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kyunghwannie · 1 month ago

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Love Production💫

TWICE's Chou Tzuyu x Male Reader

➤Word Count: Approximately 18.8K+

➤Tags: Deepthroat, Outercourse, Sensation Play, Choking, Breeding, Impact Play (Spanking), Face Off, Reverse Cowgirl, Prone bone, Missionary, Doggy Style, Rough Anal Penetration, Creampie, Carry fucking, Squirting, Facial

➤Description: You have been a valuable asset of JYPE due to your contributions to their big artists like Stray Kids, ITZY. But you primarily were TWICE's main producer. And now, Tzuyu was having her solo debut "abouTZU" which is being lead produced by you. And during the recording time and production of her title track, You and her surely didn't only produce a song for her but something else in your heart as well

The hum of the fluorescent lights in the JYPE office building echoed faintly in the otherwise still night. You were seated at your desk in the producer's lounge, surrounded by an organized chaos of sheet music, sound mixers, and a half-empty coffee mug. The clock read 11:47 PM, but time felt irrelevant in the world of music production, where creativity often struck when the rest of the world was asleep.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms above your head, a soft groan escaping your lips. Another long day, but you didn't mind. Producing music for TWICE was both a privilege and a challenge, and you relished every moment of it. The group's diverse talents kept you on your toes, and their latest project-a solo album for a special someone-was no exception.

Tzuyu.

You'd worked with her countless times before, but there was something different about this project. It wasn't just that it was her first solo venture; it was her attitude. Despite being the youngest member of TWICE, she carried herself with a quiet confidence that often left people in awe. And yet, there was a vulnerability about her-something she rarely let slip but couldn't entirely hide. A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts.

Y/N: "Come in."

The door creaked open, and Tzuyu stepped in, her figure framed by the warm glow of the hallway lights. She was dressed casually in an oversized hoodie and jeans, her long, dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Despite her simple attire, she radiated an effortless elegance that made you pause for a moment.

Tzuyu: "I hope I'm not interrupting."

You shook your head, gesturing for her to come in.

Y/N: "Not at all. I was just going over some tracks for tomorrow's session."

She stepped inside, closing the door softly behind her. Her gaze flickered to the cluttered desk, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Tzuyu: "You work too much."

Y/N: "Says the idol who spends half her life in dance practice and the other half recording."

She chuckled, the sound light and melodic, as she took a seat on the couch across from you.

Tzuyu: "Touché. But at least I get breaks. When was the last time you took one?"

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees.

Y/N: "Breaks are overrated. Besides, someone has to make sure your album sounds perfect."

Her cheeks tinted a faint pink at your words, and she quickly looked away, pretending to study the guitar leaning against the wall.

Tzuyu: "No pressure, right?"

Y/N: "Pressure? Nah. If anything, it's exciting. You're ridiculously talented, Tzuyu. It's just about bringing that out in the music."

She glanced back at you, her lips parting slightly as if she wanted to say something but decided against it. Instead, she settled for a quiet "thank you," her voice almost too soft to hear. The room fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that only came with familiarity. You'd known Tzuyu for years, ever since you joined JYPE as a producer. Back then, you were just a fresh face trying to prove yourself, and TWICE was already a global phenomenon. Despite the overwhelming star power, Tzuyu had always been approachable, though reserved. Over time, you'd built a rapport-a professional camaraderie that occasionally dipped into moments of genuine friendship. You admired her work ethic and her ability to stay grounded despite the chaos of fame.

Y/N: "So, what brings you here this late?"

She hesitated, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her hoodie.

Tzuyu: "I couldn't sleep. And I figured you'd be here."

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of your mouth.

Y/N: "What gave it away? The never-ending coffee supply?"

She laughed softly, shaking her head.

Tzuyu: "That, and you're predictable."

Y/N: "Ouch. Should I be offended?"

Tzuyu: "No, it's... comforting, actually. Knowing you're always around."

Her words caught you off guard, but you quickly recovered, offering a lighthearted grin.

Y/N: "Well, someone has to keep you idols in check."

She rolled her eyes but didn't respond, her gaze drifting to the window. The city lights shimmered in the distance, casting a soft glow that reflected in her eyes. After a moment, she spoke again, her voice tinged with uncertainty.

Tzuyu: "Do you ever feel like... you're not enough?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken emotions. You straightened in your seat, studying her expression.

Y/N: "Is this about the album?"

She shook her head, her hands clasping tightly in her lap.

Tzuyu: "It's everything. Being in TWICE, living up to expectations, trying to prove that I'm more than just the youngest member or 'the visual.' Sometimes it feels like no matter what I do, it's not enough."

Her vulnerability took you by surprise. Tzuyu was always so composed, so poised. Seeing her like this-raw and uncertain-made your chest tighten. You leaned forward, resting your arms on your knees as you spoke.

Y/N: "Tzuyu, listen to me. You're more than enough. You're talented, hardworking, and you care about what you do. That's all that matters. And anyone who doesn't see that? They're not worth your time."

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, you thought you saw them glisten with unshed tears.

Tzuyu: "Do you really think so?"

Y/N: "I know so. And if you ever need a reminder, just come find me. I'll set you straight."

A small smile broke through her solemn expression, and she nodded.

Tzuyu: "Thank you, Y/N."

Y/N: "Anytime."

The tension in the room eased, replaced by a newfound sense of connection. You weren't sure what had prompted her to open up, but you were glad she had. Tzuyu was strong, but even the strongest people needed someone to lean on sometimes.

She stood up, brushing imaginary dust off her hoodie.

Tzuyu: "I should probably let you get back to work."

You shook your head, gesturing to the empty chair across from you.

Y/N: "Stay. It's not like I'm going anywhere."

She hesitated for a moment before sitting back down, her posture more relaxed this time.

Tzuyu: "Alright. But only if you promise to take a break soon."

Y/N: "Deal."

The two of you exchanged smiles, the air between you lighter now. As the rain began to patter softly against the window, you couldn't help but feel like this was the start of something different-something more.

The clock on the studio wall ticked past midnight, its hands moving steadily into the early hours of the morning. The dimly lit room was filled with the soft hum of equipment and the faint scent of coffee lingering in the air. You sat behind the mixing console, adjusting levels and fine-tuning the track for Tzuyu's solo song, "Run Away." The lead single from her debut mini-album, abouTZU, it was a synth-pop track with nostalgic piano melodies and a bold synth bass that evoked a sound reminiscent of the late 2000s to mid-2010s. Tzuyu stood in the recording booth, her headphones snug over her ears, and a focused expression on her face. She had been practicing the song tirelessly, determined to deliver a performance that would captivate her audience and showcase her growth as an artist.

Y/N: "Alright, Tzuyu, let's take it from the top. Remember to channel the emotion we discussed earlier. Feel the lyrics and let them guide your voice."

She nodded, her eyes meeting yours through the glass window separating the booth from the control room. The instrumental intro began to play, the nostalgic piano melodies setting the tone. As the verse approached, Tzuyu took a deep breath and began to sing.

Tzuyu: "이건 내 warning 날 향한 네 yearning. 정말 확실한 건지 널 내게 turn in, 한 후엔 no turning back..."

Her voice was clear and melodic, but there was a hint of hesitation, a barrier preventing her from fully immersing herself in the song's emotion. You stopped the track and pressed the talkback button.

Y/N: "That was good, but I think you can dig deeper. This song is about yearning and the desire to escape. Try to connect with those feelings and let them come through in your performance."

Tzuyu bit her lip, nodding slowly. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if searching within herself for the emotions needed to convey the song's message.

Tzuyu: "Okay, I'll try again."

The track restarted, and this time, as she sang, there was a noticeable difference. Her voice carried a depth of emotion that resonated with the song's themes. You could feel the yearning in her tone, the desire to break free and run away from the constraints holding her back.

Tzuyu: "Run, run away. I'll give you a chance before it's too late. Once you're in my arms, You will beg, beg to stay..."

As the chorus approached, she poured her heart into the performance, her voice soaring with passion. You watched, captivated by the transformation. This was the Tzuyu you knew she could be-vulnerable, expressive, and utterly compelling. When the song ended, there was a moment of silence. Tzuyu looked up, her eyes searching for your reaction.

Y/N: "That was incredible, Tzuyu. You really brought the song to life."

A shy smile spread across her face, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

Tzuyu: "Thank you. I felt more connected that time."

Y/N: "It definitely showed. Let's do a few more takes to capture that same energy, and I think we'll have it."

Over the next hour, Tzuyu delivered several more stellar performances, each one imbued with the same emotional depth. As the final notes of the last take faded, you leaned back in your chair, a sense of satisfaction washing over you.

Y/N: "I think we've got everything we need. Great job tonight."

Tzuyu stepped out of the booth, her face flushed with exertion but glowing with pride.

Tzuyu: smiles at you "I couldn't have done it without your guidance. Thank you for pushing me to dig deeper."

Y/N: "It's all you, Tzuyu. I just helped you find what was already there."

She looked down, a hint of bashfulness in her expression.

Tzuyu: "Still, I appreciate it."

You smiled, feeling a warmth in your chest at her gratitude.

Y/N: "Anytime. Now, how about we take a break? I think we've earned it."

She nodded, and the two of you settled into the studio's lounge area, the atmosphere relaxed and comfortable.

Tzuyu: "You know, this song means a lot to me. It's about wanting to escape, to find freedom. Sometimes, with all the pressures of being an idol, I feel that way."

Her admission was candid, and you felt honored that she trusted you enough to share her feelings.

Y/N: "I can understand that. It's important to have an outlet, a way to express those feelings. Music can be that escape."

She looked at you, her eyes reflecting a mixture of vulnerability and gratitude.

Tzuyu: "I'm glad I have someone like you to help me through it."

The connection between you deepened in that moment, a shared understanding passing silently between you.

Y/N: "And I'm glad to be here for you."

As the night wore on, the conversation flowed effortlessly, the bond between you growing stronger with each passing moment. In the quiet intimacy of the studio, amidst the shared passion for music, something new and beautiful began to blossom. The low hum of the studio was replaced with an eerie silence after Tzuyu finished the last take for her solo track. You turned away from the mixing desk, stretching your back as the weight of the late hour finally caught up to you. Your fingers ached from adjusting levels all night, but there was a sense of accomplishment, of creative fulfillment that came with a job well done. You glanced at the clock on the wall: 2:45 AM. Tzuyu stepped out of the recording booth, her light footsteps padding softly on the polished floor. She let out a yawn, her long hair slightly messy, her face flushed with a mixture of fatigue and satisfaction.

Tzuyu: "That was intense..."

She smiled, her eyes still soft with the lingering emotion of the song. You couldn't help but admire her, the way she could pour herself into her work, the quiet intensity in everything she did. She looked a little more vulnerable tonight-tired, but still glowing.

Y/N: "You did great, Tzuyu. I think we've got a perfect take. You really nailed the emotion in that last one."

Tzuyu tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, her shoulders dropping in relief. She looked like she had been carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders during the recording, but now, there was a sense of ease in her expression.

Tzuyu: "Thank you... I was nervous at first, but... after you gave me that feedback, I felt like I could really let go."

She walked over to the lounge area, a small corner of the studio with a couple of couches and a table covered in snack wrappers and empty cups of coffee. You followed her, taking a seat across from her.

Y/N: "I'm glad. Sometimes, it's just about finding that moment where you can really connect with the music. You were amazing tonight."

Tzuyu smiled, and for a moment, the tiredness in her eyes was replaced by something else-gratitude, maybe even a little bashfulness. She picked up a half-empty bottle of water, twisted the cap off, and took a sip. The sound of the water pouring into the bottle felt almost therapeutic.

Tzuyu: "You know, I was kind of nervous about doing this solo album. Being a part of TWICE is one thing, but this... it feels more personal, you know?"

Y/N: "I get that. Being solo means you're fully in control of your sound, your image. It's a lot more vulnerable, but I think it's also a chance for people to see a different side of you. You've got this, Tzuyu."

She nodded thoughtfully, looking down at her water bottle. There was a pause, a quiet moment between the two of you where neither of you spoke. It felt peaceful, like a mutual understanding had passed between you. Tzuyu wasn't just the idol you worked with; she was someone who had her own fears and dreams, someone who trusted you to guide her through this new step in her career.

She leaned back on the couch, her arms resting on the back as she looked up at the ceiling, seemingly lost in thought.

Tzuyu: "I guess... I never really talked about how overwhelming all of this can be. The expectations, the pressure... sometimes it feels like I'm just supposed to be this perfect image."

Y/N: "But you're not just an image, Tzuyu. You're human. And that's what makes your music so special. It's your voice, your heart that comes through in everything you do."

She turned her gaze back to you, her eyes soft and appreciative. There was something about the way she looked at you, a quiet vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

Tzuyu: "Thanks, Y/N. You always know just what to say."

You could feel the weight of the moment, the quiet understanding that hung in the air between you two. It wasn't the kind of bond you usually shared with colleagues. It was different. Tzuyu was always kind, but tonight there was something more-something more open. It made you wonder how long this had been growing, this unspoken connection between the two of you.

Y/N: "Well, someone's got to keep you grounded."

You chuckled lightly, trying to ease the growing tension. Tzuyu laughed softly, the sound light and melodic, and for a second, everything felt lighter. She reached over and grabbed a packet of chips from the table, her fingers brushing against the edge of your hand as she did. It was subtle, but it didn't go unnoticed. You both pulled your hands away quickly, but the air seemed charged for a split second.

Tzuyu: "You're right. Sometimes I feel like I need someone to remind me to breathe."

You took a moment to reflect on her words. For all her success, for all the grace and poise she carried herself with onstage, Tzuyu was still someone who had to fight through self-doubt and the overwhelming weight of expectations. She was only human, after all.

Y/N: "Well, I'm happy to remind you to breathe. Just make sure you take care of yourself too, okay? Music can be all-consuming, but you need time to just... be yourself."

Tzuyu smiled, her eyes meeting yours again. There was a warmth in her gaze, something that went beyond professional appreciation.

Tzuyu: "You're right. I think I forget that sometimes."

She sat up, moving a little closer, as if the closeness between you both was starting to feel more comfortable. The studio, which had felt like a sterile work environment just hours ago, suddenly felt like a space where time could slow down.

Tzuyu: "Can we take a little longer break? I don't want this night to end just yet."

You nodded, suddenly aware of how late it was. The recording session had gone on for hours, and yet, there was still this unspoken desire to extend the time you shared together, to keep talking and to share moments in this little studio world you two had created.

Y/N: "Yeah, I'd like that too."

Tzuyu smiled, and this time, it wasn't just a polite smile. It was one of genuine affection, one that made you feel warm inside. She scooted over so she was sitting closer to you, her legs brushing against yours as she settled into a more comfortable position. There was a small, playful spark in her eyes now, something that hinted at her usual playful demeanor but softened by the quiet mood of the moment.

The world outside felt like it had slowed down, the rain creating a sense of peace that allowed everything else to fade into the background. It was just you and Tzuyu in this small corner of the studio, sharing a moment of quiet comfort in the middle of the night. As the rain continued to pour outside, the rhythmic patter on the windows grew almost hypnotic, like a gentle lullaby coaxing the world to rest. Inside the studio, the atmosphere was warm and calm, and you found yourself sinking further into the comfort of the moment with Tzuyu. Her presence beside you felt effortless, like this was where you were meant to be-two people in the quiet, simply enjoying each other's company. Tzuyu stretched her legs out in front of her, crossing them at the ankles. She looked over at you, her expression soft, and for a moment, the exhaustion from the recording session seemed to vanish. It was replaced by something more relaxed, more human.

Tzuyu: "I think... I think this is the most relaxed I've felt in a while." She shot you a wide smile.

You turned your head to face her, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I'm glad you're able to unwind. It's been a long night, and you deserve it." Her eyes met yours, and this time, there was something deeper in the way she looked at you. Her gaze lingered for a moment too long, but neither of you seemed to mind. It felt natural, comfortable, like it was a continuation of the quiet bond you had started building hours ago.

Tzuyu: "It's rare that I get time like this... just to sit and talk. I'm always running around or on stage, but moments like these, where I'm just... here, with someone who gets it, feel nice."

Her words hung in the air, and they felt heavier than anything you'd heard in a long time. Tzuyu wasn't just talking about the music industry or her work. She was talking about the moments in life when you could truly connect with someone, when you didn't have to hide behind a persona or the noise of the world around you. You were just two people, existing in the same space, sharing a quiet, honest moment. You leaned back slightly on the couch, crossing your arms, allowing the peaceful moment to settle in.

Y/N: "I get it. You know, I've always admired how well you handle everything. You make it seem so effortless. But I also know that behind all that, you have moments like this-when you just want to breathe."

Tzuyu smiled softly, her fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of her coffee cup.

Tzuyu:"I think everyone has those moments, right? When they just need to catch their breath?"

You nodded, feeling the weight of her words. It was a humbling reminder that, no matter how successful someone might seem, they too had their quiet struggles, their moments of doubt. Tzuyu had just shared one of those with you. And that vulnerability, that openness, made her even more real, more relatable than she had ever been in the studio lights.

Y/N: "Of course. And you deserve to take those moments whenever you need them."

Tzuyu let out a small, content sigh, her gaze softening as she let her head rest against the back of the couch. The way she seemed to settle into the space beside you felt... natural, as if she were finding peace in the moment, in the quiet, in your company. There was a sense of trust here, a sense of calm between the two of you that had developed over the course of the night.

Tzuyu: "It's nice to just... be with someone who understands. I feel like I don't always have to explain myself. You know?"

The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat. There was an intimacy in what she had just said, a rawness that made you feel incredibly close to her in that moment. You didn't need words to convey the understanding between you two. It was there in the way she held your gaze, the way she relaxed into the couch beside you. You could feel the air between you shift just slightly, like the space between you was shrinking, becoming more charged with something you couldn't quite put a name to.

Y/N: "I get that," you said softly. "I never want you to feel like you have to explain anything to me, Tzuyu. Not about your music, not about you..."

Tzuyu blinked a couple of times, her eyes softening further. She seemed almost... moved by your words. Her hand shifted slightly, now closer to yours, and for a brief moment, your fingers brushed against each other. It was a simple touch, but it sent a shiver through your body, something unspoken passing between you both. She looked down at her hand, then back up at you, a playful glint returning to her eyes.

Tzuyu: "You know, I think I like the way you see me. Like I'm not just Tzuyu to you as in TWICE."

The quiet intensity of her gaze made your heart race. She had caught you off guard with that statement, but it also made you realize something-you had never seen her as just another idol. Tzuyu was more than that, and tonight, it was impossible to deny how strong the connection between the two of you was becoming.

Y/N: "You're not just another idol to me, Tzuyu. Though iam honoured that you like smth about me at least"

She smiled again, this time a little more coy, a little more knowing. Her eyes seemed to sparkle as if she were contemplating something. You could feel the energy shift between you, the tension building as the moments stretched on.

Tzuyu: "Good. Because... I don't think I want to be just an idol to you."

You felt your pulse quicken at her words. The underlying meaning was clear, but neither of you had openly acknowledged it yet. Still, the words hung in the air, and the more you let them linger, the more you realized that you, too, were starting to feel something stronger than just professional admiration. Something deeper.

Y/N: "I think... I don't want you to be just an idol to me either."

The words felt like a revelation, like something that had been buried beneath layers of professionalism was finally surfacing. Tzuyu's eyes softened at your confession, her lips curling into a smile that was both gentle and full of promise. She moved just a little closer, her hand resting a little closer to yours. You could feel the warmth of her proximity, the electricity that seemed to crackle between you. Her hand gently brushed against yours again, this time lingering for just a heartbeat longer. And then, her fingers curled lightly around yours, a silent invitation for you to hold her hand. And you did.

The night was winding down, but the energy between you and Tzuyu hadn't quite fizzled out. The rain had softened into a steady patter against the windows, and the dim lights of the studio illuminated the room in a soft glow. You both sat close to one another, yet there was an undeniable distance between you two-one that was begging to be bridged. Tzuyu's hand, still resting lightly in yours, felt like the spark you'd been waiting for all night. The quiet tension between you two had grown, each moment stretching the boundaries of your professional relationship, moving it into something more.

Y/N: "Tzuyu..."

You spoke her name softly, barely above a whisper, but it was enough to break the silence. She turned her head to look at you, her eyes still soft but filled with curiosity. Her hand squeezed yours lightly, an unspoken invitation for you to continue.

Tzuyu: "Hmm?"

Her voice was soft, almost teasing, like she knew you were on the verge of saying something important. The air between you two felt thick with anticipation, but you didn't know where to begin. There was an almost magnetic pull between you and her, an invisible force drawing you in. Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity, stretching the space between you two thinner and thinner.

Y/N: "You're... really something else, Tzuyu."

Tzuyu's eyes sparkled with mischief at your words. She raised an eyebrow, teasingly.

Tzuyu: "What do you mean?"

You glanced at her, noting how her lips curled into that coy smile, how her fingers still intertwined with yours, almost as if she were testing the waters. Her playfulness made you want to dive deeper, but you could feel the weight of the moment pressing in on you.

Y/N: "I mean... just... you." You let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of your neck in nervousness. "I've been around a lot of people, Tzuyu. But there's something different about you. Something that... I don't know, makes me feel like I want to know you more. In a way that goes beyond just... work."

Tzuyu didn't speak right away. Instead, she regarded you with a thoughtful expression, her fingers playing gently with yours as if she were weighing your words.

Tzuyu: "I feel the same way."

Her words hit you like a wave, and your heart skipped a beat. The simple honesty of it made the room feel even smaller, more intimate. The barrier that had been there between you both-unspoken, but undeniably present-seemed to dissolve in that single sentence. The space between you two was suddenly charged. Her fingers tightened around yours, the contact sparking something deep within you. Your body leaned in just slightly, and she mirrored the movement without hesitation, closing the small gap between you. There was no longer any distance, and it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Tzuyu: "You're not like other people, you know that?"

You felt a soft laugh bubble up in your throat at her words. The way she said it was almost serious, but there was a hint of amusement in her tone.

Y/N: "You're not so bad yourself."

Tzuyu chuckled, her laughter melodic and warm. It made the atmosphere around you feel even more comforting. The way she was looking at you, the quiet intensity in her gaze, made your pulse quicken. She seemed to be studying you, reading the silent language between you both. And in that moment, you realized just how much you wanted to be closer to her. She leaned in, her lips just inches from your ear as she spoke softly.

Tzuyu: "Do you feel it too? The spark?"

You didn't even hesitate. Your voice was low and sincere as you nodded, your eyes locking with hers.

Y/N: "Yeah, I do."

And before either of you could say another word, the tension finally broke. Tzuyu closed the remaining distance, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was tender but full of intention. It wasn't rushed or frantic-it was as if the world had paused just for the two of you. She pulled you closer, her free hand gently cupping your cheek, as if grounding her to you. Tzuyu's fingers slid up to your jaw, her touch light but deliberate. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the connection between you both intensifying with every second that passed. The world outside seemed to disappear, and it was just you and Tzuyu in that moment-two people who had been circling around each other for hours, waiting for the right time to finally close the gap. When you pulled away for a brief second, Tzuyu's eyes were wide, a mixture of surprise and something else you couldn't quite place. Her lips were slightly parted, and she let out a small, shaky breath.

Tzuyu: "Wow. I didn't think it would feel like that."

You chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face as you leaned your forehead against hers.

Y/N: "Neither did I."

But the truth was, you both had known from the very beginning that this moment was inevitable. The sparks had been there from the start-the chemistry, the shared understanding, the quiet tension that had built up over time. And now, here you were, finally acknowledging what had been simmering beneath the surface all along. Tzuyu smiled softly, her hand now resting against your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath her palm. Her touch was gentle, but there was an undeniable warmth radiating from her that made you feel grounded.

Tzuyu: "You... make me feel something I haven't felt in a long time."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the sincerity in her words made your heart race. You felt your own emotions swell as you pulled her closer again, this time not as a colleague, not as an artist and producer-but as two people who had found something unexpected in each other.

Y/N: "I'm glad I'm here with you, Tzu." Her smile was all you needed. It was a promise, an unspoken vow that whatever this was-whatever it had become-it was real. And for the first time in a long time, you felt like everything in your life had finally clicked into place.

As the rain continued to pour outside, you stayed there with her, savoring the quiet, the closeness, and the feeling that something beautiful was just beginning. The studio was quiet, save for the soft hum of the air conditioning and the faint sound of rain against the windows. You had been sitting in front of your computer screen, reviewing Tzuyu's recent recordings for her upcoming solo album, but you couldn't focus. Your mind kept drifting back to her-the way she moved, the way she smiled, the way she seemed to carry herself with such grace and confidence. The longer you spent with her, the more you realized that there was something about her that made everything feel right.

Tzuyu had stepped out for a quick break, giving you the time you needed to clear your head. But it hadn't worked. The quiet space only gave you more time to think, to realize just how much you cared for her, how much you wanted to be close to her. And now, with her absence in the room, you couldn't ignore the truth any longer: You were falling for her. Hard. The door creaked open, and you looked up to see Tzuyu standing there, her long hair falling loosely around her shoulders. She had changed into a more comfortable outfit-a simple hoodie and jeans-but the way she carried herself still made her look effortlessly beautiful.

Tzuyu: "I'm back," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody. "Got caught up in a few things." You smiled, though you could feel the tension in the air between you both. The moments you shared earlier had been lighthearted, playful even, but now that she was back, it felt different. The atmosphere was thick with something unspoken. You both stood at the edge of something, neither one willing to take that first step.

Tzuyu moved to sit beside you at the desk, her gaze meeting yours. There was a softness in her eyes, but also a flicker of curiosity-like she could sense the shift in the air too. Her fingers brushed against yours as she reached for the coffee cup you had placed beside the keyboard. The touch sent a shock through your body, and you had to fight the urge to pull back, to avoid the growing tension between you two. You swallowed hard, suddenly nervous. You had been so sure of your feelings before, but now that the moment had come, you weren't sure what to say. The words were stuck in your throat, and you struggled to find the courage to speak them.

Y/N: "Tzuyu, there's something I need to tell you."

She paused, her hand frozen in mid-air as she looked at you. There was an intensity in her gaze, and for the first time, it felt like you were truly seen. The playful banter and the friendly gestures from earlier were gone, replaced with something deeper. Something real.

Tzuyu: "What is it?" Her voice was soft, almost tentative, like she was bracing herself for something important.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your nerves. This was it. This was the moment you had been avoiding, the moment where everything could change. You looked at her, trying to find the right words, but all that came out was the truth.

Y/N: "I've been trying to ignore it, to pretend like it's just... you know, nothing. But it's not nothing. Tzuyu, I... I think I'm falling for you. I know i said before that it was just liking and feeling the spark you talked about. But tbh, it felt like lying to myself because It's not only liking for you that i have."

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncertain, like they could shatter everything between you two. You watched her face closely, waiting for a reaction-any reaction. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the nerves twisting in your stomach. Tzuyu didn't say anything for a long moment. She just sat there, staring at you with wide eyes, her lips slightly parted. You couldn't tell if she was shocked, confused, or... something else entirely. You felt your anxiety rising, and before you could say anything else, she spoke.

Tzuyu: "You're... falling for me?"

The way she said it was gentle, almost like she was trying to understand it, to make sense of the words. Her voice was soft, and you could see a small blush creeping onto her cheeks even though her expression had concentration and subtle tension

Y/N: "Yeah," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know when it happened, but... it's been building up, and now I can't ignore it anymore. I care about you, Tzuyu. More than I should, maybe, but I do."

Tzuyu blinked a few times, clearly processing your confession. She let out a small, nervous laugh, her eyes not leaving yours.

Tzuyu: "I had a feeling... I mean, I've been feeling something too. But I didn't want to say anything because... well, I didn't know if you felt the same way."

Your heart skipped a beat at her words, and a small smile tugged at the corners of your lips. You weren't alone in this. She felt it too. Her gaze finally softening as she leaned in closer. Her hand found yours again, and this time, you didn't pull away. You let her fingers intertwine with yours, the contact warm and reassuring.

Tzuyu: "I didn't want to admit it either, but... I really like you, Y/N. More than I thought I would."

The air between you two shifted again, this time in a way that made you feel lighter, more at ease. The tension had melted away, replaced by a gentle warmth that filled the room. You smiled, your thumb gently brushing against the back of her hand.

Y/N: "I'm glad... I was afraid I might have ruined everything by saying it."

Tzuyu shook her head, her smile growing wider.

Tzuyu: "No, you didn't ruin anything. I'm happy you said it."

There was a quiet moment where you both just sat there, hands still entwined, the weight of your confession sinking in. The uncertainty that had plagued the air earlier was gone now, replaced by a shared understanding. You both knew where this was going, and it felt... right.

Y/N: "So, what now?"

Tzuyu's eyes sparkled as she leaned in, her lips just barely grazing your ear.

Tzuyu: "Well... I think we should take it slow. But if you want, we can figure it out together."

You nodded, your heart swelling with happiness. She wasn't pulling away; she was leaning into this, just like you. And just like that, it felt like everything had fallen into place. You both leaned back into your seats, still holding hands, as the quiet music of the studio filled the space between you. The rain outside continued its steady rhythm, but inside, everything felt peaceful. You didn't need to rush. You didn't need to figure it all out right now. All that mattered was that, for the first time in a long time, you both understood each other-and that was enough.

---------

The quiet hum of the studio equipment fades into the background as Tzuyu’s fingers tighten around yours, her breath hitching ever so slightly. The air between you two crackles with something new—something hungry. Her dark eyes flicker down to your lips, then back up, a shy but unmistakable desire burning behind her gaze.

"Y/N…" Her voice is barely a whisper, laced with a nervous tremor. "I-I’ve never… done this before. But I want to. With you."

Your thumb strokes the back of her hand gently, reassuringly. "We don’t have to rush, Tzuyu. You did say we can take it slow. We can stop anytime—"

She shakes her head, cutting you off with a sudden boldness that surprises you both. Her free hand lifts, fingertips brushing against your jawline before sliding down your neck, over your collarbone, and finally resting against your chest. You can feel your heartbeat thundering under her palm. "I don’t want to stop, i changed my mind," she murmurs, her voice dropping lower, huskier. "I’ve thought about this… about you… too much."

Before you can respond, she leans in, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that starts soft—hesitant—but quickly deepens as her tongue swipes against your bottom lip, asking for entry. You groan into her mouth, one hand tangling in her hair as the other grips her waist, pulling her closer until she’s straddling your lap. The heat of her body against yours is intoxicating, her hips grinding down instinctively, making your cock twitch painfully against the confines of your pants.

She breaks the kiss with a gasp, her cheeks flushed, lips swollen. "Fuck…" she breathes, eyes darting down to where your erection strains against your zipper. "I knew you’d be big, but—" Her fingers tremble as she undoes your belt, then your button, her breath coming in short, eager bursts. "Can I… see it?"

You nod, lifting your hips slightly to help her tug your pants and boxers down just enough for your cock to spring free, thick and already leaking at the tip. Tzuyu’s lips part in a silent gasp, her fingers wrapping around your shaft experimentally, giving it a slow, tentative stroke. A bead of pre-cum glistens at your slit, and before you can even process it, she leans down, her tongue darting out to lick it up with a soft "Mmmf~" that sends a jolt of pleasure straight to your core.

"Shit, Tzuyu—" you choke out, hips bucking slightly as her warm, wet mouth closes around your tip, sucking gently. Her doe eyes flick up to yours, watching your reaction as she takes you deeper, her lips stretching obscenely around your girth. "Fuck, your mouth feels—ahh~!"

She moans around your cock, the vibration making your toes curl, and then—without warning—she pushes further, her nose brushing against your pelvis as she takes you all the way down her throat. Her eyes water, but she doesn’t pull back, her throat fluttering around you as she gags slightly before relaxing, adjusting. "Hnngh~! Tzuyu, you’re—fuck—you’re gonna make me cum if you keep—"

She pulls off with a lewd pop, saliva stringing from her lips to your cock as she pants, her voice wrecked already. "Good," she rasps, her fingers stroking you lazily. "I want to taste you… all of you." And then she dives back down, swallowing you whole again, her head bobbing faster now, her free hand cupping your balls, massaging them as she works your length with a desperation that belies her earlier shyness. The wet, filthy sounds of her throat taking you fill the studio, her muffled whimpers of "Nggh~! Mmmf—!" sending you hurtling toward the edge. You fist her hair, not forcing, just holding, as your hips jerk up involuntarily, fucking into her mouth. "Tzuyu, I’m—I’m gonna—"

She hums in response, her eyes fluttering shut as she takes you deeper, her throat milking you as you finally spill down it with a broken groan, your cum flooding her mouth in thick, hot pulses. She swallows every drop, her tongue lapping at your oversensitive tip until you’re twitching, oversensitive, pulling her off with a gasp. She sits back on her heels, lips glistening, chin slick with spit, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she meets your dazed gaze.

"Did… did I do okay?" she asks, voice small but her eyes gleaming with something smug, something hungry. You let out a breathless laugh, dragging her into a searing kiss, tasting yourself on her tongue. "More than okay. Fuck, you’re gonna ruin me." She giggles—soft, sweet, and sinful—her fingers already trailing lower, toward the button of her own jeans. "Good. Because I’m not done with you yet."

Tzuyu pulls back from the kiss with a devilish glint in her eyes, her fingers already working the button of her jeans. She stands up slowly, swaying her hips just enough to make your mouth go dry as she shimmies out of the denim, revealing toned thighs and that mouthwateringly tight ass of hers—round, plush, and begging to be gripped. The way her panties cling to her curves makes your cock twitch again, already half-hard from the sight alone. "Like what you see?" she teases, biting her lower lip as she peels off her top next, letting it fall to the floor. Her breasts—not big, but perky, perfectly shaped, her nipples already pebbled under the thin fabric of her bra—make your fingers itch to touch. She unhooks the clasp with practiced ease, letting the garment drop, and your breath catches.

Goddess. Absolute fucking goddess.

She steps closer, her bare skin glowing under the dim studio lights, her abdomen soft yet toned, her hips sinfully curved, leading your gaze downward like a temptation you can’t resist. She kneels between your legs again, her fingers tracing up your thighs before wrapping around your cock, already hardening again under her touch. "Y/N…" Her voice is sweet, almost innocent, but the way her thumb swipes over your leaking tip is anything but. "Can I try something?"

You nod, swallowing hard as she leans in, her lips brushing against your shaft before she looks up at you through her lashes, doe-eyed and demure—but the words that leave her mouth are anything but.

"I want to choke on it." Your brain short-circuits. Did she just—?

Before you can even process it, she’s taking you deep, too deep, her throat fluttering around you as she forces herself down until her nose presses into your pelvis. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, but she doesn’t pull back, her fingers digging into your thighs as she holds herself there, gagging slightly before relaxing, her throat milking you. "F-fuck, Tzuyu—!" You instinctively thread your fingers through her hair, not pushing, just guiding, your voice strained. "You don’t have to—ahh~!—hurt yourself, Tzu."

She pulls off with a wet gasp, saliva dripping from her swollen lips, her chest heaving. "I like it," she admits, voice wrecked, her fingers stroking you lazily. "Feels… good. Like you’re claiming me." Your cock throbs at her words, at the filthy way she says them—so sweetly, so earnestly, like she’s confessing something sacred. You cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a stray tear.

"You’re perfect," you murmur, heart swelling as she nuzzles into your touch. "But I don’t want you to push too hard, okay? We go at your pace." She smiles—genuine, warm—before her expression shifts into something hungrier, her tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your length. "Then let me practice," she purrs, before swallowing you down again, deeper, slower, her throat working around you like she was made for this

. And as her head bobs, her moans vibrating against your cock, her free hand sneaking between her own thighs—fuck, is she touching herself?—you realize one thing with dizzying clarity: This angel-faced, soft-spoken, Tzuyu you think you knew? She’s a fucking needy slut for you. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tzuyu pulls off your cock with a lewd, wet pop, her lips glistening with a mix of spit and your cum. She looks up at you through her lashes, her cheeks flushed, her breathing uneven—and there’s something unbearably smug in her expression as she licks her lips clean. "You came so fast," she murmurs, her voice a mix of awe and pride. "Was I… that good?"

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "Too good," you admit, your thumb tracing the curve of her bottom lip. "I didn’t expect you to be so… natural at this." She giggles—soft, sweet, but with an undercurrent of something darker, something hungry. Her hands trail up your thighs before she rises, straddling your lap again, her bare skin pressed flush against yours. The heat of her is intoxicating, her perky tits brushing against your chest as she leans in, her lips ghosting over yours. "I like it," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper. "When you lose control because of me. It makes me feel… loved."

Your heart clenches at her words, at the raw honesty in them. You cup her face, pulling her into a slow, deep kiss, your tongue sliding against hers in a lazy dance. She melts into it, her fingers tangling in your hair, her hips grinding down against yours in slow, teasing circles. When she pulls back, her eyes are dark, her lips swollen. "I want to make love first," she murmurs, her fingers trailing down your chest. "Before we… fuck."

You blink, tilting your head. "What’s the difference?"

She bites her lip, her fingers hooking into the sides of her panties. Slowly, teasingly, she peels them off, revealing smooth, flawless skin, the faintest hint of pink between her thighs. Your mouth goes dry at the sight. "Making love is… slow," she explains, her voice trembling slightly as she guides your hand between her legs. "Gentle. Like you’re worshipping me." Her breath hitches as your fingers brush over her slick folds, her hips jerking slightly at the contact. "Fucking is… harder. Rougher. When you ruin me."

Your cock twitches against her thigh at her words, at the way her voice drops into something filthy despite her innocent face. But then her next words make your heart stop. "I’m a virgin," she admits, her eyes locked onto yours. "But… don’t worry about blood. My hymen tore a long time ago from using tampons." She swallows, her fingers tightening around yours. "I just… I want you to be my first. In every way." Your chest tightens, your grip on her hip unconsciously tightening. "Tzuyu…" She silences you with a kiss, her body pressing closer, her warmth seeping into you. "Please," she breathes against your lips. "I want to feel you. All of you."

You nod, your hands sliding down to grip her thighs, lifting her slightly as you shift, laying her back against the studio couch. Her breath comes in short, eager bursts as you hover over her, your eyes tracing every inch of her—her perfect tits, her toned stomach, the way her hips curve, the drenched heat between her thighs. You kiss her again, slow, deep, your hands mapping her body like you’re memorizing her. She arches into your touch, her nails digging into your shoulders as you trail kisses down her neck, her collarbone, finally taking one pert nipple into your mouth. She gasps, her back arching off the couch as you suck, your tongue flicking over the stiff peak.

"Ahh~! Y/N—!" Her voice is already wrecked, her hips grinding up against nothing, seeking friction. "P-please…" You smile against her skin, your hand sliding down her stomach, fingers dipping between her folds. She’s soaked, her arousal coating your fingers as you circle her clit, slow, teasing.

"You’re dripping, Tzuyu," you murmur, your thumb pressing down just hard enough to make her whimper. "All for me?" She nods frantically, her legs spreading wider, inviting you in. "A-all for you," she whines, her back arching as you slide a finger into her, her tight walls clenching around you. "F-fuck, more—!" You add a second finger, curling them just right, and her entire body jolts, her moans turning shrill, desperate. "Hahhh~! There, there, there—!"

You watch, mesmerized, as she falls apart under your touch, her orgasm crashing over her with a broken cry, her thighs trembling around your hand. She collapses back against the couch, her chest heaving, her skin flushed. You lean down, kissing her gently as she comes down, her fingers weakly tangling in your hair. "Ready?" you whisper against her lips. She nods, her eyes hazy but determined. "I want you inside me," she breathes. "Now."

You don’t make her wait. You line yourself up, your cock pressing against her entrance, and with one slow, agonizing thrust, you sink into her, her tight heat engulfing you.

She gasps, her nails digging into your back, her legs wrapping around your waist to pull you deeper. "Oh fuck—!" she chokes out, her walls fluttering around you. "S-so big—!" You groan, your forehead dropping to hers as you still, letting her adjust. "Okay?" you rasp, your voice strained with the effort of not pounding into her. She nods, her hips rolling experimentally, making you both groan. "M-move," she whimpers. "Please, move."

You obey, pulling out almost completely before sliding back in, slow, deep, worshipping her like she asked. Her breath hitches with every thrust, her moans soft, sweet, her body melting into yours. This—this is making love. The way she clings to you, the way her lips find yours in messy, desperate kisses, the way she whimpers your name like a prayer— And when her second orgasm hits, when she screams but trying to lower it, her walls milking you, you know— You’re ruined for anyone else. Just like she wanted.

Tzuyu's tight, velvety walls clench around your thick cock as she rides you in the intimate face-off position—her forehead pressed desperately against yours, her breath hot and ragged against your lips. Every slow, deep thrust draws a whimper from her swollen mouth, her nails digging crescent moons into your shoulders as she bounces in your lap, taking you deeper with each roll of her hips. "Y/N—ahh~! F-feels so... so good inside me," she gasps, her voice trembling with each upward grind of your cock against her sensitive walls. Her slick arousal coats your length, the lewd squelch of her dripping pussy filling the studio air as she clings to you, her body trembling on the edge of another climax.

You exhale sharply, your hands gripping her waist, guiding her movements—slow, deep, worshipping—just like she wanted. The way her tight cunt grips you, the way her breath hitches every time you bottom out inside her, the way her swollen clit rubs against your pelvis with every bounce— It’s maddening.

But despite the overwhelming pleasure, you force yourself to hold back, your teeth gritting as you slow her hips. "Tzuyu—fuck, I’m close, but you’re not on birth control—" She whines, her hips stuttering, her pussy clenching around you in protest. "N-no, please—I want you to—ahh~!—finish in me!" Her voice is desperate, her thighs shaking as she grinds down harder, her walls fluttering around you. You moan your fingers digging into her hips to still her. "Tzuyu, we can’t—"

She cuts you off with a frantic kiss, her tongue sliding against yours before she pulls back, her eyes dark with need. "M-my purse," she pants, nodding toward her bag on the studio table. "I—I have had pills. Emergency ones." You blink, stunned. "You... planned for this?" Her cheeks flush crimson, her lashes fluttering as she avoids your gaze. "I... might have thought about it. A lot." She bites her lip, her hips giving a slow, teasing roll that makes you groan. "I wanted to be ready... in case we ever... did this."

Your grip on her tightens, your cock throbbing inside her at her admission. "Fuck, Tzuyu—" You crush your lips to hers, your tongue delving deep as your hips snap up, harder now, no longer holding back. "You’re gonna be the death of me." She moans, her back arching as you fuck up into her with rough, claiming thrusts, her nails raking down your back. "Hahhh~! Yes, like that—fuck me, ruin me—!"

Her words send a jolt of white-hot lust straight to your cock, your thrusts turning brutal, possessive, your forehead still pressed to hers as you pound into her dripping cunt. Her moans turn shrill, her body quivering as her third orgasm rips through her, her walls milking you desperately. "C-cum in me," she sobs, her voice breaking as she clenches around you. "P-please, fill me—!"

You snapped like clip at her words, burying yourself to the hilt, your cock pulsing as you empty yourself inside her, thick ropes of cum flooding her tight channel. She whimpers, her body trembling as she takes every last drop, her own climax still wracking through her. When the aftershocks finally subside, she collapses against your chest, her breath coming in ragged pants, her sweat-slick skin pressed against yours. You hold her close, your fingers tracing lazy circles on her back as you both come down from the high.

After a long moment, she lifts her head, her lips curling into a shy, sated smile. "...So. That was making love and fucking." You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "And we’re definitely doing both again." She giggles, nuzzling into your neck. "Good. Because I’m not done with you yet." And as her fingers trail lower, her lips finding yours again, you realize one thing with absolute certainty— You’re fucked in the best way possible.

Tzuyu pulls back from your embrace with a mischievous glint in her eyes, her fingers already reaching for her discarded panties. She slides them back on with deliberate slowness, the fabric clinging to her still-damp folds as she bites her lip playfully. "Now you," she murmurs, nodding toward your boxers. "Put them back on."

You raise an eyebrow, confused but intrigued, as you tug your boxers up over your half-hard cock, the fabric straining slightly against your renewed arousal. Before you can ask what she's planning, Tzuyu straddles your lap again, this time with the thin barrier of clothing between you. She leans in, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, "I'm going to edge you until you're begging to be inside me again."

Her hips roll forward in a slow, torturous grind, the heat of her pussy pressing against your cock through the layers of fabric. The friction is maddening—not enough to push you over the edge, but just enough to keep you achingly hard, your breath hitching as she controls the pace with teasing precision. "F-fuck, Tzuyu—" you groan, your hands gripping her waist as she rides you through your boxers, her wetness seeping into the fabric. "You're killing me."

She giggles, her breath warm against your neck as she grinds down harder, her clit rubbing against the base of your cock with each movement. "Mmhn~... You like this, don't you?" Her voice is sweet, innocent, but the way she rolls her hips is anything but. "Feeling me so close but not letting you cum?" You grit your teeth, your cock throbbing beneath her, the pressure just shy of enough to tip you over. She’s taunting you, her movements calculated to keep you right on the edge, her own pleasure evident in the way her breath hitches with each grind. Then, without warning, she stops, her body stilling as she pulls back to look at you, her lips curled into a devilish smirk. "Oops. Too close?"

You exhald sharply almost like an airy groan, your fingers digging into her hips as you pinned her beneath you. Her eyes widen, her chest rising and falling rapidly as you hover over her, your voice a low, soft whisper, "Your playing a lot, Tzu. Like fire or something?" She grins, her legs wrapping around your waist as she pulls you closer, her voice a breathy whisper. "Then burn me." And just like that, the game resets—but this time, you're in control.

Tzuyu's breath hitches as your fingers hook into the waistband of her panties once more, peeling them down her toned thighs with deliberate slowness. The air between you crackles with anticipation as you reveal her glistening, shaved pussy—her delicate pink lips already swollen and dripping with arousal.

The sight makes your cock twitch painfully against your boxers, and with one swift motion, you push them down, freeing your thick length once more. You hover over her, caging her between your arms as you brush your nose against hers, your voice low and tender. "Tell me what you want. Hard? Or slow?" Her dark eyes search yours, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she considers your question. A shy smile tugs at her lips before she murmurs, "Start... mid. Then—ah—faster when I say." Her fingers trail down your chest, her touch featherlight. "I want to feel you build up inside me."

You nod, pressing a soft kiss to her lips before guiding your cock to her entrance, the head nudging against her slick folds. She gasps as you push in, her tight walls fluttering around you as you sink in slowly, giving her body time to adjust to your girth. Her breath comes in short, shaky bursts, her nails digging into your biceps as you bottom out, your hips flush against hers. "O-oh fuck—" she whimpers, her legs wrapping around your waist to pull you deeper. "Y-You feel... so big..."

You groan, your forehead dropping to hers as you begin to move—mid-paced, just as she asked. Each thrust is deep, measured, your cock dragging against her sensitive walls in a way that has her toes curling. Her breathy moans fill the studio, her hips lifting to meet yours with every roll of your hips. You watch her face—every flicker of pleasure, every bitten lip, every flutter of her lashes—as you make love to her. Your hands roam her body, memorizing every curve, every dip, your touch reverent. When your thumb brushes over her clit, she jolts, a broken cry tearing from her lips.

"Y/N—! R-right there—!. P-please, harder now—!" You obey, your thrusts growing more forceful, more urgent, but never rough—never without care. Your hips snap forward, driving into her with enough force to make the couch creak beneath you, but your hands cradle her face, your lips capturing hers in a searing kiss to swallow her moans.

She screams into your mouth, her walls fluttering wildly as her climax crashes over her, her body shaking beneath you. But you don’t stop—can’t stop—not when she’s clinging to you, her nails raking down your back as she sobs for more. "D-don’t stop—! Fuck, don’t stop—!" You won’t. Not until she’s begging you to.

Your thrusts falter for just a moment as your brain buzzes with arousal at her request—but concern still lingers at the edges of your lust-drunk mind. Your lips brush along the shell of her ear, your voice ragged but tender as you murmur, "Tzuyu... , are you sure you took the pill? It's—hnngh—it's safe? Despite me cumming in you earlier?" Her answer comes between gasps, her fingers tightening in your hair as she nods frantically. "Y-yes, yes—ahh~!—took it s-seven days ago... made sure—haah!—to be extra safe..." Her breath hitches as you grind deep, her walls fluttering around your cock as she arches beneath you. "W-wanted—wanted you to breed me... fill me up... please—!"

The raw desperation in her voice sends a jolt of white-hot need straight to your cock. You pull back just enough to see her face—her cheeks flushed, her lips parted in swollen, panting breaths, her eyelashes fluttering as she looks up at you with pure devotion. The sight of her like this—goddess-like in beauty, yet ruined with pleasure just for you—makes your chest ache with something deeper than lust. To the world, she is Chou Tzuyu—TWICE's untouchable visual, the ethereal maknae with a face sculpted by the heavens. But here, beneath you, she is just yours—her body trembling, her perfect tits bouncing with each thrust, her toned stomach quivering as you drive into her over and over. The way her tight little pussy grips you, so warm and dripping, as if her body was made to take you... You can't help but groan, your hips snapping forward with renewed intensity, your voice a loving murmure against her skin. "Fuck—look at you... so perfect... taking me so well—" Her answering whimper is filthy, her legs locking around your waist to pull you deeper. "M-more—! Harder—! Wanna feel you—ahh~!—cumming inside me—!"

You oblige, your thrusts turning brutal, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the studio. Her moans grow shrill, her back arching off the couch as her nails rake down your back, her pussy clenching around you like a vice. You know you won't last much longer—not when she's begging for it like this, not when her body is milking you so perfectly. But you want to savor this—savor her—for just a little longer.

So you slow, just for a moment, your forehead pressing against hers as you catch your breath. "Tzuyu... look at me." Her hazy eyes meet yours, her lips parted in a silent gasp as you roll your hips in a slow, deep circle, grinding against her sweet spot. "I love you," you whisper, the words spilling out before you can stop them. Her breath catches, her eyes widening—before she melts, her entire body going pliant beneath you as she pulls you into a desperate, sloppy kiss. "I love you too," she whimpers against your lips. "Now please—fuck me like you mean it—!"

The moment the words leave her lips, something primal snaps inside you. Your grip on her hips tightens, fingers digging into her soft skin as you pull her impossibly closer, your cock throbbing deep inside her. The knowledge that she's safe—that she wants this, planned for this—sends a surge of possessiveness through you. "Fuck—Tzuyu—" Your voice is a ragged breath, your thrusts turning feral, each snap of your hips driving into her with enough force to make her gasp. "Gonna fill you up—gonna breed you so good—"

Her answering moan is broken, her back arching off the couch as she clings to you, her nails scraping down your back. Her pussy clenches around you, her walls fluttering wildly as she teeters on the edge of another climax. "Y-yes—! Please—!" she sobs, her legs trembling around your waist. "W-want it—want your cum—want you to own me—!" The filth spilling from her perfect lips is your undoing. With a guttural groan, you bury yourself to the hilt, your cock pulsing as you spill deep inside her, thick ropes of cum flooding her tight little cunt. She screams, her own orgasm crashing over her as she milks you for every last drop, her body shaking beneath you.

You collapse against her, your breath ragged as you press feverish kisses to her neck, her collarbone, her jaw—anywhere you can reach. She whimpers, her fingers carding through your hair as she comes down, her walls still fluttering around your softening cock. After a long moment, you pull back just enough to see her face—her cheeks flushed, her lips swollen, her eyes dazed with pleasure.

You brush a stray strand of hair from her forehead, your voice soft. "Okay?" She nods, a lazy, sated smile curling her lips. "Mmm... more than okay." Her fingers trail down your chest, her touch featherlight. "You... really did it, huh?" You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Yeah. Just like you wanted." She giggles, nuzzling into your neck. "Good. Because I'm definitely not done with you...for a long time~"And as her fingers trail lower, her lips finding yours again, you realize one thing with absolute certainty— this lovely night ain't over yet.

After a few moments of catching your breath, Tzuyu suddenly pushes against your chest with surprising strength—rolling you onto your back before straddling your thighs. Her smirk is downright sinful as she trails her fingertips down your sweat-slicked chest, watching goosebumps rise in their wake. "Tired already, oppa?" she teases, her thumbs circling your nipples with deliberate slowness. "And here I thought my producer-nim had... boundless stamina."You groan at both her words and the way she grinds her dripping slit against your thigh—her arousal leaving slick streaks on your skin.

Even spent, your cock twitches back to attention beneath her, betraying your hunger. "Fuck—you're relentless," you rasp, hands sliding up her toned thighs to grip her waist. Her answering laugh is pure velvet as she leans down, her breasts pressing against your chest as her lips brush yours—just out of reach when you try to kiss her properly. "You love it," she whispers before suddenly twisting her body in one fluid motion—her back now facing you as she settles into reverse cowgirl, her perfect ass pressing against your hips.

Her back is a fucking masterpiece—the elegant curve of her spine dipping into the lush swell of her ass, her shoulder blades shifting like wings with every slight movement. The studio lights catch every ripple of muscle as she lifts herself slightly, reaching behind to guide your cock back to her entrance. Her skin glows—flushed and dewy from exertion—and when she glances over her shoulder, her eyes are dark with intent. "Watch," she breathes, sinking down onto you in one torturously slow motion. "Watch how tight I take you like this."

And god —she's right. The angle makes her feel even tighter, her walls fluttering around you as she starts to ride you with shallow, experimental bounces. Her hands brace against your thighs for leverage, her back arching as she throws her head back— perfectly framing the way her silky hair spills between her shoulder blades. You can't resist sitting up slightly—one hand gripping her hip while the other trails up the ladder of her spine, making her shudder. "You're gorgeous," you whisper, nipping at her shoulder. "Look at you—riding me like you were made for it."

She moans, her rhythm stuttering as your fingers tangle in her hair, gently tugging her head to the side to expose her neck. You lick a hot stripe up her pulse point, reveling in her gasp. "I was," she pants, her voice breaking as you thrust up to meet her next descent. "M-made for y-you—ahh~!" Her words unravel you. Your grip on her hip tightens as you help her move—guiding her into a faster, harder pace. The lewd slap of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by her high, breathy whimpers. Every time she sinks down, her ass bounces against your pelvis—the sight so obscene you have to bite back a groan.

One of your hands slides around to her front, fingers finding her swollen clit with practiced ease. She jerks in your lap, a broken cry tearing from her lips as you circle the bundle of nerves in time with her movements. "Ngh~! T-too much—!" she sobs, but her hips don't stop—if anything, she grinds down harder, chasing the overstimulation.You chuckle, your lips against her ear. "You asked for this, Tzu. Wanted me to use you, remember?" Your fingers press down just enough to make her legs shake. "So take it. Take everything I give you."

Her answering whine is filthy, her body clenching around you as she nears another peak—but you slow your hand, denying her release. She whimpers, her rhythm faltering as she glares at you over her shoulder. "Y-Y/N—!"

"Oops~"

You smirk, pressing a kiss to the corner of her pouting lips. "Not yet. Gonna make you beg for it." And with that, you flip her onto her back again—her legs hooking around your waist as you loom over her, your cock still buried to the hilt. Her chest heaves, her eyes blown with lust as she realizes— You're far from done.

Tzuyu's breath comes in shallow gasps as she arches her back, her fingers gripping the couch cushions beneath her. Her voice is barely above a whisper when she speaks, laced with both hesitation and desire."Y/N... can you...?" She bites her lip, her cheeks flushing even deeper as she glances back at you over her shoulder. "I want you to... spank me. Just—just a little. Please?"

Your heart races at her timid request, your hands immediately soothing over the curve of her ass, massaging gently before you lean down to press a kiss between her shoulder blades. "Only if you're sure, Tzu. And we stop the second you want to, okay?"She nods eagerly, her body trembling with anticipation. "I trust you."

You start slow, your palm connecting with her right cheek in a light, almost playful tap. The sound is crisp in the quiet studio, and Tzuyu lets out a surprised little gasp—more from the sensation than any real pain. You rub the spot gently, watching the faint pink bloom under your fingertips."Okay?" you murmur, your other hand still caressing her hip reassuringly.She nods, pushing back against you slightly. "Mhm... again?"

You oblige, this time a little firmer—your hand landing on the other cheek with a soft smack. Tzuyu whimpers, her fingers tightening in the couch cushions, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she rocks her hips back, silently asking for more. You continue like this—alternating between soft spanks and soothing strokes, letting her adjust to the sensation. Each strike is measured, careful, never enough to truly hurt—just enough to make her skin flush a deeper shade of pink. Her breath hitches every time your palm connects, her body growing more pliant beneath your touch.

As Tzuyu grows more comfortable, her moans become louder, needier. She starts rolling her hips in time with your strikes, her slick arousal coating your thighs as she grinds against you. "H-harder," she whines, her voice trembling. "Please, Y/N—I can take it." You hesitate for only a second before giving her what she asks for—your next spank landing with a sharper crack, the sound echoing in the studio. Tzuyu yelps, her back arching, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she pushes back, her ass now a pretty, rosy red under your attention.

You alternate between spanks and gentle rubs, your other hand gripping her waist to steady her as she starts bouncing in your lap again. Each time your cock slides back into her, her walls clench around you, her pleasure mounting with every strike. "F-fuck—!" she sobs, her rhythm growing erratic. "It feels—ahh~!—so good—!" You watch, mesmerized, as her body reacts—her skin flushed, her breath coming in ragged pants, her pussy dripping around you. The contrast between the sharp sting of your spanks and the overwhelming pleasure of your cock inside her has her teetering on the edge, her moans turning shrill with desperation.

Even as you indulge her request, you never lose sight of her comfort. Between strikes, your fingers trail over her heated skin, soothing the slight sting before building it back up again. When she whimpers, you pause, pressing a kiss to the small of her back. "Still good?" you murmur, your voice thick with concern. She nodded, clearly eager for you to go on.

You oblige, your next spank landing just a little harder, making her jolt in your lap. Her pussy squeezes around you, her orgasm crashing over her with a broken cry. Her thighs tremble, her nails digging into the couch as she milks you through her climax, her body going taut before collapsing forward, spent. You catch her, pulling her against your chest as you both catch your breath. Your hands roam her back gently, tracing the faint marks left by your touch—not bruises, just a temporary blush of pink that’ll fade soon. She turns in your lap, as she nuzzles into your neck, her voice soft and sated. "Thank you..." You press a kiss to her forehead, your heart full. "Always, Tzuyu-yah."

Tzuyu's body is still trembling from her last climax, her oversensitive walls fluttering around your cock as you continue to move inside her—slow, deep thrusts that make her whimper with every drag of your length. Her fingers clutch at your shoulders, her nails digging in just enough to leave faint crescents in your skin as she tries to steady herself. "Y-Y/N—ahh~!—i-it's too much—!" Her voice is a broken plea, her thighs quivering as you push her further into overstimulation. But you don’t stop—not yet.

You want to see just how far she can go. You shift slightly, angling your hips to grind against that sweet spot inside her with every thrust. Her back arches off the couch, a strangled cry tearing from her lips as her pussy clenches around you like a vice. "I know, baby," you murmur, your voice rough with restraint as you press a kiss to her collarbone. "But you can take it. Just a little more—"

Her response is a garbled moan, her head thrashing against the cushions as you pick up the pace—your thrusts growing faster, harder, each one driving her closer to the edge again. Her legs lock around your waist, her heels digging into your back as if she’s trying to pull you even deeper. And then— It happens. A sharp, desperate cry rips from Tzuyu’s throat as her body seizes beneath you—her back bowing off the couch, her fingers scrambling for purchase against your skin. For a split second, you think she’s just coming again—but then you feel it.

The first gush is hot, slick, flooding between your bodies with enough force to drench your thighs. Tzuyu screams, her entire body convulsing as her pussy pulses around you, her release coming in waves—not just the thick, creamy femcum from before, but something more, something primal. The scent is musky, heady, the liquid gushing out of her in a near-geyser of pleasure and desperation, soaking the couch beneath you both. Her eyes are wide, her mouth agape in shock as she squirts—her body betraying her in the most filthy, beautiful way possible. Your hips snap forward, pounding into her through the mess, your cock sliding effortlessly in the slick heat of her ruined pussy. Tzuyu sobs, her hands flying to her face as she shakes, her thighs dripping with the evidence of her surrender.

"O-oh my god—!" she chokes out, her voice wrecked. "I-I didn’t—hahh~!—I didn’t mean to—!" You lean down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, your tongue sliding against hers as you claim her moans. "Shh, it’s okay," you growl against her mouth. "You’re perfect. So fucking perfect." Her answering whimper is broken, her body yielding to yours as you fuck her through the aftershocks, her pussy still clenching around you in weak, sporadic flutters.

The squelch of your thrusts is obscene, the sound of her dripping arousal filling the studio as you push her further, deeper into bliss. And when you finally spill inside her—your cum mixing with her mess—Tzuyu wails, her nails scoring down your back as her body locks around you, milking you for every last drop. You collapse against her, both of you panting, shaking, ruined. And as you press a kiss to her sweat-slicked forehead, her dazed, sated smile tells you everything you need to know.

You slowly pull out of Tzuyu's thoroughly used pussy with a soft, wet sound, both of you wincing slightly at the sensitivity. Your cum spills out of her in thick, messy ropes, dripping onto the already ruined couch beneath her. Her thighs tremble as she instinctively tries to clench them together, but she’s too spent—too open after taking you so many times.

Tzuyu lets out a breathy sigh, her fingers lazily trailing through the mess between her thighs before lifting them to her lips. She licks her fingers clean with deliberate slowness, her dark, sparkling eyes locked onto yours with a mischievous glint you rarely see from her. "Mmm… delicious," she purrs, her voice still husky from exertion. Then, with a giggle that sounds almost wicked coming from someone as composed as her, she murmurs, "Think you can fill me one more time, oppa? Or are you finally tired...?"

You blink, stunned for a moment—both at her boldness and the way her usually elegant diction melts into something downright filthy in the afterglow. But then a slow grin spreads across your face as you lean in, trapping her beneath you again, your lips brushing her earlobe. "Oh, Tzu" you murmur, voice dripping with playful warning, "You’re gonna regret teasing me when I pin those pretty legs back and pound another load into you so deep you’ll taste it tomorrow." She shivers, nibbling her lip—but there’s no real hesitation in those doe-eyes. Just challenge. And when her fingers slide down to rub slow, teasing circles over her swollen clit.

Tzuyu slowly peels herself off the couch, her legs still trembling slightly as she lowers herself onto the plush carpet of the production room. She gets on all fours, her back arching elegantly as she presents her perfect, round ass to you—high, tight, and still faintly pink from your earlier attention. With a playful wiggle, she glances back over her shoulder, her usually composed face now flushed with a mix of shyness and boldness. "I... I want to try it," she murmurs, her voice softer now, less teasing—more vulnerable. "I-I brought... lube. Just in case." She nods toward her purse nearby, where a slim bottle of strawberry-flavored edible lube peeks out from the side pocket.

You blink, surprised but touched by her thoughtfulness—how she had planned for this moment, how she trusted you enough to explore this with her. Your heart swells as you reach for the bottle, your fingers brushing against hers gently before you take it. "You're sure?" you ask, your voice warm, your thumb stroking the back of her hand reassuringly. "We don’t have to if you’re not ready." She bites her lip, her eyes flickering with a mix of nervousness and determination before she nods. "I’m sure. I... I want to feel all of you."

You pop open the bottle, squeezing a generous amount of the sweet-smelling lube onto your fingers before warming it between them. Then, with deliberate tenderness, you drizzle it over her ass, watching as the pink-tinged liquid trails down the curve of her cheeks before pooling at her tight, puckered entrance. Tzuyu shivers at the sensation, her breath hitching as your fingers glide over her skin, spreading the lube in slow, soothing circles. "O-oh—" she whimpers, her hips shifting slightly. "It’s... cold." You chuckle softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the small of her back

"It’ll warm up soon," you murmur before gently pressing a slick fingertip against her rim, applying just enough pressure to make her gasp. You take your time—rubbing, massaging, letting her body adjust to the foreign sensation before slowly pushing the tip of your finger past the tight ring of muscle. Tzuyu tenses immediately, her fingers curling into the carpet beneath her. "Breathe, Tzu," you remind her, your free hand stroking her hip soothingly. "Relax for me... that’s it." She exhales shakily, her body gradually loosening around your finger as you work it deeper, gently stretching her. The lube makes the glide smooth, and soon, you’re able to move in and out with ease, her walls fluttering around you in hesitant pulses. "H-how does it feel?" she asks, her voice small, uncertain. You chuckle, your fingers still moving with painstaking slowness. "Yeah, baby. Good weird." By the time you’re three fingers deep, her body is pliant, accepting, her earlier tension replaced by soft, breathy moans. She’s ready—but you still take a moment to lean over her, pressing your chest to her back as you nuzzle against her neck. "Still okay?" you whisper, your lips brushing her ear. She turns her head just enough to capture your lips in a sweet, lingering kiss before nodding. "Mhm... more than okay."

And with that silent permission, you finally—finally—line yourself up, your cock slick with lube as you press against her entrance, your heart pounding in your chest. This is going to be slow. This is going to be careful. And—if the way Tzuyu is whimpering beneath you is any indication—this is going to be perfect.

Your fingertips trace delicate patterns along Tzuyu’s spine as you hover over her, your bodies connected only by the heated anticipation between you. She shivers beneath your touch, her back arching ever so slightly—a silent plea for more. You lean down, pressing a tender kiss to the curve of her shoulder, your lips whispering against her skin: "You’re doing so well, hun… so perfect for me." Your voice is barely above a murmur, warm and thick with affection.

Tzuyu turns her head just enough to catch your lips in a slow, achingly sweet kiss, her lashes fluttering as she sighs into it. When she pulls back, her lips are glossy and slightly parted, her breath coming in soft, uneven puffs. "Y/N…" Her voice is small, vulnerable—so unlike her usual composed tone. It makes your chest tighten. "Will you… keep talking to me? Like this? It—ah—it helps." You nuzzle into the crook of her neck, your hands roaming her sides in slow, soothing strokes. "Of course," you promise, your lips brushing her pulse point. "Every second. I’ve got you."

You shift slightly, lining your cock up with her slicked entrance, your tip pressing just enough to make her tense for a fleeting moment. Instantly, you still, your hands returning to her hips in a grounding grip. "Breathe, Tzuyu," you remind her, your thumbs rubbing gentle circles into her skin. "In… and out. Just like that." She obeys, her body gradually relaxing beneath yours as you push forward—inch by agonizing inch. The heat of her is overwhelming, her walls hugging you in a vice-like grip, so tight it feels like her body is trying to fuse around you. A choked whimper slips from her lips, her fingers clawing at the carpet beneath her. You freeze. "Too much?" She shakes her head frantically, her voice shaky but determined. "N-no… j-just… full." She pants, her hips pressing back just slightly—enough to make you groan. "D-don’t stop."

You exhale a shuddering breath, your forehead dropping between her shoulder blades as you resume your slow, painstaking thrust deeper. Every movement is measured, careful, your cock sheathed in slick warmth as her body reluctantly yields to yours. When you’re finally fully seated, buried to the hilt, you both pause—breathing heavily, trembling against each other. Tzuyu’s fingers unclench from the carpet, her hand blindly reaching back to grasp at your thigh. "O-oh my god," she whimpers, her voice wrecked. "I-I can feel you… everywhere." You press a kiss to the damp skin between her shoulder blades, your hands roaming her body in slow, worshipful strokes. "You’re amazing," you murmur against her skin. "Taking me so good, so perfectly…"

She whines at your praise, her walls fluttering around you in a way that makes your vision blur. You grind deeper experimentally, earning a sharp gasp from her—but before you can pull back, she pushes against you, her hips rocking back in a silent plea for more. You chuckle, breathless, your lips curling into a smile against her back. "Greedy, huh?" you tease, your hands gripping her waist as you finally—finally—begin to move. And when she moans, loud and filthy, her body arching beneath yours, you know— You’re both ruined for anything else.

Tzuyu's ass is a work of art—high, round, and perfectly sculpted, the kind that makes your mouth water just looking at it. The soft globes are still faintly pink from your earlier spanking, the skin warm under your palms as you grip her hips. Her asshole is a tight, fluttering ring of muscle, clenching and unclenching nervously around the thick head of your cock. The strawberry lube glistens around her rim, making the stretched skin shine under the studio lights.

You move with agonizing slowness, letting her body adjust to the overwhelming stretch. Every inch you push in feels like a victory—her muscles resisting at first, then reluctantly yielding to your girth. Her breath comes in shaky gasps, her fingers twisting into the carpet as she tries to relax. "S-so big," she whimpers, her voice trembling. "F-feels like you're splitting me—"

You pause when you're halfway in, your cock throbbing inside her impossibly tight heat. Leaning over her, you press a kiss to the small of her back, your hands soothing up her sides. "Breathe, Tzuyu-yah," you murmur against her skin. "Just relax… you're doing so good." She nods, exhaling shakily as her body slowly loosens around you. You resume your slow push forward, watching with rapt attention as her ass swallows more of your length. The way her rim stretches around you is obscene—her pink flesh clinging to your shaft like it never wants to let go.

When you're finally fully sheathed inside her, you both freeze, panting. Tzuyu's whole body is trembling, her back arched beautifully as she adjusts to the overwhelming fullness. "O-oh god," she whines, her voice breaking. "I-I can feel you everywhere—" You groan, your fingers digging into her hips as you fight the urge to move. "Fuck, you're perfect," you grit out. "So tight… like you were made for me." She whimpers at your words, her walls fluttering around you in a way that makes your vision blur. You pull back just an inch before sliding back in, setting a slow, deep rhythm that has her moaning into the carpet. And as her body finally accepts you, her moans turn from pained to pleasured—her ass squeezing you just right with every thrust. She was made for this. Made for you.

Tzuyu's breath comes in shallow, uneven gasps as she arches her back further, presenting her perfect ass to you in the most obscene invitation. The strawberry lube glistens around her stretched rim, her hole still fluttering from the initial penetration.

She glances back over her shoulder, her dark eyes hooded with lust, lips swollen from biting back moans. "Y/N…" Her voice is a breathy whisper, raw with need. "Start slow… but don’t be too gentle. I want to feel you—all of you " Her words send a jolt of heat straight to your cock, already buried to the hilt inside her tight heat. You lean over her, pressing your chest to her back as your lips find the shell of her ear. "Tell me if it’s too much," you murmur, your hands sliding down to grip her hips. "I’ll stop the second you need me to." She nods, her fingers twisting into the carpet beneath her as you finally—finally—begin to move.

You pull out almost completely, watching with rapt attention as her asshole clenches around nothing, trying to keep you inside. Then, with deliberate slowness, you push back in, your cock sinking into her tight heat inch by torturous inch. Tzuyu whimpers, her back arching as her body struggles to adjust to the stretch all over again. "F-fuck—" she gasps, her voice trembling. "S-so deep—" You groan, your fingers digging into her hips as you bottom out, your pelvis flush against her ass. The way her walls grip you is unreal—like her body was made to take you like this.

You pause, letting her adjust, your thumb rubbing soothing circles into her hipbone. "You’re doing so good, love" you praise, your voice rough with restraint. "Taking me so well…" She shudders at your words, her hole fluttering around you in a way that makes your vision blur.

Encouraged, you pull back again, this time setting a slow, steady rhythm—each thrust deep and measured, each withdrawal just enough to make her whine in protest. Tzuyu’s moans grow louder, her body gradually relaxing into the rhythm as pleasure begins to outweigh the initial discomfort. Her ass bounces slightly with each thrust, the lewd slap of skin on skin filling the studio. The sight is obscene—her perfect cheeks jiggling, her hole stretched wide around your cock, the lube making every movement slick and effortless.

After a few minutes of this agonizingly slow pace, Tzuyu pushes back against you, her voice a desperate whine. "Y/N—please—" Her fingers claw at the carpet, her hips rocking back to meet your thrusts. "I-I can take more… harder—" You groan, your grip on her hips tightening as you oblige, your thrusts growing faster, harder. The force of your movements sends her sprawling forward, her chest pressing into the carpet as you pound into her from behind. Her moans turn shrill, her walls clenching around you like a vice as pleasure overwhelms her. "O-oh god—!" she sobs, her voice breaking. "I-It’s—ahh~!—s-so good—!"

You lean over her, your chest pressing against her back as your lips find her ear. "You love this, don’t you?" you whisper, your voice thick with lust. "Love getting your tight little ass fucked like this?" Her answering wail is filthy, her body quivering beneath yours as you ruin her. And when your hand slides around to her front, your fingers finding her dripping pussy, she screams, her orgasm crashing over her with brutal intensity.

But you don’t stop—not when she’s begging for more, not when her body is milking you so perfectly. No, you’re just getting started.

Tzuyu's body arches beautifully beneath you, her flushed skin glistening under the studio lights as she takes every deep, rough thrust—her tight hole gripping you just right as she whimpers into the carpet. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mingling with her desperate moans. Her fingers scramble for purchase, nails digging into the plush fibers as she pushes back against you, "M-more—ahh~!—p-please, more—"

But despite the ferocity of your movements, your hands remain tender—one gripping her hip possessively, the other stroking down her spine in soothing, worshipful caresses. When her moans pitch higher, her body tensing as she nears another overwhelming climax, you suddenly slow—just enough to give her a moment to breathe. "Shh, I've got you," you murmur, pressing a kiss to the curve of her shoulder. "You're doing so good, baby—taking me perfectly." She whines, her hips squirming impatiently beneath you. "N-no—don't stop—!"

You smirk, leaning back just enough to admire the rosy blush already coloring her ass from earlier—but it’s not enough. Not when she’s begging so prettily. Your hand lifts, hovering just above her heated skin. "You want more?" you tease, your voice thick with affection. "Then tell me where." Her breath hitches, her body trembling as she glances back at you with wild eyes. "M-my… a-ass," she stammers, her cheeks flushing darker. "P-please…?" Your palm comes down in a sharp, stinging smack—just hard enough to make her jolt, her walls clenching around you in a way that has you groaning. She yelps, her back arching, but then— "A-ah! Again—!"

You comply, your strikes alternating between cheeks, each one landing with a crisp sound that echoes in the studio. Tzuyu’s moans grow louder, needier, her body rocking back to meet your thrusts as her skin turns a delicious shade of red. Yet, even as you mark her, your touches remain reassuring—your free hand rubbing circles into her lower back, your lips pressing apologetic kisses to every spot you strike. "That’s it," you praise, your voice a heated murmur against her skin. "Taking my cock and my hand like a good girl." She sobs at your words, her hips grinding down as another orgasm rips through her—her ass fluttering around you in rhythmic pulses. You groan, your thrusts turning erratic as her tight heat threatens to undo you, but you hold back, refusing to spill just yet.

Tzuyu whimpers softly as you guide her onto her stomach, her body stretching out in a straight line along the plush studio carpet. Her fingers curl into the fibers, gripping tightly as she presses her flushed cheek against the soft material, her breath coming in shallow pants. The curve of her back is a smooth, elegant slope, her ass still beautifully reddened from your earlier attention—just begging to be marked even more. "L-like this?" she murmurs, her voice trembling slightly as she glances back at you over her shoulder. Her dark eyes are wide, pupils blown with lust, her lips parted as she waits for your next move. You nod, running a soothing hand down her spine before settling over her, your chest pressing against her back as you line your cock up with her slick, stretched hole. "Perfect," you murmur, your lips brushing the shell of her ear

The angle is unreal. With her legs together beneath you and her hips slightly raised, her ass swallows you whole, her walls clenching around you in a way that makes your vision blur. You sink in slowly, savoring every inch of her tight heat, your hands gripping her waist to keep her steady. "O-oh fuck—" Tzuyu gasps, her fingers scrambling against the carpet as she struggles to adjust. "Y-You’re—ahh~!—s-so deep—" You groan, your forehead dropping between her shoulder blades as you bottom out, your hips flush against her ass. The sensation is overwhelming—her body hugging you in a way that feels made for this position. You stay like that for a moment, letting her adjust, your lips pressing soft, reassuring kisses along her spine.

"Breathe, Tzu, " you murmur, your voice rough with restraint. "Just relax… you’re taking me so well." She nods, her body gradually loosening beneath yours, and when you finally move, it’s with a slow, deep roll of your hips—pulling out almost completely before sinking back in with leisurely precision. Tzuyu whimpers, her back arching as the new angle hits her in ways she’s never felt before. "Y/N—ahh~!" she sobs, her voice breaking. "I-It’s—different—!" You smirk against her skin, your hands sliding up to pin her wrists gently against the carpet as you pick up the pace—your thrusts growing faster, harder, each one driving you deeper than before.

The slap of skin on skin is obscene, her ass jiggling with every brutal snap of your hips. Tzuyu's body trembles beneath you, her fingers twisting into the carpet as your thrusts grow deeper, more relentless. The angle of the prone bone position allows you to reach unimaginable depths, each snap of your hips drawing out broken, breathy moans from her lips. Her skin is slick with sweat, her back arching beautifully as she takes every inch of you, her tight hole fluttering around your cock in desperate pulses.

"Y-Y/N—ahh~!" she sobs, her voice cracking as another wave of pleasure crashes over her. Her thighs quiver, her body tensing—and then, with a sharp cry, she squirts again, her release soaking the carpet beneath her as her walls clench around you in rhythmic spasms. You slow your movements, your hands immediately soothing over her heated skin, rubbing gentle circles into her hips as she gasps for air. "Shh, it's okay," you murmur, your voice soft, tender. "You're doing so good, baby. Just breathe for me." She nods weakly, her body still trembling from the intensity of her orgasm.

You press a kiss to the nape of her neck, your lips lingering against her damp skin as you give her a moment to recover. When her breathing steadies, you lean back slightly, your cock still buried inside her, and brush her hair away from her face. "Where do you want me to finish, Tzuyu?" you ask, your thumb tracing the curve of her cheek. "Tell me, and I'll give you exactly what you want." She turns her head just enough to meet your gaze, her dark eyes hazy with pleasure but still so trusting. A shy smile tugs at her swollen lips as she whispers, "On my back… please? I-I want to feel it… see it." Then, with a playful glint in her eyes, she adds, "And later… you can breed my ass properly."

A pause occured on you at her word. That's hot

Your heart swells at her words—not just because of the filthiness of them, but because of the trust behind them. You press another kiss to her shoulder, your voice warm as you murmur, "Anything for you." You pull out slowly, your cock glistening with lube and her arousal, and guide her onto her back. She goes willingly, her body pliant beneath your touch as you settle between her thighs. Her skin is flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she watches you with hungry eyes.

You stroke yourself lazily, your thumb swiping over the head of your cock as you admire the mess you’ve made of her—her ass still red from your spanks, her thighs sticky with her own release. When your orgasm finally hits, you groan, your release painting thick, hot stripes across her stomach and chest. Tzuyu gasps, her fingers trailing through the mess with a look of awe. "So warm…" she murmurs, her voice breathless. You collapse beside her, pulling her into your arms as you both catch your breath.

Your fingers trace idle patterns along her spine, your lips pressing gentle kisses to her forehead. "You were amazing," you whisper, your voice full of affection. "So perfect for me." She nuzzles into your chest, her body still humming with pleasure as she sighs contentedly. "Mmm… next time, breed me like you promised?" You chuckle, your arms tightening around her. "Whenever you want"

The studio air still hummed with the heat of your earlier passion, the scent of sweat and sex clinging to your skin as you both caught your breath. Tzuyu lay half-draped across your chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns through the thin sheen of sweat on your collarbone. The quiet between you was comfortable, intimate—the kind that only exists when two bodies have learned each other so thoroughly that words become unnecessary.

But then her fingers trailed lower, her nails scraping lightly over your abdomen before wrapping around your half-hard cock with a playful squeeze. You groaned, your hips jerking instinctively as her thumb swiped over the sensitive head, still slick with lube and her own arousal. "Tzuyu—" you warned, but your voice lacked any real protest. She knew it too, her lips curling into that mischievous smile that always meant trouble.

"What?" she murmured, her voice dripping with faux innocence as she stroked you slowly, her touch feather-light. "I thought you were done." You caught her wrist gently, your fingers circling the delicate bones as you pulled her hand away—but not before your body betrayed you, your cock twitching in her grip. She giggled, the sound bright and infuriatingly pleased with herself. "You’re impossible," you muttered, but the fondness in your voice gave you away. She knew exactly what she was doing—knew how easily she could unravel you with just a look, a touch. And God help you, you loved it.

You sat up, pulling her with you, your hands settling on her hips as you guided her to her feet. She went willingly, her body pliant beneath your touch, but there was a glint in her eyes now—a challenge. She wanted to see how far she could push you before you snapped. And you were more than happy to oblige. The couch was still a mess—crumpled fabric damp with sweat and lube, the armrests bearing the faint imprints of her nails from earlier. You guided her toward it, your hands sliding up her back as you bent her over, her palms flattening against the leather. The position arched her back beautifully, her ass on full display—still red from your earlier attention, her hole slightly puffy from how thoroughly you’d fucked her.

You stepped closer, your cock sliding between her thighs, the heat of her skin maddening even before you lined yourself up. the head of your cock brushed against her entrance, her body remembering the stretch, the fullness. "Y-Y/N—" she gasped, her fingers tightening on the armrest. "I-It’s—" You leaned over her, your chest pressing against her back as your lips found her ear. "It’s what, baby?" you murmured, your voice low, teasing. "Too much? Or not enough?" She shuddered, her hips rocking back impatiently—her answer clear. You chuckled, your hands gripping her waist as you pushed forward, your cock sinking into her with agonizing slowness. The angle was different this time—deeper, tighter, her walls clenching around you in a way that made your vision blur.

Tzuyu cried out, her back arching as she took you, her body yielding perfectly to yours. You paused when you were fully sheathed, giving her a moment to adjust, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles into her hips. "Breathe," you reminded her, your voice soft despite the fire burning in your veins. "Just like that… good girl." She nodded, her exhale shaky as she relaxed beneath you.

Only then did you move—pulling out almost completely before thrusting back in with a deep, measured stroke. Tzuyu moaned, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the couch as you set a relentless pace, each snap of your hips driving you deeper than before. The sound alone was enough to undo you—the slap of skin on skin, the squelch of lube and her own arousal as you fucked her, the broken little whimpers spilling from her lips with every thrust.

And the sight—God, the sight. Her ass jiggled with every impact, the reddened skin clapping against your thighs as you pounded into her. Her back was a perfect, elegant curve, her shoulder blades shifting beneath smooth, sweat-slicked skin as she arched into your touch. And when you reached around to cup her breast, her nipple pebbling against your palm, she sobbed, her walls fluttering around you in a way that made your knees weak.

You groaned, your forehead dropping to her shoulder as you fought for control. She was ruining you—wrecking you—and she knew it. "Y-Y/N—ahh~!" she cried, her voice breaking as you hit just the right spot. "I-I’m gonna—please—" You knew what she was asking for—knew she was close again. But you slowed, your thrusts turning shallow, teasing, just to hear her beg. "What do you want, Tzuyu-yah?" you murmured, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Tell me." She whined, her hips rocking back desperately, trying to chase her release. "F-fuck me harder—please—"

You obliged, your hands tightening on her hips as you snapped forward, your cock pounding into her with brutal precision. Tzuyu screamed, her body locking around you as she came, her orgasm ripping through her with violent intensity. And when you followed her over the edge, your release spilling deep inside her, she collapsed against the couch, her body trembling from the aftershocks.

You caught her before she could slide to the floor, your arms wrapping around her waist as you pulled her close, her back pressed to your chest. She melted into you, her head lolling against your shoulder as you pressed kisses to her damp skin. "You okay?" you murmured, your voice rough but gentle. She nodded, her fingers tangling with yours as she brought your hand to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Mmm… better than okay."

Tzuyu's fingers still traced lazy circles on your chest, her touch feather-light and teasing. The way her lips curled into that mischievous smirk—so unlike her usual composed, elegant self—made your breath catch. She was playful, bold, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of challenge and amusement as she watched your reaction.

"What?" she murmured, her voice dripping with faux innocence as she dragged her nails down your stomach, stopping just above where your cock lay half-hard against your thigh. "You look surprised." You exhaled a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. "I just…" Your fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, tucking it behind her ear as you studied her—the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips were still slightly swollen from earlier. "I didn’t know you could be this naughty."

For a second, her smirk faltered. Your words—spoken with such open admiration—seemed to catch her off guard. The teasing glint in her eyes flickered, replaced by something softer, shyer. Her fingers stilled against your skin, and suddenly, she wasn’t the bold, demanding vixen from moments ago. She was Tzuyu again—the Tzuyu who got flustered when complimented too directly, the Tzuyu who hid her face in her hands when the members teased her.

Her gaze dropped, her lashes fluttering as she bit her lower lip. "I…" She hesitated, her voice suddenly small. "I didn’t mean to be too much." Your heart squeezed. God, she was adorable. One second, she had you wrapped around her finger, and the next, she was blushing over it. You cupped her cheek, tilting her face up to meet your eyes. "You weren’t," you assured her, your thumb brushing over the apple of her cheek. "I love when you’re like this. When you’re… confident." Her breath hitched, her eyes searching yours—as if she couldn’t quite believe you meant it. Then, slowly, a shy smile tugged at her lips. "…Really?" You grinned, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. "Really."

She giggled—a soft, girlish sound—before burying her face in your neck, her arms winding around your waist. You could feel her smile against your skin, the way her body relaxed into yours. And just like that, the moment shifted. The air between you wasn’t charged with lust anymore—just warmth, affection, the kind that made your chest ache. But then her fingers danced lower again, her touch light, testing—and when you groaned, she laughed, the sound bright and triumphant. "��So," she murmured, her lips brushing your ear, "does that mean I can be naughty again?" You groaned, tipping your head back against the couch as her hand wrapped around you, her grip firm, knowing. Yeah. You were doomed.

The moment Tzuyu's hands fisted in your shirt and yanked you upright, you barely had time to process the sudden movement before her legs were wrapping around your waist, her bare thighs squeezing your hips with surprising strength. A startled yelp escaped your lips as you instinctively braced your hands under her ass, her weight settling against you as she clung like a koala—her lips already seeking yours in a messy, impatient kiss.

"Tzuyu—!" you gasped against her mouth, your voice equal parts exasperated and fond. But she just giggled—that breathy, mischievous sound that always meant trouble—and ground her hips down against yours, the slick heat of her already making your cock twitch back to full hardness.

"Carry me," she demanded between kisses, her teeth nipping at your lower lip. "Fuck me like this. Please."

you pushed into her in one smooth, deep stroke. The angle was unreal—her legs spread wide around your hips, her body stretched open as you filled her completely. Tzuyu arched off the wall with a sharp cry, her head falling back as her walls fluttered around you, adjusting to the sudden stretch.

You paused, your forehead dropping to hers as you both caught your breath. Her panting breaths fanned across your lips, her eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings against her flushed cheeks. Up this close, you could see every tiny freckle dusted across the bridge of her nose, the way her pupils were blown so wide her irises were nearly swallowed by black. She was beautiful—wrecked already, and you'd barely even moved.

"Okay?" you murmured, your thumb brushing over her hipbone in slow, soothing circles.

She nodded frantically, her fingers tightening in your hair. "M-move—please—"

You obliged, pulling out almost completely before snapping your hips forward again, the force of it driving her harder into the wall. Tzuyu yelped, her legs tightening around you as you set a brutal pace, each thrust jolting her higher up the wall. The sound alone was filthy—the wet slap of skin on skin, her gasping moans, the way the wall creaked slightly with every impact.

And the feel—God, the feel of her.

Her walls clenched around you in rhythmic pulses, her body milking you with every inward stroke. Her breasts bounced with each movement, her nipples pebbled and begging for attention. You ducked your head, capturing one in your mouth, your tongue flicking over the stiff peak as she sobbed above you.

"Y-Y/N—! Ahh~!" Her back arched, her thighs trembling around you as her orgasm crept up on her. "I-I'm gonna—hnngh~!"

You groaned around her nipple, your hips stuttering as her walls fluttered around you. But you held back, focusing entirely on her pleasure, on the way her body tightened, on the broken little noises spilling from her lips.

When she came, it was with a scream—her body locking around you, her nails scoring down your back as she shook in your arms. You held her through it, your thrusts turning shallow, gentle, prolonging her pleasure until she was whimpering from overstimulation.

Only then did you still, pressing her firmly against the wall as you both panted, your foreheads resting together.

And as her dazed, sated eyes met yours, you knew—

You'd do anything for her.

Tzuyu's back arched as her palms flattened against the cold surface of the production room table, her fingers scrambling for purchase on the smooth metal edge. The shift in position made her gasp—her legs still locked around your waist, but now her upper body was braced against the table, giving her just enough leverage to rock her hips at her own pace. You could feel the tremors running through her thighs, the way her inner muscles fluttered around your length as she adjusted to the overwhelming fullness. Her breath came in short, uneven pants, her lips parted in a silent 'O' as she experimentally rolled her hips, testing the angle.

"S-slow…" she whimpered, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyelashes fluttering like delicate butterfly wings against her flushed cheeks. "It's too… ahh~… too much right now…"

You immediately stilled, your hands moving to cradle her hips, your thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the dip of her waist. The way she looked in this moment—her usually pristine hair tousled and sticking to her damp forehead, her lips swollen from kisses, her chest rising and falling rapidly—it made your chest ache with something far deeper than lust. You leaned forward, pressing a kiss to the hollow of her throat, tasting the salt of her sweat on your tongue.

"Take your time," you murmured against her skin, your voice rough with restraint. "However you need me… I'm here."

She exhaled shakily, her fingers flexing against the table as she began to move—tiny, experimental rolls of her hips that gradually grew more confident. The drag of your cock inside her was exquisite, the wet heat of her almost too much to bear. You bit back a groan, your forehead dropping to her shoulder as you let her set the rhythm, your hands remaining gentle but firm on her waist, guiding but never forcing.

The production room around you was silent save for the sound of your mingled breathing and the occasional creak of the table as Tzuyu shifted. The overhead lights cast a soft glow over her skin, highlighting the sheen of sweat along her collarbones, the way her small, perky breasts bounced ever so slightly with each shallow thrust. They were perfect—not overly large, but beautifully shaped, the pink nipples pebbled and begging for attention. You couldn't resist leaning down to capture one in your mouth, your tongue swirling around the stiff peak as Tzuyu moaned, her back arching off the table.

"Y-Y/N—!" Her hands flew to your hair, her fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled, her hips stuttering. "T-that's—ahh~!—too sensitive now…!"

You released her with a soft pop, grinning up at her through your lashes. "But you taste so good," you teased, your voice dripping with affection. "Like honey and salt… perfect."

She whined, her cheeks flushing an even deeper pink at your words, but her hips didn't stop moving—if anything, they grew more desperate, her thighs tightening around your waist as she sought more, deeper.

As much as you wanted to let her take the lead, the feel of her—her tight heat, her trembling thighs, the way her walls clenched around you with every tiny movement—was pushing you dangerously close to the edge. Your fingers dug into her hips, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as you fought to hold back.

"Tzuyu…" you warned, your voice strained. "I'm close… so close…"

Her eyes—dark with lust but still so clear, so trusting—met yours, and for a moment, time seemed to stop. Then, with a suddenness that stole your breath, she pushed against your chest, her legs unwrapping from your waist as she slid off your cock and dropped to her knees in front of you. You barely had time to process what was happening before her small, delicate hands were wrapping around your length, her fingers just barely meeting around your girth as she began to stroke—fast, firm, her thumb swiping over the leaking tip with every upward motion.

"Ah-ah," she chided, her voice breathless but playful, her dark eyes glinting up at you through her lashes. "My turn."

Your breath caught as she leaned in, her pink tongue darting out to lick a slow stripe from base to tip, her lips wrapping around the head with a filthy pop. The contrast was staggering—one moment, she was a trembling, oversensitive mess beneath you; the next, she was devouring you with a confidence that made your knees weak. Her free hand cupped your balls, her fingers massaging gently as she took you deeper, her throat fluttering around the tip in a way that had you seeing stars.

You groaned, your fingers tangling in her hair—not to guide her, just to feel, to anchor yourself as she worked you over with single-minded determination. The sight of her like this—Chou Tzuyu, the ethereal visual of TWICE, on her knees for you—was enough to send you spiraling. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked, her tongue pressing against the sensitive vein on the underside of your cock, her moans vibrating through you like electricity.

And then, just as you were about to lose it, she pulled back, her hand stroking you rapidly as she tilted her face up, her lips parted in invitation.

"Come here," she whispered, her voice hoarse from use.

Your hips jerked involuntarily, your release barreling toward you with unstoppable force., your release coming down across her face in thick, pulsing ropes. The first stripe splashed across her cheekbone, glistening against her flawless skin. The second landed on her chin, dripping down toward her throat. The third—God, the third—painted her lips, her tongue darting out to catch the last drops with a smug little hum.

She looked ruined—her hair mussed, her face glazed with your cum, her eyes dazed but triumphant. And yet, she was still beautiful, still Tzuyu, still the girl who made your heart stutter with just a smile.

Someone really needed to give you the "Luckiest Guy on Earth" title.

"Pretty?" she asked, her voice lighter now, playful.

You choked on a laugh, your fingers trembling as you brushed a stray drop from her chin. "So pretty," you breathed, your voice wrecked. "The prettiest."

She beamed up at you, her nose scrunching in that adorable way it always did when she was happy, and in that moment, you knew—

You were the luckiest man alive.

#twice #chaeyoung #dahyun #jeongyeon #nayeon #momo #sana #jihyo #mina #tzuyu #twice tzuyu #tzuyu smut #twice smut #twice x male reader #girl group smut #chou tzuyu

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i92-93 · 9 months ago

Text

࿙࿚ㅤׅ ︶ ꣑୧︶ㅤׅ ࿙࿚

﹫chaeyo.0 .. 𝖿𐑾𝖾𝗌ⲓ𝗍⍺

✿ᝓ 𝗅ⲓ𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳͟𝘰͟𝘷͟𝘦͟𝘳𝘵͟𝘪͟𝘥𝘢 .ᐟ

ㅤ # 乙女座᭄ 𖹭 𝟢𝟳

𝟶𝟶:𝟶𝟶 ﹙𝓒 ﹚！ 𑁥౿ 채영❤︎

By:@i92-93

# don’t repost !

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kwilquib · 2 months 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.

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smutallyouwant · 2 months ago

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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 )

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venompinks · 6 months ago

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TWICE 𐙚 SEASONS GREETINGS 2025

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tae · 5 months ago

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241215 𓆩♡𓆪 strategy

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ggidolsmuts · 4 months ago

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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

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