semen!"

I spanked her ass hard and unloaded a long thick stream of cum inside of her. Chaeyoung's eyes started rolling back. "It's so warm Y/N!"

After 10 seconds the stream stopped and Chaeyoung collapsed on the couch. "Y/N do you believe me now? Our meeting was fate."

"I believe you Chaeng. But we have to keep this under wraps I don't want Dahyun to find out about us."

"Fine by me Y/N my lips are sealed. Just make sure to come visit me every now and then."

I collapsed on her and hugged her naked body and we both fell asleep.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I don't know if people prefer 1st or 3rd person writing so I'll just alternate between the both of them.

Anyways enjoy Chaeyoung, I'm facing delays so I don't think I'll have something up anytime soon but I'll try to finish the Thanksgiving smut on time.

#kpop smut #smut #girl group smut #twice #twice smut #twice imagines #twice x reader #female idol smut #chaeyoung #chaeyoung smut #dahyun

432 notes · View notes

miujo · 1 month ago

Text

　　▂▃░ུ✿⃘໋ׅ　　　　❁ 　　　▗▬̸̎͞/̄͆̅ ̎ ̎̿͞ι̚━─ ㅤ̥˚̩̩̥· 　　　 ▓

283 notes · View notes

lockefanfic · 6 months ago

Text

Polaroid

The following is Chapter 11 in the Toy series, but it can (mostly) be read on its own. 🙂

12,713 words.

---

Exhibit 1: Central is a young woman’s (Subject A) open mouth. Subject A’s lips are glossy, slick - with cherry red lipstick and a thick, semi-transparent pale white liquid. Given the contextual clues in the photo, this liquid is likely semen. More of the substance stains the lower part of her face, running down her chin in thick streams. Her exposed tongue reveals more of it coating her mouth. A thick rivulet of semen drips onto her palette from the top of the picture, where another woman’s (Subject B) lips are barely seen. The rope of semen joins the mouths of Subjects A and B.

---

It’s in the middle of it all that come to a realization: what was playing out in front of you was no longer surprising.

There was a time when seeing something so lewd, so utterly ridiculous in its depravity, would shock you. And for the first few months of your new job, when you found yourself in similar circumstances, that feeling would come without fail. Each and every day seemed to bring more and more ludicrous experiences. How could anyone not be shocked by what you saw, heard, and felt since Chaeyoung and Momo picked you out of the crowd at the concert all those months ago?

But it was in that moment, some time past midnight, as you sat on what was probably a ludicrously expensive couch in the corner of the penthouse suite of one of the highest-end hotels in Singapore, that you realized the absence of that once-familiar feeling.

That was not to say that you weren’t aroused by the whole thing - of course not, quite the opposite in fact, if the erection you were sporting were any indication. You didn’t think you’d ever tire of seeing what you saw, hearing what you heard, feeling what you felt. Rather, you just weren’t surprised by it in the same way you used to be. It was just another day in a string of days that felt like your wildest dreams come true.

But when every day was so wild, then really, no days were wild, were they?

A sharp moan stirs you from the intense personal epiphany you were having in the corner of the hotel room. On the bed, not twenty feet from you, the third man in the room slips his cock inside Myoui Mina’s slick, dripping pussy from behind.

Mina lets her mouth slip from the stiff cock that filled it a moment before. There is a brief moment of pleasant surprise on her delicate features as she is filled, stretched, her body quickly accepting and accommodating the thick shaft that had just entered her. The moment is short, fleeting. The look of serious determination that she sported moments before returns, as does her mouth to the slick, glistening cock in front of her face.

Myoui Mina was often shy, reserved, introverted. Her public and private personas were much the same; this was a young woman who enjoyed quiet weekends at home building lego or grinding away at an MMORPG. She attended fashion weeks and other appearances like the other girls, of course, but you knew she only did so because it was in her contract, and it paid her - she had little actual interest for the clothes she was shilling or the scripted comedy she and the girls were playing out.

But during sex - and especially during sex when multiple males were involved - she was another person entirely: forceful, dominant, assertive. In control, of herself and those lucky enough to share a bed with her.

The two men who currently had that honor - you had no idea who they were and the girls had insisted that you didn’t need to worry about them - begin to fuck Mina from both ends. Her body - that slim, delicate, almost fragile body of hers, covered as it was in sweat and spit - is rocked back and forth, back and forth atop the high-end bed and the expensive-looking but already soiled sheets that covered it. Soon she settles into a rhythm, timing the movements of her body so the cock in her mouth hits the back of her throat just as the one in her cunt fills her to the hilt.

She moans around the cock between her lips. The two men grunt and sigh. Slick flesh slaps against slick flesh. Sex fills the room, pervades every moment that passes.

There was a time in your life when seeing such a sight play out in front of you was the stuff of dreams, of lonely nights with a picture, video, or smutty story from the darker parts of the internet. And here it was - playing out in real life, right in front of you. Just another sight, another memory being made to sit amongst the many hundreds that had filled the most memorable time of your life.

“Jesus, fuck,” Chaeyoung hisses. She is lying next to you on the couch, as naked as you are, watching, as she often did. She loved to watch. She loved being fucked, of course, but she loved watching others get fucked just as much, if not more - if nothing else because of what she got to do with them afterwards.

You have one arm wrapped around her shoulders. It slides down her upper chest to cup a small, round breast. She sighs as you capture her nipple, moans as you twist the piercing atop it, softly but firmly. Enough to make sure she felt it, but not enough to really hurt her. You knew well by now just how much she could take before the delicious spikes of pain became unbearable. You quickly found that she loved the pain, excited her almost as much as a kiss or touch.

You can’t exactly tear your eyes from the spectacle playing out on the bed in front of you, but out of the corner of your eye you watch the young woman in your arms begin to finger the needy flesh between her own legs. She makes no attempt to hide it, even swinging a leg out to rest over the couch’s arm, spreading herself open for her slim fingers. She moans as she finds her clit and teases the tender flesh around it with two fingertips.

You continue teasing her nipple, your free hand finding your own cock, painfully stiff, and giving it a few strokes. She watches you do it. She hisses as she watches you touch yourself, wordless sounds of lust escaping gritted teeth. Her eyes flick back and forth between your cock and her friend being roughly spitroasted mere feet away. Her eyes are glazed, half-lidded. Hungry.

For a few long minutes the two of you sit there, touching yourselves, pleasuring yourselves to the sights and sounds playing out in front of you.

On the bed, Mina orgasms - she lets the cock in her mouth leave her lips to let a shriek of pleasure escape from between them. The man fucking her behind shudders, slowing his thrusts momentarily to relish the pulsating of her orgasming cunt around his cock. The man in front of her seems upset by the sudden loss of the woman’s mouth around him - he reaches down, grasps a handful of her dark hair, and twists her head up to look at him.

She fixates him with an intense, lustful stare - even as her orgasm makes its way through her quivering, trembling body. He grips his cock with his other hand and slaps its thick, hard meat against her soft, delicate features.

Mina smiles. Wild, playful. She even giggles a little, an innocent, pleasant sound against the obscene, perverse context. You wonder for a moment how a woman born with such a classically elegant, delicate face could appear so utterly lustful, act so wanton.

Then she slips the cock back into her mouth and the three are fucking again, the two men having their way with her, taking their pleasure, using her - even as she used them.

The entire exchange stirs something in you, makes you want more than to just sit there with your cock in your own hand - especially when there was a naked, willing, needy little thing in your arms happy to take your hand’s place.

You tear your eyes from Mina for a moment. The hand on your cock leaves it, quickly slides into Chaeyoung’s hair. The thought of pulling her onto your lap and having her ride you comes to mind, but the thought of her mouth on your cock was too strong to resist; and besides, it would ensure your view of Mina’s show would remain unobstructed. Your fingers close around a knot of the unruly blonde strands, and with little softness or consideration, you pull Chaeyoung’s face onto your cock.

Her lips part, taking you into her slick, hot mouth quickly and easily, as though she were waiting for you to do so the whole time. Within seconds she is sucking your cock, head bobbing up and down, tongue pressed against the side of your cock or swirling around your head, spit dripping freely down your length and onto your balls. Chaeyoung moans around your shaft - she is sloppy, more focused on pleasure rather than your comfort - but you weren’t one to argue with the results. You shiver with pleasure as you use her mouth, pulling her head up and down along your length as though it were a sex toy and not the mouth of one of the biggest idols in Asia.

She has squirmed onto her side to suck your cock better, but the hand between her legs doesn’t cease in its movements, her small wrist working faster between her flushed thighs. Soon she is moaning around your cock, the vibrations of her throat feeling wonderful within the warm wetness of her mouth.

The show in front of you goes on. The man behind Mina begins to spank her as he pounds away at her juicy little cunt. The one at her head unwittingly follows your example, grasping her head with both hands as he fucks in and out of her mouth. They both up their pace, although it was difficult to tell whether it was their own choice to do so or whether Mina, despite her rather compromising position, was doing something with her body to entice them to do so. Whatever it was, the pace of the show quickens as it reaches its climax.

The hand in her hair transitions to grasping the back of Chaeyoung’s scalp, guiding her up and down, using her mouth like the needy little fucktoy it was - the perfect little fucktoy for such a show. It was so utterly unreal, so ridiculous, using her mouth the way you were, using it to get off at the sight of her best friend being spitroasted so roughly in front of you.

But it was just another day, these days. Not that the surreal regularity of it made the slick, hot little mouth wrapped around your cock feel any less amazing.

“Fuck, fuck, Mina--” the man fucking her cunt gasps. “Fuck, I’m gonna-”

“Shit, me too-” the man at her head hisses.

“On me!” the young woman shrieks, tearing the cock in her mouth free from between her lips to shout the command. “Don’t fucking cum in me.”

“Mina, fuck,” the man hammering away at her cunt gasps, his brow tightening, the grip on her ass tightening, leaving furrows in the pale, pliant flesh. “We always used to, fuck, we always used to cum in you-”

“-fill you up,” the other man spits between gritted teeth. “Wanna cum down your throat-”

“No,” Mina snaps, adamant. “You know the rules.”

She fixates the man at her face with a look - and while you can only see her side profile even you are struck by the intensity in those usually elegant, dainty features. She turns over her shoulder and gives the man behind her the same glare.

Even when there were multiple men involved, even when she was engaged in some of the filthiest acts imaginable, Myoui Mina never seemed rattled by any of it. She had a control, a grip over her own emotions and her own body; even as she exerted that control and grip over the men that she shared a bed with. The hold was ironclad, unshakable. It made men weak, made them unable to resist her demands.

“Fuck, alright,” the man behind her hisses, defeated.

“Wanna cum on your front,” the man at her head snaps. He is desperate now, being so close to his orgasm. They both are. And they both know neither of them are really in any position to be asking for more, given how blessed they already both were.

Mina relents. For a moment the intensity in her eyes is interrupted by a soft moan of pleasure as the man fucking her cunt reaches a particularly sensitive part of her. “Fine then,” she says, the words half-moan. “Fucking cum on me.”

The two men leave her body. Spit tumbles from her mouth, pre-cum and her juices drip from the splayed lips of her cunt. She turns around on the bed until she is lying on it.

“Paint me.”

The two men waste no time. Their hands find their needy cocks, and soon they are stroking themselves off to the sight of the beautiful young woman on the bed between them - naked, sweaty, dripping spit and sweat and cunt juices onto the soft cotton sheets beneath her. She squirms and writhes on the bed as she awaits their cum.

Her hands wander her own body, tracing paths up her tight, toned midsection and squeezing a small, firm breast, or wandering between her splayed thighs, index and ring finger spreading apart the slick lips of her own pussy, middle finger finding and teasing her needy little clit. She is moaning throughout it all, little wordless sighs of pleasure as she touches herself.

The two men cum - they paint with the most lewd materials known to man, on one of the most beautiful canvases in existence. They leave their thick, warm semen on her body in long, heavy streaks, on her toned abs, her small breasts, the elegant features of her face, twisted in perverse joy at being debased the way she was.

She sighs and moans as they cum on her, each rope of semen seeming to incite a new spike of pleasure in her body until she too is cumming again, orgasming at the feel and sight and sound of two men stroking themselves, pleasuring themselves to her, leaving their cum on her. Staining her. Sullying her perfect image, turning the perfect lady into a dirty little cum-stained thing.

You cum too. How could you not? The sight of what had just happened in front of you was enough, never mind the feel of Chaeyoung’s slick tongue, hot mouth, and full lips wrapped around your cock.

Your hands pull the young Korean woman’s face down to the base of your shaft. You feel her gag around the hard, spasming shaft filling her mouth with semen. She manages not to rip her mouth from you, even if she could somehow fight the fingers woven through her hair, holding her skull fast against your crotch.

The fear of hurting her that you once had from earlier in your time as her toy didn’t come up this time. She knew how to suck a cock - you knew that well. She knew how to take a load down that skilled throat of hers.

Eventually, some indeterminate amount of time later when your hands finally release their grip on her scalp, she manages to slip off your shaft. She raises her head, and her features are flushed, her hair frazzled, eyes half-lidded and still heavy with pleasure - a mess, but a satisfied one. From the corner of her mouth, a rivulet of glistening cum drips from her lips, but they remain sealed, keeping most of your warm load within. Her cheeks are fuller, and the thought of what she held within them drives you crazy.

She picks something up from the end table flanking the couch and presses it into your hand, something large and plastic. It takes you a moment to rip your eyes from the utterly erotic sight of your cum dripping down Chaeyoung’s chin, but when you do, you realize the object in your hands is a Polaroid camera.

Without further word she leaves the couch and approaches the filthy, cum-stained form of her best friend sprawled atop the bed. Mina welcomes her with open arms in a gesture that seems oddly intimate, oddly loving. There is a warm smile on her slick lips. The younger woman crawls atop the bed on all fours until she is perched atop it, face inches from that of her friend.

Mina opens her mouth. Chaeyoung opens hers.

By some miracle, the camera viewfinder finds its way to your eye. You frame the shot. Your finger finds the shutter button as your thick, white semen drips from Chaeyoung’s mouth onto Mina’s waiting tongue.

Snap.

---

Exhibit 2: A woman’s (Subject B) pelvis dominates the frame. She is wearing a one-piece swimsuit, the crotch of which is pulled to the side. She is on her back, her legs spread apart, and a male’s erect penis (Subject C) is embedded to the base within her. Subjects are mid-coitus.

Exhibit 3: In the lower third of the picture are two women (Subjects A and B), seated on what appears to be a poolside deck chair, facing the camera. The background is blurry and unrecognizable but appears to be natural or decorative foliage. The two women are wearing swimsuits and sunglasses. Subject A is presumably wearing a two-piece bikini, although only the top is visible, her lower half concealed by a white beach towel. Subject B is wearing a one-piece swimsuit.

---

“They’re old toys from our last tour,” Mina says. She had a way of reading your thoughts and answering unasked questions - something you were thankful for in that moment, because you weren’t quite sure how to broach the topic of the two random men who’d shown up the night before, engaged in a threesome with one of the girls you were responsible for, and left without so much as a word.

“It was my turn to pick the toys last time we were here - me and Jihyo’s turn, anyway,” she continues. “But she wasn’t in the mood - or so she says - so she let me have her pick. I picked those two.”

“Oh, okay,” you answer. “And they’re not… toys any more?”

“I still call them up whenever I’m in town and want to have some fun,” she answers, nonchalantly, as though she were referring to old work or school acquaintances and not casual sex partners that she’d just had a rather wild threesome the night before. “One of them is pretty high up at this hotel, which is how we got this fancy suite. And no, they’re not officially the group’s toys anymore.”

“And they never… y’know, got hired by the company, like we did?”

“Nope. I guess you and the others are the lucky ones. Usually toys stay in the city we picked them in, and they usually only last a couple of nights. I guess you really impressed the girls, because one or more of us must have gone directly to the boss and asked that you and the others be hired on permanently.”

“I see. And you’re not afraid that they’ll do something? That they’ll go to the media or public?”

“No,” she answers, confidently. “Because they know if they try something they won’t be getting any more of this.”

She didn’t need to specify what this was, especially when this was laid out on the deck chair of the suite’s private deck, spending the warm Singaporean afternoon sunbathing. Even in what was a relatively modest bikini and simple designer sunglasses, Myoui Mina was breathtaking.

From your sitting position on the deck chair next to her, you let your gaze linger on her slim, tight body for a moment. She adjusts herself on her chair, knowing without a doubt that you were watching every movement she made. She playfully slides one leg up on the chair, revealing a full, pale thigh before placing a hand on her knee and striking a model’s pose. Her head turns slightly to face you, and the corner of a soft pink lip curls upwards into a sly smile.

You return it, and the two of you share a small laugh. Despite being typecast as the shy, introverted ice princess she was early in her career, you were glad to see her come out of her shell a little bit in recent years, both on and off the stage.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and despite the cute moment you were sharing with Mina, you pull it out of your shorts.

“I wish you’d relax,” she says, turning away from you again with an exaggerated sigh. “This is supposed to be a vacation, remember?”

She was right - the company placed higher importance than others on making sure its artists received sufficient vacation time, and this week was one of those company-mandated weeks when no official work was to be done. Many of the girls took it upon themselves to leave Seoul for a few days; Chaeyoung had already booked the flights and had had Mina make arrangements for the hotel before you’d even had a chance to ask her what she was up to. Before you knew it she’d shown up at your door and told you you had twenty minutes to pack for a five day trip to Singapore with the two of them.

The nature of your job meant that you were never truly off work, though, and there were still the odd emails to catch up on regarding appointments and other duties for the weeks after this one. Amidst the emails are a few notifications from the group chat you shared with Buzz and Woody - Woody apparently wanted to get the three of you together for beers sometime, but with you out of the country and Buzz busy with his actual career that night out would have to wait at least until you got back.

“Sorry, Mina,” you say, sheepishly placing your phone on Do Not Disturb and placing it on the side table beside your own deck chair. “There’ve been some changes to Nayeon’s schedules next week, and the higher ups thought I should know since I’m on duty with her starting Monday.”

Mina lets a barely audible huff of air escape her nostrils at the mention of Nayeon. The friction in the group had become more apparent over the past few weeks, and the girls were surprisingly willing to let their places in the battle lines be known to everyone, including their managers.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “Didn’t mean to bring her up on purpose. Wasn’t aware that you didn’t like her.”

“No need,” Mina answers, “you’re just doing your job. Doesn’t mean I can’t hate the bitch.”

You supposed that you shouldn’t have been surprised regarding where Mina stood in the entire Nayeon versus Chaeyoung split that had fractured the girls into two opposing parties, given her close relationship to the latter. But her openness on the topic still struck you, given her usually aloof and introverted nature, particularly when it came to matters that didn’t involve plastic building blocks or fictional, virtual worlds.

“Mina, I… listen, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but I’ve been wondering, like-”

“-what happened between Nayeon and Chaeyoung?” Mina finishes, again reading your mind, throwing the topic you’d been tiptoeing around out into the open.

“Well, yeah.”

Mina crosses her arms. A frown appears on her lips. It doesn’t seem to be one of anger, but one of genuine frustration.

“I wish I knew,” she admits. “All I and the rest of the girls know is that those two have hated each other for as long as we’ve been a group - even before the Sixteen days. Whatever happened between them, it happened long before we ever took to a stage together.”

You nod along, not quite knowing how to move the topic forward. Thankfully, Mina does it for you. She’d made a habit of it lately.

“Every group of girls has its secrets, I suppose, but most of them are open ones: Tzuyu’s a virgin, but won’t be one for much longer, I think; Dahyun only sleeps with guys she has feelings for; Sana only sleeps with guys she doesn’t have feelings for; Jihyo isn’t over Da- I mean, Buzz; Momo’s carrying a torch for someone, although we haven’t quite figured out who yet; Jeongyeon is in love with Nayeon; Nayeon’s an evil, cold-hearted, manipulative bitch. That last one may or may not be a secret.”

You had gotten to know the girls relatively well over the past few months, but much of what Mina had just revealed was still news to you. The girl clearly wasn’t one to keep secrets or didn’t care enough to face the consequences of spilling them - it was likely the latter. You want to press further on a few of them, but Mina continues her train of thought before you can do so.

“But the whole thing with Nayeon and Chaeyoung… I know Chaeyoung like the back of my hand, but yeah, it’s a strict no-go zone with her. I never pushed it. Not even when we were together.”

“Wait, what? Together? You and… Chaeyoung?”

“Yeah,” Mina answers, nonchalantly, as though she weren’t just dropping a heavy truth grenade at your feet and had tossed the pin away. “For a year or so.”

“Damn. I mean, the clues were there, but…”

Mina smiles to herself. “Yeah, we kind of slipped up here and there, didn’t we? The higher ups didn’t think it was real, and they passed it off as fanservice, but we… yeah, we were a thing. Serious, too. Or rather, I was ready to make it serious, but Chaeyoung…”

“...Chaeyoung?” you prod, your curiosity temporarily overcoming any hesitation you may have had at prying into the girls’ personal lives.

“She wasn’t ready to take that next step,” Mina finishes. “When we both decided it wasn’t going anywhere, we decided to break up.”

“Damn.”

“Yeah. She wasn’t ready for anything serious, I guess. I felt like there was something holding her back from taking the next step. Trauma? Fear? Who knows. I sure as hell didn’t.”

The two of you sit there in silence for a while. Mina reaches for the drink at her side table and takes a sip. She sits there for a minute or two, stirring the liquor with her straw, trying to make sense of her thoughts. You want to say something, anything, to fill the silence.

“She’s still my best friend,” Mina says, eventually, breaking the silence for you. “Not to mention a pretty hot fuck buddy. I suppose that’s not a bad consolation prize, all things considered.”

She turns to smile at you, and you return it, although you sense a little bit of sadness behind the curl of her lips. After a while she returns to stirring her drink and taking small sips out of it, while you turn your attention back to your phone, unable to find the words to continue the conversation and unwilling to pry further into what was clearly a touchy subject.

“You two look awkward as fuck,” comes a voice from the suite’s glass doors. Chaeyoung emerges from the room, a black plastic bag in one hand. She’s wearing a black one-piece strapless swimsuit beneath a skimpy pair of denim shorts - shorts she makes sure to rid herself of before joining you and Mina by the pool, leaving her long, slim legs and cute little butt bare.

“We’re just enjoying the peace and quiet without you around making all the noise,” Mina says, returning her drink to the side table before motioning with her head towards Chaeyoung’s plastic bag. “Whatcha got there?”

“More drinks,” Chaeyoung answers, taking a seat at the foot of your deck chair and pulling three green glass bottles from the bag, along with a few novelty shot glasses she must have picked up from a souvenir stand. “Oh, and some sunscreen. Don’t want the higher ups getting pissed at our precious manager here for letting us get sunburnt out on vacation.”

She tosses the tiny bottle of sunscreen in your lap. You don’t miss the suggestive look she shares with Mina.

“You go first,” Mina says, suggestively, as she opens one of the soju bottles and pours a shot into one of the glasses. “It’s my turn to watch the show.”

Chaeyoung draws close to you on your deck chair, bringing her face to within inches of yours as if to kiss you, that cute little tongue of hers darting out to flash over her lips - before, with a wicked grin, she nudges you aside with her torso and lies down on her stomach on your deck chair.

You resign yourself to your fate, shooting Mina a smirk as you take up position behind Chaeyoung, opening up the bottle of sunscreen. You straddle the back of Chaeyoung’s thighs, squirt a small amount on her upper back, and begin to spread it over her soft, creamy skin.

She purrs, not unlike a satisfied cat, as you massage the thick lotion onto her upper back and shoulders. In the deck chair next to you, Mina takes her shot of soju - but doesn’t swallow it.

Turning onto her side, she reaches up to Chaeyoung’s cheek before kissing her deeply, passing the soju between their mouths. Chaeyoung swallows most of the alcohol, but Mina’s lips don’t leave hers - leaving a lot of the clear liquid to escape their lips and drip down their chins.

What begins as a soft, tender kiss quickly becomes a passionate makeout session. You bite your lip at the sight. You feel yourself stiffening beneath your pool shorts, even as you continue to massage what was left of the sunscreen onto Chaeyoung’s shoulders and back.

Mina breaks the kiss momentarily, shooting you a look - and the mischievousness in her eyes is impossible to miss even behind her sunglasses. She kisses Chaeyoung again, capturing the younger girl’s lower lip between her teeth, while reaching down with a hand to her friend’s ass - and pulling the crotch of her swimsuit aside and stretching it around a perky ass cheek, revealing her naked pussy.

Chaeyoung catches on quickly to her best friend’s intention, arching her back to allow you a better look at her upraised ass and the newly revealed flesh between her thighs. She wiggles beneath you, and you take your weight off her thighs to allow her to bring her knees beneath her body, raising her ass up off the deck chair.

Without breaking their kiss, Mina undoes the ties to the lower half of her bikini before pulling it off her body, tossing it away with an exaggerated flourish. Naked from the waist down, she gives Chaeyoung a last peck on the lips before she too turns onto her stomach and brings her knees beneath her, raising her ass, bringing it next to Chaeyoung’s until they are touching at the hip.

They spend a moment there, their upraised, naked asses swaying back and forth as they smile slyly at each other and at you before sharing soft, teasing kisses with each other. You cannot help but reach forward, needing to touch, needing to feel, as though by touching them you could receive some measure of reassurance that this was all really happening and not part of some ridiculous dream.

You squeeze Mina’s ass with your right hand and Chaeyoung’s with your left, relishing the warm softness of their skin beneath your fingers. Mina’s ass was round and full, Chaeyoung’s cute and perky - both were utterly mouthwatering in their own way, to say nothing of the warm, slick flesh that waited just beneath each pair of cheeks. You sigh to yourself, your brain a little overwhelmed with the sensations suddenly flooding it.

“Fuck me,” Chaeyoung hisses over her shoulder, finding and holding your gaze with an intense, sultry look. “Fuck her. Fuck us both.”

You’d learned by now not to question such an order or hesitate when presented with such an opportunity. You were long past the point of questioning these things as they happened to you, having transitioned fully into simply enjoying them as they came.

To that end, your left hand leaves her ass, grasping your painfully stiff cock and bringing it to Chaeyoung’s slick, hot cunt. Your tip buries itself between the lips of her pussy, causing a soft sigh to slip from her lips at that first contact. At the same time, you bring your right hand between Mina’s thighs, slipping the tip of your middle finger between her lips. Finding her hot lips dripping, your ring finger joins your middle, your fingertips playing with the moist, slick flesh there, but not penetrating any deeper, not yet.

The girls sigh and quiver and moan beneath you, waiting, wanting. You take it all in, relish the moment - every movement of their young, tight bodies, every lustful gasp and sigh that leaves their perfect lips.

But your self-control only lasts so long. Your hips slide forward, filling Chaeyoung to the hilt with your cock - and Mina with your fingers.

Every single time felt special, felt new. This time was no different, even if the circumstances - sex with women you’d long believed were so far beyond your reach so as to be impossible - had become routine over the past few months.

But you never tired of it. Not when the high was so high.

Chaeyoung is tight, slick, hot. She clenches tight as you fill her for the first time, that juicy cunt of hers stretching around your shaft, making you quiver involuntarily at the feel of her body wrapping around you. Mina is similarly vice-like; despite the relative slimness of your fingers, you can still feel how much she clenches around your digits.

You start fucking Chaeyoung, your cock pistoning in and out of her cunt at a slow but steady pace, your fingers doing the same with Mina. There was certainly a time for teasing and foreplay with the girls, but you’d learned by now when such patience and buildup was necessary, and when it wasn’t. This was one of the latter times - a time for a hard, fast fuck, for getting to the pleasure without the preamble or teasing.

Chaeyoung moans, softly, as she’s filled again and again with your cock. Mina is biting her lip, and even though her eyes are still hidden behind her sunglasses you can tell her gaze is fixed solely on her best friend’s face, watching intently as her small, cute features are twisted by the pleasure building throughout her small, tight little body.

“Fuck,” Chaeyoung gasps. “Fuck, fuck me just like that.”

Mina lets a sound slip from her lips, and even though it is wordless it sounds like agreement. Her tooth bites deeper into her lip, and you fear for a moment whether she would soon draw blood.

But the concern for Mina is fleeting; Chaeyoung’s pussy wrapped around your cock is your main focus. Your free hand clutches a small butt cheek, or her tiny waist, pulling her back toward you as your hips slam forward - the forcefulness with which you thrust into her body increasing steadily, even as your tempo and pace remained the same.

“Such a good toy,” Chaeyoung sighs. She’d always been one of the more vocal girls during sex, finding release through words the way the others found release in breathless gasps and moans. “Such a good toy for us. For me.”

“Mmmm,” Mina hums, another wordless sound of agreement. Her pussy clenches around your fingers. You find it more and more difficult to plunge your fingers in and out of her body, but you ensure your fingers are fucking her with the same pace that your cock is fucking her best friend.

You glance over at her - at that slim, pale body of hers. There was a lot to love about her - the long, graceful legs, the round, full ass, the well-toned midriff and cute pair of breasts. But it was the way it all combined with that graceful, elegant face that put her on another level; seeing it twisted and contorted with lewd desire, seeing that face become slave to her base needs - it gave you a perverse pleasure, a lewd satisfaction in corrupting something so seemingly prim and proper.

By contrast, Chaeyoung seemed built for the physical pleasures - small, tight, slim, easy to throw around and bend over and play around with. There was something about her that invited sex, something that asked to be used, to be held down and fucked - even though you knew that she equally liked being the one using, the one pouncing atop a man and using his body for her own pleasure. Something about her screamed sex, made her irresistible. Every time you had her, you felt yourself giving into it more and more completely.

Your fingers slip from Mina’s body as you feel yourself give in to your need to fuck Chaeyoung, to take her, make her yours. You up your pace, your cock pounding her now, giving her tight little cunt hard, fast thrusts.

She yelps at first at your new pace, but yelps become sighs, and then moans. Your hands pull her hips back toward you as you thrust forward, ripping more delicious sounds from the young woman’s throat, making her cute butt cheeks ripple and bounce with each impact of your hips against them. Despite the roughness with which you’re fucking her, she still finds the words to put words to her pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” she gasps. “Fuck, Mina, fuck, he’s fucking me so good. So good. So hard! So good. Stretching me out. Gonna… gonna fucking cum soon, all over his cock.”

“Chaeyoung, mmmm,” Mina replies, unable, like her friend, to find the words that could give voice to her pleasure. She settles for reaching over and capturing Chaeyoung’s face with her hand, pulling her towards herself for a kiss.

The sight of the two making out - even as you fuck Chaeyoung’s cunt with long, hard strokes - is intoxicating. It felt amazing for you, but it must have been sublime for Chaeyoung, if the pulsating of her pussy around your cock was any indication.

Her orgasm hits her from out of nowhere, and she moans her pleasure into Mina’s mouth. The older woman breathes her moan in, inhales it, her lips curling up into a smile even as Chaeyoung turns into a quivering, trembling mess beneath her lips.

Eventually Chaeyoung’s strength gives out, and she breaks the kiss, falling forward and letting her head drop to the deck chair. You slow your thrusts, relishing the embrace of her pussy rippling around your cock as her orgasm runs its course.

“Me now, me,” Mina gasps, almost pleading, barely able to come up with the words she needed to describe the need coursing through her body. “Fuck me now. Me.”

You slide from Chaeyoung’s trembling pussy, delighting in the sight of her cunt lips wrapped around your shaft as it leaves her body. Your cock is slick and wet and dripping with her juices, some of it dripping onto the deck chair in heavy drops. You leave her face down, ass up on the deck chair, a blissful smile on her face as she relishes every second of the post-orgasm haze that had taken a hold of her senses.

You take up position behind Mina, swapping over to her deck chair, planting one foot on the floor for better leverage. You bring your glistening cock to her needy little cunt, and you slip into her body with one strong thrust, hilting yourself inside the mewling young woman’s slick little pussy.

Mina’s cunt is tight and dripping, given she’d just spent the past few minutes watching her best friend have her brains fucked out right next to her. From the very first thrust she is clenching, pulsating, quivering around your shaft. It was obvious that she was in no mood for a slow build up, slow ramping up of pace and forcefulness.

So you fuck her - hard, fast, merciless. And from the moment you slide out of her cunt, only to hilt yourself inside her again, her entire body tells you that that was exactly what she wanted.

She sighs, moans, cries her pleasure. Without words, like Chaeyoung. It was odd, you realized, given how relatively composed she was the night before when she was with the two old toys, and even earlier than that, when you had her with Buzz and Woody a few weeks prior. Both of those times she seemed to have complete control over the situation and her own body, vocalizing her needs, ordering her partners to do what she wished. This was a woman whom you’d witnessed taking three loads in each of her holes, all in the same night, without so much as a sly smile of contentment afterwards.

And now here she was, a mewling, quivering thing, unable to form words, her only way of expressing her pleasure being the breathless sighs and moans that spilled from her lips in an endless tumble. What was different?

You realize, even as you fuck the young woman into the deck chair, that it was Chaeyoung’s presence. The younger woman had been a mere observer with both of the other encounters, but now, having been fucked by the same man mere moments before, she was a full participant.

Was it Chaeyoung’s proximity that drove Mina mad? The knowledge that she was being fucked with the same cock that had been inside her best friend and ex-lover just moments before?

Whatever it was, the Mina you were slamming in and out of was a different one from the one you’d had before. She reaches behind her, her nails pressing deep into your hip. She turns towards Chaeyoung, her sunglasses falling from her eyes as she does so, revealing eyes drunk with some heady mixture of pleasure and need.

“Mmmm,” she sighs, “Oh! Ummmh. Chaeyoung-”

Chaeyoung shakes the last of her post-orgasm stupor to reach up with a hand, cradling Mina’s face just as Mina did to her minutes before, when she herself was on the verge of cumming.

“Do you like that, baby girl?” she asks, breathlessly. “Do you like being fucked hard like this?”

“Hhhmmmm,” Mina sighs, even as her body is rocked back and forth with the relentless pace of your cock thrusting in and out of her tight little cunt. The wet slap slap slap of your hips into her slick, sticky crotch makes it almost difficult to hear her.

“Mmm, I bet you do,” the younger girl answers, understanding the meaning beneath every sound that left her friend’s mouth, even if those sounds ceased to resemble human language, and instead took the form of lustful moans and wordless sighs. “I know you love being fucked like this. Being fucked hard, having your cunt pounded.”

Chaeyoung forces a kiss onto Mina’s lips before bringing her mouth to the moaning woman’s ear.

“I know you love it, taking cocks like this,” she continues. “Being used. Normal fucking isn’t good enough for you, is it? You need men to use you, don’t you? Being fucked like this - you love it. Do you know why, Mina? Do you know why you love being fucked hard? Because you’re so prim and proper all the time, aren’t you, baby girl? Because you’re Myoui Mina, elegant and ladylike, the perfect princess - being fucked like a whore.”

Mina cums in response - as though some secret keyword had been spoken, some trigger she had buried deep within her pulled by a merciless finger. Her orgasm is rough, violent, her entire body becoming a trembling mess as the pleasure overcomes her senses. She tightens almost painfully around your cock, the silken embrace of her cunt becoming almost unbearable in its tightness.

She falls forward, off your cock and onto the deck chair, breathing heavily, eyes shut, body still quivering. You gasp involuntarily as you leave her body, the slick wetness of her cunt sliding off your cock sending shivers of pleasure up your spine. You’d seen Mina cum before, of course, including on your own cock more than once - but never like this. You’d never seen her have an orgasm so strong, so raw.

You feel a need to comfort her, make sure she was okay. You bend over her body, placing kisses on her sweaty back and neck.

Chaeyoung joins you, leaning on her side on Mina’s deck chair, kissing her friend’s forehead and flushed cheeks even as the older woman quivers and trembles with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

“He hasn’t cum yet,” she whispers into Mina’s ear as she pulls a strand of hair behind it. “We can’t leave him like this, can we, baby girl?”

“Mmnnnn,” Mina manages, though her breaths are short as she struggles to feed tired lungs.

“Neither of the other toys came in you last night, did they? They followed your rules. Do you want a load now, baby girl? Do you want a load in this tight little pussy? In your tight little ass?”

Chaeyoung runs a finger along Mina’s lips before planting a soft, tender kiss upon them.

“…Or would you rather swallow it?”

Mina’s bottom lip curls under her tooth before she answers.

“You… you, take it. Take his cum. I know… I know you want it. I want you.. I want you to have it.”

A wicked smile pulls at the corners of Chaeyoung’s lips.

“Okay, baby girl,” she whispers, loud enough for you to hear. “I’m sure he’s got a lot of cum saved up for us. It’s already the second day of the trip, and he hasn’t cum in a pussy yet. Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll take his load for the both of us.”

Chaeyoung reaches into the black plastic bag that she’d left on the deck floor, retrieving her Polaroid camera. She places it in Mina’s hands.

“Make sure you get a good shot,” she says.

Chaeyoung lies on her back on her deck chair and spreads her legs. She reaches down, pulls the crotch of her swimsuit aside further than it already was, revealing her slick, dripping opening. For a moment, you are surprised with how quickly she turned your attention away from Mina’s wellbeing and back to her own pleasure. It was almost greedy, how quickly she claimed your load. Almost selfish.

But the thought is fleeting, because there she was - beautiful, tight, needy, waiting for your cock, craving your load. Any hesitation you might have had about how quickly she’d forgotten about Mina vanishes at the sight of her and the needy cunt between her flushed, spread thighs.

You come back to her deck chair, taking up position between her legs, bringing your cock - slick, glistening, aching - to her needy little cunt. You swipe your tip up and down her lips for a moment before sliding inside her, filling her in one smooth, long stroke.

“Fuck,” she hisses through her teeth. “Fuck, that’s it. That’s it, baby - I know you're close. Come on. Fuck me, cum in my pussy.”

You fuck Son Chaeyoung into the deck chair with firm, solid strokes of your cock, making sure she felt every entry and exit, filling her until you’re hilt deep before slipping out and doing it again and again and again. She spreads her legs wider, lets you get as deep inside her as you could. She hooks her ankles around your waist, wraps her hands around the back of your neck and lets her fingers intertwine. The cock hammering in and out of her body feels wonderful, but she cares less about her own pleasure and more about making sure her needy little pussy was filled up with cum.

“Come on, baby. Fuck me. Fuck my pussy up, give me that mess. Cum in me. Fill me up, fill me deep! I want to feel it in my guts.”

“Fuck, Chaeyoung,” you grunt. She was so tight, so slick, so hot - the silken grasp of her cunt wore away more and more of your sanity with each thrust. “Gonna make me cum.”

Mina whimpers next to you both, and you spare her a glance to see that she’s recovered somewhat from her orgasm. She’s grasping the camera with both hands now, holding it beneath her eye, waiting for the perfect shot. Her hands are quivering slightly. Her lower lip is curled under a tooth as she bites down hard on it.

Chaeyoung sees her readying for the shot and feels you nearing your peak. She places her hands on your upper chest before giving you a slight push backward, forcing you to straighten your arms as you support your weight with your hands on either side of her head. It creates space between your bodies - and gives Mina the perfect angle for a shot of your cock sliding in and out of her creamy little pussy.

“Oh god,” Mina gasps, breathless at the sight before her.

“Chaeyoung, gonna fucking-”

“-cum in me!” she hisses, eyes locked on yours with a wild intensity, wanting nothing more in that moment than to feel your cock spasming inside her as it fills her with semen. “Cum in me, cum in my cunt - fill me up with your cum.”

Mina’s tooth breaks the tender skin of her lip. She tastes the blood in her mouth.

She frames the shot. Her finger finds the shutter button just as you orgasm, filling Chaeyoung’s cunt with the first of several ropes of thick, warm semen.

Snap.

---

“Signal was the worst song. I have no idea how it got released, much less became our title track.”

“And the music video!” Mina adds. “With that dumb alien, and the dumb superpowers. What were the marketing team on when they came up with that stuff?”

“I dunno,” Chaeyoung says, filling your shot glass with the last drops of the three bottles of soju. “But hey, it won Song of the Year for some reason, so I guess it wasn’t a total failure.”

“I kinda liked Signal,” you admit, sheepishly. “I thought it was a bop.”

“Of course you did,” Chaeyoung says with a teasing sneer. “God, you’re such a fanboy.”

“Can’t complain about where it got me,” you counter, shooting the young woman a wink before downing your shot. You relish the sweet but strong flavor of the alcohol as it slides down your throat. The three of you had started drinking not long after your little session, lounging about on the deck chairs as the afternoon turned into early evening. Alcohol mixed well with the post-sex haze, lending the warm Singaporean sunset a warm, comfortable feeling.

“We’re all out,” Mina observes, motioning with her head towards the empty green bottles. “I suppose I can head out and get some more.” She raises her upper body off her deck chair and looks around for the bikini bottoms she’d rid herself of a while ago, but before she can find them, Chaeyoung stops her with a hand on her forearm.

“Now, now,” the younger girl says, “I don’t think you or I should be going out given our current state of dress. You can’t even find the other half of your bikini, can you?”

“I mean, either of you can just toss some shorts on and be just fine-” you begin, only for Chaeyoung to pull the top of her swimsuit down, letting her small, perky little tits slip out. Mina playfully follows suit, slipping her own round tits out of the cups of her bikini top.

“So you think I should go back out to the convenience store with my tits out and a load of cum dripping down my thighs? Man, the company would kill us if we went out like this, wouldn’t they?” Chaeyoung asks Mina, playfully.

“They sure would,” she replies. She had seemed eager to make the liquor run herself - but her desire to please Chaeyoung outweighed her desire for more alcohol, apparently.

“I really do want some more drinks though, and maybe some snacks,” Chaeyoung continues. “If only there were a strong and responsible but also handsome and well-endowed manager here to solve this little predicament of ours.”

The girls smile slyly at you, and you give them a snort through your nose before standing up off the chair and putting your shorts back on. You make a show of giving both of their pairs of tits a nice long look before turning around and starting towards the open glass doors of the hotel suite.

“Wait!” Chaeyoung says, reaching for the Polaroid. “Take a shot of us before you go. While the sun’s still up.”

You take the camera, expecting her to direct you to take another lewd shot - they did both have their tits out and Mina’s bikini bottom was essentially MIA - but Chaeyoung surprises you by tucking her tits back into her swimsuit and grabbing a white towel from a nearby deck chair that she tosses over Mina’s naked lower half.

“Take a clean one for the fanboys,” she says, mischievously, as she puts on her sunglasses and cuddles up next to Mina, who has pulled her bikini top back over her breasts. “I’m sure they’ll love the Michaeng tease!”

Mina sits up and gets ready for the picture, but the smile on her lips is forced. There is a quiver in her lip, as though Chaeyoung had just reopened an old wound.

You frame the shot. Your finger finds the shutter just as Mina slides her sunglasses back on, as though she wanted to hide the sadness in her eyes.

Snap.

---

Singapore had many things - some of the best cuisine in Asia, world-class shopping, gorgeous people - but the past eight hours you’d spent hopping in and out of various art exhibits had convinced you that it also had a thriving art scene.

You weren’t much for art, truth be told. You could appreciate the talent behind a paintbrush or a pencil, of course, but you weren’t exactly one to spend more than a few minutes admiring a piece.

Chaeyoung was quite the opposite. There were several times over the past few hours that you’d found her absolutely engrossed in a particular piece, to the point where she appeared almost motionless in front of it, her breathing being the only indicator that she was a living being and not herself some sort of statue.

“Art can express what letters and numbers can’t,” she said, out of the blue, while you both stood there admiring a piece from a local modern artist. “It isn’t constrained by the rules of language or math or science. It’s expression in its purest form. That’s why I love it.”

Spending time alone with her was always something you looked forward to - you didn’t need her to justify the hours you’d both spent in small, quiet local galleries and exhibits over most of the day. That she felt the need to do so led you to believe that she was unsure of how you felt about her obsession with canvases and spray paint and acrylics.

“We can take as much time here as you want, Chaeyoung,” you say, quietly. Her attention leaves the piece in front of her for a moment to shoot you a smile for a moment before she returns her eyes to it.

“Yeah? You wouldn’t rather be with a sweet, wholesome girl in a classy sundress and heels? One that doesn’t drag you into shady galleries filled with weird abstract art?”

“Naw. And I think I get this piece, honestly. It’s, uh, about the colors and stuff.”

Chaeyoung smiles, returning her attention to the art piece.

You spend the next ten minutes in silence. You do your best to make sense of the colors and shapes in front of you until Chaeyoung slowly slips her hand in your arm and drags you toward the next exhibit.

---

Exhibit 4: Two subjects (Subjects A and C) are immediately post-coitus. The male, Subject C, is on his back. Subject A is atop him. Subject C’s penis is still fully embedded inside Subject A. Semen and other bodily fluids drip from the meeting of their bodies to drip down Subject C’s penis and testicles.

---

The first time it happens you aren’t quite sure what exactly it was - but the intense, sharp pleasure it incited within you was intoxicating.

The second time, you think you know what it is - Chaeyoung’s tongue.

Mina rides you roughly, fiercely, every muscle in her toned hips and thighs working hard to slide her juicy little cunt up and down your length. Her small, round tits sway atop you and the wordless, breathy moans that leave her mouth are music to your ears.

But it’s the little pauses she makes every few seconds, at the apex of each exit of your cock from her body - the pauses that allow Chaeyoung to drag her tongue up the underside of your shaft, gathering up the slick juices that coat your length - that drive you crazy.

With your tip inside one woman and another’s tongue lapping up the wetness on your shaft, the concept of sanity was quickly becoming an abstract, unknown thing.

Chaeyoung returns to playing with your balls, caressing them with careful fingertips. Mina returns to bouncing that tight little pussy of hers up and down your cock. You return to relishing every moment, doing your best to hold on to what remained of your sanity even as more and more of it was lost to you with each bounce, each lick.

What you would have given to be in Chaeyoung’s position for even a moment, to see what she saw, watching Mina’s round, firm ass bounce up and down, watching your cock as it speared in and out of her leaking, dripping cunt. The sight of it alone might have been enough to make you cum right there, on the spot. It’s only by some miracle that you hadn’t already.

Your fingers dig deep into the soft, yielding flesh of Mina’s thighs as she continues to ride you. You had to ground yourself, find something to anchor yourself with amidst the waves of pleasure battering you. Each one was more delicious than the last - and each one brought you closer and closer to a climax you weren’t sure you wanted so soon.

It was too good. The slick, silken embrace of Mina’s cunt, the sighs and moans filling your ears, the feel of Chaeyoung’s tongue darting out and licking the underside of your shaft - it was too good. You wanted it to last, fought hard to control yourself even as you knew the fight would be in vain.

“He’s gonna cum soon, baby girl,” Chaeyoung announces. She knew you well enough by now, knew by the quiver in your thighs and the tremble in your balls that you were close. “Where do you want it? You want it in this juicy little cunt of yours, don’t you? I know you only let our current toys cum in you. I know you haven’t had a load in this pussy in weeks. Is this where you want it, baby girl? Is this where you want him to cum? Tell him where, baby girl. He needs to hear it.”

“Inside,” Mina hisses, the single word leaving her mouth with an intense amount of conviction, as though she couldn’t even fathom the idea of you cumming anywhere else.

“You heard her,” Chaeyoung relays. Even amidst Mina’s moans and the wet slap of her thighs against your hips her words are crystal clear. “Fill that pussy up with cum.”

“Fuck, Mina,” you gasp, fingers turning into claws as they dig into her pale thighs before reaching around and filling your palms with the soft flesh of her bouncing ass, slamming her down onto your cock. Mina bends, sucks the breath from your mouth with a passionate kiss.

She breaks it, watches you with passionate, wild eyes. Her hips are relentless, her cunt pulsating, tightening - too good, too fucking good. Her lips open, and she whispers.

“Cum inside me.”

Your hands slam her ass down onto your crotch, and your cock spasms as it fills Myoui Mina with thick, hot ropes of cum. She sighs and moans with every spurt that paints her walls, but the wordless sounds that leave her mouth sound far away, dull, because you’re too far gone, too far lost in pleasure to even parse the sensation of sound.

For a few long, beautiful seconds, you feel like you’re floating. The pleasure flowing through your veins is overwhelming, is all that exists.

Mina, breathing heavily, lifts her hips up and off you. Your cock, still stiff, glistening and slick and wet, slips from her body. Heavy drops of your semen drip from the splayed lips of her fucked cunt, dropping onto your cock and balls.

Chaeyoung licks her lips at the sight. She frames the shot. Her finger finds the shutter.

Snap.

Even before the resulting photo has begun to leave the camera, she has already tossed it onto the bed. You look over Mina’s shoulder and watch as Chaeyoung, eyes hungry, presses her face against the Japanese girl’s cunt.

The look on Mina’s face tells you all you need to know about what is happening just beyond your line of sight. The pleasure wracks her fine, delicate features as Chaeyoung eats out her freshly fucked pussy, licks up the warm semen and cunt juices leaking freely from it. Mina moans, arching her back, giving Chaeyoung a better angle from which to devour her sticky, dripping pussy.

Your hands are still gripping Mina’s ass, a full cheek in each palm. You spread the cheeks apart, allowing Chaeyoung even easier access to the Japanese girl’s body.

The sounds that fill the room are unholy. Chaeyoung is slurping and sucking and licking and Mina is moaning and sighing beneath her tongue, back arching sharply, her limbs trembling.

You watch over Mina’s shoulder as Chaeyoung finally raises her head from her friend’s cunt. She is a mess - semen and cunt juices flow freely from her chin and the corners of her lips.

She opens her mouth - and her tongue is wet, white, glistening. Her hands find yours, still spreading Mina’s cheeks apart. Her fingers play with Mina’s ass, teasing the tight bud until it opens slightly.

She lets the juices in her mouth drip onto Mina’s asshole.

You watch it - the glistening, slick, sinful drip of juices as it falls from the tip of Chaeyoung’s tongue and between Mina’s cheeks.

When her mouth is empty, Chaeyoung returns her face to Mina’s body, this time swirling her tongue around Mina’s pursed asshole, teasing the tight opening with her tongue, letting the slick wetness she’d spit on it inside her body.

You watch it all, enraptured, from over Mina’s quivering shoulder. You lock eyes with Chaeyoung, her eyes finding yours even as she is nose-deep between her best friend’s ass cheeks, her tongue working inside her ass. The look she gives you is nothing short of wicked.

Eventually she raises her face from Mina’s trembling body.

“I think her ass is ready now,” she states. “Come fuck it.”

You slide out from under Mina’s boneless, trembling body. You take up position behind her, bringing your cock, still rock-hard - because who wouldn’t be, after seeing what you’d just seen - to the slick, wet mess of her asshole. She, like you, is powerless, unable to do anything except whatever Chaeyoung desired. Two puppets, two pawns, slave to her will.

Her hole beckons, slick and ready, waiting to be fucked and taken and used.

Chaeyoung watches over your shoulder, a devil in disguise. She presses her chest against your back, arms wrapping themselves around your torso, just as she had wrapped herself around your very soul. You feel yourself surrender to her, bound to fulfilling her every desire - even if in this moment her desire was to watch you use her best friend’s body.

For a moment, she considers grabbing the camera, capturing this moment too, allowing you both to re-live it over and over again in the future - but as you slide inside Mina’s ass and the air is soon filled with lust and sex and fucking, the thought of doing much else quickly flees her mind.

She had a hold over the other two occupants in the room, and the need to sate her desires overcame any desire to capture it on film.

---

Exhibit 5: Photo is predominantly dark and indiscernible. Lens was likely obscured by a close object while taking the photo.

----

The air is stale, heavy and hot. When you open up the blinds and pull open the sliding door that led to the balcony, the rush of cool air that floods the room does much to chase away the last cobwebs of sleep from your groggy head.

Chaeyoung stirs on the bed, lets out a groan of protest over the merciless sunlight and the chill of fresh air. She turns onto her side away from you.

You let your gaze wander over her small, tight little body, naked as the day she was born. Sitting next to her on the bed, you reach out and let your finger graze her soft curves, over the creamy skin and ink occasionally embedded beneath it. She loved art so much she wanted it inked into her own body, not knowing that she herself was a form of it.

When your fingertips reach her shoulder she captures your fingers with her own and they intertwine.

“Ten more minutes,” she manages to mumble.

“We have thirty minutes to get out of here,” you answer. Mina had awoken some hours before and was already downstairs checking out at the front desk and settling the bill.

She grumbles and protests, but eventually she rises to a seated position.

“I can think of a couple of things we can do in thirty minutes,” she says, suggestively. You find your gaze drifting to her small, round breasts and the piercings atop them, and your hand follows suit, gently cradling one in your palm. She purrs, and a naughty smile perks up the corners of her lips as she brings her face to yours and gives you a kiss.

“I’ll take a raincheck,” you say, softly. “C’mon. Mina’s probably already called us a ride to the airport.”

“Okay, okay,” she relents. You place the loose sweater and sweatpants you’d prepared for her in her lap.

It was a bit of a challenge, dragging her out of the hotel room and downstairs, where Mina was waiting with your luggage on the curb next to a newly arrived black SUV. Unlike Chaeyoung, she is impeccably dressed in a grey pencil skirt and matching white button-up, looking for all intents and purposes as though she was on her way home from a business trip and hadn’t spent most of the last five days having some of the filthiest sex imaginable.

“Finally,” she says under her breath as you and Chaeyoung approach. You wheel your two carriers to the rear of the waiting vehicle and assist the driver with loading them into the trunk.

Chaeyoung produces the Polaroid camera. “One last photo!” she announces. “Good thing, too, ‘cause it’s the last shot left.”

Mina brushes her hair from her face, preparing herself for the photo - until Chaeyoung shoves the camera into her hands.

“Take a pic of me and my man slave,” Chaeyoung says, playfully. She shuffles over to where you are loading the last of the luggage into the trunk and hooks her arm in yours. You glance at her as she approaches, and find a wide, cheery smile on her lips as she poses with you.

You both miss the quiver of pain in Mina’s lip.

She frames the shot. Her finger finds the shutter button.

She covers the lens.

Snap.

“Oh, shit,” she says, flatly, as the camera cranks out the photo. It takes a few moments to confirm as it develops, but eventually it appears most of the photo is obscured by the finger Mina had left over the lens.

“Damn,” Chaeyoung says, disappointed. “That sucks. Oh well, we have plenty of other photos from this trip.”

“Sorry,” Mina says under her breath as she passes the camera back to Chaeyoung and climbs into the vehicle.

---

Mina barely manages a smile when Momo enters the green room; truth be told, she was so exhausted, physically and emotionally, that the older woman was lucky to even get that.

“Hey,” Momo greets as she tosses her bag onto a nearby table before slouching into a stylist’s chair. She, too, looked and sounded a little ragged. “How was Singapore?”

“Great,” Mina answers beneath her breath, telling Momo all she needed to know about how the younger woman really felt. “How was Paris?”

“Great,” Momo repeats, with an equal amount of sad sarcasm. It had been two weeks since she’d returned from the French capital, but she wasn’t sure she’d recovered from the toll it had enacted on her body or heart.

The two sit there in silence for a while, silence heavy in the air. After a few minutes, Momo takes her phone out of her bag.

“I saw that pic she posted,” she begins. “The Polaroid of the two of you.”

Mina sighs under her breath, looking away slightly, unable to bear the thought of eye contact with anyone at the moment. This was the last conversation she wanted to have. “What about it?” she manages.

“It was shitty of her to do,” Momo says. “I’m sorry, Mina.”

“Sorry for what?”

“I don’t know,” the older woman admits, not quite knowing how to broach the topic. “I just… I know about you two, how you were together. It’s shitty of her to use your history to get likes from thirsty fanboys on fucking insta.”

Mina’s eyes shut involuntarily, as though her body were protecting itself from the world. She didn’t want to deal with this, wanted to run away from it all, would rather be anywhere else than in this green room preparing for a performance she had little enthusiasm for. She appreciated Momo taking her side, but to hear Chaeyoung’s intentions out loud hurt her more than she was expecting.

“It’s fine,” Mina says, although she isn’t sure whether she believes it herself. “She doesn’t know how I feel. She didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just…”

“...it’s just?”

“It’s just… fanservice.”

Her voice cracks as the word leaves her lips. It hurt her, to have what was an important part of her life reduced to something so fake, so inherently pretend. She feels a spike of emotion well up in her throat, and she turns further away from Momo in an attempt to hide it.

It doesn’t work - Momo leaves her chair and takes the one next to Mina. She wraps an arm around the younger girl. After a few moments’ hesitation Mina relents and turns her body to Momo, and the two embrace.

A few minutes pass - the two young women sharing a moment of comfort amidst the hustle and bustle of a music show. Outside, they can still hear Sana laughing with her juniors over the dull beat of whatever shrill, overproduced song they were filming a dance challenge to. They do their best to shut out the world in each others’ arms.

“I want to be with her,” Mina says, softly, voice barely above a whisper.

“I want to be with him,” Momo answers.

At that moment the door opens and Sana lets herself into the room - thankfully, with her back facing them. She spends a few moments lingering by the door, waving goodbye to the small crowd of junior idol worshippers she’d gathered. She bathes in their attention, wears it like a dress, relishes every overexaggerated wave and promise to stay in contact. Inside the green room, her two group members cringe - the very sound of her voice annoyed and irritated them, as did the empty promises and fake compliments that left her lips.

Momo and Mina part before she can fully enter the room. Before they do, they share one last look.

In each others’ eyes, they come to an understanding.

---

The photos were terrible, by modern standards.

Some were poorly composed, some over or under exposed, blurry or unfocused. But therein lay their charm - their imperfection gave them character that modern photography lacked. Modern photos could be edited, touched up until they were perfect. Not so with physical photos. They were fleeting moments in time captured on film, photographer flaws and all.

The more scandalous, lewd ones she put aside - they’d go in a special album, one she kept for lonelier nights - but most of them she put in her normal album with the others. They would take their place alongside photos with friends, photos of important places or things, foreign landscapes and macro images of blades of grass or drops of rain. Many of the photos are of art, or are framed in such a way as to be art themselves.

She saw art everywhere. She wanted to capture it all, hang them all up in galleries where they could live forever; even if said gallery consisted only of the small album she kept in a corner of her room.

There are a few of the new additions that she likes more than the others - the ones of him. Not the cheesy, staged photos of them in front of touristy landmarks or landscapes; no, she liked the candid ones the most. The ones of him laughing, only half in-frame, at a dad joke Mina dropped over lunch; the one of him in a vintage store they found tucked away in an alleyway, pointing up at an off-frame t-shirt that had caught his interest; the one of him she took when they got lost walking back to the hotel and he’s trying to make sense of the map on his phone, confused.

But the one she took on their last day there, the one of him asleep, head only half on his pillow, the sunlight making his skin glow - that was the one she liked the most. Her fingers trace the photo for a moment, and a soft smile finds its way on her lips.

After a moment she puts the photo in the album and closes it, placing it back on her shelf.

As she does, her eye catches something - the small, rainbow-patterned album behind the one she held in her hands.

She knows she shouldn’t - she knows what’s in there, and what emotions it would bring up - but something possesses her to pick it out from her shelf. So much had happened, so much had changed over the past few months. Perhaps a part of her needed a reminder of a different time, when she was a different person - when they were different people.

She opens the album, and her fingers quickly find the last page. It is well-worn, familiar. Her fingers trace the pink-framed outline of the only Polaroid there.

Her smile remains, but now it is a sad one.

---

Exhibit 0: Two young women (Subject B and Subject D) are embracing. The photo is a close up of their faces. Subject D is placing a kiss upon the cheek of Subject B, who is presumably holding the camera to take the selfie. Both Subject B and Subject D appear happy. In the lower half of their frame are their left hands, fingers intertwined - simple matching rings adorn their ring fingers.

On the bottom of the Polaroid frame, written with a black Sharpie in simple handwriting:

“Love you always - Nayeon”

---

Author’s Note: Toy is dirty PWP but also feels? *shrug* ;)

#twice #chaeyoung #mina #michaeng #kpop smut #kpop fanfiction

663 notes · View notes

leesvnkyu · 8 months ago

Text

twice » dive jacket shooting

668 notes · View notes

smutallyouwant · 29 days ago

Text

Updated Masterlist !!!

( Please Reblog )

Twice Fic World

Chp 1 - Night Club Darkness ( Mina )

Chp 2 - Strawberry Picking 🍓 ( Mina and Chaeyoung)

Chp 2.5 - I Got You, Boss🎱 Part 1 ( Mina )

Chp 3 - I Got You, Boss🎱 Part 2 ( Jihyo )

Chp 4 - Troublesome🍓( Chaeyoung and IU )

Chp 5 - Big Work ( Sana and Mina )

Chp 6 - Overtime ( Jihyo and Sana )

Chp 7 - Twisted Company ( Mina, Momo, and Sana )

One-Shot World

Chp 1 - Sex Best Friends ( Jihyo )

Chp 2 - Pounding Needed ( Nayeon )

Chp 3 - Premium Sex Doll ( Momo )

Chp 4 - Are You Satisfied, Sir? ( Momo and Dahyun )

Chp 5 - Baseball x Game ( Mina and Chaeyoung )

Chp 6 - Free Use Best-Friend ( Dahyun )

Chp 7 - A Good Girl ( Mina )

Chp 8 - " Baby " Sitting ( Jihyo and Chaeyoung )

BINI VERSZE

Chp 1 - It's This Time of the Year ( Aiah )

Chp 2 - Red Hot ( Mikha and Colet )

373 notes · View notes

kwilquib · 2 months ago

Text

Careful What You Wish For

Series: Promised 9

Chapter - 1

Chapter 0 | Chapter 2

Lee Chaeyeoung (Fromis_9) X Male reader

Word Count: 8.8k+

a/n: please read chapter 0 first...

“...Just a little nap.” A voice—familiar yet frustratingly elusive—echoes in your mind as you jolt awake, drenched in cold sweat. The words linger, slippery and insistent, like a whisper you’re not supposed to remember.

Your heart pounds as your eyes dart around, landing on the ceiling of your room. Afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the walls. You sit up abruptly, a vague unease twisting in your chest. Something feels... off, though you can’t quite place it.

Shaking the thought, you glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table, only to realize it isn’t there. Did you forget to set it up last night? No time to ponder. Your body moves on instinct. Late. You’re definitely late.

Throwing on a crumpled shirt and the first pair of jeans you find, you fumble with your shoes, skipping the hassle of socks. There’s no time for a shower; no time for anything, really. Professor Min doesn’t tolerate tardiness, and while you’d normally convince yourself you could charm your way out of it, today is different. You feel heavy—foggy, like a part of you is still struggling to wake up.

You rush out of your room, backpack slung hastily over one shoulder. Yet as your hand touches the doorknob, you pause. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you, like you’ve forgotten something important. A flicker of... something—a faint image—dances on the edge of your consciousness.

Darkened windows. Cyan blue. Laughter and whispers.

You blink, and it’s gone.

“What the hell...?” you mutter, shaking your head as you swing the door open.

The hallway feels unfamiliar, even though you’ve walked it countless times. The walls seem a little too bare, the light a little too dim. Your feet carry you forward, but the nagging sensation that something isn’t right refuses to leave.

As you step outside, the sun’s warmth strikes your skin, grounding you momentarily. Yet, as you hurry toward campus, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder, as though expecting to see someone—or something—following.

The faint echo of that voice, soft and teasing, creeps back into your thoughts.

“Just a little nap.”

And for the life of you, you can’t remember what came before it.

As you step out of the dorm building, your hurried stride falters. A particular car catches your eye—a sleek, emerald green Mini Cooper parked casually at the curb. Its glossy finish gleams under the afternoon sun, an almost hypnotic allure drawing your gaze.

You pause, a strange pang of familiarity gripping your chest. It’s an uncommon car for this area, a neighborhood more accustomed to well-worn sedans and the occasional scooter. This Mini Cooper feels out of place, yet somehow… it doesn’t. Something about it nags at the edges of your mind, tugging at thoughts you can’t quite grasp.

“Why does this feel so... familiar?” you mumble under your breath, your feet rooted to the spot.

You study the car closely, as though its curves and details might unlock the reason it stands out. The deep green hue reminds you of something—vivid yet blurred, like a dream slipping away the moment you wake. Your thoughts swim with fragmented flashes: evening, under the street light, brown hair.

And then, nothing.

You shake your head, frustrated with yourself. It’s just a car, you tell yourself, though the words feel hollow. A part of you knows it isn’t just a car. It’s connected to something—or someone. But no matter how hard you try to chase the thought, it remains just out of reach, like a name you can’t remember no matter how many times you roll it around in your mind.

With a final glance at the Mini Cooper, you force yourself to move. There’s no time to stand around playing detective. Yet, as you walk away, you can’t help but feel like you’ve left behind more than just a car.

As you jogged up the university steps, the sharp echo of your hurried footsteps reverberated through the halls. The sound was accompanied by the pounding in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and residual confusion from your abrupt awakening. Your mind raced just as quickly as your feet.

"Please don't be over, please don't be over," you muttered under your breath, clutching your bag tightly as you approached the classroom door.

With a quick glance at the room number to confirm you were at the right place, you pushed the door open. The chatter inside abruptly quieted, and you were met with a sea of unfamiliar faces staring back at you. No sign of Professor Min. No familiar classmates. Instead, a lecturer you didn’t recognize stood at the front of the room, mid-discussion.

"Uh… sorry," you stammered, stepping back awkwardly.

The lecturer barely spared you a glance, and the students returned to their notebooks and screens. Confused, you slipped back into the hallway, your heart sinking. This didn’t make sense. You checked the schedule last night—it was supposed to be Literature in this room today.

Pulling out your phone, you glanced at the time. 1:47 PM. That was correct. But something else caught your eye.

The date.

You blinked, certain you’d read it wrong. Friday.

But that’s impossible, you thought. Yesterday was Wednesday, Wasn’t it?

Your stomach churned as you refreshed the screen, but the date stubbornly remained the same. You checked your calendar app, your messages—everything confirmed it was Friday.

A cold wave washed over you as the realization hit. Somehow, an entire day had slipped past you, and you didn’t even remember it. You staggered back against the wall, struggling to steady your breathing.

What’s going on?

—

You find yourself staring at your reflection in the school's bathroom mirror, your damp hair clings to your forehead. The gnawing discomfort of losing an entire day weighed heavily on you, but what else could you do? you need to move on. Whatever had happened to Thursday—or your memory of it—was a mystery you weren’t equipped to solve. At least not now. For now, you have to focus on damage control.

Pulling out your phone, you checked the course materials. The latest lecture—The Promised Nine. you frowned. The title rang a distant bell, but you couldn't quite place it. Deciding you wouldn't get anything done in your cramped apartment, you fix your damped hair and head out . Golden Brew seemed like the best choice; it was quiet, comfortable, and you had a shift there later anyway.

The walk to Golden Brew feels longer than usual. The streets are quieter now, the usual hustle of students replaced by a calm that only deepens your unease. You can’t shake the feeling that something is missing—something important—but every time you try to grasp it, it slips away like smoke.

When you finally push open the door to the café, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries washes over you, grounding you for a moment. The place is bustling, as always, with students hunched over laptops and faculty members sipping espresso. You scan the room, looking for a quiet corner to settle into, when your eyes land on her.

Gyuri.

She’s behind the counter, her usual warm smile in place as she hands a customer their drink. But something about her feels different today. Her movements are slower, more deliberate, and there’s a faint crease between her brows that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but you notice it—the way her gaze flickers to the door every so often, as if she’s waiting for someone.

“Junho,” she calls out, her voice warm but with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “You’re early today.”

You approach the counter, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I… had some time to kill. Thought I’d get a head start on some reading before my shift.”

Gyuri studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not usually this early. Everything okay?”

Her question catches you off guard. There’s a suspicion in her tone, a probing curiosity that makes you feel like she’s seeing right through you. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you say quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Just… trying to stay on top of things.”

Gyuri doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she nods toward the usual spot in the corner. “Well, find a seat and make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you say, grabbing a cup of coffee before heading to an empty table near the window.

As you sit down and pull out the book you borrowed from the library, your eyes drift across the room. That’s when you notice her.

Seoyeon.

She’s sitting in her usual spot, hunched over her laptop. She looks the same as ever, but something about her presence feels… heavier today, as if she’s carrying a weight she doesn’t want anyone to notice.

You watch her for a moment, struck by how familiar she seems, even though you’ve never had a proper conversion with her. She’s always here, always in that same spot, typing away at something. You’ve seen her countless times, but today, for some reason, she stands out to you. Maybe it’s the way she seems so detached from the world around her, or the way her tired eyes flicker to the screen with a kind of quiet intensity. Whatever it is, you can’t look away.

Gyuri doesn’t mention her, doesn’t even glance in her direction. It’s as if Seoyeon doesn’t exist to her, which strikes you as odd. You’ve always assumed they knew each other, given how often Seoyeon is here, but now you’re not so sure. The two of them seem to exist in separate worlds, even though they’re in the same room.

And yet… something about the way they don’t interact feels wrong to you. It’s not just that they don’t acknowledge each other—it’s that they should. You don’t know why you think that, but the thought lingers, nagging at the back of your mind. There’s a strange dissonance in the air, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing something obvious.

Shaking off the thought, you pull out your phone and open the document. The title stares back at you: Myths and Legends: The Promised Nine. It’s the same myth Professor Min discussed in class yesterday—or at least, the class you think was yesterday. You flip to the chapter, skimming the first few lines. The words feel familiar, almost too familiar, as if you’ve read them before. A faint sense of déjà vu washes over you, and you pause, your fingers hovering over the page.

“Long ago, during a time when humanity was steeped in chaos, war, and unrelenting greed, there was a king—a wise man, yet weary of the barbarism that plagued his people…”

The words echo in your mind, but not just from Professor Min’s lecture. Something deeper, something more recent, tugs at the edges of your memory. Fragments of last night begin to surface—flickers of a darkened café, the hum of low voices, the glow of cyan light. Your chest tightens as the images grow clearer. The women gathered around the table, their presence commanding and otherworldly. Gyuri’s uncharacteristic coolness. Jiheon’s playful smile, her fingers glowing with that eerie light. The weight of their words—The Promised Nine. Anchor. Deceit.

Your breath catches, and you nearly drop your phone. It all comes rushing back—the meeting, the cryptic conversation, Jiheon’s spell. You remember everything. The shock of it hits you like a punch to the gut, and you grip the edge of the table to steady yourself. Your heart races, your mind reeling as the pieces fall into place.

Gyuri and Seoyeon. They were there. They were part of it. They’re part of this—whatever this is. The realization sends a chill down your spine, and you glance up, your eyes darting to Gyuri behind the counter. She’s watching you, her expression unreadable but her gaze sharp, as if she can sense the turmoil in your mind. Seoyeon, too, has paused her typing, her tired eyes flickering toward you for the briefest moment before returning to her screen.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in your head. You can’t let them know you remember. Not yet. Not until you figure out what’s going on. Slowly, you close the book and set it aside, your hands trembling slightly. You take a sip of your coffee, the bitter taste grounding you, and pretend to focus on the steam rising from the cup.

But inside, your mind is racing. The Promised Nine. Anchor. The weight of their emotions, their burdens. And you—somehow, you were there. You heard it all. You saw it all. And now, you’re caught in the middle of something far bigger than yourself.

Gyuri’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “Junho, everything okay over there?”

You look up, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… got lost in thought for a second.”

She studies you for a moment, her gaze lingering a little too long, before nodding. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm inside.

As she turns away, you glance at Seoyeon again. She’s still typing, her movements slow and deliberate, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. You can’t tell if she’s aware of your internal crisis or if it’s just your paranoia, but one thing is clear: you’re not as invisible as you’d like to be.

For now, all you can do is keep up the act. You reopen the book, pretending to read, but the words blur as your mind races. The memories of last night play on a loop, each detail sharper than the last. You need answers, but you can’t risk tipping them off. Not until you know what you’re dealing with.

The café hums with activity around you, but at your table, the silence is deafening. You take another sip of your coffee, the bitterness grounding you slightly. Whatever is going on, you’re determined to figure it out. But for now, all you can do is sit here, pretending to read, while the weight of the unknown presses down on you.

The hours drag on as you finally start your shift, your mind still reeling from the flood of memories that returned while reading the book. Every movement feels deliberate, every action calculated, as if Gyuri might notice the slightest slip-up. You’re hyper-aware of her now, her presence looming larger than ever as the two of you work in close proximity behind the counter. Her usual warmth is still there, but it feels… different. Like a mask she’s wearing, one that’s just a little too tight.

You fumble with the espresso machine, nearly spilling a shot as you pour it into a cup. The milk steamer hisses louder than usual, startling you, and you overfill a latte, the foam spilling over the edges. Each mistake piles up, small but noticeable, and you can feel Gyuri’s eyes on you more and more often. Her smile remains, but there’s a tension in her posture, a sharpness in her gaze that makes your stomach twist.

Finally, after you nearly drop a tray of pastries, Gyuri steps closer, her voice low but firm. “Junho, can I talk to you for a second?”

You freeze, your heart pounding as you nod and follow her to a quieter corner of the café. Her warm smile is still in place, but it feels strained now, like it’s holding back something you can’t quite name. Anger? Frustration? Whatever it is, it’s enough to make your palms sweat.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, her tone gentle but probing. “You’ve been… off today.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… tired, I guess. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Gyuri studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”

You nod, though your throat feels dry. “Yeah. Just a rough night.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but before she can press further, the bell above the door jingles, drawing both of your attention. You glance over, and your stomach drops.

Chaeyoung.

She strides in with effortless confidence, her presence commanding the room the moment she crosses the threshold. A bold blue sweater clings to her frame, the faux fur trim brushing against her collarbone—a perfect reflection of her duality. Allure and restraint. Desire and control. Her sharp gaze sweeps across the café before settling on you, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

You recognize her instantly from last night. But you force yourself to look away, pretending you don’t.

From the corner of your eye, Gyuri stiffens ever so slightly, though she quickly masks it with her usual warm smile. “I’ll let you handle this,” she says, her tone light but laced with something unreadable. Before you can respond, she’s already disappearing into the back, leaving you alone at the counter with Chaeyoung.

Your heart pounds as you turn to face her, forcing a polite smile. “Welcome to Golden Brew. What can I get for you?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she leans against the counter, her eyes locking onto yours with unsettling ease. “Junho, right?”

Your stomach drops. The name feels heavier coming from her lips. You scramble to keep your composure. “I... don’t know you.”

She smirks, savoring your discomfort. “Of course you don’t.” She gestures lazily toward your chest. “I read it off your name tag. Unless we have met before?”

“No— I... we haven’t,” you stammer, fingers curling involuntarily. “Can I take your order?”

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato. Extra shot.” She watches you with an almost amused expression. Then, casually, she adds, “Funny thing... I feel like we have met. Maybe you just don’t remember?”

Your throat tightens, and you quickly focus on the register, keying in her order. “That’ll be 4,500 won.”

Chaeyoung makes no move to pay. Instead, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You remember, don’t you?”

Your hands tremble slightly as you fumble with the cash drawer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her smile widens, and there’s a flicker of something dangerous in her eyes. “Sure you don’t. But just in case you’re lying... meet me after your shift.” She tilts her head slightly, the threat barely concealed beneath her playful tone. “If you don’t, I might have to let the others know your memories are coming back. And trust me... you don’t want that.”

Your pulse quickens, the café suddenly feeling too small, too stifling. Before you can respond, Gyuri reappears from the back, her timing unnervingly precise. She places the caramel macchiato on the counter, her smile unwavering but her eyes sharper than usual. “Here’s your drink. That’ll be 4,500 won.”

Chaeyoung straightens, pulling out her wallet with deliberate slowness. “Thanks, Gyuri. Always so helpful.”

Gyuri’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s an unmistakable tension in her posture. “Junho, can you check on table three? They’ve been waiting for their order.”

You seize the opportunity, nodding quickly and stepping away. As you walk toward the other side of the café, you can feel Chaeyoung’s gaze burning into your back, her presence lingering like an unwelcome shadow.

—

The shift drags on, each minute feeling heavier than the last. By the time evening rolls around, the café has emptied out, the usual hum of chatter replaced by an eerie silence. You’re hyper-aware of Gyuri’s presence, her every movement sharp and deliberate, as if she’s watching you more closely than usual. Your clumsy mistakes throughout the day haven’t gone unnoticed, and the tension between you feels like a taut wire, ready to snap.

Seoyeon, who had been typing away in her usual corner, left at some point without you even noticing. Her absence feels strange, as if the café lost a piece of its atmosphere when she walked out. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely register Gyuri approaching you, her expression softer now but still tinged with concern.

“Junho,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “You can leave early tonight. I’ll close up.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Are you sure? I can stay and help—”

“No,” she interrupts, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ve been… off today. You should rest. You don’t look well.”

Her words sting, not because they’re harsh, but because they’re true. You do feel off—like you’re teetering on the edge of something you can’t quite understand. Still, you hesitate, glancing around the café. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

Gyuri’s smile is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure. Go home, Junho. Get some sleep.”

You nod reluctantly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. As you head for the door, you can feel her gaze on your back, heavy and unreadable. The bell above the door jingles softly as you step outside, the cool evening air hitting you like a splash of water.

The street is quiet, the golden glow of the café’s windows fading behind you as you walk. Your mind is still racing, the events of the day—and the night before—swirling together in a chaotic mess. You’re so lost in thought that you almost miss it.

A flash of light catches your eye, and you turn to see a sleek, blue sapphire Porsche parked a short distance away. Its engine purrs softly, the headlights briefly flickering as if to get your attention. Your breath hitches. It’s one of the cars you saw last night, parked outside the café after hours. And now, it’s here.

Your stomach twists as you realize what—or rather, who—it must belong to. Chaeyoung.

The memory of her threat echoes in your mind: “Meet me after your shift. If you don’t, I might have to let the others know your memories came back.”

You hesitate, your feet rooted to the spot. Part of you wants to turn around, to walk away and pretend you didn’t see anything. But another part—the part that remembers the weight of her gaze, the sharpness of her smile—knows you don’t have a choice.

Taking a deep breath, you walk toward the car. As you approach, the passenger-side window rolls down, revealing Chaeyoung behind the wheel. Her sharp eyes meet yours, a sly smile playing on her lips. She’s dressed in the same sleek blue dress from earlier, the deep blue fabric catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

“Get in,” she says, her voice smooth and commanding.

You glance around, as if hoping for some kind of escape, but the street is empty. Swallowing your unease, you open the door and slide into the passenger seat. The interior of the car is as luxurious as you’d expect, the leather seats cool against your skin. The scent of her perfume—something rich and intoxicating—fills the air, making your head spin.

Chaeyoung doesn’t say a word as she pulls away from the curb, the car gliding smoothly through the quiet streets. The silence is heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional flick of the turn signal. You sit stiffly, your hands clenched in your lap, your mind racing. Where is she taking you? What does she want? And most importantly, what happens if the others find out you remember?

The tension builds with every passing second, and you can’t take it anymore. “Chaeyoung,” you say, your voice tight with impatience, “what’s this about? Why did you bring me here?”

She glances at you briefly, her smirk widening. “Impatient, aren’t we? Relax, Junho. We’ll get there.”

“Get where?” you ask, frustration creeping into your tone. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

Chaeyoung chuckles softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. “So eager. I like that. But some things are better discussed in private, don’t you think?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “You threatened me back at the café. Said you’d tell the others if I didn’t meet you. What do you want from me?”

Her expression doesn’t change, but there’s a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach twist. “Patience, Junho. All in good time.”

You want to press her further, to demand answers, but something about her calm demeanor stops you. She’s in control, and you’re not. The realization makes your skin crawl.

The car continues to glide through the city, the streets growing quieter and more upscale the further you go. Finally, Chaeyoung slows the car and pulls into the driveway of a luxurious hotel. The building looms ahead, its glass façade reflecting the city lights like a glittering jewel. A valet steps forward as the car comes to a stop, but Chaeyoung waves him off with a dismissive hand.

She turns to you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. “We’re here.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding. “A hotel? What are we doing here?”

Chaeyoung’s smile is slow and deliberate, her voice dropping to a low, almost teasing tone. “Like I said, some things are better discussed in private. Come on.”

Without waiting for your response, she steps out of the car, her movements smooth and confident. You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing. This feels like a trap, but what choice do you have? If you walk away now, she might make good on her threat. And if the others find out you remember...

Swallowing your unease, you open the door and step out, the cool night air doing little to calm your nerves. Chaeyoung is already walking toward the hotel entrance, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. She doesn’t look back, as if she knows you’ll follow.

And you do.

—

The penthouse suite is bathed in the soft glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room is spacious and opulent, with plush furniture and a sleek, modern design that screams luxury. But you’re too on edge to appreciate any of it. Chaeyoung stands a few feet away, her back to you as she pours two glasses of wine from a decanter on the counter. The bold blue sweater she wears clings to her frame, the faux fur trim brushing against her collarbone as she moves. She looks relaxed, almost casual, but you know better. There’s nothing casual about this.

“Sit,” she says, not turning around. Her voice is smooth, commanding, and you find yourself obeying before you even realize it. You perch on the edge of a sleek leather sofa, your hands gripping your knees as you watch her.

She turns, holding out a glass of wine to you. You hesitate, but she raises an eyebrow, and you take it, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. The contact sends a jolt through you, but you quickly pull your hand back, setting the glass on the table in front of you.

“Relax, Junho,” she says, her lips curving into a sly smile as she sits across from you, her posture languid and confident. “I’m not going to bite. Not unless you want me to.”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “Why are we here, Chaeyoung? What do you want from me?”

She tilts her head, her smile widening. “Straight to the point, huh? I like that.” She takes a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving yours. “I told you before. I’m curious about you. You’re… interesting.”

“Interesting how?” you ask, your voice tight.

She leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “You somehow got through the mist. Jiheon just let you through. And now, Jiheon lied to the others for you.”

You shake your head, trying to keep your composure. “Mist? Jiheon? We’ve only known each other since yesterday. And didn’t you also see me when you entered the café that night?”

“Hmm,” she hums, her gaze sharpening. “Maybe… but that makes you even more interesting.”

You don’t respond, your mind racing. She’s toying with you, and you know it, but you can’t figure out her angle. Why bring you here? Why the games?

Chaeyoung sets her glass down and stands, moving to sit beside you on the sofa. You tense, but she doesn’t touch you, her presence alone enough to make your heart race. “You’re nervous,” she observes, her voice soft, almost teasing. “Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you say quickly, though the lie is obvious. “I just… don’t understand what you want from me.”

She smiles, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Maybe I just want to get to know you better. Is that so bad?”

You don’t answer, your throat dry. She’s too close, her scent—something rich and intoxicating—filling your senses. You try to focus, to keep your guard up, but it’s getting harder. There’s something about her, something magnetic, that’s pulling you in, and you can’t figure out why.

Chaeyoung leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re fighting it, Junho. Why?”

“Fighting what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“This,” she says, gesturing between the two of you. “The tension. The attraction. You feel it too, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. She’s right, and you hate that she is. There’s something about her, something irresistible, and the more she leans into it, the harder it is to resist.

“You don’t have to fight it,” she murmurs, her voice like velvet. “Just let go.”

Her words are soft, almost hypnotic, and you feel yourself leaning in despite your better judgment. Your mind screams at you to pull away, to leave, but your body betrays you, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She’s close now, so close you can feel her breath on your skin, and you know you should stop this, but you can’t.

And then, just as your lips are about to meet hers, you see it—a faint flash in her eyes the color of allure and depth, sapphire blue, like a spark of light catching the edge of a gemstone. It’s there for just a moment, so brief you almost convince yourself you imagined it. But before you can process it, her lips are on yours, and all rational thought evaporates.

The kiss is electric, consuming, and you’re powerless to resist. Her hands slide up to cradle your face, her touch both gentle and demanding, pulling you deeper into the moment. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of wine and something uniquely her, and it’s impossible to think, to breathe, to do anything but surrender.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you—the warmth of her body, the softness of her lips, the way she seems to know exactly how to unravel you. But even as you lose yourself in the kiss, a small, distant part of your mind whispers that something isn’t right. That flash in her eyes… It wasn't normal. It wasn’t human.

But then she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours, and the thought slips away, drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of her. The way she moves is deliberate, teasing, and you can’t help but respond, your own instincts taking over. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and you’re lost in the heat of the moment, unable to think, to reason, to do anything but feel.

And at that moment, you don’t care. Whatever she’s doing, whatever game she’s playing, you’re too far gone to stop it.

When she finally pulls away, it’s slow, deliberate, her lips lingering just inches from yours. Her breath is warm against your skin, and her eyes—now their usual dark, piercing gaze—lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“See?” she murmurs, her voice low and husky. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You're too dazed to respond, your mind still reeling from the kiss. She smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips, and leans back, putting just enough distance between you to make you ache for her closeness again. Your eyes meet with hers. You can tell what she's thinking, she takes pleasure in seeing you this flustered. Chaeyoung's fingers trail down your chest, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

She kneels down in front of you, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly unfastens the button on your pants. The zipper slides open with a gentle click, and she pulls your trousers down with deft hands. You can't help but breathe a little heavier as she cups your lenght through the fabric of your boxers, her touch sending sparks along your body.

She teases you for a moment, tracing patterns on your skin with her fingers before giving in to the desire that's been building between you two. Chaeyoung asks, her voice low and husky as she leans forward to whisper in your ear, "Want to see something?" You can't help but nod, your throat dry with anticipation.

With a sly smile, Chaeyoung takes her time, pulling down your pants and boxers with a gentle tug. Her eyes dance across your body, drinking in every detail as she licks her lips in anticipation.

"Look at me," Chaeyoung says, her voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want to do with yourself."

You try to form words, but all that comes out is a groan of desire. Chaeyoung laughs, a soft sound that sends shivers down your spine.

"Oh, I think this guy knows what he wants," she says, glancing at your shaft before her eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Her lips brush against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. She kisses you slowly, incrementally making her way up to your tip. With each gentle touch, your meat twitches in response, and Chaeyoung enjoys every reaction, her eyes never leaving yours.

As she reaches the base of your shaft, she pauses for a moment before continuing her ascent. Her lips dance across your skin, sending shivers down your spine with each caress. You feel yourself becoming harder, more insistent, as if begging to be claimed by her touch.

Chaeyoung's mouth covers yours now, warm and soft against your skin. Your breath catches as she nibbles at your tip, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. She takes her time, savoring the moment as much as you are. Your heart pounds in time with hers, the rhythm matching the beat of your desire.

Just when you thought you were finally adjusting to the explosion of stimulation you’ve experienced. She stopped, her eyes met yours.

"Want me to make it easier for you?" Chaeyoung asks, her voice low and husky as she leans forward to whisper in your ear. "Want me to show you exactly what I want?"

Your gaze locked with Chaeyoung although her mouth is preoccupied to form a smile, you can see it through her eyes. She planted both her palms on your lap, gripping them, as her cheeks hollowed as she took you in deeper, her tongue moving freely, swirling around your meat. The sensation was too much, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you as she worked to bring you pleasure. All you can do is groan. As you helplessly grip the sofa.

The reaction as if giving her energy, her pace grew faster, taking you even deeper, you can feel her tongue pressed down by your shaft as she sucks. The wet sound rings to your ear, her moans muffled, its vibration moves through your skin as she serves you pleasure, and it's close. She matched your eye once again, you can see she has no intention of stopping. Her lip tightening around you as she sucked even more harder, her tongue swirled around your tip, her movement grew bolder as she knew you were near the edge.

You groaned one last time as it finally happened. At the last moment she freed her mouth from your length and switched it immediately with her palm cupping the top of your tip, catching your release.

"That's it?" her eyes looking at you disappointed. Before her attention shifts to her hand full with cum. "It was fun at least". She continues.

You stare at her still in dazed, as she was sitting on the floor, she first licked her palm clean of your cum, then her fingers sucking them one by one. After cleaning herself up, she realized you were still staring at her.

“‘You’re still here?’ Chaeyoung mildly amused, her eyes locked on yours once again. A faint, otherworldly light seemed to dance in their depths, as if they were absorbing the very air around them.

“You can leave now,” she said with a wave of her hand, as if ousting you from her presence.

Your confusion deepened at her question. "What do you mean, leave?" you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

Chaeyoung's eyes widened in surprise as you sat up straight, mirroring her bewilderment. "How?" she asked again, her voice tinged with frustration and curiosity.

Your confusion deepened at her question. "What do you mean, how?" you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

Chaeyoung stood up and placed her hands on either side of the sofa, trapping you in between her grip. Her eyes, filled with the tiniest hint of blue, bore into you, making you feel as if she was delving into your soul.

"You remember?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes, I remember last night. Isn't that why we're here?" you answered back.

"No, not that. Just now, what happened, did you remember it? Were you conscious?" Chaeyoung queried again.

“Am I not supposed to?” You asked.

Still maintaining her lock on you, she broke eye contact and started muttering, "So Jiheon didn't lie... you're either resistant if not immune..." Her thoughts drifting away from you.

"Helloooo..." you try to get her attention, snapping her out of her musings. Her gaze returns to your eyes, reminding you of how close your face is.

"Anyway, what will you do now? Will you leave?" she asked, her voice regaining its usual confidence.

"Should I leave? Do you want me to?" you reply, starting to get annoyed with the constant questions and stacking confusion.

Chaeyoung seemingly recognizes your hidden desire. "So you don't want to?" She shifts her position, her arms which were on your sides before now resting on your shoulder, crossing behind your neck. Her feet, once on the ground, now on both your sides as she sits on your lap.

"Why? Is there a reason you want to stay?" she asked, her voice teasing you.

"Well, I feel like it's only right that I return the favor," you answer, your desire to explore this new dynamic between you both growing. Chaeyoung's eyes widen at your response, her lips curling into a smile as she leans in, her breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Chaeyoung's eyes widened further, her smile turning into a predatory grin. "Be careful what you wish for, Junho," she whispers in your ear, her voice laced with both warning and invitation. "Are you sure you want to continue?, you sure you can handle it?”

She pauses, allowing the weight of her words to sink in. "It's not too late to walk out, after this there's no going back" Chaeyoung explains, her voice low and intense.

Driven by lust and the thrill of the unknown, Junho doesn't take her warning too seriously. "I can handle it," he responds, his confidence fueled by arousal.

Chaeyoung's grin widens as she leans back, her eyes never leaving yours. "Then show me how much you can handle," she dares you.

Your heart races as you accept the challenge. You take hold of Chaeyoung's waist, pulling her closer as your lips meet in a passionate, fiery kiss. Your hands roam her body, exploring her curves and feeling the heat of her desire.

She moans into your mouth, her hands moving to your chest, then to the end of your shirt, pulling it up, undressing you as if impatient to have your skin against hers. Your lips never falter, continuing their fiery dance as her hands roam over your chest, exploring every ridge and valley.

With the same fervor that you tore her clothes, you begin to undress her, your lips never leaving hers, your hands never leaving her body. Only stopping to catch air, you take a break from kissing, giving you enough time to admire her now barely dressed top, with only her black lace bra remaining.

Chaeyoung, impatiently, hastily stands up, and in a fluid motion, removes her shorts, then her panties, casting them aside. You, not idle, pull down your pants and boxers which were already previously unbuckled.

After undressing, with the exception of Chaeyoung's bra, you're both completely naked. She returns to your lap, and resumes the kiss, her hands roaming your back, her nails digging into your skin, urging you on.

Your hands grasp her waist, pulling her closer, your bodies pressed tightly against each other. As the kiss deepens, you can feel her hardened nipples rubbing against your chest, sending shivers down your spine.

Chaeyoung breaks the kiss, her lips trailing down your jaw, to your neck, her teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin there, as her hands reach around to unclasp her bra. It falls away, her breasts freed, her nipples standing erect, aching for your touch.

You eagerly complied, your hands finding Chaeyoung's breasts, cupping them gently, thumbs teasing her nipples, rolling them between your fingers, making her shiver with pleasure. Her head falls back, a soft moan escaping her lips.

You move your hands lower, tracing her stomach, and settling between her legs. Your fingers part her folds, gently rubbing her swollen clit, feeling her wetness coating his digits. Chaeyoung's moans grow louder, her hips bucking against his hand, encouraging you to continue.

Your other hand leaves her breast, moving to her hip, steadying her as you begin to finger her, slowly at first, then increasing the pace as you feel her body reacting to your touch. Her back arches, and her fingers claw at your shoulders, leaving red marks.

The air is thick with the scent of desire, the sounds of their heavy breathing, and the wet slaps of your fingers penetrating her. Chaeyoung's eyes flutter shut, her body quivering, on the edge of release.

You feel a surge of power, knowing you're the one bringing her closer to ecstasy. You stop, smirking against her lips as you pull your fingers from her, bringing them to your mouth, tasting her on them.

Chaeyoung's eyes open wide, a look of both frustration and desire on her face. "Put it in.." she whispers, her voice breathy and needy. Junho smirks, ready to continue their erotic dance.

You prepare yourself to pierce Chaeyoung, the sensation was both overwhelming and exhilarating. The tight warmth enveloping me sent shivers down my spine. You could feel her muscles clenching around you, gripping your length, and her orgasm washes over her like a tidal wave.

Chaeyoung's body arched, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her cry of ecstasy echoing in the room. Her eyes seemed to lock onto yours, filled with the subtle color of allure. I asked her, "Why did that happen so fast?" My voice was laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

Flushed with both embarrassment and amusement, Chaeyoung admitted, "I... I haven't done it in a while." Her cheeks were a vivid shade of red as she revealed, "Usually, others never got this far."

You feel a surge of pride and protectiveness, your heart pounding with each beat. you start to move within her, your thrusting slow and deep, feeling her body responding to your touch. The sensation of her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, is intoxicating.

“Oh…. Fuck… that feel… sooo.. Good…” Cheayoung exclaimed.

You feel the telltale signs that Chaeyoung is nearing her climax once again. Her moans grow louder, her pants hasten, her muscles tightening around your length, her nails digging deeper into your shoulders. You can sense the electricity building between you two, as you match her intensity, with lust fueling both your passion.

"That's it… I'm close, keep going… plea–... please," Chaeyoung pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation as she pressed against me, her body yearning for release. The air was electric with tension, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of desire at the sight of her, her skin glowing with sweat, her eyes locked on yours with an unspoken plea.

As Chaeyoung reaches her climax for the second time, her body shudders, her grip on you tightening as her cries fill the room. A wave of satisfaction and arousal washes over you, and you continue to move with her, wanting her to feel every moment of connection between the two of you. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise sends shivers down your spine.

"Wa- wait… not yet," she gasps, her words interrupted by uncontrollable moans that echo through the room like a symphony of pleasure. Her body begins to tremble, her muscles convulsing as if trying to release a pent-up storm.

Breathless yourself, you decide to heed her plea, slowing your movements to give her a moment to recover. Chaeyoung's body, now glistening with sweat, slumps against yours, her stiff nipples brushing against your skin as she rests her head on your shoulder. Her face is a mess, strands of hair clinging to her flushed cheeks, her lips parted as she gasps for air.

Gently, you guide her into a new position, placing her hands on the backrest of the couch and helping her kneel on the cushions. You stand behind her, taking a moment to admire the curve of her toned back, the delicate dip of her waist, and the graceful arch of her hips. The sight of her is intoxicating, and you feel a renewed surge of desire that threatens to overwhelm you.

Chaeyoung's brief respite ends as you join with her again, moving in a rhythm that feels both familiar and exhilarating. Her body responds to yours, her grip tightening as if unwilling to let go. Every movement, every breath, every whispered promise sends shivers down my spine, building the tension until it becomes almost unbearable.

"I can't... no... I- can't..." she murmurs, her voice a mix of protest and surrender, though the way she clings to you tells a different story. You wrap one of your arms around her waist, holding her in place for support, while the other reaches up to grip her neck, feeling the tension in her throat muscles as each of her moans vibrates through her body.

With a gentle pull, you bring her closer, your bodies pressed tightly together as you stand. Her hands, desperate to find something to hold onto, wrap around your hair and grasp it firmly. Her head turns to yours, her eyes locking onto yours with an unspoken plea for release, for connection, for the one person who can satisfy her.

"You feel so good," you whisper, your voice husky with desire as you meet hers once again in a fierce, passionate kiss. Chaeyoung's body shudders and trembles beneath you, her third climax building to a crescendo that threatens to consume them both.

And then, in a burst of energy, you felt your body tense and release, your orgasm building to a crescendo as Chaeyoung's muscles responded to yours. You could feel your seed mixing with hers, a union of flesh and blood that was both intimate and primal. The sensation was overwhelming - a mix of pleasure, pain, and release that left you breathless and trembling.

As the wave of pleasure washed over you, you felt Chaeyoung's body tighten around yours, her muscles contracting to hold onto your spent form. You knew then that you had come inside her, that your seed had mingled with hers in a union of flesh and blood that would remain with you forever.

As you hold on to her tightly, feeling her body lose strength against yours, you can sense the power dynamic shifting in between you. You are the one in control, the one guiding her movements, but she is still clinging to you, as if needing your strength to keep her upright.

You continue to hold her close, your lips never leaving hers, as Chaeyoung's body begins to relax into yours, her breathing slowing and her muscles releasing their tension. You can feel her heart pounding in time with yours, a rhythmic match that seems to be growing stronger by the second.

Just when you thought she was spent, her body turned to face you. She created distance between your lips, giving you a clear view of her face, even with her messy hair and sweat-drenched cheeks, her face wore a smile, instead of exhaustion and satisfaction. Her still eyes full of passion and hunger seemed to bore into your soul.

You realized the night had just started, her eyes hinting at a desire for an endless night. “I told you, Junho, be careful what you wish for”.

Her lips returned to you, unrelenting as she led you to the bedroom. The rest of the night was blurry, but one thing was clear - your desires and hers had merged into a single, all-consuming passion.

—

You wake to the soft glow of pre-dawn light filtering through the window, the sky painted in muted shades of blue and gray. The bed beneath you is warm but messy, the sheets tangled and damp, a testament to the night’s activities. You blink slowly, your mind still foggy, as you take in your surroundings.

By the window, Chaeyoung stands, her silhouette framed against the cityscape. She’s completely bare, her back to you, her posture relaxed yet commanding. The faint light catches the curves of her figure, and for a moment, you’re struck by how effortlessly she commands the room, even in stillness.

Her voice breaks the silence, soft but clear, and you realize she’s not just standing there—she’s on the phone.

“...Jiheon was telling the truth,” she says, her tone thoughtful. “It doesn’t work on him. He’s… resistant to it.”

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Resistant to what? Your mind races, fragments of the night before flashing through your thoughts—her sapphire-blue eyes, the way she seemed to pull you in, the way you couldn’t resist her. Was it all… her? Her magic?

A deep unease coils in your chest, the realization creeping in slowly. What have you done? You replay the night over and over in your head, trying to convince yourself it was your choice—that you wanted it. But doubt gnaws at you, whispering insidious thoughts. Did she manipulate you? Was any of it real? Or were you just another piece in whatever game she was playing?

Chaeyoung continues, her voice calm but firm. “He’s perfect for the job. What else do you need? He’s already acquainted and close to the other girls. Plus, he knows our secret, and we can’t exactly get rid of him now, can we?”

Her words send a chill down your spine. Perfect for the job? What job? And what secret? Your mind spins, but before you can process it, Chaeyoung turns toward the bed. The dim light hides her expression, but you can feel her smile, sharp and knowing, as if she’s aware you’re awake and listening.

“Don’t worry, Romsae,” she says, her voice dropping slightly. “He’s more than adequate. I checked him myself.”

The way she says it—confident, almost smug—makes your cheeks burn. The heat rising to your face is laced with something far heavier than embarrassment—regret. Should you have resisted? Should you have walked away when you had the chance? Now, it feels like you’ve stepped into something far beyond your understanding, and there’s no easy way out.

You want to say something, to demand answers, but your body feels heavy, your thoughts sluggish. Chaeyoung ends the call and sets her phone aside, her movements unhurried as she approaches the bed.

Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you’re pinned under her gaze. You search her expression for anything genuine, anything real—but all you find is that same knowing look, like she’s already figured you out.

She reaches out, her fingers brushing against your cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You should sleep more,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost soothing. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Her words wash over you like a lullaby, and despite the storm of questions raging in your mind, you feel yourself drifting. Your eyelids grow heavy, and the last thing you see before sleep claims you is Chaeyoung’s faint smile, her sapphire-blue eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

And as darkness takes you, the doubt lingers—settling deep within your bones. Did you make the right choice? Or did you just seal your fate?

Next ->

#kpop smut #kpop fanfic #smut #kpop au #fromis 9 smut #fromis 9 #lee chaeyoung #chaeyoung #qwilorg

518 notes · View notes