#Kpop x Reader

[jjunbug]

@americano4yoongi EEEEE THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! AND THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ omg frankenstein hehe i love gothic fics so much,,, i’m so happy that you enjoyed little perfectionism obsessed freak dollmaker sunghoon >///<

THE DOLLMAKER ˒˒ 박성훈 ▸  𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲!

you were sunghoon’s muse, his flawless, perfect wife that he dresses in frilly dresses and makes sure you always looked like the idealized woman. that much was evident from all the dolls he made of you that sat proudly throughout your home. but, when sunghoon isn’t there, the dolls move and show you things that would otherwise be hidden in the shadows. one day, they show you something so frightening, something completely sinister that you force yourself to believe that it isn’t real. your beloved husband wouldn’t do something like that, would he? you weren’t so sure about your answer anymore.

pairing ⸝⸝ park sunghoon 𝑥 fem!reader 𓄵 𝓯eat. ꔛ 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦!

genre ⋆ 📓 ⸝⸝ established relationship, angsty & mature themes, smut, some fluff, husband & dollmaker!sunghoon, gothic vibes, supernatural elements

warnings ⸝⸝ dark content, heavy dubcon, dollification, mentions of murder and kidnapping, really creepy dolls, sunghoon is actually insane lmao, heavy gaslighting, possessiveness, unprotected sex, soft dom!sunghoon, heavy body worship, slow sex to rough sex and back to soft sex (you’ll see), manhandling, handjob, cumshots, clit stimulation, fingering, brief somnophilia, slight dacryphilia, mentions of oral (f. rec), praise, petnames (my love, darling, doll), hair pulling (m. rec), cockwarming, a lot of skinship, teasing, brief nipple play, mentions of aftercare, they are very very codependent, traditional marriage aspects

𝓴ipo’s note ⸝⸝ went a bit insane writing this because why is the smut scene alone 5.4k words??? but it’s finally here!! my first post on my new blog (that’s not part of a series) and my first darker content fic!! this was really fun to write and opened a primal lust within me for sunghoon that made me crazier… hehe enjoy loves!!

͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏  ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏͏ ͏ ❨ 14.8k ❩    ╱    ❨ 𝓶. list ❩ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏ ͏͏ ͏ ͏͏  ͏ ͏  ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

You always strived to be nothing short of perfect, and you were immensely proud at the fact that you have never strayed from the path of the idealized woman in the eyes of their beholder.

And you were perfect. The perfect person, the perfect woman, the perfect wife. It was what you were born and bred to be, and with a smile you lived your life knowing that not a single frizzy strand of hair was out of place nor was there a single wrinkle in your dress. You were pretty, pristine, perfect. You’d ask for nothing more.

But, as the days started to pass—and your husband was out later and later for work—you started to hate the idea of perfection. You clawed at it like a noose wrapped around your pretty throat. Gone were the days where you’d be set alight with how well you presented yourself—with how much your husband loved to stare at you. These days, you just wanted to be.

In the beginning, you loved to be under Sunghoon’s watchful eye. You loved how he’d dress you in perfectly fitting clothes suited to what he loved to see you in—frills and lace. Loved how he’d fluff your hair if it was too flat or if it wasn’t up to his standard, or smooth down the fabric of your dress. You loved when he treated you like his perfect little doll. It meant the world to you, especially when it came from such an expert dollmaker like your husband himself. In his eyes, it meant you were the best of the best, that no other doll that he has made could compare—his perfect creation.

Now, the more you think about it, the more your throat closes up. But, as much as you’re growing to hate the idea, you just can’t let go of the deeply rooted perfectionism you still strive for. It’s as if it’s embedded in your skin, as if it’s in the marrow of your bones and in the blood that pumps through your veins. You don’t know how to live a life that isn't perfect, and at this point, you’re too scared to find out what that life entails.

So you put on the dress Sunghoon lays out for you before work and you style your hair just the way he likes it—and you be perfect. Because that is all you know how to do.

You stare at yourself in the mirror in your bathroom, your brows knitted together. Confusion spread throughout your body as you tried to put a name to what you were feeling. Disgust, maybe? Hatred? You didn’t know. Sighing softly to yourself, you picked up your makeup brush and dusted more of the blush onto your cheeks.

Sunghoon had already left for work, so it didn’t even really matter what you looked like right now. You stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom. Dolls of various sizes greeted your sight. Some had intricate and realistic outfits, the same ones that you wore, and some of them were more plainly dressed. There were dolls everywhere in your home, even some perched on the open shelves of your kitchen. It was a little girl’s dream home. The most unsettling thing about all the dolls around you no matter where you turned was how much every single one of them resembled you in some way.

It was as if Sunghoon could never quite capture your likeness exactly. With some dolls, their eyes were too big, their lips were too small, or the arch of their brow wasn’t quite right. Sometimes he couldn’t accurately carve the curve of your nose. You knew it drove him mad, not being able to immortalize you in his craft.

“You’re too flawless,” Sunghoon had told you once. You were laying in bed together and the tips of his fingers trailed along your arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. He used to always give you goosebumps, the good ones. Now it feels more like a chill down your spine.

You stared up at him from your pillow and watched as his eyes devoured your frame. His fingers twitched, briefly stopping their descent back down your arm, and you could tell he had the urge to test his hand at making you again. “I don’t think I’m flawless,” you smile at him, “I’m just as flawed as everyone else—just as human.”

Sunghoon’s gaze flicked up to your face, specifically to your smile, like he was committing it all to memory. He moved the hand that was trialing your shoulder up to cup your cheek. His thumb gently caressed the soft skin before he grazed it along your lips. There was a certain glint in Sunghoon’s eyes that you knew all too well.

“You’re flawless to me,” he stated. His thumb brushed along your bottom lip and pulled it down a little. You watched as his pupils dilated and the mix of lust and fascination that swirled in them grew. Ever so slightly, his eyes widened, too. Sunghoon moved his thumb down to your chin before leaning down to press his lips to yours.

He captured them with a certain roughness—the type that always shocked you with how gentle it initially seemed. Sunghoon’s hand grabbed your chin harder, his fingers creating soft indents into your skin as he leaned your head back and further into the pillow.

You were so moldable for Sunghoon, a shiny lump of clay ready for his skilled hands to turn you into a masterpiece. He hummed into the kiss and his teeth delicately bit down into the flesh of your bottom lip, only enough to not leave a mark. You moaned into his mouth, your arms raising to wrap around his neck in an attempt to pull him closer. In response, Sunghoon pulled his lips away from yours. He pressed feather light kisses to your cheek and up to the shell of your ear. “You’re my muse,” he whispered, before his head dipped to the crook of your neck to leave kisses there too.

You suppose that being so perfect wasn’t so bad if it meant that Sunghoon couldn’t keep his hands off of you—if it meant that he couldn't keep his hands off of his tools to try and remake you over and over again. Perhaps you were viewing it all wrong. Maybe it wasn’t a noose around your throat, but a pretty handmade necklace crafted by his nimble fingers. If it meant that Sunghoon never leaves, then you could be as perfect as he wanted forever. If it meant that he looked at you like you were the most beautiful thing he ever laid his eyes on, then you would be his doll for as long as you lived.

Maybe it wasn’t perfectionism at all, but an act of complete devotion—an act of love.

Sunghoon left open-mouthed kisses along your chest and moved further and further down until the lace of your lingerie blocked his lips from your skin. He pulled away from you fully and looked down at it like he was offended. You squirmed beneath him, your chest heaving as you tried to take in any air that you possibly could. “Please,” you inhaled, looking up at him desperately.

You weren’t quite sure what you were begging for exactly; maybe for his lips to be back on your skin, or maybe for him to quell the heat radiating from your body. “Please,” you said again, your voice coming out quieter and more forlorn.

Sunghoon ran his hands underneath the sheer fabric at your stomach and you gasped at his touch. “So soft,” he sighed contently, hands trailing further up until they physically couldn’t anymore and were blocked by the lace at your breasts. His calloused hands were a stark contrast to your velvety skin and the slight roughness made you shiver.

He pushed the sheer fabric up your stomach with the movement of his hands until the bottom half of your body was completely bare under him. Sunghoon must’ve decided that he couldn’t wait any longer, couldn’t bear to take the extra second to lift the lingerie over your head, because the harsh sound of fabric ripping filled your ears and the swift coldness of sudden exposure had you gasping again.

Sunghoon tossed the tattered fabric somewhere off to the side next to the two of you and in the corner of your eye you saw it fall to the floor below. His hands surged upwards, no longer bound by the restraints of your lingerie, and grabbed your breasts. Sunghoon’s thumbs rubbed against your hardened nipples and you arched your back off the mattress to give him more access. His hands dropped down to your thighs and he pushed them towards your stomach as he spread them further apart.

Sunghoon’s breath hitched when his eyes finally got a look at your glistening pussy, completely on display for him. His hand then moved from the back of your thigh and he dragged his fingers through your folds, collecting the slick on his fingertips. “Perfect,” Sunghoon breathed out.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he did to you every night—left you in a heap before cleaning you off and making you new again. You didn’t care, you just liked the feeling of his hands on you, even if its intention was to destroy. You knew that it was just a morbid curiosity. As long as he remained by your side, you were content in being a pile of doll parts for him to play with as he pleased.

In your bedroom, your eyes landed on a doll that wasn’t there when you had stepped into the bathroom. It sat in the center of your bed, dressed in the same lingerie that Sunghoon had ripped up. It didn’t look at you, but at the entrance of the room, with the hint of a smile that you knew was carved into the doll but couldn’t help but feel was mocking.

No matter how often it happened, you’ll never get used to the fact that the dolls moved around on their own. It only happened when you were home alone. The dolls never dared to move when their maker was home, but you still felt their eyes on you nonetheless. You had told Sunghoon about it—the two of you even waited around to see if one of them would move, but they never did. It was extremely frustrating.

You sighed at the doll and straightened your back. Leaving said doll where it was without a word, you left your room to put a start to your day.

What you weren't expecting was even more moved dolls in your kitchen. You stopped in your tracks as different, mini, and almost identical versions of you stared directly at you from the kitchen table in a circle. Usually it was only one doll that moved here and there, but this many moved dolls in the span of minutes was completely odd. Cautiously, you stalked towards them to see what they were surrounding.

It was the TV remote. You scoffed.

You grabbed the remote with a roll of your eyes. Aiming it towards the tiny box TV in the kitchen, you clicked it on and placed the remote back down onto the table next to the dolls. You let whatever channel it was left on play in the background as you started making breakfast for yourself.

“We’re here with the mother of one of those young girls today. Can you tell us a little about your daughter, ma’am?” you heard the news reporter ask. You took a pan out from under the lower cabinet and placed it onto the stove, ticking on the heat. You watched as a flame ignited, quick and large as lightning, before calming to something smaller.

A grief stricken voice filled your ears next between your soft humming. You didn’t realize that it was the tune Sunghoon always hummed when working from home—something he didn’t do as often anymore. “She was the most beautiful girl in the world—the most gentle and kind. She loved everyone and she loved love. My daughter was the single spark in this bleak night. Please, if you know where she is, please let a mother know.”

You moved about the kitchen, ignoring the way the dolls’ eyes seemed to follow your every move. Cracking the egg, you let it fall into the pan with a sizzle, fanning away the sudden smoke that rises. “The news station also has an anonymous tip hotline open for anyone who may know any information. The search for the six missing girls is still on. This Friday, the mayor will hold another search party and encourages everyone who can to join.”

Turning to throw away the shell of the egg, you caught a glimpse of the TV. “This has been—” You gasped, the shell falling to the tile below with a soft crack as your hand flew to cover your mouth. On the small screen were the pictures of the six missing girls—six missing girls who all looked eerily alike to one another, eerily alike to you. You rushed forward towards the screen, desperately needing to get a closer look at the girls’ image.

Fear and panic prickled at your skin and clawed its way up your throat. What if you were next? What if whoever was taking these girls had their eye on you to take next? You glanced around the kitchen, the dolls suddenly gone from the kitchen table and perched back in their rightful places on various shelves. What if one day you stepped out of your home to run an errand only to be met with a cloth to your nose and mouth?

You began to tremble as you focused your attention back onto the TV. Did the police have anything on who was taking the girls? Any physical descriptions or perhaps a drawing? You waited for the news to mention anything else, but they didn’t. 

Lightheaded, you felt yourself begin to spiral. Your hands grabbed tight to the kitchen counter as you tried to steady yourself and not let the fear cloud your mind. Maybe it was all a coincidence. Maybe you just happened to look like those girls but the perpetrator was after someone else. You inhaled sharply, trying to swallow down the fear and panic and let the oxygen get through instead.

The sudden loud ringing of the smoke alarm startled you and made you jump. The eggs. They were still on the stove! “Oh!” you breathed as you hurriedly moved to turn off the stove. You accidentally stepped on the egg shell in the process. “Oh no,” you said softly under your breath as you moved from the stove to the trash can. You scraped off the burnt eggs, your appetite suddenly gone. You sat the pan in the sink for you to wash later.

Bending down, you meticulously picked up the pieces of egg shells on the floor to throw away as well. When you turned from the trash, there was a singular doll back on the kitchen counter. You jumped again.

It pointed towards the hallway to get to your living room, unblinking. You stared at it for a moment—at yourself. Why were the dolls doing this? “Fine,” you say, smoothing out your dress, “I’ll play along.” You need a distraction from the missing girls anyhow.

You left the kitchen and made your way down the hallway that the doll pointed to. As you slowly made your way down it, you didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary besides the way the various dolls’ eyes followed you. You make the bend to the end of the hallway and freeze.

At the end of the hallway was the displayed dollhouse that you didn’t touch. Sunghoon didn’t even let you clean it, opting to clean it himself. It meant a lot to him and he took great care for it to be in as pristine condition as possible. The dollhouse was a perfect replica of your home, down to the welcome sign you weaved on the front of the door. You’ve never even seen the inside of it… until now.

There was a crowd of dolls on the ground below it, more than you’ve ever seen moved before, pointing up at the scene portrayed in it. Swallowing thickly, you stepped further forward as a chill ran down your back.

In the dollhouse were only three dolls: one of you, one of Sunghoon, and one that you couldn’t even begin to understand what it could be. You took another cautious step forward, leaning in to get a better look and taking care to not step on any of the dolls. The scene depicted in the dollhouse was quite simple. You were upstairs in you and Sunghoon bedroom, asleep. Sunghoon was in some room you’ve never seen before, carving away at a doll that you could only assume was of you. Behind him was the other doll, covered in different, mismatched layers of fabric. It was so covered by copious amounts of fabric that it didn’t even seem to have the body of a doll anymore. It was almost grotesque looking, in a way.

Very quietly, almost indistinct, you heard the same melody Sunghoon hums when working. Your eyes widened in shock as you furiously tried to digest and decipher the scene. You shook your head a little. “I don’t understand,” you say, the confusion dripping from your voice. “What does this mean? What is that behind him?”

There was a creaking behind you and you swung around at the sound. More dolls were behind you, pointing. You weren’t sure if they were pointing at you or the dollhouse. Maybe it was both. You swung back around to the dollhouse when you heard something move.

Now Sunghoon was in front of the other fabric-covered doll. His doll was slightly bent at the torso and his head was tilted. The thin, wire-framed glasses he wears sat low on his nose bridge. You knew that look—that inspecting look. That morbid curiosity. It felt as if the dolls were screaming at you, “Do you understand now?” You still weren’t sure that you did. Too many puzzle pieces were missing from the board and it hindered you from seeing the whole picture. The sound of Sunghoon’s humming still filled your ears and you didn’t know what to do to stop it.

More creaking and you turned to look behind you. More dolls. They filled the entire hallway, their tiny fingers pointing at you, trying to force you to understand what they were trying to show you. Behind you, the dollhouse began to violently shake and you gasped as you looked at it. Sunghoon was now back in the bedroom with you. He stood over you, his hand hovering over your arm. You knew the action it was trying to convey—you could feel the tips of his fingers trailing up and down your actual arm now, making you shiver.

You stumbled backwards, even more confused and scared at the shaking dollhouse. The front of the dollhouse slammed shut, locking in the scene of you and Sunghoon inside, and stilled. Your chest rose and fell heavily and you clumsily stumbled your way out of the hallway and into the living room, avoiding any pointing doll that you could.

Later that day when Sunghoon came home from work, you didn’t mention the moving dolls or the dollhouse. It was as if nothing happened at all, every doll was where he placed them and the dollhouse was just as pristine as he left it. You especially didn’t dare mention the scenes depicted in the dollhouse. You feared your husband would think you were crazy.

You carried the plate of hot food to where Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table. “Eat up!” you smiled placing the plate in front of him before placing a chaste kiss to his cheek. You felt him smile before you pulled away. You were turning to make yourself a plate when Sunghoon grabbed your wrist to stop you. You jumped, a gasp slipping between your lips. Trying to cover it all up, you turned back to Sunghoon with a smile.

His own smile faltered and his thick brows drew together. “Thank you, darling…” he trailed, the words falling from his lips one by one. “What’s wrong? You’re never so jumpy.”

You’d been jumpy since he got home, still shaken from the morning’s encounter. It was so bad that you nearly burnt yourself on the stove while making dinner, suddenly startled by the sound of the front door opening and Sunghoon returning home from work. When he kissed you hello, his arms coming to wrap around you, you jumped then too. You tried to distract him with your smile, but you should’ve known that nothing gets past your husband.

“It’s nothing,” you say, smiling again and giving him a slight shake of your head. “I guess my body is just getting used to not being by itself now that you’re home.”

Sunghoon sighed and pulled you back towards him by your wrist. You let yourself be pulled into his lap. Sunghoon buried his head in the crook of your neck. “I’m sorry,” he says, his words coming out muffled. “I know I've been working more and more lately and I haven’t had much time for you.”

You leaned into his touch, sighing contentedly. “Can’t you work from home?” you asked meekly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Like you used to? You work so much and you’re always gone. I miss you when you’re not here, and in return I’m sad the whole day.”

Sunghoon’s black hair tickled you as he lifted his head to press his lips to your neck, right where the thumping of your heart could be felt. His eyes met yours and the gentle pout of your lips. “I don’t have all the tools here that I do at the shop,” Sunghoon responded. When you sighed again and looked away, he continued. “But, I might be able to work from here tomorrow… I already finished most of the workload. We can spend tomorrow together, what do you say to that?”

You glanced back at him, trying to not let the happiness you felt break through your sulky demeanor. Clearly, it didn’t work, because the smile returned back to Sunghoon’s face even larger this time. “I suppose that’s okay,” you grumbled, the smile tugging more at your lips by the second.

Sunghoon chuckled, “Yeah?” You nodded, giggling at the way he dragged his nose along your cheek and the coldness of his glasses. “I love that sound,” he says, holding you closer. “I want to hear it forever.” He pulled away from you just enough to get a good look at your flustered face. Sunghoon brought his lips to yours, capturing them in a sweet and slow kiss.

Giggling more into the kiss, you broke away from him with great effort. “Eat,” you say, standing to your feet. Sunghoon didn’t let you get far. “We have a big day tomorrow.”

“Your dinner smells amazing, my love, but I think I want something else on the menu,” Sunghoon replies. You swatted him with the kitchen towel hanging from the pocket of your apron, your mouth falling into an open-mouthed laugh. Sunghoon just laughed more. “Do what I said,” you scolded him.

Sunghoon pulled you down to chastely kiss your lips. “Yes, ma’am.”

That night as you were getting ready for bed, you gathered all the courage you had. As you moved about your bedroom, Sunghoon watched you from the bed, his eyes trailing your figure and never leaving it. He was lounged up against the bed frame, his head tilted and the wire frames of his glasses low on his nose bridge as he stared. You were in the middle of brushing your hair, trying your best not to get crushed underneath his heavy stare. You were as bare as you could be without taking your clothes off.

When you stood from your vanity, the flowy fabric of your short nightgown moving with you, you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke and you just stared at each other. “Those missing girls…” you started, finally finding your voice, “on the news… Isn’t it odd that they favor me?” Your voice shook slightly and you swallowed down the lump forming in your throat.

Sunghoon sat up straighter, his eyes still on you as his brows drew together. You looked away, shakily climbing into the bed next to him. “I-I mean… how they favor each other. And I favor them too, don’t you think?” you continue. You really hoped that you didn’t sound crazy. That your time alone in the house hasn’t started to drive you mad and see things that aren’t there—that aren’t true. Finally getting settled as the words poured from your mouth, you looked over to him. For a split second, his face was completely devoid of anything—no emotion, not even a quirk of his eyebrow, nothing. Then, in a blink of an eye, his face was how it was before you looked away from him. Maybe you were crazy after all.

“I’m scared, Sunghoon,” you said in the gentlest whisper, “What if I’m next?”

“Missing girls?” Sunghoon says, “I’ve heard about them. But, don’t worry—” he reached over to caress your cheek “—I won’t let anyone hurt you. You’re safe here, with me.” His hand on your cheek trailed down to the crook of your neck and then to your shoulder before he pulled you towards him. The two of you laid down onto the bed and Sunghoon enveloped you completely in his arms. You rested your head on his chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “No one but me will ever touch you,” Sunghoon muttered against your hair.

His comforting words did nothing to dispose of the uneasy feeling you still harbored. The images of those missing girls were burned into your mind and every time you tried to close your eyes and sleep, you saw them staring back at you. While Sunghoon fell fast asleep, him still keeping you protectively in his arms, you lied awake.

Your mind shifted from the missing girls, to the moving dolls, and to the dollhouse. What did it all mean? What were they trying to tell you? You went over the scenes portrayed over and over and over again and still didn’t get it. The answer seemed so close, but so far away at the same time. What were you missing?

You thought about the scene of Sunghoon standing over you while you slept. Did he always do that, stare at you like that? How often did he do it? You wanted to ask him, but you didn’t want to risk him thinking there was something wrong with you—didn’t want to risk him thinking that you weren’t flawless like he believes. And the way he trailed his fingers over the soft skin of your arm… Perhaps it was just him checking on you. Maybe he left the room for some water and when he came back he was making sure you were okay. Yeah, that sounded logical.

Him touching you wasn’t something new—he always touched you at any chance that he could. Always admiring every curve and plane of you completely, it’s normal for him to do so. The tension in your shoulders finally dissipated and you relaxed, snuggling more into Sunghoon as you let your tired eyes flutter closed. You didn’t know what the dolls’ game was, but you didn’t like it. Sunghoon was just being a good husband, is all. It even showed subconsciously in the way his hold on you tightened as you leaned into him. He loves you. He’d never do anything that came remotely close to hurting you, ever. You were more sure about that than you were sure about anything in the entire world.

Slowly, you began to drift off—your body getting heavier and heavier in his arms—and you let sleep overtake you.

A couple hours later, you were suddenly awoken by the sound of something falling onto the hardwood floor. You jumped, eyes flying open. You were met with the cold bed, Sunghoon nowhere to be found in your bedroom. Sitting up, you looked around the room to see what fell.

You sighed as your gaze landed on the doll, it was laying on its side on the ground, staring at you. “Enough,” you said lowly, another sigh pulling from deep within you. “I don’t know what you all want from me.”

The moonlight peeked into your bedroom through the curtains and gave a little light to see with in the dark. You slipped from the bed, deciding to see where Sunghoon was. Smoothing down your bedridden hair and wrinkly nightgown, you opened the door to your bedroom and was immediately met with another mini doll version of you waiting by the top of the stairs. You couldn’t keep doing this.

You passed the shelves on the wall filled with dolls of you and other trinkets as you made your way towards the stairs. You didn’t even give the doll a second look as you made your descent down them.

Sunghoon wasn’t in the kitchen either, but there was another doll there, pointing down the hall again. You tilted your head up at it and followed its directions. He wasn’t in the lounge room or the dining room either. You turned the corner in the hallway and your eyes landed on the closed dollhouse. It was backlit by the hallway sconce, the light making the dollhouse look illuminated.

You dipped into the living room and Sunghoon wasn’t there either. None of the bathrooms were occupied as well. You were convinced that he just wasn’t in the house at all. You stood in front of the dollhouse, annoyance coming off you like steam. Your arms were folded across your chest and you glared at it. It was closed this time, and you were deciding on whether it was not to play into the dolls’ game and open it or just go back to sleep and question Sunghoon in the morning. Alas, you were too curious for your own good.

You slowly opened the front of the dollhouse, expecting to see some confusing scene waiting for you inside. Instead, there was only one doll inside—the grotesque looking one covered in different scraps of fabric. It was in the same exact place that it was in earlier, except this time there was no doll of Sunghoon inspecting it. It was alone.

Taking a closer look, you tried to figure out where this mystery room supposedly was in your home. In the dollhouse, it was located between the living room and the hallway bathroom. You looked at the hallway you were currently standing in with its own mini dollhouse inside. Your brows knitted together in even more confusion. According to the dollhouse, the room should be right where you were standing.

That couldn’t be right, unless the room was in front of you and behind the wall where the dollhouse was displayed. Closing the front of the dollhouse, you moved closer to the wall, inspecting it. There was no outline of a suspected door, no uneven floorboards that could suggest the entrance was underneath you. There was only the hallway, the small bookshelf filled with your cookbooks and Sunghoon’s doll making books, and the dollhouse. You placed your ear against the wall; maybe if there was a room behind it you could hear something.

After a few moments, you almost gave up, deciding not to play the game anymore and just go to bed. But, right when you were about to lift your ear from the wall, you heard something—humming.

It was the same tune you hummed earlier, the same tune Sunghoon hums when working. The same tune Sunghoon hummed when the dolls showed you him working in the dollhouse. This time, you knew it was real. You stumbled backwards from the wall, your elbow knocking the doll over that was suddenly perched there. You gasped before quickly covering your mouth.

Frozen in fear, you swear you heard the humming abruptly stop. You then heard slight creaking, like someone was walking towards you. Scurrying back around the curve of the hallway, you peaked around it to see if anything else would happen.

What if Sunghoon wasn’t even in there. What if it was some stranger living in your walls, and you were just assuming that it was him—that the dolls thought it was him. Or, maybe they were trying to warn you of the stranger in a way that they knew you would listen. What if Sunghoon wasn’t in the house at all right now? Your hand pressed harder into the wall and you began to shake.

More creaking broke through the air, and you watched as the small bookshelf slowly began to push off the wall like a make-shift door. You ducked further behind the wall, just enough to ensure you weren’t seen. You saw a shadow dancing across the floor as the bookshelf slowly closed again.

You were so scared they could hear how fast your heart was beating. So sure that they could feel how hard you trembled through the floor. Hear your heavy breathing like a hawk listening for its prey.

The shadow got larger and you saw a figure start to be illuminated by the light on the wall. A hand reached from the shadows and towards the doll of you that had fallen over—Sunghoon’s hand. He stepped into the light and you could finally see him clearly; saw the way the warm light bounced off his skin, the way the light reflected off his glasses, and how his dark hair fell into his eyes. You pressed your fist to your mouth to keep quiet.

Why did Sunghoon have a secret room in the house? Why did he never tell you about it?

He fixed the doll; shifting its dress so it laid properly and flattened its messed up hair. You saw the corners of his mouth raise as he placed the doll back on the shelf above the dollhouse. It’s big eyes bored into you.

Without a sound, you made your way back to your bedroom as quickly as you could. You closed your bedroom door silently and slipped back into bed, willing your body to stop shaking and your breath to even out. You closed your eyes.

You tried to remember what the inside of the secret room looked like from the dollhouse. From what you could remember, it looked to be some sort of workshop, similar to the one Sunghoon would have at the shop. If it was just a simple place for him to carve dolls, why hide it? It was possible he kept it hidden so you wouldn’t worry about how much he was working. Sunghoon knew how much you disliked him getting obsessed with his work, always carving and shaping dolls until the tips of his fingers were scarred. You relaxed again.

You’d be upset and worried, yes, but he didn’t have to hide it from you. You would understand his dedication to his craft.

A couple moments later, you heard the door knob twist. As you heard Sunghoon’s footsteps near you, you hoped you looked like you were still asleep. His presence covered you like a blanket. Just before you could feel the heat of his fingertips on your skin, you turned to look at him.

With false sleepiness in your voice, you ask, “Why are you out of bed?”

Sunghoon smiled down at you, lightly shaking his head. His hand caressed your shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, my love. I was just getting a jumpstart on work so we could have more time together. Go back to sleep.” His voice was soft and gentle, like he was trying to lull you back to sleep with his voice alone.

You sat up more. “Well, I’m not tired anymore,” you say, a smile pulling at your lips. Sunghoon’s hand at your shoulder raised to smooth your hair before coming to your chin to lift it up. He leaned forward and delicately pressed a kiss to your lips. “No?” he asked in that same soft and gentle voice.

Sunghoon was already climbing on the bed and on top of you before finishing his question. He placed more delicate kisses around the edges of your mouth, his hands dipping lower. You shook your head. His hands slowly lifted your nightgown up your stomach. “You’re sure you aren’t tired anymore?” Sunghoon asked, the corner of his mouth raising ever so slightly. He was lifting the nightgown over your head so you were in nothing but your panties underneath him.

Light giggles left your mouth as you shook your head again, “Yes.”

Sunghoon’s fingers hooked underneath the hem of your panties and he slowly pulled them down your thighs. His eyes were completely focused on the way each tug revealed more and more of your cunt and how it glistened with the strips of moonlight coming through the window. You heard him exhale softly, like he couldn’t believe what he was witnessing. “Fuck…” he muttered lowly, “I don’t think I’ll ever get use to seeing this, and it’s all for me to admire.”

He fully pulled your panties off and tossed them somewhere to the side of the bed. Sunghoon spread your legs open and pushed them up towards your chest so he got an even clearer view—just like he always did before taking you apart. He moved his hands so they splayed out on the back of your thighs right near your pussy he was still admiring. You squirmed a little, the air suddenly cold on your skin and from laying there completely open for him as you waited. “Entirely,” you said hushed, looking up at him. His glasses reflected the moonlight and covered the look in his eyes. “It will always be all for you—I’ll always be all, entirely yours.”

You gasped, body jolting when a thumb was pressed into your eager cunt. Sunghoon ran his thumb along your folds, collecting the gathering slick that was forming by the second. Bringing his other thumb to your cunt, he spread you apart even more, like he wanted to watch the arousal drip out of you himself. A soft whine left your lips. You were completely naked and under your husband’s watchful eye while Sunghoon was still completely dressed. He hasn’t even pulled his pajama pants down despite the way you saw him strain against the thin fabric.

“Is that so?” Sunghoon asked, his gaze finally flicking up to you. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards and you inhaled sharply when you finally saw that all too familiar dark look in his eyes. It reminded you of the way people dissected animals, excited to see its insides and how the body worked. Just beneath it you saw his intensely desperate, fiery hot need for you. The two expressions folded on top of each other over and over like an endless piece of paper, like he couldn’t decide what made him more excited. But, you knew which one would win tonight—which one always won.

You nodded slowly at his question. After all, no matter how bitter the idea of perfection tasted in your mouth, it was nothing compared to the sweetness of your husband’s love. It overshadowed everything, clouded your mind until you could think of nothing else. You lived for it, you’d do anything for it—to keep it. And Sunghoon, he loved you for it. So, the cycle continued until you forgot what the bitter aftertaste even belonged to.

Was it so wrong for you to love the suffocating attention he gave you once he wasn’t busy? Maybe. Maybe you should feel some shame for how obsessed you were with Sunghoon. But, at least you knew the feeling was mutual. If it weren’t, you wouldn’t be surrounded by a house full of dolls that looked nearly identical to you made all by his hands. Right? Doll making was a labor of love, and Sunghoon never shied away from showing you how much he loved you.

Sunghoon leaned over you. You felt his arms brush against your thighs as he pushed his soft pajama pants down. His face hovered over yours and you stared at him with big, doe eyes. His lips brushed against yours, pulling away slightly when you tried to chase them. Sunghoon tossed his pants and boxers to the side and you felt his cock slap against your thigh, sending a wave of arousal throughout your entire body. The entire time, Sunghoon’s eyes never left yours. “Like my own, personal little doll,” he continued, his voice low. “The real thing, not any of these flawed imitations. Complete perfection, and all under my hands to do with as I see fit.”

His lips captured yours in an unexpectedly rough, hungry kiss. He moved further over you until his body shadowed you. His hands were on either side of your head as he pinned you to the bed with his body, the kiss deepening and growing hungrier. Sunghoon pulled away from you, lips plumped and wet with saliva that still connected his lips to yours. He tenderly caressed your cheek and asked, “Do you know how much I love you?”

With his other hand, Sunghoon grabbed his cock so he could line himself up with your entrance. He quirked a thick eyebrow as he waited for your answer, eyes trailing the way your chest rose and fell heavily and your breasts pushed more against his own chest. “How much,” he continued, slowly slipping the tip of his cock inside you, “I’d do for you? How I’d do anything?” Your mouth fell open as your back arched slightly at the action. Sunghoon’s gaze returned to you, his hips halting once his thick tip was completely inside you. “Do you?” Sunghoon asked you once again, his heavy gaze weighing down on you.

Your husband liked to dissect things. He liked to break things apart and put them back together all shiny and new. It’s what he couldn’t help but do to you every night. It was the only time he liked you to be messy, when you were laying in a heap of doll parts beneath him. He tried to be gentle with his curiosity, he really did, but it was as if something overtook him. That dark look in his eyes got bolder until he couldn’t hold himself back—until he just had to tear you apart. You used to be scared every time it happened, still not learning to expect it. You should be ashamed that you did let it happen. But, as time went on, you began to like being taken apart; began liking how each time you’d blink away the fog, you were more perfect in his eyes.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply. “I do,” you say quietly, meeting his swirling dark stare. “And I love you just as much. I’d do just as much.”

“No,” Sunghoon spoke plainly. You drew your brows together, confused. “The way I love you, it’s… cavernous. Deep and dark—pitch-black. There is no end, no beginning, it just is.” His hand trailed down to your chin. “It consumes me, my love for you. I can’t control it… I can’t control the things I’d do to ensure you’ll always love me. And you will… won’t you? Always love me?” Sunghoon asked, his eyes boring into yours.

“Yes,” you say meekly. Despite the way Sunghoon’s body blocked the little light in the room, you could still see the way he fought the darkness inside of him. “I’ll forever love you. There’s nothing that would ever change that, Sunghoon. I promise.”

Sunghoon’s body relaxed over you, and his eyes briefly fluttered shut as he shakily breathed in to further calm himself. “Good…” he muttered, his voice barely loud enough for you to hear despite him being so close. “Because sometimes… The thought of you no longer loving me… i-it drives me completely insane.” His grip on your chin tightened and he bent down to sloppily kiss your lips. Sunghoon’s lips slowly worked against yours, like he was using you to calm himself even more. Like he was basking in your love for him like you did with his love for you.

He pulled away, just enough that with each word from his mouth, his lips brushed against yours. “It makes me want to rip you limb from limb. Polish all the parts so you can see it—see how much my love for you breaks me apart.” With a harsh thrust, Sunghoon pushed himself into you completely. You cried out, the sound being muffled by his lips so close to yours. Your nails dug into his shoulders at the action. Sunghoon pulled out of you until just the fat tip of his cock remained inside. With each word, he thrusted into you. “My sweet love, my perfect wife, my doll.”

Loud gasps rang from your mouth and Sunghoon took your hands from his shoulders and pinned them above your head with one of his own. His eyes never once left yours. He wanted to see how you cracked and shattered beneath him. He wanted to witness it. Sunghoon trailed his other hand down the side of your face, his thumb running over the soft skin of your cheek before it moved closer to your mouth. His eyes shined when he dipped his thumb into your mouth and you eagerly swirled your tongue around it, his own mouth opening. Sunghoon’s pace slowed as if he was remembering himself. The languid strokes drove you crazy and your hips lifted off the bed to gain more friction.

It was a constant back and forth of back to back harsh thrusts that felt like it was splitting you open to slow, sweet thrusts that had you begging for more. With your arms pinned about you, you couldn’t even really move besides the slight lift of your hips, and they could only lift so high with how close Sunghoon pressed himself into you. He had complete control over you; over how you moved, how deeply and at what pace you felt him, and over what sounds you made with his thumb in your mouth. Your eyes began to get glassy with how much you wanted him.

You guessed that you liked being used—liked being his toy, his plaything. You guessed that you liked feeling desired, feeling like his doll. You glanced around your bedroom, back arching and loud, unashamed moans falling from your lips at the way Sunghoon fucked you. It felt as if every single doll was looking at you, watching you. Watched you succumb to your husband and watched as the cracks in your porcelain body began to crumble. Watched how you loved every second of it. How wet it made you to the point that Sunghoon was slipping in and out of you with ease and how the vulgar gushing sounds bounced off the walls.

Sunghoon’s pace slowed and he watched how his cock slowly disappeared into you before he slowly pulled it back out and examined how it dripped with your arousal. A soft chuckle left his parted lips as he did it over and over. You clawed at his arm still holding yours above your head, a loud whine came from the bottom of your throat and your body shifted in any way that it could to feel him deeper, to have his cock drag against your walls faster.

He replaced his wet thumb with his mouth, completely silencing your moans and whines. Sunghoon’s mouth worked slowly against yours once again, soft groans vibrating against your lips as he kissed you.

“You feel so good,” Sunghoon whined, barely able to get his words out before his lips were back on yours. He let out another moan, his shallow strokes growing quicker. “Taking everything I give you so well, my love. It’s like your body was made for mine.” Sunghoon finally let go of your arms, giving your body some space as his lips traveled down to your chest. He left wet kisses all over it, teasingly kissing around your perked nipples while you dragged your hands through his hair and pulled at the tips of the strands. Everytime his lips touched your skin it felt like white-hot coals were being placed on you where they touched. Sunghoon looked up at you over the rim of his glasses, lips pressed to your skin with a hint of a smile. “Do you feel good, darling?”

Sunghoon’s hips picked up speed, just barely, but enough to make your head spin wildly. His pace was agonizing and you were sure your frustration showed in how you tugged harder at his hair and pulled his head back and the way your hips pathetically raised to meet his. Sunghoon’s mouth opened and he let out a laugh. “Please,” you begged him, your eyes filled with unfallen tears, “please.”

He sat up, lips brushing against your skin one last time before he pulled away. Sunghoon pushed down on your hips with his hands to stop them from moving, his own still continuing at that agonizing pace. “Please, what?” he asked, head tilted to the side as he watched you squirm beneath him and claw at the bedsheets. “What are you begging me to do to you?”

You whined when his hands moved up to your waist and sent tingles throughout your body. Through your blurry, tear-filled eyes you could see his smile. Pitiful moans escaped your mouth and your chest rose and fell so heavily you would’ve thought you weren’t breathing at all—instead trying to gasp in gulps of breath. “Please,” you begged again. Sunghoon inhaled sharply at the way you clenched down on him, at how your whiny moans filled his ears and the way the corners of your eyes flooded with tears. He halted his movements and pulled out of you completely.

“No, no, no!” you cried and leaned up to reach for him. He pushed you back down to the bed gently. Sunghoon’s own breathing picked up as his wet cock hovered over you. He took one of your hands in his and guided it towards it. “I’ll continue once you can tell me—” his breath hitched once your hand wrapped around his thick length “—what you want.” Sunghoon guided your hand up and down his cock slowly, his hand tightening on top of yours so you squeezed him more. His breath shuddered as he watched your hand work, his stomach tightening every time your hand squeezed his mushroom tip. He moaned again at how easily your hand slipped over him from your arousal, and his moans grew louder when he’d move his hips to force your hand back down his length again and again.

“Tell me…” he breathed out, his eyes fluttering closed, once you still didn’t give him an answer. Sunghoon’s hands laid flat against the back of your thighs—right next to where you needed him the most.

“I… I-I want you…” you stuttered out, voice small. Sunghoon hummed in question, bringing his thumb to your clit. He rubbed circles into it at the same speed he moved his hips. You gasped, back involuntarily arching off the bed. Your hand paused mid-stroke of his cock before his hips rutting against it stirred you back into action. “Closer…” Sunghoon says through a grunt, “but, I’m going to need more than that from you, my love. Don’t you want to be good for me and do what I asked?”

A soft whine left his lips when you squeezed a little too much at the base of his cock. “I want to hear those pretty moans of yours as I fuck you with my cock… see your pretty face as you cum around it. Won’t you give that to me? Do you really want to settle for my fingers tonight, darling?” Sunghoon continued.

How could you tell him what you really wanted? Explain the deepest desire that you had right now? He told you about his inner battle with how much his love for you consumes him. He told you the things that it made him want to do. You wanted him to let go and do it. You wanted him to wipe you clean so you watched it all—saw it all. Enough with holding back—like he tried to do every single night without fail. It was no use when you both knew what was coming. You wanted him to lose control. You wanted that swirling darkness in his eyes to take over. You wanted him to do what he said he wanted to do if you didn’t feel the same way he felt about you. How do you express that to him?

“Do it…” you say, your words coming out strained. A sweet moan left your mouth and you looked him dead in the eyes as the tears finally slid down your hot cheeks. “I w-want you… to do it.” Your voice was just above a whisper, loud enough that only his ears could hear your words despite being the only two people in the entire house. You squeezed down onto his thick cock more as your wrist worked harder. The hand he wasn’t using to rub circles into your puffy clit grabbed your thigh tighter, his fingers surely leaving indents into the plush skin. Sunghoon’s head hung lowly as he tore his gaze away from yours and went back to watching your hand.

Sunghoon plunged two fingers deep inside your dripping entrance and you felt like you could finally feel the oxygen reach your lungs. He pushed them in and out of you, his gaze flicking over to his movements instead of yours to relish in the way his fingers came back out more and more wet. As his fingers curled inside you, causing breathy moans to leave your willing lips, you watched the way his stomach tensed and his hips faltered. Without saying a word, you could tell what was running through his mind right now. You could see his eyes grow more and more darker, fill up more and more with desire. Sunghoon finally looked back up at you, his wire-framed glasses low on his nose bridge. “Do what?” he asks, his voice just as quiet as yours was.

You didn’t have to say anything else. Sunghoon’s hips froze and his stomach tightened even more as a pretty moan ripped straight through him. His eyes fluttered shut, his fingering waned and you lifted your hips to chase his hand. Sunghoon’s warm cum shot all over your stomach and splattered up to your breasts in thick spurts. He let out another moan, this one dragging out from deep within him as his body finally relaxed. You helped him through it all—hand never stopping as he rode out his high and marked more of your stomach with his cum until you were painted a creamy white and he was completely empty.

His eyes blinked open and he looked down at how messy you were. Something in his demeanor shifted as his eyes grazed over you and you couldn’t tell what had changed until he looked at you. You inhaled sharply at his stare, your breathing picking up. His own chest still heaved from his recent release. Sunghoon took his wet fingers out from your cunt, taking a moment to drag them through your folds to spread your arousal even more, all while his eyes never left yours. Gone were the barriers that held him back, that darkness took him over full force.

Meek whimpers escaped your lips and you dug your nails into the bedsheet beneath you. “You like being my doll, don’t you?” Sunghoon asks. His voice was almost flat, and he was still speaking in that hushed tone. His expression was decidedly blank except for the subtle way his brows drew together. “Don’t you?” he asked a little louder when you didn’t answer him. His hands squeezed the back of your thighs and his fingers dug into the soft skin there. You timidly nodded, not daring to look away.

His hands relaxed and his thumbs brushed over where his fingers dug into you comfortingly, his eyes finally leaving yours. Sunghoon grabbed his cock and rubbed his flushed tip in between your folds, the wet sounds it made piercing the silent bedroom. “You know,” he starts, his voice no longer so low, “you really are truly flawless, doll. My muse…”

Sunghoon is already slipping back inside you before you can process the way his thick cock completely stretches you open. You cry out as more unshed tears fall from your eyes. He continues, “It angers me how much I can’t capture you fully. How none of these dolls can compare to the real thing—the real you. It makes me… so angry…”

He’s pulling back his hips as he speaks, the tip of his cock just barely leaving your pussy, before he roughly thrusts his cock back inside of you. Another loud moan emits from you and your vision blurs from more tears as your face gets hot. You could barely hear Sunghoon’s wry laugh over the sudden ringing in your ears.

Sunghoon’s pace is brutal, and you’re suddenly regretting whining so much about how slow he was once going. It gave you whiplash, how fast he fucked into you, and the only thing you could do to keep yourself grounded is tightly wrap your hands around his wrists at your hips. Your arms smeared and got sticky with his cum but you didn’t care. With each thrust, your body shook and pushed you further into the mattress. With your iron-clad grip on Sunghoon’s wrists, your tits pushed together and bounced in accordance with his hips against yours. Sunghoon was fucking you like he wanted to break you in half.

“S-Slo—” you tried to speak but was cut off by the waves of sudden pleasure hitting you one after the other. Sunghoon just shushed you, his hands pulling your hips towards his so you’d feel him deeper. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you couldn’t think about anything other than the way he was making you feel so, so good. You wanted to feel this way forever. Wanted him to stay lost so you never escaped this feeling of immense pleasure. Wanted him to use you to take out his anger at himself—at you—like you meant absolutely nothing, just a doll for him to handle and put back in its place.

You adore it, the way he makes you feel.

Such nasty sounds fill the air, but neither of you could bring yourselves to care about it. If anything, it turned you on more just how loud and demanding to be heard it was. With how much the sounds of the sex the two of you were having penetrated your ears, you would’ve thought that you’d be getting multiple noise complaints at any moment. You both definitely weren’t trying to be quiet in the slightest.

Between your moans, you heard Sunghoon speak. “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” His voice was almost scarily plain, like he thought this over time and time again before. You blinked away tears and finally got a clear view of him and the way he stared down at you with a hint of a smile, head tilted as he watched you crack and begin to fall into yourself. “Forever my perfect little doll, to bend—” he pushed your knees closer to your chest so you were practically folded in half “—and to break—” he roughly thrusted into you once more, his hint of a smile growing into a smirk as you clenched down on him “—and to put back together and play with as I please.”

“Sunghoon,” you sobbed as your stomach tightened and you started to shake. You didn’t get the chance to get another word out before you were violently orgasming, your cum pouring out of you and leaving a white ring around the base of Sunghoon’s cock as he roughly fucked it back into you. Wet, gushing sounds came from his cock plowing into your pussy and your cum poured out from around him and down the curve of your ass. You could scream at the sudden overstimulation.

“That’s my girl,” Sunghoon says as he watched you shatter. He used your hands still limply wrapped around his wrists to pull you up off the bed and halfway into his lap, his cock still buried within you. One of his hands supported your back and the other came to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Pretty dolls don’t cry.”

Sunghoon brought your hands to his shoulders and you held tightly onto the soft fabric of his shirt. His own hands dragged down the expanse of your stomach and he wrapped one of his arms around your back. Sunghoon lowered his head so he could look you in your eyes, his free hand lifting your chin to raise your head more. “I love you,” he murmured, pausing a beat to make sure you heard him, before roughly moving his lips against yours and cutting off one of your watery whines.

Your hands moved from Sunghoon’s shoulders to wrap around his neck and pull him closer to you. You deepened the kiss, letting Sunghoon open your mouth so his tongue could slip in and dance with yours. You’d give anything to keep his lips on yours forever.

Sunghoon began to thrust into you again, his hips moving slow at first before they rapidly picked up pace. You moaned against his lips, your eyes squeezing shut. You felt Sunghoon’s lips pull into a smile, “I love you so much.” He said it like it was a confession.

Head falling into the crook of his neck, you cling to him tighter with your last remaining strength and whimper into his warm skin. Your body shook all over until it felt like you might explode. It felt like Sunghoon kept repeatedly turning and turning the winding key in your back, going way beyond the motor’s limitations. It made you nervous for when he would let go and you would burst into action.

His deep moans and grunts rang in your ear and his arm around your back tightened. With his other hand, he pulled you back so he could look at you. Your face was tear-streaked, splotchy with drying tears and you tried to not cry even more. Your brows were knitted together from the overstimulation and whimpers fell from your lips. Sunghoon’s cum stuck to your stomach and your forearms and parts of his shirt, your own cum covered your pussy and Sunghoon’s cock. You were a mess.

Over and over, three words came from Sunghoon’s lips like a mantra as he filled you up with his cum to the brim and past that too. “I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I—”

Finally, silence rang through the air besides both of your heavy breathing. After another moment, your body finally stilled. The silence was so thick that you felt like you couldn’t move at all. Delicately, like he held the shards of you in his hands, Sunghoon laid you back down onto the bed. He pressed feather-light kisses to your jaw and cheeks before they finally landed on your lips.

You were so overwhelmed with emotions and feelings that you couldn’t feel anything at all. Your head was still foggy and your only penetrating thoughts swirled around him. Despite your eyes being wide open, your vision was cloudy.

Sunghoon kissed you again. “Stay here,” he says, pushing away from you. Your arms fell to your sides limply. He leaned back and pulled his cock out of you, eyes shining with adoration at the way yours and his mixed cum spilled out and dirtied the bedsheets. Sunghoon rubbed the tip of his cock through it a couple times, ignoring how you squirmed and whined. “Absolute perfection,” he said under his breath before standing to his feet.

You laid there on the bed, still spread open and a mess of cum, as your eyes went in and out of focus. When the clouds in your vision did part, all you saw were all of the dolls and how they stared at you. Sunghoon came back a couple moments later, his face coming into focus as the moonlight bounced off his glasses. He climbed over you and began cleaning you up.

You were barely aware of the way he meticulously made sure every nook and cranny was polished nor how he moved you to put new bedsheets on the bed. Your mind didn’t start to come back to you until he was pulling you over him and sitting you onto his cock. You came alive at his hands trailing the expanse of your body before landing on your hips. You moaned quietly, your gaze dripping to look down at him. The darkness in his eyes was not quite all the way gone.

Sunghoon brought you down to lay on his chest. “I could fuck you all night…” he trails and his voice vibrates throughout your whole body as he shallowly thrusts up into you, “and into the morning, too.” His hips stilled and instead his fingers caressed your back. “But then we wouldn’t have the full day together, would we, my love?”

You shook your head slightly and Sunghoon wrapped an arm possessively over you before pulling the blankets overtop of you both, his other arm caging you against him completely. As the moonlight filtered through the window of your bedroom, the two of you slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, you were awoken by kisses on your neck and your pussy fluttering around Sunghoon’s slow strokes. He lifted your leg into the air and you turned your body towards the warmth at your back, blinking away sleep. You hummed, a soft whine pulling from your throat as you looked at him.

His glasses were off, which let you know that it hadn’t been long since he woke up himself. Sunghoon leaned down to press his lips to yours, his cock still dragging at a snail’s pace against your walls. “Are you sore?” he asks, pulling away from your lips to kiss your shoulder.

You nodded. Him still inside you, lazily fucking into you felt good, but you couldn’t ignore the way he stretched you open and the deep soreness that came from it. “A little,” you say.

Sunghoon turned you onto your back so you laid beneath him and he pulled out of you completely. “I’m sorry, my love,” he says and his lips meet yours again. “Let me make you feel better.”

He kissed your lips once more and started trailing kisses down to your jaw and along the length of your neck. Sunghoon looked up at you through the strands of his black hair, kissing lower down your body to your breasts, his hands massaging them as he kissed at your perked nipples. Soft moans left you at his touch.

His kisses spread to your stomach, to your hips, and finally right above where you were already wet for him. He spread your legs open more. “I’ll be gentle,” Sunghoon says, placing a kiss to your clit before his tongue poked out to lap at your entrance.

Without Sunghoon around, the idea of perfection was bitter on your tongue—acidic in your chest. But, when your beloved husband was around, finally in your arms again, you understood why people strive for it. You love it.

If perfection was how Sunghoon saw you, then you’d forever be the most absolutely perfect person, woman, wife you could be.

Days pass and you are once again left alone in the vastness of your home. Sunghoon stood true to his word as best as he could, spending as much time with you when he didn’t have to work, but it still wasn’t enough. The house still felt empty, and the occasional early nights when he would come home didn’t help.

It felt like the early nights home he took came at a price. Most nights when he would finally walk through the front door, you were already asleep or close to it. He would wake you up with a kiss and a content sigh. It made your chest ache even more than it already did when he is away.

You were in the middle of washing the dishes, mind trailed off to someplace else as you idly let the sounds of the TV float around you. “The search for the six missing girls is still going strong. Police still has not found the perpetrator, but an interview earlier with the Chief says that they are very close to finding out who has taken these girls. Our anonymous tip hotline is still up and running for anyone who may have any valuable information on where these girls might be.”

The words brought you back to life, and you gasped quietly as you looked towards the tiny screen. You examined the bold numbers at the bottom of the screen. It reminded you of the secret room behind the dollhouse that you completely forgot about. You quickly finished the dishes, leaving them in the strainer to dry completely as you dried your wet hands.

Slowly, you took quiet steps towards the hallway where the dollhouse was displayed. You looked to the front door to ensure that it was still locked. Sunghoon could walk through it at any moment and you didn’t want him to know that you knew about his secret workshop before you had the chance to see what was inside.

You recalled the way the door to the room opened—the pushed opened small bookshelf that revealed the make-shift door. You tip-toed to the bookshelf, examining its sides and the books on it.

You didn’t really look at the books on the bookshelf besides your own cookbooks. Sunghoon’s doll making books were something you rarely touched, if at all. But, you took a hard look at those too, your fingers running over the spines. They all felt like books, the spines hard and sturdy, but something about them still felt off to you. You looked at Sunghoon’s books again, pulling each one out a little to take a peek at the covers.

In the middle of you pulling one of the books, you heard a quiet click and the bookshelf came loose from the wall. You took a step back, shock showing all over your face. Gently, you grabbed the side of the bookshelf and pulled.

The bookshelf creaked open and revealed an opening that you had to bend down a little to enter. When you stepped inside the surprisingly large room, your eyes did a sweep of what was inside. You froze, your stomach dropping as you stared at what was in front of you, absolutely horrified. You didn’t even really know what was in front of you… It looked like an amalgamation of various body parts, stitched and sewn into one. Its skin was weirdly shiny, almost like it was made of some kind of plastic or resin while still keeping its elasticity.

You disregarded the rest of the room, instead taking careful steps towards the strange creation in front of you. It didn’t look neither dead nor alive and that confused you even further—it barely looked human. Its eyes and lips were sewn shut and it was completely hairless. It was held up onto its feet by long strips of silk hanging from the ceiling that was tied around its naked body. Next to where it stood was a table with thick locks of hair tied with ribbons of your favorite color.

Maybe this was the final crack in your mind and it was crumbling completely, but it kind of looked like you too. Even the hair on the table matched yours perfectly. If you looked past all the stitches, the weird shiny skin, and the lack of hair, it almost seemed like you were looking in a mirror. It looked like an unfinished, life-sized doll of you. Your stomach turned in on itself.

The fear in you raised tenfold in you when it started to twitch. You took a couple steps back from it when it began to pull on its restraints a little. It seemed to start to panic and its shiny arms pulled at the restraints keeping it up even more as it tried to reach out to you. You jumped back more, fearful tears filling your eyes. Your mouth opened to speak, but no words would come out.

The uncanny creation tried to speak, though, before realizing that its mouth was sewn shut. When it began to frightfully hum—the sound off tune and terrifying—did your body start to feel heavy and limp. It pulled at its restraints with all the little strength it had as it reached out to you and began to hum wildly… it hummed Sunghoon’s melody, the one he hummed when he worked.

Realization hit you like a tsunami. Not only was you dear husband making dolls of you, but he was trying to make a real, life-sized human doll of you. And it seemed that every part of this surreal creation was taken from another until it resembled you as close as he could get it. Your mind flashed to those six missing girls—the six missing girls that all looked eerily similar to you. Despite having all the puzzle pieces right in front of you, your mind refused to see the whole picture.

You backed up further, the back of your thighs hitting the desk that was against the back wall near the make-shift door. You twisted towards it, chest heaving as you scanned the scattered papers and opened books. You picked up what looked to be a journal Sunghoon kept and read over the open page with trembling hands.

The entry remarked at how the experiment was working well and how none of the body parts were rejecting like they did before. He praises how the process was much smoother than last time, how the girls he chose were the perfect fit. The journal dropped from your hands.

Those girls going missing due to Sunghoon was no longer speculation. Your eyes snapped back to his “experiment.” It must be those poor girls, their bodies sewn into one to look like you. You still didn’t want to believe it.

Tears poured from your eyes as fear sunk its claws deep within you and forced its way down your throat and into your heart. Your entire world came crashing down around you and quiet sobs left your mouth as you fought against the idea that your husband wasn’t who he said he was—that he was a kidnapper, a killer.

You rushed forwards, your arms raised towards his creation before you wrapped them around yourself and remained a safe distance. “No!” you exclaimed as you rapidly shook your head. “No, this is all a misunderstanding—a mistake! Sunghoon wouldn’t do this… He isn’t that type of person!” You wiped at your eyes, almost believing your own words until you dropped your hands.

Dolls completely surrounded the peculiar creation—Sunghoon’s experiment. It was even more that the ones that surrounded you in the hallway when they were showing you the scene in the dollhouse. They all looked at you for a moment before slowly turning to look up at how the amalgamation of stolen girls thrashed towards you, still frantically humming.

The dollhouse.

It was a warning. Those scenes the dolls showed you… it was all a warning. This was what they were trying to tell you this entire time. This wasn’t just any ordinary experiment for Sunghoon, a dollmaker going completely mad in his craft—no. This experiment was for you. He was using these girls, tearing apart their bodies limb from limb and creating some freakish doll of them that was meant to be you. It was practice… He was doing all of this so he knew exactly what to do when he laid his tools down and cut into the real thing. You were next.

Sunghoon’s words rang in your ears and bounced around in your head: “I want to take you apart, carve into you like I do my dolls, but this time make something real. Have you be so perfect forever.” You finally understood it now.

Suddenly, all thrashing ceased and the humming finally abruptly stopped. The only thing that filled the silence was your muffled sobs. “I’m sorry,” you cried, unsure if it even heard you. “I’m so sorry.”

You stumbled towards the opening of the room and barely missed hitting your head on the way out. You didn’t even wait for the bookshelf to click back into place before rushing through the hallway and to the kitchen. For once in your entire life, you hoped that Sunghoon had a long night at work.

Nearly falling into the kitchen counter, you shakily grabbed the landline on the wall. Those bold numbers of the anonymous tip hotline flashed behind your eyes and you rushed to put in the numbers, putting the ringing phone to your ear. “This is the anonymous tip hotline for the six missing girls. Please only share useful tips that could help a breakthrough in the case. Do you have any information to share?”

Your breathing came out heavy and you tried to force the oxygen to reach your lungs, inhaling sharply as you tried to find your words. “I… I-I think my husband kidnapped those girls…” you breathed in a whisper. The woman on the other end of the line started talking, but your focus was abruptly taken when you heard another, more familiar voice behind you.

“Something scare you, darling?” Sunghoon asks, his voice gentle and filled with worry. You couldn’t tell if he was being genuine.

You jumped, pressing further into the kitchen counter as you spun in place, the phone leaving your ear. Sunghoon sat at the kitchen table, his thick brows knitted together. You didn’t even hear him come back home. Despite the landline being away from your ear, you still heard the woman on the other end asking you questions, frantically asking if you were still there. You were completely frozen.

Sunghoon rose to his feet and the stove light illuminated him. You saw him differently now. No longer was he your loving husband, he was something else. Still, you hated the way your heart soared when you locked eyes on him. How your body relaxed, even in the slightest. You hated how you felt complete now that he was here and how you wanted to run into his arms.

He crossed the short distance to you, his arms coming to rest against the counter on both sides of you. You inhaled shakily now that you and Sunghoon were face to face. Without his eyes leaving yours, Sunghoon took the phone from your quivering hand and hung it back up on the wall. His arm returned to its position next to you, completely caging you within his arms.

Sunghoon leaned his forehead against yours. “I thought I told you that you had nothing to be afraid of, not when I’m here.” His voice was still gentle—soft—and it was lowered as he moved one of his arms to take one of your shaky hands in his. You wanted to pull away from him and wrap your arms around him simultaneously. You felt exhausted.

You voice shook, “Y-You kidnapped those girls, didn’t you? Turned them into… into…” Sunghoon drew back to look at you, his head falling to the side as his brows pushed together. His confused look made you start to question if you had been imagining everything—the dolls, the dollhouse, the hidden room, the experiment. “Into… what?” Sunghoon asks.

“...Into me!” you exclaimed, more tears running down your already wet cheeks as you choked out a sob. Sunghoon’s hand tightened around yours. “You killed them… and who knows how many others! Am I next? Are you going to kill me too?”

Sunghoon let go of your hand so he could cup your face with both of his hands, his thumbs wiping underneath your eyes to get rid of the fallen tears. “They aren’t dead!” he says. “And I swear to you that I’ll never hurt you, my love. You know that. Think of them as… reborn.”

You started to tremble in his arms and tried to shift away from him, but Sunghoon wouldn’t let you go anywhere. “Is that what you’re going to do to me? Was all of this—” you gestured around the room at all the dolls of you sitting pretty on the various shelves around the kitchen “—just practice for the real thing?” you spat out. You tried to move again, but Sunghoon’s hands dropped from your face to your upper arms to keep you in place.

“No!” Sunghoon started, his voice coated in disbelief that you would even ask him that as he shook his head. “No… can’t you see? This—” he used a finger to motion around the kitchen at the dolls “—is a reflection of how much I love you. My devotion to you. You, above anything else, above everything else. A peek inside my mind and how the only thing in there is you.”

“A-And that experiment of yours—the missing girls? Behind the wall?” you asked.

“That… is my dedication to you—m-my oath.” Sunghoon was completely desperate. He pleaded with you, his eyes wide and begging you to believe his words. His eyes were watery, like if you didn’t believe him he might cry as well, and he looked at you over the rim of his wire-framed glasses that slipped down his nose bridge.

You didn’t know what to believe. Didn’t know what to say. You just wanted to go upstairs with Sunghoon and lay in your bed and forget about everything that you’ve witnessed as he held you close to his chest. It was all too much, and your resolve was starting to crack and shatter. You wanted to smooth down your wrinkled dress and fix your messy hair, but Sunghoon didn’t let you move a single inch in fear that you would run from him. You couldn’t tell which one of you was more terrified.

His hands slid down from your upper arms and down to your hands, grasping them so tight that it started to hurt. “Come… Come with me…” he trailed, gulping thickly. You stared at him with wide, frightful eyes, suddenly unwilling to move, but Sunghoon desperately pleaded with you. He looked like he was seconds from getting down onto his knees. “Please,” he begged, pulling you into him, as his voice cracked. “You know I’d never do anything ever to hurt you.”

Sunghoon took a step back, hoping that you would follow after him, and you did. You let him guide you down the hallway all the way to the bookshelf and into the room behind it, his grip on your hands never once loosening. He led you in front of the uncanny image of you that he created. “I know how it looks,” Sunghoon says, his voice hushed. “But there’s no pain, no sorrow, nothing.”

It didn’t try to reach out to you like it did earlier and all the dolls that once surrounded it were gone. It didn’t hum that out-of-tune, terrifying version of the melody Sunghoon hummed when he worked either. It just hung limply from its silk restraints. “It just is,” Sunghoon continued. “And when it’s fully done, and completely polished, it’ll be flawless.” He delicately took your chin and guided your head to the side so you looked at him. Your body finally stopped fighting against itself and you relaxed in his grasp. “Like you are.”

Sunghoon leaned forward, hesitantly pausing to look at you again before bringing his lips to meet yours. He pulled you into him, his body wrapping around yours, and you timidly invited him in.

His lips felt so good against yours, and you knew that once you parted for air you’ll miss the feeling of them forever until he kissed you again. It felt right—it felt like home. The home where the two of you were always together and he held you like he was holding you now—like he was afraid that if he let go he would lose you. That if he didn’t hold you like a delicate porcelain cup you would chip and crack and shatter. And you would.

When Sunghoon’s lips moved against yours like they did in this moment, everything fell into place. All your worries slid off your back and for a brief minute, it was just the two of you in the whole wide world. Nothing existed but him, and his body enveloped in yours, and his touch that made you burn. And the flames danced so beautifully for him, didn’t they?

Just when you were about to pull away to quell the heaviness in your lungs, you felt a sudden sharp pain in your neck. You hissed, breaking away from Sunghoon’s lips just barely. Sunghoon chased your lips, holding the back of your head and pulling you closer against his body as he kissed you harder.

You whimpered against his lips, your nails digging into his arms as you tried to free yourself from his vice-like grip. It was no use, Sunghoon was never going to let you go. You felt your body grow heavy in his arms and he had to hold you up. Your vision began to spot black and fray around the edges, and your ears rang terribly. Just before you passed out completely, and over the ringing of your ears, you heard Sunghoon’s muffled voice as he kissed your neck where the pain stemmed.

“I love you. I love you so much that it hurts, I truly do.”

You fade in and out of consciousness as time passes around you. Sometimes you see blurred glimpses of Sunghoon, sometimes it's just an array of colors until you black out again.

You aren’t sure how long it’s been when your eyes finally do open and you remain conscious for good. Blinking away the blurriness in your vision, you examine how you're laying on the couch in your living room. Your entire body aches and it feels stiff. Your head is pounding and you almost close your eyes again to ease the pain you feel. You notice how you’re in different clothes and there’s a blanket over top of you. Too late do you notice the figure in your peripheral, and your eyes shift to look at them.

Sunghoon hovers over you, his expression a chaotic mix of hopeful, relief, and worry as he stares down at you. He’s wearing different clothes too, and his hair is a complete mess, like he’s been running his hands through it, and his glasses almost slide completely off his face. “Are you here, my love?” Sunghoon asks quietly. His voice sounds slightly hoarse.

You give him a confused look, pushing the blanket off of you and crying out from the pain you feel as you try and sit up. Sunghoon rushes to your aid, tossing the blanket to the side without a single thought, and helps ease you to your feet. Your gaze drops to your legs as he helps you stand and you notice how weird they look—shiny. There’s slight indented lines at your knees, too. You look at your arms and they’re the same.

You look doll-like.

Once you’re steadily on your feet, Sunghoon moves a step back to take you all in. You notice how done up you are and when you carefully raise a stiff and sore arm to your hair you feel how it’s styled. Your gaze lands on Sunghoon’s face, his eyes meeting yours.

His eyes are shining—completely full of love and pride. You’ve only seen him look like this when he first came to you with one of the dolls he made that looked the most like you, and when the two of you are in bed and his fingers are gently caressing your skin as he admires you. But, it was even more intense than in those scenarios. Confusion clouds you and you wait for Sunghoon to say something, and he does. One singular word.

“Perfect.”

[ kipo’s note . . . ] would it be wrong to say how i absolutely #needthat #desperately… like hehe yes i’ll be your perfect doll for you forever and ever and ever (๑´ω`๑)

𖥦 ﴾ 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗎𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 . . . 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 , 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 ﴿ ︵͡   𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙗𝙖𝙘𝙠 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙗𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙨 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙬𝙚𝙡𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚 (´ε｀ʃƪ)♡

🏷️﹙ 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍? 𝖼𝗅𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 ﹚ @jjunberry @gothgyuu @gyuuberries @hyukascampfire @xylatox @ghstzzn @izzyy-stuff @sunoosgfv @jihyokat @whosserina @jellymochii @innocygnet @sumsumtingz @riribelle @yeoningz @minaateez @beombunni @jiryunn @lvrs-street2mmorrow @everythingvirgoes @beomieeeeeeeeeeees @fancypeacepersona @deobitifull @tinycatharsis @strawberryshoujosundae

© jjunbug - all rights reserved. do not repost on any social media or sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

45 ┆Oh. (0.5k words)

Honestly, you were confused as to why Wonyoung dragged you to the club room without any explanation. She even left you there, saying that she would be back to let you out.

Did you do something bad to deserve a time out from your previous club president?

You had so many questions to ask her when she returned.

On the other hand, Jungwon was nervous. What if you didn’t see him the same way? Him and Wonyoung had spoken about confessing to you when the two hung out, but he was unsure.

He couldn’t tell the boys either. They would tease him too much before offering him any help.

The ding from his phone gained his attention, making his over consuming thoughts disappear. It was from Wonyoung. Her message read the words, ‘coast is clear’, with a thumbs up and grinning emoji. 

Reality was now sinking in. Yang Jungwon was going to confess to the girl he liked. Something he had never experienced before. 

He rummaged in his pocket for the key to the club room and inserted it into the lock. 

“Jungwon?” You called, turning around to look at him. He was barely visible in your vision. The club room was dimmed due to the inactivity of the space. 

“Hey,” he greeted with a bashful smile. You examined his figure, taking note of how blonde his hair appeared and how his hands remained behind him.

“Oh, here.” He said while handing you a bouquet of daisies.

“I didn’t know what flowers you liked… I just went off of what you posted recently.” 

“What’s going on?” You asked, confused. It was a valid reaction. One, you were randomly brought to the club room you rarely visited ever since you began helping the yearbook club, and two, the boy who you thought liked another girl was currently handing you flowers.

What the hell was happening?

You looked at him with furrowed brows as his eyes stared into yours. He seemed hesitant and nervous. 

“Jungwon,” you began, about to ask him the same question from before.

“What’s—”

“I like you.” He interrupted, leaving you stunned.

“I truly do like you and get all flustered when we’re close to each other. It’s kind of bad, but I’m not ashamed of it. You’re genuinely an amazing person and I failed to realize it for the last three years. Instead, I shielded your true self with the one I made up in my head after we got off on the wrong foot.” Jungwon explained.

You paused as Jungwon watched you for any signs of emotion. However, worry washed over him in an instant. You stayed silent longer than Jungwon expected you to. What if you didn’t see him the same way and he had poured his heart out to you for nothing?

What if you were going to humiliate him after all of this?

“Sorry I—”

“What about Wonyoung? You don’t like her?” You asked, cutting him off while feeling all flustered and confused.

“What—No, of course not. Why would I?” His brows furrowed in confusion. What were you talking about?

“You two were always together and got pretty close to each other recently…”

“Would you believe it if I said she was helping me with my feelings this whole time? She found out because of the video I sent her of the arts night event… It was kind of embarrassing, but luckily it brought me here.”

“Oh.”

PREVIOUS MASTERLIST NEXT

NOTE — me and those Oh. endings LMAOO

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @ch4c0nnenh4 @ancnymcnzjy

GOOD GRACES TAGLIST — @anuisamazing @garrdenwon @dreamiestay @starfallia @mrchweeee @mymelodyfanatic @getoxo @jiamini @imnotyizhuo @heartheejake @wonlluvie @theothernads @yvjw @riribelle @winuvs @shotaddicted @hollxe1 @pinknjm @en-dream @elegancefr @wensurr @enhaz1 @r1kification @sunghxxnie @unhakki @hoonieluv @veilico @ddolleri @ahnneyong @stvrriki @domfikeluva @mensisim @tasnemluvs @httpenhoon @sch1z0prenic @kazemiya @rairaiblog @enhypenlovre @starry-eyed-bimbo @cupidhoons @miyawwn @siekksjs @wonfused @renjuneoo @wildtigerlili @nishiriks @letwiiparkjay

© JUYEOZ

[elryuse]

Press Record

Julie X Male Reader

Tags : Record Sex, Naughty, Romance, Obsession, Cowgirl, Sweaty

Words : 2,813 Words

This Fic Is Dedicated to My Friend @Pizza_anon. Thanks once again For the Commission My Friend. I hope You Guys enjoyed it.

The first time Julie glanced my way, I felt it like a jolt of electricity. Her green eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto mine across the crowded dining hall. For a split second, her infectious smile flickered, replaced by something darker, more predatory. I should’ve looked away, but I didn’t. I couldn’t. That was my first mistake.

“You’re new, right?” she said, sliding into the seat across from me like she owned it. Her voice was low, teasing, and carried an edge that made my stomach twist. “I’m Julie. You’ve probably heard of me.”

I had. Everyone had. Julie wasn’t just a name; she was a reputation. The girl you didn’t cross, the girl who could turn your life into a minefield with a single smirk. But up close, she was magnetic—her messy dark hair, the way she leaned forward like she was about to share a secret, the faint scent of cherry lip gloss that made my pulse quicken.

“Yeah,” I managed, my voice steady despite the knot in my chest. “I’ve heard.”

Her lips curved into a smirk. “Good. Then you know not to waste my time.”

She stayed for exactly three minutes, just long enough to leave me flustered and confused, before disappearing back into the crowd. But that was just the beginning. Julie had a way of inserting herself into my life, like a storm I didn’t see coming. She’d show up at parties, corner me in hallways, and text me at random hours with messages that ranged from ”You’re cute when you’re nervous” to ”Don’t make me come find you.”

And then there was the night at her friend’s party. The night she pulled me into a bedroom, locked the door, and whispered, “Let’s film it,” like it was the most natural thing in the world. My heart raced, my hands trembled, and I should’ve said no. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because when Julie looked at me like that, with those piercing eyes and that devilish smile, I wasn’t just a target—I was something she wanted. And that was all it took.

Now, we’re alone in my dorm room, the air thick with tension. My roommate’s out for the evening, and Julie’s perched on the edge of my bed, her legs crossed, toe tapping idly against the floor. She’s wearing a leather jacket that’s too big for her, making her look smaller, more vulnerable. But I know better. Julie’s always in control.

“Let me film you,” she says, her voice low and steady, devoid of the teasing tone she usually uses. This isn’t a joke anymore. It’s a demand.

I swallow hard, my throat dry. “Julie…”

“Don’t ‘Julie’ me,” she interrupts, leaning forward so her face is inches from mine. Her breath is warm against my skin, and I can smell the faint hint of coffee on her lips. “You know you want to. You always do.”

“It’s not just about what I want,” I try, but she cuts me off with a sharp laugh.

“Bullshit. It’s always about what you want. You just won’t admit it.” Her hand finds my thigh, her fingers digging in just enough to make me wince. “You like it when I push you. You like it when I take control. Don’t act like you don’t.”

I want to argue, to tell her she’s wrong, but the words catch in my throat. Because she’s not wrong. Not even close. There’s something about Julie—the way she challenges me, the way she makes me feel alive in a way no one else ever has—that I can’t resist. It’s dangerous, intoxicating, and I know it’s going to end badly. But right now, I don’t care.

“Fine,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “But just this once.”

Her smirk returns, and she pulls her phone from her pocket, setting it up on the dresser with the camera angled perfectly. “That’s what you said last time,” she teases, sliding her jacket off and tossing it to the floor. “And the time before that.”

I don’t respond. Instead, I watch as she climbs onto the bed, straddling my lap with practiced ease. Her hands find my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin as she leans in close, her lips brushing against my ear. “Let’s see how loud I can make you,” she whispers, her breath hot against my skin.

And then she’s kissing me, hard and demanding, her tongue sliding against mine as her hips grind against me. I lose myself in the sensation, my hands gripping her waist as she takes control, her movements confident and relentless. I can feel the heat building between us, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until it’s almost unbearable.

“Julie,” I groan, my hands sliding up her back, pulling her closer. She responds with a low hum, her nails dragging down my chest as she breaks the kiss, her eyes locking onto mine.

“Say it,” she demands, her voice rough with desire. “Tell me you want this.”

“I want this,” I breathe, my heart pounding in my chest. “I want you.”

Her smile is wicked, triumphant, and she leans in to kiss me again, her hands tangling in my hair as she moves against me. The sound of our breathing fills the room, mingling with the soft creak of the bedsprings as she takes what she wants, leaving me helpless to resist.

And then she pulls back, her eyes glittering with mischief as she glances at the camera. “Let’s give them something to talk about,” she says, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Before I can respond, she’s moving again, her hips grinding against mine in a way that makes my breath catch.

“Julie,” I gasp, my hands tightening on her hips as I feel myself getting closer, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until I’m on the edge. She doesn’t slow down, doesn’t give me a moment to catch my breath, and I know she’s not going to stop until she gets what she wants.

“That’s it,” she purrs, her voice low and sultry as she leans in close, her lips brushing against mine. “Let me see you come undone.”

I don’t last much longer after that. The tension snaps, and I’m lost in the sensation, my hands gripping her hips as I spill inside her. She doesn’t stop, her movements slowing but not stopping as she rides out the aftershocks, her eyes locked on mine.

“Good boy,” she whispers, her voice soft and satisfied as she leans in to kiss me. But before I can respond, she’s pulling away, reaching for the camera and turning it off. “Now,” she says, her smirk returning, “let’s see who’s brave enough to ask what happened tonight.”

I watch as she slips her jacket back on, her movements casual and unhurried, like we didn’t just… like this wasn’t… I shake my head, trying to clear the fog in my mind, but Julie’s already at the door, her hand on the knob.

“Same time next week?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder with a smile that’s equal parts sweet and dangerous.

I don’t answer. I don’t need to. Because we both know I’ll be here just waiting for her. And she’d love that more than anything…. “You’re not that hard to figure out,” she smirks, turning the door open and walking out with not a care in the world.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence of the dorm room. My heart was still racing, my mind a chaotic swirl of desire, guilt, and something dangerously close to obsession. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I didn’t know how to feel. All I knew was that Julie had left her mark on me—again—and I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to scrub it away.

The next week passed in a blur. I tried to focus on classes, on friends, on anything other than the promise of her return. But it was no use. Everywhere I looked, I saw her—her smirk, her eyes, her lips. She haunted me, even when she wasn’t there. And then, just like she said, she came.

It was late. The dorm room was dark, the only light coming from the streetlamp outside the window. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall, when the door flew open without warning. Julie stood in the doorway, her hair a mess, her eyes red and puffy. She looked wild, unpredictable, and more dangerous than ever. I froze, unsure of what to say, but before I could even think to ask what was wrong, she was on me.

“He fucking cheated on me,” she spat, her voice shaking with anger as she slammed the door shut behind her. “That piece of shit had the nerve to lie to my face, and I believed him. I actually fucking believed him.” Her hands were trembling, her chest heaving with every breath. She looked broken, but also furious—like a wounded animal ready to lash out.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t even have time to process what was happening before she was in my face, her hands gripping the front of my shirt. “Do you know how that feels?” she demanded, her voice rising. “To give someone everything and have them throw it back in your face like it’s nothing?”

“Julie—” I started, but she cut me off.

“No. Don’t talk. Don’t say a fucking word.” Her eyes burned into mine, and for a moment, I thought she was going to hit me. Instead, she kissed me. Hard. Her lips crashed against mine, desperate and angry and raw. I could taste the salt of her tears, the bitter tang of her rage. She wasn’t asking for comfort. She was taking what she needed.

Her hands were everywhere��pulling at my clothes, clawing at my skin. I didn’t resist. I didn’t want to. There was something electric about her in that moment, something that made me forget everything except the feel of her body against mine. She pushed me back onto the bed, climbing on top of me with a ferocity that took my breath away.

“You’re going to make me forget him,” she said, her voice low and trembling. “You’re going to make me forget everything.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t. She was a storm, and I was caught in her chaos. Her hands tugged at the waistband of my pants, and within seconds, they were on the floor. She didn’t bother with finesse or foreplay. She was too angry, too desperate. She straddled me, her thighs pressing against my hips, and I could feel how wet she was through the thin fabric of her skirt.

“Julie—” I started again, but she didn’t let me finish.

“Shut up,” she growled, her hands gripping my shoulders so tightly it hurt. “You don’t get to talk. You don’t get to think. You’re just going to take it.”

And then she was on me, sliding down onto me with a gasp that sounded more like a cry of pain than pleasure. She didn’t stop, didn’t pause, didn’t give either of us time to adjust. She just moved, her hips grinding against mine in a rhythm that was as punishing as it was intoxicating. She was fucking me, but it didn’t feel like sex. It felt like revenge.

Her nails dug into my chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She was crying again, but I couldn’t tell if it was from anger or pain or something else entirely. Her body tightened around me, and I could feel every shudder, every tremor, every flicker of emotion that she was trying to drown out.

“You’re mine,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You’re fucking mine.”

I didn’t argue. I didn’t even think. I just let her take what she needed, gave her what I could. Her body was slick with sweat, her skin hot against mine. The air in the room was thick, heavy, charged with raw, unspoken emotion. She leaned forward, her lips brushing against my ear, and I could feel her breath, warm and shaky.

“I hate him,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I hate him so much.”

And then she was coming, her body tightening around me in a way that made my vision blur. I followed her over the edge, unable to hold back any longer. She collapsed on top of me, her breathing ragged, her forehead pressed against my chest. For a moment, neither of us moved. I wasn’t sure if it was over, or if this was just another pause in the storm.

She lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine, and for the first time since she’d walked in, she looked vulnerable. “Don’t ever lie to me,” she said, her voice soft but deadly serious. “Don’t ever fucking lie to me.”

I nodded, unsure of what else to do. She stared at me for a moment longer, her eyes searching mine, and then she leaned in and kissed me. It was softer this time, slower, but there was still an edge to it—a reminder that she was in control, that she always would be.

“Good boy,” she whispered against my lips, and then she was pulling away, her body slipping off mine. She reached for her skirt, pulling it back on with quick, practiced movements. She didn’t look at me as she dressed, her face a mask of determination.

“Julie—” I started, but she cut me off with a sharp look.

“Don’t,” she said, her voice cold. “Just don’t.”

And then she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her, leaving me alone in the silence once again. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my body still humming with the memory of her. I didn’t know what had just happened, or what it meant. All I knew was that Julie had blown through my life like a hurricane, leaving destruction in her wake, and I was already craving the next storm.

The first time she left, I thought it was over.

The second time, I knew better.

Julie had always been like this-hot, cold, here, gone. She never stuck around long enough to let things settle, never gave me a chance to ask what any of this meant. Maybe that's why I let it happen. Because I knew if I tried to hold onto her, she'd slip right through my fingers.

But she kept coming back.

The first time was a week after that night. My phone lit up at 2 a.m. with a single message.

Unlock your door.

And like an idiot, I did.

She didn't say a word when she slipped inside.

Just pulled me into her, fingers curling in my hair, mouth already on mine like she'd been starving for it. She never let me ask questions, never let me talk about what we were doing. She took what she wanted, and I let her.

It became a pattern.

Julie would vanish for days, sometimes weeks, and just when I started to think maybe I was finally free of her, she'd find her way back. A text. A knock on my door. A hand on my wrist when she caught me in the hallway between classes, her grip just tight enough to let me know she still had a hold on me.

And every time, I let her in.

Every time, I let her ruin me a little more.

But something was different now.

The first time she left, I thought she was running from me. Now, I wasn't so sure.

She started lingering after.

Not much-just a few minutes longer, just long enough to catch her watching me when she thought I wasn't looking. Just long enough to notice the way she hesitated before pulling her clothes back on, like she wanted to say something but didn't know how.

Just long enough for me to start wondering if maybe, just maybe, she was getting addicted, too.

Then one night, everything changed.

I wasn't expecting her. It had been two weeks since I'd last seen her, and I was finally starting to believe she was done with me for good. And then, out of nowhere, she was at my door, pounding so hard it made the walls shake.

When I opened it, she pushed past me without a word, her hair a mess, her hands trembling.

"Julie-"

"Shut up," she muttered, her voice unsteady. "Just -just let me stay."

And for the first time, she didn't touch me.

She didn't rip my clothes off, didn't press her lips to my skin. She just climbed into my bed, curled into herself, and closed her eyes.

And I knew, then and there, that I wasn't the only one craving the next storm.

She was, too.

And maybe-just maybe-this time, she was afraid of it.

[kaiyunsim]

best lover —

pairing : bf!taesan x gn!reader

summary : after taesan works hard for the newest comeback you wanted to get him a gift... something perfect. but you don't know what exactly to get him so you get help from his roommate.

warnings : fluff, angst (just a little bit), tense confrontation, some music references, taesan gets kinda jealous, kind of a continuation of this fic

a/n : this lowkey made me relapse into the emo/punk genre and now i'm actively listening to them again ! taesan so silly here.

queueing : best lover - bibi, and july - heize + dean

[requested]

— wc : 4.8k — not proof read —

you’ve always known taesan was cool.

not in the tryhard way, not in the way people force an image to seem untouchable. no, he’s effortlessly cool. the kind of cool that comes from simply existing, from being so unapologetically himself that it draws people in.

his aesthetic is proof of that—dark clothes, silver rings, an ever-growing collection of band tees that he claims aren’t a collection but still seem to multiply every time you see him. his playlists are filled with gritty guitar riffs and melancholic lyrics, songs that feel like they belong in a coming-of-age film.

you love it. you love the way he leans against walls like a movie character, the way his fingers tap out drum beats on tables when he’s lost in thought. the way his voice gets softer when he talks about music, when he lets his guard down just enough for you to see the warmth underneath.

so, when their comeback is finally announced, when you see the hours of training, late-night rehearsals, and exhaustion culminate into something incredible, you know you need to do something. something that says, i see you. i see how hard you’ve worked, and i’m proud of you.

but what do you get someone like taesan?

he’s never been the type to want extravagant gifts. he shrugs off praise, mumbles “it’s nothing” when people tell him he’s done well. but you know he keeps every little note fans give him, that he still has the random trinkets the members bought him over the years.

so it has to be something personal. something that actually means something.

you think about it for days, running through ideas in your head. clothes? no, too easy. he already has everything he likes. accessories? maybe, but he’s picky, and you don’t trust yourself to pick out something he’d actually wear.

and then it hits you.

vinyls.

taesan loves music in a way that’s deeper than just listening. he collects records, always talking about how certain albums sound different on vinyl, how the warmth and crackle make it feel more alive. you’ve seen the way he runs his fingers over the covers, the way he carefully places them on his turntable like he’s handling something sacred.

but you don’t know enough about it.

you know the bands he listens to, sure, but not the specific pressings, not which editions are worth having, not which ones he’s been searching for. you need help.

so, you text the only person who would know and would be the most help.

sungho.

—

you: hey, random question, but do you think you could help me with something?

he replies almost immediately.

sungho: depends. am i gonna regret saying yes?

you snort. typical.

you: no, it’s for taesan. i wanna get him some vinyls, but i don’t know which ones he’d actually want.

a pause. then—

sungho: oh. you’re going ot make him a happy boyfriend for sure. sungho: yeah, i can help. you free tomorrow?

relief washes over you.

you: yeah. thanks, sungho. seriously.

sungho: don’t thank me yet. wait till we actually find something good.

you smile, pocketing your phone.

this is a good plan. a perfect plan.

now, you just have to keep it a secret.

the next morning, you wake up with a nervous excitement buzzing under your skin.

taesan is still half-asleep when you see him, his hair messy from sleep, the collar of his oversized shirt slipping down one shoulder. he looks soft like this, different from his usual sharp edges and guarded expressions.

“morning,” you say, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek before he can grumble in protest.

he mumbles something incoherent, eyes still closed, before reaching out and lazily wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you closer.

you laugh, poking his side. “i have to go out for a bit.”

that wakes him up a little. his eyes blink open, groggy but alert. “where?”

you freeze for half a second before forcing yourself to play it cool. “just running errands.”

his brow furrows slightly, but he doesn’t question it. instead, he just tightens his grip around you for a moment before letting go.

“be safe,” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

your heart squeezes at that.

you brush his hair out of his face, letting your fingers linger for a second longer than necessary. “always.”

—

meeting up with sungho feels like a mission.

he’s already waiting outside the taesan's dorm room, dressed casually but still effortlessly put together, a stark contrast to the slightly chaotic energy you’re bringing with you.

“you look nervous,” he says, amused.

“because i am.”

he raises an eyebrow. “it’s just vinyl shopping.”

“yeah, but it’s for taesan,” you stress. “i can’t mess this up. i need to find something perfect.”

sungho rolls his eyes but leads the way inside the vinyl store, hidden in the corners of the busy streets.

the moment you step in, you’re overwhelmed.

rows and rows of records stretch out in front of you, organized into sections you barely understand. the store smells like old paper and something nostalgic, a quiet hum of music playing from the speakers.

sungho glances at you. “you know what bands he likes, right?”

you nod. “yeah, but i don’t know what he already has.”

“then we start with the basics.”

he guides you through the aisles, pointing out albums that fit taesan’s taste. some are obvious bands you’ve seen on his playlists, artists you recognize from the posters in his room. others, not so much.

“this one’s a classic,” sungho says, pulling out a worn-looking album. “he’s mentioned it before, i think he even has a t-shirt of them.”

it was the black parade by my chemical romance

you take it from him, running your fingers over the cover. “do you think he already has the vinyl?”

sungho shakes his head. “nah, he would’ve bragged about it if he did.”

you smile at that. taesan isn’t the bragging type, not really, but when it comes to things he loves, he can’t help but share them with you. you can already picture the way his eyes will light up when he sees the gift, the way he’ll trace the album cover with careful fingers before hugging you in that quiet, deliberate way of his.

this is good. this is exactly what you wanted.

you glance at sungho. “i think we’re on the right track.”

he smirks. “told you.”

you roll your eyes but can’t hide your grin.

this is going to be perfect.

if you can keep it a secret long enough.

you flip through the stacks carefully, the plastic sleeves crinkling under your fingertips as you skim the selection. rows of album covers stare back at you, some bold and vibrant, others muted and mysterious, each one a different piece of someone’s story.

sungho stands beside you, already pulling out records with ease, flipping them over to check editions and pressings like it’s second nature.

“how do you even know all this?” you ask, watching as he inspects a black-and-white cover, his eyes narrowing slightly before he shakes his head and puts it back.

he smirks. “taesan’s not the only one with taste, you know.”

you roll your eyes. “yeah, but you act like this is your second home.”

he hums, running his fingers along the edge of a shelf. “it kinda is. when i first moved into the dorms, i’d come to places like this just to kill time. got to know a lot about music that way.”

that makes sense. sungho has that effortless, older-brother energy, the kind that makes you feel like he’s always been one step ahead of everyone else. but even so, you know there’s more to it. something about the way he says it, like music was a comfort rather than just a hobby.

you glance down at the album in your hands. the artwork is dramatic, painted in deep reds and blacks, the kind of thing you could easily imagine taesan leaving out on his desk just because it looks cool. it was titled a fever you can’t sweat out this time, by panic at the disco

you hesitate. “what about this one?”

sungho looks over, and to your relief, he nods in approval. “solid pick. taesan likes them. they have that whole raw, gritty sound he’s into.”

you exhale, setting it aside in the growing pile of vinyls you’ve picked out. “good. i was kinda guessing.”

sungho snickers. “if you were completely guessing, you would’ve picked something embarrassing.”

you give him a flat look. “i wouldn’t do that.”

“you sure? no boyband vinyls hidden in that stack?”

“why are you acting like that would be a crime?”

he laughs, shaking his head. “nah, but taesan would probably combust.”

you grin at the thought. he probably would. his whole tough, brooding image crumbling the second someone dared to associate him with anything remotely bright and upbeat. you’ve teased him about it before, played pop songs in his presence just to watch him pretend he wasn’t listening.

but this isn’t about teasing him. this is about him.

you glance around the store, taking in the dim lighting, the faint sound of a record spinning in the background. a few other customers linger nearby, flipping through vinyls with the same careful reverence, but none of them seem rushed. it’s the kind of place taesan would get lost in, taking his time with every shelf, soaking in the atmosphere.

you wish he was here.

you shake the thought away before it can settle too deep.

“okay,” you say, straightening up. “i think i need at least one more.”

sungho scans the shelves before reaching over and pulling out a record without hesitation.

“this.”

you take it from him, studying the cover. it’s striking… american idiot by greenday.

“he’s been looking for this one,” sungho explains. “i remember him complaining about how it’s always out of stock.”

your chest warms. “then that’s perfect.”

sungho grins. “congrats, you officially have a good gift… or multiple”

you roll your eyes but can’t help but smile. “thanks for the approval.”

“anytime.”

you head to the counter, placing the records down carefully as the cashier rings them up. the prices make you wince a little. vinyl collecting is not cheap. but you don’t hesitate. taesan is worth it.

when you step back outside, the air feels cooler, a slight breeze brushing against your skin. sungho stretches beside you, squinting up at the sky.

“so,” he says. “how are you planning to give it to him?”

you blink. “uh. just... give it to him?”

he gives you a flat look. “you’re really bad at this.”

“excuse me?”

“c’mon,” he says. “you go through all this trouble, sneak around just to surprise him, and you’re just gonna hand it to him like it’s a bag of chips?”

you frown. “what am i supposed to do? make a scavenger hunt?”

“i mean, that would be funny.”

“sungho.”

he chuckles. “fine, fine. but at least make it a moment, you know? like, put them in a nice box or something. set the mood a little.”

you consider that. he’s right. you don’t just want this to be a casual exchange. you want taesan to feel how much this means.

“okay,” you say slowly. “i’ll think of something.”

sungho pats your shoulder. “good. because if you don’t, i’m telling him i helped.”

you gasp. “you wouldn’t.”

his grin is downright evil. “try me.”

you groan, shoving him lightly as he laughs.

but despite the teasing, there’s a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. because for all the effort, all the second-guessing, all the overthinking. you know this is the right thing to do.

you just hope taesan sees it that way, too.

you and sungho are now wandering the streets, bags in hand, the weight of them a constant reminder of what you're keeping from taesan. there's a knot in your stomach, anxiety creeping in at the thought of what will happen once you return to the dorm.

sungho notices you fidgeting with your phone, eyes flicking between your screen and the road ahead. "you've been checking your messages like every two seconds," he says with a knowing smile. "taesan giving you trouble?"

"i... i don’t know," you mutter, glancing at your phone again. "he hasn’t texted yet. i think he’s mad."

sungho snorts. "he’s always mad."

you roll your eyes but can't help the tension building inside you. it's not like taesan to be suspicious like this. sure, he's possessive at times, but you’ve always been upfront with him. today, though, everything feels off. you know he’s probably wondering where you are, especially after leaving so abruptly.

after a few more moments of walking, your phone buzzes in your hand. it’s a message from taesan.

you open it quickly, your heart dropping when you read the text.

taesan: where are you?

you can almost hear the frustration in his words, even though they’re so short. you hesitate for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. the last thing you want is to reveal anything.

“everything okay?” sungho asks, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow.

“yeah,” you say quickly, typing back a response. "just... running… errands…"

you: just out. why?

you hit send and try to push the worry away. but it doesn’t help when your phone buzzes again, another message from taesan.

taesan: are you by yourself?

your stomach tightens. it feels like he’s fishing for something, trying to confirm his suspicions. you swallow hard. taesan doesn’t know you’re out with sungho. he probably thinks you’re just alone, maybe out with someone else. the thought of him jumping to conclusions makes you tense up.

“you need to tell him the truth, man,” sungho says, half-joking but still serious. “it’s gonna be hard to keep it up much longer.”

you bite your lip, looking at the text again. taesan doesn’t like being kept in the dark. but if you tell him you're out with sungho, there's no way you can keep the surprise a secret.

you: yeah, just me. out by myself.

you send the message quickly, almost immediately regretting it. the lie feels wrong in your gut, but you can’t risk ruining the surprise.

as soon as you hit send, another text from taesan comes through.

taesan: you didn’t tell me where you went. it’s weird, you know. don’t lie to me.

your heart sinks. this is exactly what you were afraid of. you can feel his frustration radiating through the words, even though they’re brief. taesan might not say it outright, but you know he’s pissed.

“is he mad?” sungho asks, eyes narrowing as he watches you.

“yeah,” you say quietly, looking at the screen again. “he thinks i’m lying.”

sungho tilts his head, his expression softening. “well, you kind of are...”

you groan, feeling guilty. “yeah, but if i tell him the truth, he’ll know what we’re really doing.”

sungho sighs but doesn’t press. “you’ve got to be careful, though. taesan can’t stand being lied to. he might feel like you’re hiding something else.”

you take a deep breath, trying to push the anxiety aside. “he’s just overthinking it. i’ll deal with it when we get back.”

you walk in silence for a bit longer, and the weight of the lie is starting to feel unbearable. but then your phone buzzes again. it’s from taesan.

taesan: riwoo just told me you’re out with sungho. why didn’t you say that?

your heart stops. it feels like everything is crashing down around you. of course, taesan would hear from riwoo. he always does. but you didn’t think it would happen so soon.

sungho laughs lightly, though it’s more nervous than anything else. “i mean, it’s not like you didn’t want him to find out.”

you stare at the message, feeling a mix of guilt and frustration. “he’s so mad now...”

“you better fix it,” sungho says with a small chuckle. “he’s gonna blow up on you if you keep avoiding the truth.”

you sigh, rubbing your eyes. “i don’t know how to fix it. i’ve already lied twice.”

“well,” sungho says, “maybe you just gotta... tell him the truth at this point. no more hiding.”

but you’re not ready to do that. not yet. the surprise is too important to mess up now.

you type out a message, your hands shaking a little as you try to keep it steady.

you: i’m sorry. we just bumped into eachothee

you press send, waiting for taesan’s response with bated breath.

it takes a while, but finally, your phone buzzes.

taesan: it was a coincidence?

you let out a sigh of relief. it's not as bad as it could have been, but you still feel like you’ve messed up.

you: yeah, i went out to grab some stuff, and boom, sungho was there getting some stuff for the dorm too

you wait for a reply, and when it comes, it’s still not as angry as you expected, but you can hear the frustration in taesan’s words.

taesan: you know, you could’ve just told me. i don’t like when you hide stuff from me.

your heart drops, and you feel guilty again. you want to explain yourself, but you’re afraid it’ll make everything worse.

“he’s really pissed now,” you say quietly to sungho, who nods sympathetically.

“you should’ve just told him earlier,” he says, though his tone is more playful than critical. “now you gotta go back and fix it.”

you take a deep breath, realizing sungho’s right. you’re going to have to deal with the fallout when you get back to the dorm.

you decide on sungho’s dorm since taesan is rooming with woonhak and jaehyun so it would be perfect to wrap his gift all together and put final touched on it.

but once you open the door, you stand frozen at the door of sungho’s dorm, heart hammering in your chest. the moment taesan walks in, everything about the room shifts. his presence fills the space, and even though he’s not saying anything yet, you feel the weight of his gaze.

“so, this is where you’ve been?” taesan’s voice cuts through the silence. it’s sharper than usual, colder too. he looks at you, then at sungho, his eyes narrowing. “i thought you said you were by yourself.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat. his words hit harder than expected, but you force a smile, trying to keep your cool. “i was… i mean, i am.”

taesan tilts his head, his eyes scanning you like he’s trying to figure out if you’re lying. you take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. “i just bumped into sungho, we were talking, and i guess riwoo saw us leave together.” you’re already regretting how this sounds, but you can’t back down now. you have to keep the lie intact.

“bumped into sungho?” taesan’s voice drips with suspicion. “so it’s just a coincidence you were both out together?”

you nod quickly, hoping he buys it. “yeah, we were just… talking, you know? nothing serious. i just didn’t want to bother you while you were busy.”

taesan crosses his arms, studying you with a sharp gaze. “that doesn’t sound right.”

the air between you two feels like it’s crackling with tension. you swallow hard, knowing you can’t let him get too suspicious. “it’s really nothing, taesan. you know i wouldn’t lie to you about this.”

“you wouldn’t, huh?” taesan says slowly, his tone soft but with a dangerous edge. “then why didn’t you just tell me? why go through all this just to cover up some… coincidence?”

you flinch slightly at his words, the guilt gnawing at you. but you won’t break. you can’t spoil the surprise now. not when everything is so close to being perfect.

“i didn’t want to bother you with the details,” you say, hoping he buys it. “i just figured i’d spend some time with sungho, that’s all.” you glance at sungho for a moment, but he’s standing still, like he’s unsure whether to step in.

taesan watches you for a long beat, and you can see the wheels turning in his mind. his expression hardens. “so you thought it’d be better to lie to me, to sneak around?”

your chest tightens, the weight of his words sinking in deeper than you expected. “taesan, it’s not like that.”

“really?” taesan’s voice rises, a hint of frustration creeping in. “because that’s exactly what it sounds like. i don’t know, it’s just hard to believe that you’re not hiding something. are you trying to cover something up?”

you feel your heart race. this is spiraling out of control, and you don’t know how to stop it. the last thing you want is for him to think you’re doing something behind his back.

“taesan, please,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “you’re overthinking this. i didn’t want to tell you because i didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” you force yourself to look him in the eye, trying to convey sincerity. “it’s nothing, really.”

taesan doesn’t respond right away. he’s still standing there, arms crossed, eyes cold as he studies you. you feel like he’s dissecting every word you’ve said, trying to figure out if you’re being honest or not.

“so what, this is all just some coincidence?” taesan asks again, voice dripping with doubt. “you just happened to be with sungho, and riwoo just happened to see you leaving together?”

you nod quickly, trying to sound convincing. “yeah, that’s it. it’s just a coincidence, taesan.”

taesan lets out a long breath, his frustration simmering just under the surface. he doesn’t seem convinced, but he doesn’t push further. yet.

“you’re making this harder than it needs to be,” you say, trying to change the subject. “it’s nothing. seriously.”

taesan stays quiet, his eyes narrowing, still unconvinced. “i don’t know if i believe you, but fine. if you say so.”

there’s a moment of silence between you two, and you can almost feel the distance growing between you. you want to tell him the truth, but you can’t risk it. not yet.

“you didn’t need to lie to me, you know,” taesan says softly, his gaze softer but still guarded. “you could’ve just told me where you were. there wouldn’t have been any problem.”

“i know,” you say, your heart sinking. “but i didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

the moment you say it, you regret it. taesan’s eyes flash with confusion, but he doesn’t say anything. he just watches you, waiting.

“what surprise?” taesan asks, the suspicion back in his voice.

you hesitate, panic rising. you can’t tell him, not yet. not when you’re this close.

“it’s nothing,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “i just didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

taesan’s gaze sharpens again. “you’re lying. i can tell.”

you want to scream, to tell him the truth, but you stay silent, your heart heavy with the pressure of it all.

“you’ve been hiding something from me, haven’t you?” taesan asks, his voice quiet now, as if he’s piecing everything together.

you look away, unable to meet his eyes. you can’t keep lying, but you can’t give in either. not yet.

“taesan, please,” you whisper. “just trust me. i don’t want to hurt you.”

he sighs, his expression softening just a little. “i trust you, but it’s hard when you keep lying to me. i just don’t get why you couldn’t tell me what was going on.”

you open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. your throat feels tight, and your mind is racing, trying to figure out how to get yourself out of this mess.

“i’m sorry,” you finally say, your voice barely audible. “i didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

taesan looks at you for a long moment, his face softening a bit. “it’s fine,” he says quietly. “but next time, just tell me. no more lies.”

you nod, relieved but still filled with guilt.

there’s a long silence, and then you finally reach into your bag and pull out the vinyl and the trinkets you picked out for him. you hold them out to him, your hands shaking.

“here,” you say softly, voice full of apology. “i got these for you. i… i thought you’d like them.”

taesan takes the items slowly, his expression unreadable. after a few moments, he looks up at you. “you didn’t have to do this,” he says, his voice softening. “but… thanks.”

you smile weakly, still feeling the weight of everything. “i’m sorry for making you mad.”

taesan sighs, stepping closer to you. “it’s okay. just promise me no more lies, alright?”

“promise,” you say quietly.

and for the first time in what feels like forever, the tension begins to melt away. taesan pulls you into a hug, and you let yourself relax, knowing that you’ll have to make things right.

but for now, you’re just grateful that he’s still here.

taesan is silent for a long time, just staring at the vinyls in his hands. his fingers trace over the covers, his expression unreadable.

you shift nervously, waiting for some kind of reaction. was this too much? was this not what he would’ve liked? sungho had assured you it was a good choice, but now, standing here with taesan’s gaze locked onto the gift, doubt creeps in.

“you really did all this for me?” taesan finally asks, voice quieter now.

you nod quickly. “of course i did. you just had a comeback, and i wanted to get you something that actually fit your taste. something you’d really like.”

he exhales slowly, his grip tightening around the vinyls for a second before he looks up at you. his expression has softened completely, the cold edge gone. instead, there’s something else… something warmer.

“you’re an idiot,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. in fact, his lips twitch slightly, like he’s trying not to smile. “you could’ve just told me.”

“and ruin the surprise?” you huff, crossing your arms. “not a chance.”

taesan sighs, shaking his head. “you made me worry for nothing.”

“i didn’t mean to,” you mumble, guilt creeping back in.

he looks at you for another long second before stepping forward, wrapping his arms around you. his hold is firm, secure, like he’s grounding himself in your presence.

you blink, surprised at the sudden affection, but quickly melt into the embrace. his scent is familiar, and the warmth of his body makes all the stress from earlier fade.

“don’t do that again,” he mutters into your hair. “just tell me next time.”

you nod against his chest. “okay. i promise.”

he pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you, his dark eyes still holding a bit of lingering frustration. but it’s different now. less about suspicion, more about the fact that you worried him.

his eyes flicker to sungho, and his warmth disappears just slightly as he levels a glare at him. “and you,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

sungho raises his hands defensively. “hey, don’t look at me like that. i was just helping.”

“helping,” taesan repeats, clearly not convinced. “spending hours alone with y/n, keeping secrets, sneaking around.”

sungho rolls his eyes. “yeah, yeah, i get it. i’d be mad too. but it’s not like that.”

“doesn’t matter,” taesan grumbles, still glaring. “you still got too comfortable.”

you groan, tugging at his sleeve. “taesan, please. it’s not like we were on a date or something.”

taesan clicks his tongue but lets it go, instead looking back at the items in his hands. now that he’s actually processing it, his expression shifts, like he’s finally realizing what you got him, without the worry of why you were lying.

“wait,” he mutters, flipping it over. “this album… where did you find this?”

you grin. “special store sungho knew about. he helped me find the best ones.”

taesan pauses for a moment, then looks at you again, softer this time. “you really went through all this trouble just to get me something i’d like?”

you scoff. “of course i did. i love you, you idiot.”

his ears turn red. it’s subtle, but you notice it. he looks away, clearing his throat. “you’re the idiot,” he mumbles, gripping the vinyls like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “but… thanks.”

he pulls you into another hug, holding you tight, like he doesn’t want to let go.

and just like that, everything feels right again.

[chxnsgirl]

방찬 ─── because i love you

♡ pairing ៸៸ idol!chan x fem!reader genre ៸៸ fluff, hurt/comfort ៸៸ cw ៸៸ mention of body issues and insecurities ♡ synopsis ៸៸ channie comforts you after you've been having bad thoughts about your body all day :( [ 1k words ] a/n ๑ i had a bad day yesterday, someone said mean things and i wrote this to cope. this is your reminder to be nice to people, you don't know what someone is going through. ♡ ♡ masterlist

you curled up on the bed you shared with chan, cocooned in the safety of your comforter, your body curled tightly as if making yourself smaller could somehow quiet the thoughts swirling in your mind. the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the bedside lamp, but even in the warmth of your own space, you felt unbearably exposed. you sniffled quietly, your face damp with fresh tears, your chest aching from the weight of emotions that had been pressing down on you all day.

it had started out like any other—waking up to an empty bed, chan already gone for the day, lost in his endless cycle of work, music, and practice. that was nothing new. but the moment your eyes landed on the mirror across the room, everything shifted.

the self-loathing crept in before you could stop it, sinking its claws into your thoughts. you had always struggled with your body image, always fought against the voice in your head that whispered cruel things when you least expected it. lately, though, it had been louder than usual, every glance in the mirror a fresh wound, every passing thought a reminder of how far you felt from the kind of beauty society seemed to praise.

and then there was chan.

chan, who was effortlessly beautiful, who spent his days around stunning, slender women—women who looked like they had stepped right out of a dream, with their delicate features and effortless grace. women who seemed to belong at his side in ways you never felt you could.

he always told you it didn’t matter. that he didn’t care about any of that. that you were enough—more than enough. but your mind was cruel, twisting his reassurances into empty words, making it impossible to truly believe them.

the front door clicked open, breaking the silence, and your heart clenched. he was home.

you barely had time to wipe at your face before instinct took over, yanking the comforter up and over your head. you didn’t want him to see you like this—didn’t want him to see the evidence of your tears, the way your face was blotchy and swollen from crying. maybe if you stayed still enough, he’d think you were asleep.

you listened as his quiet footsteps padded through the apartment, moving with the ease of someone who belonged there, who belonged with you. the bedroom door creaked open, and you tensed, bracing yourself.

the bed dipped under his weight, and a familiar warmth spread through the mattress as he settled beside you. a moment passed before you felt his hand, gentle and careful, smoothing over the comforter that covered you. his touch was soft, tracing absentminded circles over the fabric as if he were comforting you without even needing to see you.

“baby?”

his voice was low and warm, laced with that effortless tenderness he always carried when speaking to you. that single word was enough to make your throat tighten, and before you could stop it, another sniffle escaped.

chan heard it.

he tugged the comforter down just enough to reveal your face, his brows immediately furrowing in concern when he saw your trembling lip and tear-streaked cheeks. his fingers brushed gently over your skin, tucking stray strands of hair away from your damp cheeks as he searched your eyes for an answer.

“oh, baby…” his voice softened even more, dripping with concern. “what’s wrong?”

you sat up slowly, your arms wrapping around your knees as if you could shield yourself from his gaze. you wiped at your eyes, but it was no use—he had already seen everything. his hand found your arm, rubbing soothing circles as he waited, giving you space to speak when you were ready.

but you weren’t ready. you were embarrassed.

embarrassed that you were feeling like this again, embarrassed that he had to come home from a long day only to deal with your mess of emotions. guilt crept in, whispering that you were burdening him, that you were exhausting him.

still, when you finally spoke, the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“why are you with me?”

chan stilled, his brows drawing together in confusion. “y/n…” his voice was careful, as if he were afraid of breaking you with the wrong response. he moved closer, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. you let yourself sink into his warmth, your fingers twisting into the fabric of his hoodie.

“what do you mean?” he smoothed his hand down your back, tucking you even closer, his chin resting against the top of your head.

you hesitated, swallowing past the lump in your throat. “you could have anyone. someone prettier. someone… better.”

chan inhaled sharply, as if your words physically hurt him. he pulled back just enough to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. his thumbs brushed away the lingering tears on your cheeks, his expression unbearably soft yet filled with quiet intensity.

“don’t say that,” he murmured, shaking his head. “not about yourself. not to me.”

you tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let you. his hands remained steady, grounding.

“i’m with you because i love you,” he said firmly, as if that alone should be enough to erase every doubt in your mind. “not because of how you look, not because of anything you think you’re lacking—because you are you. and that’s all i’ve ever wanted.”

his voice was steady, unwavering, but there was something pleading in his eyes, like he wished he could take away the pain, like he wished he could make you see yourself the way he did.

“i know it’s hard,” he whispered, pressing his forehead against yours. “i know your mind tells you things that aren’t true. but i’ll keep reminding you every day if i have to—until you believe me. until you understand just how much you mean to me.”

a shaky breath left your lips, and for the first time all day, the weight in your chest felt a little lighter. you weren’t sure if you could believe his words just yet, not fully. but as you let yourself melt into his embrace, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you thought—maybe, just maybe—you could try.

and for now, that was enough.

taglist: @ritsmith @bluesungology @jeonginsleftcheek @babigriin @tirena1 @nickgurl4life

©chxnsgirl do not repost, translate, or copy my works in any way, shape, or form.

[bytemee]

NO DOUBT — KIM MINJEONG.

“i want you, it’s so painful, but, oh, i’d burn myself to prove it, baby, no doubt.”

synopsis. stuck in a boring office job, the only thing getting you through the day is sneaking off with winter. stolen kisses and locked doors make work a lot more interesting—especially when you’re pushing the limits of what you can get away with.

pairing. officeworker!winter x officeworker!gn!reader

warnings. 18+ (smut), public sex (in an office & breakroom), fingering, oral, reader wears a tie bc whats an office job w/o a tie???, bad writing & let me know if there's more!

words. 1.6k

authors note. winter has been bias wrecking recently ☹️ i also have to update my masterlist and link it on these works; lowkey forgot that was even a thing!

you hated your job.

every day felt like an endless loop of emails, meetings, and deadlines that only seemed to multiply. the worst part? the clients. no matter how much effort you put in, someone always found something to complain about.

"can you believe this?" your coworker, jaehyun, groaned as he dropped into the chair beside your desk. running a frustrated hand through his hair, he glared at his laptop screen. "i spent two weeks on that pitch, and the client rejected it in five minutes. five. freaking. minutes."

you sighed, barely looking away from your own stack of unfinished work. "sounds about right. did they at least give you a reason?"

"oh, the usual: ‘not what we’re looking for,’ ‘we need something fresh,’ ‘we’ll get back to you.’" he mimicked their voices with a scoff. "they won’t."

"of course they won’t." you leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples. "i don’t even know why we try anymore."

jaehyun huffed in agreement, shaking his head. there was no point in trying to convince these people. they had already made up their minds, always chasing something better.

he was about to launch into another rant when movement across the office caught your eye.

winter.

she stood from her desk, stretching slightly before picking up her cup and making her way to the break room. a gray cardigan draped over a crisp white button-down, tucked neatly into a black skirt that ended just above her knees. her long, blonde hair framed her face perfectly; her smile was soft and sweet.

you could watch her all day.

"are you even listening?" jaehyun’s voice snapped you back to reality.

"what?" you turned to him, blinking.

he sighed. "never mind. i gotta get back to work anyway. this pitch isn't going to fix itself."

you barely heard him. pushing back from your desk, you stood up, your feet already moving in the direction winter had gone.

the break room was quiet when you stepped inside, the steady hum of the coffee machine filling the space. she was alone, stirring sugar into her tea, her eyes focused on the swirling liquid in her cup.

you glanced at her, humming out a tune to break the silence. winter glanced at you through her lashes, watching you reach for a mug, but before you could pour your coffee, winter’s fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling you gently toward her. you stumbled, nearly crashing into her.

she steadied you with a quiet laugh, her eyes twinkling as she met your gaze. "we have ten minutes before anyone starts wondering where we are," she whispered.

"then we better make it count."

her lips met yours in a fleeting kiss—soft at first, then deeper, more urgent. her hands were everywhere—pulling at your tie, gripping your waist, threading into your hair. a quiet moan slipped past your lips as she kissed you harder, hungrier. it was too much and not nearly enough all at once.

"someone's impatient today," you teased, pulling back to catch your breath.

she giggled. "can you blame me? it's been three whole days."

your mind thought back on three days ago.

winter's hands were tangled in your hair, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, trying desperately to stay quiet. she glanced around the office before settling her gaze back on you. your head was deep into her lap, your mouth buried between her legs, your tongue teasing her clit underneath her desk.

her grip on your hair tightened, her eyes closing briefly as she fought to keep her composure. you couldn't help but feel a little bit pleased with yourself—you knew that she only got this impatient when she really, really wanted you. to risk you going down on her in the middle of the office, mid-workday, where anyone could walk in and catch the two of you.

a low moan escaped her lips, and you pulled back slightly, just enough so that your words wouldn't be muffled. "shhh, you have to be quiet."

"i'm trying," she whispered, her hips bucking against your face.

"trying" didn't seem like it was quite cutting it. she was squirming in her chair, her grip on your hair getting tighter with each passing second. "we really shouldn't be doing this here," you murmured, but you didn't give any sign of actually making a move to stop.

"you're just too tempting," she responded, her voice barely above a whisper, her legs trying in vain to close around your head.

"can't blame you for that," you murmured back. "doesn't mean we shouldn't be a little more careful, though…"

her eyes darted briefly around the office again, everyone too involved in their own work at their own cubicles to notice the illicit activity happening right under their noses. the risk of getting caught was still very real, and winter knew she should care, but she was way too far gone.

"it's hard to be careful when you're doing... that," she whined, her eyes fluttering shut as you went back to work.

winter's tongue pressed against yours, hot and insistent, and you felt a rush of desire course through you. it was so easy for her to push all the right buttons. "how much time do we have left?" you asked, pulling back slightly.

"six minutes," she breathed, guiding your hand to the waistband of her skirt.

six minutes. not a lot of time, but definitely enough.

you smiled wickedly, your fingers trailing along the edge of her skirt for a moment before sliding underneath it. she gasped softly, her eyes darkening with anticipation as you leaned in to kiss her again.

you could feel the heat radiating off her body as your fingers brushed against her bare skin. she was so responsive, so reactive, and you knew that you could make her come undone with just a few well-placed touches.

"i think i can make that work," you murmured, your hand creeping higher, higher, higher, until it was resting at the edge of her underwear.

her hips bucked involuntarily towards your hand, a desperate whine escaping her lips. you chuckled, your fingers tracing slow, teasing circles on her skin.

"someone's impatient," you teased, your mouth moving to her neck. you could feel her pulse racing under your lips, her breathing ragged and uneven.

"don't have all day, you know," she protested, her words at odds with the way her body was melting into yours. her hands clutched at your shirt, trying to pull you closer.

you pulled back from her, your fingers leaving her skin, and she let out a sharp gasp. before she could complain, you brought your middle and ring fingers to her mouth. she understood immediately, her lips parting and her tongue darting out to meet them.

you watched her suck on your fingers, her eyes locked on yours, and your heart skipped a beat. "fuck, you're gorgeous," you breathed, the way she was looking at you, like nothing else existed in the world except the two of you, was intoxicating.

she blushed at the praise but didn't stop. your fingers slid in and out of her mouth, and she sucked on them eagerly, her tongue swirling around them.

winter could feel herself getting wetter by the second, her thighs rubbing together impatiently.

once you were satisfied with her work, you pulled your fingers out of her mouth with an audible pop, a thin trail of saliva connecting them to her lips. she let out a disappointed sigh, her lips already swollen and parted, begging for more.

you leaned in, whispering in her ear, "i bet you're already dripping wet."

winter's breath hitched. she knew that you could always tell when she was turned on, and you were right—she was practically aching for you, desperate to feel your fingers inside her.

you didn't waste any time, bringing your hand back under her skirt and pushing aside the fabric of her panties. winter inhaled sharply as your fingers brushed over her clit, her eyes falling closed.

"so ready for me," you cooed, sliding your middle finger between her folds. "so wet."

she shuddered, her hips rolling forward involuntarily, seeking more friction. "please," she whimpered, her hands fisting in your shirt.

you loved how responsive she was, how easily you could make her fall apart. you leaned forward, capturing her lips in a heated kiss as you eased your finger inside her. winter moaned into your mouth, her walls clenching around you.

"quiet, baby," you reminded her, curling your finger and finding that spot deep inside her.

the possibility of getting caught in the break room was surprisingly low. tucked away in the farthest corner of the office, it was separated from the main workspace by a frosted glass wall and a door that locked from the inside.

wait…did you lock the door?

maybe. maybe not.

she nodded weakly, her nails dug into your shoulders as she struggled to keep her composure, her breath coming in shallow gasps. you added a second finger, pumping them in and out of her at a relentless pace, your thumb brushing against her clit.

"fuck, baby," you groaned, pressing her harder against the counter. you could feel her body shaking beneath yours, her orgasm approaching fast. "you're so close, aren't you?"

winter could only nod, her hips bucking against your hand, trying to get as much friction as possible. She was close, so fucking close, and you could tell. the way her breathing hitched, her nails digging into your shoulder, the way her thighs squeezed together, trying to relieve the tension.

"i can feel it, baby. come for me."

she cried out, her body going rigid, her walls clenching around your fingers as she came. her eyes rolled back, her mouth open in a silent scream, her legs threatening to give out. you kept stroking her through her orgasm, prolonging the pleasure as long as possible, until she was trembling and weak.

"f-fuck," she whimpered, her head resting against your shoulder.

You chuckled, removing your fingers from her and licking them clean. "you okay?"

"more than okay," she said, a satisfied grin spreading across her face.

you couldn't resist stealing one last kiss before pulling away. she looked completely fucked out, her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed. "better get back to work before anyone misses us."

"i guess," she said, pouting a little.

"we can continue this later," you assured her, fixing her clothes and smoothing down her hair.

she grinned, reaching for your hand and giving it a squeeze. "it's a date."

[luvyeni]

he can’t let you go out looking this good …

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 이필릭스 x fem!reader )   ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. unprotected sex, language word count. 0.4k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ this video altered my brain chemistry.. the way he lifts his head up 😮‍💨

sometimes he did it to annoy you; like if you’re working too much, or really immersed inside your phone and ignoring him; his hand would go up to your chin , forcing you to look at him, laughing when you finally snapped at him to stop it.

other times he did when he wanted something — when he wanted you … “baby.” you heard your boyfriend entering the room. “what is it lixie?” you sat at your vanity doing your makeup. “im just getting ready for a girls night.” you said, unaware of his predatory glare. “do you have to go out tonight?”

he eye your choice of clothing; not only are you wearing his favorite skirt, you’re wearing a skirt that sits way up on your thighs — there’s no way he could let you just up and leave looking like this. “i promised them i’d come out tonight.” you said. “it will only be for a few hours, then i’ll be right back here with you , okay?”

no he wasn’t okay; he was horny and his beautiful girlfriend was so close but so far away at the same time… ‘fuck it’ he thought , coming up behind you , slinging his arm around your shoulder. “lix– shhh baby.” his hand coming up on your chin, making you look up at him; finally seeing the hunger in his eyes. “you look so good live.” he said. “too good.” lifting your head back up when you go to look away shyly. “that’s why i can’t let you leave just yet.”

your phone going off for the 6th time that night; felix picking it up, hitting decline just like before. “fu-fuck why do they keep calling?” he growled , gripping your waist as he slid back inside your wet cunt. “th-they‘re worried probably.” you moaned. “fuck i don’t care.” he groaned , his hand coming to your neck. “such a pretty pussy , feel so fucking good.” you moaned as he plowed into your cunt. “felix fuck!”

your skirt was bunched on your waist , shirt too exposing your boobs; which he bent down to bring the bud to his lips to suck. “ngh!” your hand flying to his hair to tug on his dark lock as he thrusted deep inside you. “mhm fuck you can’t leave tonight baby , I need you here with me.” he moaned. “need you under me , need to feel your pussy around me all night.”

your phone was still going off as he had you ass up in a new position; the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass louder than your ringtone. “fuck , fuck baby I’m gonna fucking cum.” he moaned , your cunt clenching around him. “fuck , lixie!” you squealed as he slapped your ass. “fuck lixie im gonna cum!” his grip on your ass tightened as he stilled his hips , his cock deep inside you. “ah fuck im cumming!” you screamed , legs shaking. “sh-shit.” he hissed as he came cock twitching as he shot his sticky load into your waiting womb. “oh fuck.” he breathed into your ear. “you’re so sweet pretty girl.” he kissed your neck , his hand coming back up to your chin to push your head up to kiss your lips. “you can take another one right?”

guess you’ll have to reschedule your girls night.

©️LUVYENI

[4linos]

empty words

hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

synopsis: you thought you’d tell him about the pregnancy with excitement, but his cold rejection shatters your hopes. Now, with everything crumbling, you must figure out how to move forward.

warnings: asshole!!! hyunjin, pregnancy/pregnant mentions, huge argument & just overall really angsty.

wc: 1338

You sat on the edge of the bed, the test still warm in your hands, its small white stick almost mocking you as it proved everything you'd been afraid to admit. Positive. You knew it deep down, didn't you? The nausea, exhaustion, and little, subtle changes in your body. But seeing it in black and white made you feel as if the world had stopped. Your heart raced in your chest, a deafening thrum that overshadowed everything else. You'd imagined this moment numerous times before, but none of them matched the crushing sense of terror and uncertainty that gripped you right now.

What were you going to do? You didn't even know where to start. You'd hoped to start a family with him someday. Hyunjin. You imagined him holding the test, his face beaming with excitement, making plans and talking about everything you two could do to prepare. But now that you saw the reality of the situation, you're afraid.

How would he react? Would he be happy? Or would he be disappointed? Will he panic and push you away? Your mind swirled with questions, each one more pressing than the previous. You thought that, whatever happened, the two of you would be able to handle it together. You've always been able to handle things right? But now, with the test in your hand, everything seemed uncertain, as though a single word from him could shatter everything.

You shook your head, trying to focus. You couldn’t let this news get to you before you even told him. He’d be home soon, and you needed to figure out how to tell him.

You hid the test in the drawer and closed it, trying to push it to the back of your mind. Dinner. You should focus on dinner. You still had some time, so maybe you could make something nice, something that would ease the tension. You wanted everything to be perfect when he walked through the door, so you could tell him with some semblance of normality, of calmness. He would be okay, wouldn’t he?

But when the door clicked open, it was anything but normal. The usual excitement you felt when you heard his footsteps in the hallway was gone. It was like the air had changed, a heaviness settling between you before he even entered the room. He didn’t greet you with the usual teasing smile, didn’t ask about your day or tell you how much he missed you. Instead, he walked in, his face drawn, tight with something you couldn’t place. The warmth you were used to was completely absent.

"Hey, love, how was your day?" you asked, a little too cheerfully, hoping he would smile and make everything feel okay again.

He didn’t. Instead, he just grunted, his gaze flicking toward you briefly before he turned away, walking past you without saying a word.

"Do you want to have dinner now?" you asked, trying to fill the silence, trying to make things feel normal, even though everything in you screamed that nothing was normal. "I was thinking about making something, maybe pasta or—"

He scoffed, cutting you off. "You didn’t make anything?" His voice was sharp, colder than you’d ever heard it.

The words hit you like a blow in the face. You got so preoccupied with thinking about whether or not to take the test, swirling fear and anticipation, that you had entirely forgotten about dinner. You felt an overwhelming sense of shame come over you, yet it was nothing compared to how his words made you feel. You instantly looked down at the floor, avoiding his eyes, wishing you could just break down the tension in the air.

"I forgot," you confessed slowly, your voice small.

His expression darkened. Without saying anything, he turned toward the kitchen, his footsteps heavy and irritating. "I'll make something for myself," he murmured under his breath, turning away from you to begin gather food from the refrigerator. You stood there for a moment, watching him walk with displeasure with each stride.

Something within you stirred. Something was not right. You hadn't seen him this off in a long time. "Hyunjin, are you okay?" You tried again, your voice softer this time, and stepped closer to him, your heart racing in your chest. "You’re been acting distant... Is everything alright?

He didn’t turn around, but you saw his jaw tighten. His hands moved faster, the sounds of him grabbing pots and pans harsh against the stillness. Then, he scoffed again, this time louder, more frustrated. "I’m tired of everything," he muttered, not looking at you, his voice low but heavy with frustration.

"What?" You didn’t know if you had heard him correctly. Your breath caught in your throat as your chest tightened, a wave of dread flooding over you. You took a step closer. "What did you say?"

Hyunjin turned to face you then, his eyes cold, a deep frown etched on his face. "I said I’m tired of you. Tired of this. Tired of everything. The relationship. Everything about it. It’s been building up, and I just… I don’t know anymore." His voice was sharp, cutting through you like a knife. The words hit you harder than you had imagined.

Your legs went weak, but you held yourself upright, willing your body to stay steady. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, like you were afraid that if you spoke too loudly, the fragile piece of reality you were holding onto would shatter.

"Hyunjin, you’re not making sense. This isn’t… you."

His gaze turned even colder, and he looked at you like you were a stranger. "I’m suffocated," he spat. "I can’t do this anymore. I can’t breathe when I’m with you. Everything feels like it’s just… weighing me down. I’m done."

The words struck you like a stab to the chest. Your breath caught, and the world around you started spinning. You wanted to scream, ask why, and beg him to stay. You couldn't lose him like way. But the hurt in his eyes and the finality in his tone told you it was already over. You swallowed hard, tears welling up in your eyes, but you held them back. Not yet.

"Hyunjin…" you muttered, struggling to maintain your voice. "What are you saying?" "You want us to break up?" He nodded, without a trace of emotion on his face. "Yes," he responded, almost coldly. "I don't want this anymore. You can keep everything, the apartment, all the stuff; I don't care. I just need out. I need to be alone."

A heavy silence hung between you, the weight of his words settling like a thick fog around you. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, to make this make sense, but the words wouldn’t come.

You can’t leave. You can’t do this to me.

But instead, you just choked on your breath, the sting of tears becoming unbearable.

"You want to leave," you whispered quietly, the finality of your words making your throat ache. "Then go." You did not want to show him how much he was hurting you just yet. You didn't want him to see the brokenness in your eyes. Hyunjin didn't hesitate. He grabbed his jacket and keys and proceeded toward the door without saying anything.

The slam of the door as he left rang around the room like a bullet punctured the air. You slumped to the floor, your body trembling, tears finally spilling freely as you held your stomach, your hand reflexively pressing against the growing life inside you.

The sobs wracked through you, each one pulling at your chest as you sat alone. You had pictured a future where the two of you were making a life together, but it seemed so far away. You'd never felt so small and alone.

"Why?" you cried into the emptiness.

And then, as your hand rested over your belly, you whispered, through your tears, "I didn’t want this. I didn’t want to do this alone."

//

[inadaydream99]

When You Sit in Their Lap

A/N - I just had to…

Disclaimer: This does not represent any of the members in real life and is for entertainment purposes only.

Bang Chan

Chan is used to being the one offering comfort, whether it’s to you, his members, or anyone who comes to him with a problem. So when you settle into his lap without hesitation, his first reaction is a chuckle that’s full of warmth and affection.

His hands immediately rest on your waist, fingers pressing into your sides as he adjusts you to make sure you’re comfortable.

“You could’ve warned me first, y’know,” he murmurs, but there’s no real complaint in his tone.

Before you can respond, he tightens his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder. His breath is warm against your skin as he leans ever so slightly to place a gentle kiss.

“Not that I mind.” His touch is gentle but firm, and you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing beneath you.

If he was working on something, he’ll absentmindedly return to it, one hand still holding you close. But if it’s late at night and the two of you are unwinding, expect him to shift slightly, pulling you even closer into a proper cuddle.

Lee Minho

Minho’s first reaction is a raised brow, his lips twitching ever so slightly in amusement.

“You’re bold,” he remarks, tilting his head slightly as he looks up at you. But despite his teasing, his hands instinctively settle on your hips, holding you in place like he was expecting you to do this all along.

His eyes scan your face, gauging your expression before he smirks.

“Is my lap really that comfortable?” he muses, his fingers lightly tracing patterns on your thighs.

He pretends not to care, but the way his hands tighten slightly whenever you shift gives him away. If you try to move away, he won’t stop you outright, but he will let out a soft scoff and pull you right back.

“You sat down first. Stay.”

If he’s feeling particularly playful, he might lean in close and whisper, “If you wanted my attention, there were easier ways to ask, you know.”

Seeing your flustered reaction only makes his smirk turn more devilish, before he moves one of his hands to cup your cheek and gently forces you to maintain his eye contact.

Seo Changbin

The moment you sit on Changbin’s lap, his eyebrows shoot up in surprise before a slow grin spreads across his face.

“Oh? What’s this?” he teases, his arms naturally wrapping around you, locking you in place.

His hands settle on your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles against your sides as he leans back slightly, completely content with your weight against him.

“You’re not getting up now,” he adds with a chuckle, giving your waist a playful squeeze.

Changbin isn’t one to shy away from affection, and if you make yourself comfortable, he’ll take it as an invitation to wrap his arms around you more securely, pressing a soft kiss against your temple.

“You just made a big mistake,” he jokes, “because now I’m never letting you go.”

He might even start rocking the both of you gently, fully enjoying the excuse to hold you close.

Hwang Hyunjin

Hyunjin freezes for a brief moment before his lips curl into a slow, mischievous smile. “Oh?” he hums, tilting his head slightly as he stares up at you. His hands find your waist, warm and firm, as he adjusts his posture to accommodate you better.

“You should be careful,” he murmurs, his voice dropping into that soft, teasing tone that makes your heart race. “Sitting here means you’re mine for the next hour at least.”

He buries his face into the crook of your neck, pressing a lingering kiss against your skin and when you squirm you feel his grin against your shoulder, his arms tightening around you to stop you from twisting yourself enough to see his expression.

Hyunjin thrives on physical affection, so he takes full advantage of the moment—playing with your fingers, swaying slightly with you in his arms, or tracing patterns on your thighs.

“Comfy?” he asks, though his tone makes it clear he already knows the answer.

And if you even think about moving? He’ll pout dramatically and whine, “Stay just a little longer,” a satisfied smirk on his face knowing you can’t refuse him.

Han Jisung

Jisung stares at you for a second before gasping dramatically, placing a hand over his chest like he’s just been personally attacked.

“You really just—sat down? No warning? No heads-up?” he exclaims, though his laughter betrays him.

Before you can respond, he sighs dramatically and leans into you, arms looping lazily around your waist.

“Guess I have no choice but to accept my fate,” he mutters, nuzzling against your shoulder with a playful pout.

Despite his teasing, you can feel how relaxed he becomes with you in his arms. He’ll absentmindedly play with the hem of your shirt or run his fingers along your back, fully enjoying the warmth of your presence.

If you shift too much, he’ll tighten his hold and whine, “Hey, stop moving, you’re gonna ruin the moment!”

If he’s in a particularly clingy mood, he’ll lay his head against your chest and mumble, “You can’t just sit here and expect me not to fall asleep.” And honestly? He might just do exactly that.

Lee Felix

Felix’s immediate reaction is pure joy—his eyes light up, and a soft giggle escapes his lips as he instinctively wraps his arms around your waist.

“Aww, you wanna cuddle?” he coos, his deep voice laced with warmth.

Holding you close, his hands rub soothing circles on your back. “You’re so warm,” he murmurs, resting his head against your shoulder.

When you let out a little hum in response, he smiles and nuzzles into you even more.

“You’re not allowed to leave now,” he adds, his grip tightening slightly.

Felix lives for moments like these, so he’ll fully embrace the situation—rocking you gently, playing with your fingers, or even humming a soft tune against your skin.

If you try to move, he’ll pout dramatically. “But I’m so comfy,” he whines, giving you those wide, pleading eyes. And let’s be honest—you’re not getting up anytime soon.

Kim Seungmin

Seungmin raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Really?” he deadpans, watching as you settle into his lap. But even as he acts indifferent, his hands immediately move to secure you in place, his grip firm on your waist.

“You’re bold,” he remarks, but there’s a slight smirk tugging at his lips.

His fingers lazily trace patterns against your sides, his warmth seeping into you despite his teasing exterior.

If you try to move away, he won’t stop you, but he will tighten his grip just enough to make you hesitate.

“You started this,” he reminds you. “Deal with it.”

Despite his playful sarcasm, you can feel how comfortable he is with you there. Then you feel him lean you both further back and hear him sigh dramatically. “Guess I have to tolerate this now,” he muses, his tone dry but his actions betraying him as he rubs slow circles on your back.

Yang Jeongin

Jeongin stiffens slightly, caught off guard by your sudden closeness. His ears turn pink almost instantly, and he blinks up at you. “Oh. Um. Hi?”

But within seconds, he relaxes, a small, shy smile forming on his lips.

“You’re comfy,” he admits softly, his arms tentatively wrapping around your waist. His grip is gentle at first, but as the warmth between you settles in, he holds you a little tighter, more securely.

He lets out a contented sigh, leaning his forehead against your shoulder. “You’re not allowed to move now,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled.

And if you try? He pouts, tightening his grip with a quiet, “Nope. Stay here.”

[vrstual]

# synopsis Kim Y/N, the beloved visual of K-pop’s hottest rising group, lands her first lead role in a K-drama with Yu Jimin as her love interest, the woman she’s secretly crushed on for years. The catch? Jimin can’t stand her.

# content: wlw, angst, slow burn, cursing, explicit or mention of death jokes.

— prism aespa

00. Prologue

[w1w2]

A Contract of Silence

Previous part | Part 5 | Next part

Giselle x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 8k

Synopsis: Giselle and Y/N navigate their growing connection amidst the backdrop of their carefully constructed partnership.

English isn’t my first language so I apologize in advance for any mistakes.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

The penthouse had begun to feel different. The sterile, impersonal air that once defined the space was slowly being replaced by something warmer, something neither Giselle nor Y/N could fully articulate.

For Giselle, the change was unsettling but not unwelcome. It wasn’t a conscious decision at first, choosing to work from home more often or spending an extra few minutes in the kitchen each morning. She told herself it was about convenience, that her tightly packed schedule demanded the flexibility of remote work. But deep down, there was another reason, one she didn’t dare acknowledge. Y/N.

There was something about Y/N’s quiet presence that felt grounding in a way Giselle hadn’t realized she needed. It was unspoken, the way Y/N moved through the penthouse with her calming energy, leaving behind faint traces of warmth.

The mornings began to stretch out, no longer rushed or strictly utilitarian. The sun filtered through the windows, bathing the penthouse in golden light. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint scent of lavender from the candles Y/N often lit in the evenings.

Y/N usually sat at the dining table in the mornings, her notebook open or her phone in hand, scrolling or jotting down ideas. Her focus was steady, her brow occasionally furrowing in thought, and the way she curled up on the chair made the vast, luxurious space feel oddly homey.

Giselle, dressed in one of her tailored ensembles but with a touch of casualness, lingered in the kitchen. She sipped her coffee, her sharp gaze flicking between her tablet and the woman seated at the table.

The shift was gradual but noticeable. Giselle found herself drawn to the table more often than not, sometimes standing at the counter for longer than necessary as she reviewed emails or prepared for her next meeting.

One morning, as Y/N quietly worked, Giselle slid a stack of papers across the counter, the crisp sound breaking the comfortable silence.

“What do you think?” Giselle asked, her tone measured but tinged with curiosity.

Y/N looked up, startled by the question. Her wide eyes locked with Giselle’s for a moment before she reached for the papers, her fingers brushing against their edge.

She flipped through the pages carefully, her expression shifting to one of concentration. The proposal was detailed, the kind of meticulous work Giselle demanded of her team. Y/N’s brow furrowed slightly as she read, her lips pressing into a thin line.

After a moment, she set the papers down and grabbed her phone, typing quickly. She held up the screen.

“Looks solid, but the timeline seems tight. Are you sure the team can handle it?”

Giselle’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. She took the papers back, her fingers grazing the edge of the stack as though absorbing Y/N’s words. “I thought the same,” she admitted. “They’ll have to adjust.”

Y/N smiled softly, her hands resting on the table as she nodded in agreement.

The exchange was simple, almost inconsequential on the surface. But as Giselle returned to her work, she found herself glancing at the papers again, her mind lingering on Y/N’s insight and the quiet confidence she brought to the moment.

And for Y/N, the interaction stayed with her too. It was the first time Giselle had sought her opinion on something so significant, a small but meaningful gesture that hinted at the trust growing between them.

Their evenings followed a familiar rhythm, a quiet tradition that neither of them had ever discussed but both seemed to value. After dinner, when the remnants of their meal had been cleared and the penthouse was bathed in the soft glow of its ambient lighting, Y/N would retrieve her notebook or phone, ready to teach Giselle more phrases in sign language.

The lessons had become a space uniquely their own, one where titles and pretenses were left at the door. It wasn’t about CEO and fiancée, nor about contracts or appearances. It was simply Giselle and Y/N, finding a shared language in more ways than one.

One evening, Y/N flipped open her notebook, her pen gliding smoothly across the page as she jotted down the phrases they’d covered so far. She glanced up at Giselle, who was seated across from her in the living room. The CEO was leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees, a rare casualness to her posture.

“You’re getting better,” Y/N typed on her phone, holding it up with a grin that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. Her silent approval was accompanied by a playful thumbs-up.

Giselle tilted her head slightly, her lips pressing into a thoughtful line as she studied Y/N’s most recent gesture. “Still clumsy,” she admitted, her fingers moving deliberately as she attempted the motion again. Her brow furrowed with focus, the sharp precision she demanded of herself evident in every movement.

She huffed softly, her frustration evident but tempered by the patient presence of her teacher.

Y/N clapped silently, her expression bright and teasing as she shook her head. She reached out, gently adjusting Giselle’s hand until the motion was correct, her movements deliberate and encouraging.

“Like this,” Y/N gestured, exaggerating the motion to make it clear. Her energy was light, the faint bounce of her shoulders and the sparkle in her eyes making the lesson feel less like work and more like play.

Giselle tried again, her movements more fluid this time. Her sharp eyes flicked up to Y/N, seeking approval, and when Y/N nodded enthusiastically, her grin widening, something in Giselle’s chest tightened.

“What did I just sign?” Giselle asked, leaning back with a skeptical look.

Y/N’s grin turned mischievous as she signed something quickly, her motions fluid and precise.

Giselle’s eyes narrowed. “Again, slower.”

Y/N repeated the motion, her hands moving deliberately, but the gleam of mischief in her eyes didn’t waver.

“You’re refusing to tell me, aren’t you?” Giselle said, her tone dry but laced with amusement.

Y/N nodded, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

For a moment, Giselle simply stared at her, the faintest chuckle escaping her lips as she shook her head. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though the warmth in her voice betrayed the words.

The lesson continued, the atmosphere light and filled with unspoken warmth. Giselle, who was usually so poised and guarded, found herself relaxing in a way she hadn’t in years. The quiet encouragement in Y/N’s gaze and the way her teasing never felt mean-spirited made the process enjoyable, even when Giselle stumbled.

It wasn’t just about learning the language anymore. It was about the moments they created together, the shared laughter, the way Y/N’s energy brightened the room, and the way Giselle found herself leaning into the connection more than she ever expected.

As the lesson wound down, Y/N signed one last phrase, her hands moving deliberately, her expression soft.

“You did well,” she gestured, her eyes meeting Giselle’s with a warmth that made the space between them feel smaller.

Giselle mimicked the phrase, her hands steady now. It wasn’t perfect, but it was close.

Y/N clapped silently again, giving her an approving nod. She grabbed her phone and quickly typed a follow-up.

“See? You’re improving every day.”

Giselle tilted her head, her gaze lingering on Y/N for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s because I have a good teacher,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost thoughtful.

The exchange was simple, yet it lingered in the air between them, heavy with unspoken meaning. Y/N’s cheeks warmed slightly, but she quickly smiled, nodding in acknowledgment before tucking her notebook away.

As the night deepened, the penthouse seemed to hum with a quiet energy, the kind that came from shared understanding and unspoken emotions. It wasn’t something either of them could put into words, not yet, but it was there, growing stronger with every passing evening.

The changes in Giselle’s behavior weren’t always dramatic, but they were there, woven into the fabric of their everyday interactions. They appeared in the smallest acts of thoughtfulness, moments that might go unnoticed by anyone else but spoke volumes to Y/N.

At a business dinner, Giselle’s attention to detail was unrelenting. She had ensured that the menu accommodated Y/N’s dietary preferences, subtly but firmly redirecting the server when an incorrect appetizer was placed in front of her. “She’ll have the one without nuts,” Giselle had said, her tone leaving no room for debate. Y/N blinked in surprise but nodded her thanks, the quiet gesture not lost on her.

It wasn’t the only time Giselle’s protective nature showed itself. During a particularly high-pressure meeting, the tension in the room was palpable. Giselle’s sharp words cut through the discussion like a blade, her gaze icy as she dismantled a poorly presented proposal. Y/N, sitting quietly to the side, felt the weight of the atmosphere pressing down on her. When Giselle’s tone turned particularly curt, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder if she had somehow contributed to her frustration. The thought lingered long after the meeting ended, making her movements slower and more hesitant throughout the day.

That evening, as they sat on opposite ends of the couch in the penthouse, the silence between them felt heavier than usual. Y/N busied herself with her notebook, her fingers tracing absent patterns along the page as her mind replayed the events of the day. Giselle, sitting with her legs crossed and a glass of wine balanced in her hand, observed Y/N out of the corner of her eye. The younger woman’s posture was tense, her normally fluid motions subdued.

Finally, Giselle spoke, her voice cutting through the quiet. “You know that wasn’t about you, right?”

Y/N’s head snapped up, her wide eyes meeting Giselle’s. She hesitated for a moment, then grabbed her phone and began typing quickly. “It felt like it was,” the message read when she held it up, her expression uncertain.

Giselle sighed, leaning back against the couch. Her sharp edges softened as she studied Y/N’s face. “It wasn’t,” she said simply, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. “You did fine. Better than fine.”

Y/N blinked, the words settling over her like a warm blanket. She typed again, her movements slower this time. “You really mean that?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of Giselle’s lips, almost imperceptible but enough to shift the energy in the room. “I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” she replied, taking a sip of her wine before setting the glass down. “Don’t overthink it.”

The sincerity in her words made Y/N’s chest tighten. It wasn’t an elaborate apology or a grand gesture, but it didn’t need to be. The fact that Giselle had noticed her unease and taken the time to address it spoke louder than anything else.

As the evening wore on, the tension between them eased. Y/N found herself glancing at Giselle more often, the memory of her gentle words lingering in her mind. And Giselle, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, felt a quiet satisfaction in knowing she had reassured Y/N, her protective instincts now extending far beyond the boundaries of their contract.

The days that followed Y/N’s reunion with Irene were a refreshing shift in her routine. Their frequent messages and video calls brought back a piece of Y/N’s life she hadn’t realized she missed so deeply. Irene’s texts were a mix of lighthearted banter, shared memories, and genuine curiosity about Y/N’s life now. It wasn’t long before their exchanges became a regular part of Y/N’s day, a pocket of warmth and familiarity amidst the complexities of her arrangement with Giselle.

One sunny afternoon, Y/N received a text from the concierge in the building’s lobby, letting her know that a visitor had arrived. Her heart skipped slightly at the mention of Irene’s name. Quickly, she replied to confirm, giving the green light for Irene to be sent up.

The private elevator hummed softly as it ascended, and Y/N found herself pacing near the entrance to the penthouse, her anticipation growing with each passing second. Finally, the elevator doors slid open with a quiet chime, revealing Irene, who stepped out with her usual poise.

“Irene!” Y/N signed and mouthed the name, her excitement radiating as her hands moved in fluid gestures. Her smile was radiant, lighting up her face in a way that softened her features.

Irene’s expression mirrored Y/N’s delight as she stepped fully into the penthouse. “It’s so good to see you,” she signed back, her motions slower but deliberate.

Inside, Giselle sat in the living room, her tablet balanced on her lap. She looked up at the sound of the voice. Irene stepped into the space with the same quiet confidence she exuded at the restaurant, her tailored outfit impeccable and her smile disarming.

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Irene said smoothly, her sharp but kind eyes scanning the penthouse. Her gaze lingered on the minimalist décor and the impressive view through the floor to ceiling windows before returning to Y/N.

“Not at all,” Giselle replied, setting her tablet aside and rising from her chair with her usual grace. She extended a hand, her tone polite but measured. “It’s good to see you again, Irene.”

Irene returned the handshake with a firm grip, her smile widening. “Likewise, Giselle. I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting Y/N to have a fiancée when we reconnected.” Her tone was teasing but kind, her words directed at both women.

Giselle’s lips curved into a faint, practiced smile. “Life is full of surprises,” she said smoothly, though her gaze flicked briefly to Y/N, who was already ushering Irene toward the living room.

As the two women sat on the couch, falling into an easy rhythm of conversation, their hands began to move in synchronized gestures. Irene’s signing was slower than Y/N’s, her fluency not quite as sharp, but her effort was genuine and heartfelt. The room seemed to hum with their shared history, their silent language weaving a connection that spoke louder than words.

Giselle returned to her seat and picked up her tablet, or at least pretended to. She found herself glancing up more often than she intended, her sharp gaze lingering on the way Y/N’s face lit up as she signed. Her expressions were animated, her eyes sparkling with a rare joy that softened her features in a way Giselle wasn’t used to seeing.

It wasn’t just Y/N’s energy that captivated her, though. The familiarity between Y/N and Irene was palpable, a rhythm that only came from years of knowing someone deeply. Irene leaned in slightly when Y/N signed something with particular enthusiasm, her focus unwavering. The warmth in her smile as she responded was equally captivating.

A pang of something sharp and unwelcome settled in Giselle’s chest. She told herself it was nothing. Just curiosity. Irene was a friend from Y/N’s past, nothing more. And yet, the ease with which Irene navigated Y/N’s world, the way she seemed to effortlessly understand her, made Giselle feel strangely... displaced.

At one point, Y/N burst into silent laughter, her shoulders shaking as Irene signed something Giselle couldn’t decipher. The soundless exchange felt almost private, as though the two were in a world entirely their own.

Giselle arched a brow, her tablet momentarily forgotten. She kept her expression neutral, but her fingers tightened slightly around its edges. For someone so used to control, the unfamiliar twinge of jealousy was an unwelcome visitor.

“Tea?” Giselle asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the silence that followed Y/N’s laughter. Both women turned to her, their expressions slightly startled by the interruption. Giselle kept her tone even, her gaze cool as she continued. “I was about to make a pot. Would you like some, Irene?”

Irene smiled graciously, nodding. “That would be lovely, thank you.”

As Giselle disappeared into the kitchen, Y/N glanced at Irene, her hands signing quickly. “She’s not usually this... accommodating.”

Irene chuckled softly, her own hands moving in response. “She’s interesting, I’ll give her that. But you seem happy.”

Y/N hesitated, her fingers pausing mid-motion before she nodded. The truth was complicated, too tangled to explain even in sign language. But in that moment, she couldn’t deny the faint sense of comfort that had grown between her and Giselle.

In the kitchen, Giselle stared at the kettle as it boiled, the sound of the muted laughter drifting in from the living room. She clenched her jaw, her reflection in the polished steel of the kettle revealing a flicker of something she didn’t want to name.

This was ridiculous, she thought. Y/N’s joy wasn’t hers to covet. Yet, as she carried the tray of tea back to the living room, her sharp gaze found Y/N’s once more, and for a fleeting moment, she wondered if Irene noticed the way her hand lingered just slightly too long when she set Y/N’s cup down.

Later that week, as Y/N prepared to meet Irene for lunch, she stood near the kitchen island, her phone in hand as she typed. The soft light of the afternoon poured into the penthouse, casting a warm glow over the sleek surfaces.

“She thinks I should help with one of her charity events,” Y/N typed, holding her phone out for Giselle to read. Her lips curved into a small, hopeful smile. “It’s small, but it sounds interesting.”

Giselle, who had been reviewing something on her tablet, glanced up at the message. Her brow furrowed almost imperceptibly, a subtle shift that Y/N immediately noticed. She lowered the tablet, her sharp eyes scanning the words on Y/N’s phone before flicking up to meet Y/N’s gaze.

“That’s not a good idea,” Giselle said, her tone clipped and precise.

Y/N blinked, her head tilting slightly in confusion. The abruptness of Giselle’s response made her chest tighten. She hesitated before typing another message, her hands slower than usual.

“Why not?”

Giselle set her tablet aside, leaning slightly against the counter. “It could raise questions about your availability,” she said, her voice carrying the polished authority that came so naturally to her. “We’ve been careful to present a united front. Splitting your time could undermine that.”

Y/N’s lips pressed into a thin line as she processed the words, the weight of Giselle’s reasoning settling heavily on her shoulders. She tapped out a reply, her fingers hesitating over the screen.

“I thought it was a good idea. It’s just one event, and it wouldn’t affect our arrangement.”

Giselle’s gaze hardened slightly, though her expression remained composed. “It’s not just about the arrangement,” she said. “Perception matters. And if Irene’s event draws attention to you in a way that shifts focus from... us, it could create complications.”

The explanation was logical, even reasonable, but it didn’t dull the sting of Giselle’s tone. Y/N’s fingers hovered over her phone, her thoughts swirling. She wanted to argue, to say that helping with a small charity event wouldn’t jeopardize anything, but the weight of the conversation left her feeling drained.

“I understand,” she typed finally, though her expression betrayed her disappointment. She slipped the phone into her bag, her movements deliberate as she gathered her things for lunch.

As Y/N walked toward the elevator, her shoulders were slightly hunched, a subtle but telling sign of her deflation. Giselle’s gaze followed her, her sharp eyes taking in the slump of Y/N’s posture, the tightness in her steps.

The sound of the elevator doors closing snapped Giselle from her thoughts. She leaned against the counter, her jaw tightening as a wave of guilt washed over her.

She knew her reaction had been unfair. Irene’s presence wasn’t a threat, and logically, a single charity event wouldn’t unravel their carefully constructed image. But the thought of Y/N becoming more entwined with someone else, someone who understood her in ways Giselle was still learning, left her unsettled in a way she couldn’t quite articulate.

Giselle’s hand lingered on the edge of the counter, her nails tapping lightly against the smooth surface. For all her precision and control, this was one thing she couldn’t seem to rationalize away.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, the quiet curse a rare crack in her composure.

The guilt gnawed at her, clashing with the irrational irritation she had felt earlier. But Giselle wasn’t ready to confront the root of her feelings, not yet. Instead, she picked up her tablet, her movements brisk as she tried to refocus her mind.

Yet, no matter how much she tried, her thoughts kept drifting back to the look of disappointment in Y/N’s eyes.

That evening, Giselle sat in her office, the soft glow of her laptop casting shadows across the room. The screen displayed an email from a partner, something about projections for an upcoming quarter, but the words blurred into meaningless lines of text. Her attention was elsewhere, drawn back to the look on Y/N’s face earlier that day.

It wasn’t just disappointment she had seen. It was something quieter, deeper, like a part of Y/N had withdrawn, retreating behind the walls she rarely let down. Giselle couldn’t stop replaying it in her mind, the way Y/N had walked away without looking back, her shoulders slightly hunched as though carrying an invisible weight.

Why did it matter so much?

Her thoughts swirled, tangled and unyielding. She had built her life on control, every decision calculated, every emotion carefully compartmentalized. And yet, when it came to Y/N, that control felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

The sound of the city hummed faintly through the penthouse’s windows, a distant reminder of the world outside. But in the stillness of her office, Giselle felt exposed, vulnerable in a way she hadn’t allowed herself to be in years.

She leaned back in her chair, exhaling quietly as her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She could have sent a message, something brief, polite, acknowledging that she might have overreacted. But the words wouldn’t come.

Instead, she closed her laptop with a soft click and stared at the blank wall opposite her desk. The truth sat heavy in her chest, buried beneath layers of carefully constructed defenses.

The truth she wasn’t ready to face.

This wasn’t about the engagement, or even the arrangement they had. It wasn’t about perception or maintaining their image. It was about Y/N. The way she brought life into the sterile corners of the penthouse, her quiet determination, her effortless warmth. The way she made Giselle feel grounded, seen, in a way no one else had.

Her gaze drifted to the door of her office, as though expecting Y/N to walk through it. But the penthouse was silent now, the only sound the occasional rustle of papers as Giselle shifted in her chair.

Y/N was likely in her room, curled up with her phone, probably texting Irene. The thought sent an irrational pang through Giselle’s chest, sharp and fleeting but impossible to ignore.

For the first time in a long while, Giselle felt truly unmoored. The life she had built so carefully, the walls she had constructed around herself, felt less solid, as though cracks had begun to form. And through those cracks, something unexpected had begun to seep in, something she couldn’t name, something she wasn’t sure she wanted to name.

She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk and pressing her fingers to her temples. The tension she carried in her shoulders felt heavier tonight, the weight of her own emotions pressing down on her.

And as much as she hated to admit it, she didn’t know how to stop it.

The morning after her restless night, Giselle emerged from her bedroom earlier than usual. The penthouse was bathed in soft morning light, the faint aroma of coffee lingering in the air. Y/N sat at the dining table, a notebook open in front of her as she quietly sketched out notes.

Giselle paused in the doorway, her sharp gaze softening for a brief moment before she stepped forward, her heels clicking softly against the polished floors.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her tone even but less brisk than usual. Y/N looked up, her brows lifting in surprise before offering a small smile and a wave.

Giselle approached the table, setting a sleek folder on its surface. “I need you to pack,” she said, her voice carrying the air of someone used to issuing instructions. “We’re flying to Milan tomorrow.”

Y/N blinked, startled. Her hands moved automatically to grab her phone, typing out a quick response. “Milan? Why?”

“There’s a charity gala hosted by Lueur,” Giselle explained, opening the folder and sliding a document across to Y/N. “It’s an important event. Publicity, networking, securing partnerships, it’s all part of the image.”

Y/N read the words carefully, her lips pressing together in thought. She typed again. “You want me to come with you?”

Giselle’s gaze met hers, steady and unreadable. “It wouldn’t make sense for my fiancée to stay behind. Besides, your presence strengthens the narrative.”

The explanation was practical, detached, but Y/N caught the faintest flicker of something in Giselle’s tone, something that suggested her presence was more than just a strategic move.

“What should I pack?” Y/N typed, the question laced with quiet acceptance.

Giselle allowed herself a small smirk. “Nothing too casual. Milan doesn’t do casual. Our outfits for the gala are already chosen. I can ask stylists to help you with your clothes.”

Y/N laughed silently, shaking her head as she scribbled a quick note in her notebook. Giselle lingered for a moment, her gaze drifting to the neat handwriting on the page before she straightened.

“We leave at eight. Be ready,” she said, turning to head back to her office. But just before she disappeared down the hall, she glanced over her shoulder. “And don’t worry. You’ll do fine”. The words hung in the air long after she left, leaving Y/N with a small, inexplicable warmth in her chest. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why Giselle’s assurance lingered the way it did, but it stayed with her as she packed her things that evening, preparing for the trip ahead.

The next day arrived in a blur of final preparations. By the time they boarded the private jet, Y/N found herself marveling at the effortless way Giselle navigated the world of luxury, calm, composed, and always in control. She followed Giselle’s lead as they arrived in Milan, the vibrant city welcoming them with its blend of historic charm and modern elegance.

Now, as their car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the Palazzo di Luce, a beacon of modern sophistication nestled in Milan’s historic heart, Y/N couldn’t help but feel the weight of anticipation settle in her chest.

The sleek lines of the hotel shimmered under the soft glow of the city’s streetlights, an architectural marvel that seemed both at odds and in harmony with the ancient cobblestones surrounding it.

The valet approached, opening the car door with a practiced flourish. Giselle stepped out first, her polished heels clicking softly against the stone driveway. She adjusted the strap of her designer handbag with the same effortless grace she carried into boardrooms and gala halls, her sharp gaze sweeping over the entrance. Turning back, she extended a hand toward Y/N.

Y/N hesitated for just a moment before accepting the gesture. Her fingers were cool but steady against Giselle’s, the contrast grounding them both. She stepped out, her wide eyes immediately drawn to the grandeur of the hotel. The towering glass facade reflected the golden glow of nearby lanterns, while sleek, understated sculptures flanked the entrance like silent guardians.

“This is... a lot,” Y/N typed on her phone as they approached the doors, holding the screen up for Giselle to read.

Giselle’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Only the best,” she replied, her tone light but carrying an edge of tension that only Y/N seemed to notice.

The doorman greeted them with a warm smile, ushering them inside. The hotel lobby was a symphony of understated opulence, gleaming marble floors, cascading crystal chandeliers, and quiet murmurs from impeccably dressed guests. The concierge, dressed in a perfectly tailored uniform, approached with a keycard in hand.

“Ms. Uchinaga, Ms. L/N,” he said with a polite bow. “Welcome to the Palazzo di Luce. Your suite is ready.”

The elevator ride was swift and silent, the hum of machinery filling the small space. Y/N’s gaze flitted to Giselle, who stood with her usual composed posture, though her hand rested loosely on the sleek railing. Y/N thought she saw a flicker of something, in her otherwise unreadable expression. Discomfort, maybe?

The doors slid open, revealing their suite. It was a masterpiece of modern luxury: warm recessed lighting illuminated marble floors that seemed to stretch endlessly. A plush sofa faced a wall of glass that framed the Milan skyline like a living work of art, the glittering lights of the city stretching far into the horizon. In the center of the room was the bed, a massive expanse of white linens and carefully arranged pillows that looked impossibly soft.

Y/N’s gaze lingered on the bed, her brow furrowing slightly before she turned to Giselle, holding up her phone after quickly typing. “One bed?”

Giselle’s lips twitched in what might have been amusement. “It’s for appearances,” she said smoothly, though her voice carried a faint hesitance. Her gaze shifted to the luxurious couch by the window. “I’ll take the couch.”

Y/N frowned, her fingers moving quickly over her phone. “That’s ridiculous. The bed is huge. We’ll both fit. It’s fine.”

Giselle arched a brow, clearly unconvinced. “Are you sure?” she asked, her tone teasing but hesitant. “I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, her silent laugh shaking her shoulders as she gestured toward the bed with exaggerated emphasis, signing, “It’s fine.”

A beat passed, Giselle’s sharp eyes studying her. Finally, she relented with a small nod, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “Fine,” she said, her tone mock-serious. “But if you start stealing the blankets, I’m reclaiming the couch.”

Y/N grinned, shaking her head as she moved toward her suitcase to unpack. Giselle remained still for a moment, her gaze lingering on the bed before shifting to Y/N. There was something unexpectedly easy about their exchange, a quiet understanding settling between them.

As the evening unfolded, the suite seemed to shrink, not because of its size, but because of the growing closeness between its occupants. The walls of the Palazzo di Luce, grand and silent, bore witness to the beginning of something neither of them fully understood yet.

Later that evening, the suite had settled into a comforting quiet. The hustle and grandeur of their arrival had given way to a peaceful stillness, broken only by the faint sounds of Milan’s nightlife filtering through the slightly cracked window.

Y/N sat cross-legged on the expansive bed, her focus on the notebook perched on her lap. The outline of the city outside their windows slowly came to life under her careful strokes, the skyline rendered in soft, deliberate lines. Her tongue peeked out slightly at the corner of her lips, a habit Giselle had noticed and, despite herself, found endearing.

Across the room, Giselle reclined in an armchair near the window, a glass of wine balanced in her hand as her other scrolled lazily through her tablet. The soft light from the city’s glow illuminated her sharp features, giving her an almost ethereal quality.

The atmosphere in the room was calm, the earlier tension having dissipated into something softer, quieter. It felt unspoken but understood, an ease that came not from words but from proximity, from simply existing together in the same space.

“You’re working too hard,” Giselle remarked after a while, her voice carrying a rare trace of warmth as her gaze flicked toward Y/N.

Y/N paused, her pen hovering above the page as she glanced up. Her brows lifted, and a soft smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth as she reached for her phone. A moment later, she held up the screen. “Says the CEO with a tablet in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.”

Giselle’s lips twitched, a faint smile breaking through her usual composed exterior. “Touché,” she replied, setting the tablet aside.

Y/N’s silent laugh brightened the room in a way words couldn’t, her shoulders shaking as her gaze returned to her notebook. The soundless joy was infectious, and Giselle found herself watching Y/N for a moment longer than she intended. There was something grounding about her presence, the way she made even this opulent suite feel... comfortable.

Minutes stretched into an hour, the quiet rhythm of the room lulling them into an unspoken ease. Y/N finished her sketch, carefully closing the notebook and sliding it onto the nightstand. She leaned back against the pillows, her movements precise but unhurried, and glanced toward Giselle as she rose from her chair.

Giselle crossed the room with her usual grace, placing her empty wine glass on the table. She paused for a moment, her sharp gaze softening as it lingered on Y/N. “We should get some rest,” she said, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant to disturb the calm.

Y/N nodded, adjusting the pillows on her side of the bed. Her hands moved fluidly as she signed, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Giselle echoed aloud, slipping into her side of the bed.

The lights dimmed, leaving the room bathed in the golden glow of the Milan skyline. The bed was spacious, the distance between them more than enough to maintain boundaries, yet the shared space felt undeniably intimate.

Y/N closed her eyes, her breathing evening out as she drifted off, but Giselle remained awake, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. The warmth of Y/N’s presence lingered beside her, pulling at the edges of her thoughts, unsettling but not unpleasant.

Giselle exhaled quietly, her mind a tangle of emotions she didn’t dare name. For now, she allowed herself the smallest of indulgences, appreciating the quiet companionship of the woman beside her, the fleeting moments of peace they seemed to create together in a world otherwise fraught with noise.

Giselle woke gradually, her senses slow to piece together the unfamiliar sensations around her. The mattress was softer than the one at the penthouse, the air tinged with the faint aroma of luxury linens. But it was the warmth beside her that truly pulled her into wakefulness.

Her eyes opened to find herself closer to Y/N than she’d anticipated. The space they had carefully maintained the night before was now nonexistent. Her arm brushed lightly against Y/N’s, and her head had tilted just enough to catch the faint, sweet scent of her hair.

Y/N lay still, her face relaxed in peaceful slumber. Her features, often animated in conversation or softened with silent laughter, now carried a vulnerability that stirred something unidentifiable in Giselle’s chest. Her lips were slightly parted, her breaths steady and rhythmic, and for a moment, Giselle felt as though the world had narrowed to just this, the quiet intimacy of the morning and the weightless stillness between them.

Giselle’s mind raced, fragments of thoughts clashing against one another. Sharing a bed had been a necessity for the illusion they were trying to maintain, a practical arrangement. It wasn’t supposed to mean anything.

And yet...

She didn’t move. Couldn’t move, not immediately. There was a pull in this moment, an ache she couldn’t quite name. She was a woman who thrived on control, who navigated her life with precision and purpose. But here, with Y/N so close, her guard felt fragile, as though the quiet warmth could melt it away completely.

Eventually, she exhaled quietly and began to shift. Her movements were slow, deliberate, as though afraid to disturb the tranquil scene. As she slid out of bed, her gaze lingered on Y/N for a heartbeat longer, the faint glow of dawn painting soft shadows across her sleeping form.

Giselle padded across the room, the coolness of the marble floor grounding her. She stopped by the window, her arms crossing over her chest as she stared out at the Milan skyline. The first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, casting the city in hues of gold and pink.

Her thoughts churned, insistent yet incomplete. She told herself this was nothing, just the natural result of proximity. But the tightening in her chest, the way her hand hovered slightly as if tempted to reach back, betrayed her reasoning.

Behind her, she heard the soft rustle of sheets, followed by a lazy stretch.

“Good morning,” Giselle said without turning, her voice steady but carrying a softness she hadn’t intended.

Y/N’s groggy expression greeted her when she finally glanced over her shoulder. She sat up, her hair slightly mussed from sleep, her hands moving slowly to sign a sleepy reply. “Good morning.”

The exchange was simple, unassuming, but it carried a weight neither of them dared acknowledge. Giselle allowed herself a moment longer by the window, composing her thoughts as the city began to awaken beneath them.

“I’ll order breakfast,” she said eventually, her tone sliding back into the polished cadence of routine.

Y/N nodded, her lips curving into a small smile. The quiet stillness between them dissolved as the day began to pull them forward, the gala and its demands looming ahead.

But for Giselle, the memory of the warmth they had shared lingered, an uninvited but not unwelcome guest in the corners of her mind. And for Y/N, the fleeting vulnerability she had glimpsed in Giselle’s gaze as she stood by the window was enough to leave her wondering what it all meant.

The soft hum of the car engine filled the air as Giselle and Y/N sat side by side, dressed to perfection for the evening ahead. The private car glided effortlessly through Milan’s cobblestone streets, the city’s charm illuminated by golden streetlights.

Giselle’s gown was a masterpiece, tailored to perfection in midnight blue silk that shimmered under the faint interior lighting. Y/N, in a sleek black ensemble chosen by Giselle’s stylist, carried an understated elegance that perfectly complemented her.

“Remember,” Giselle said, her tone measured but calm, “tonight is about appearances. Stay close to me, smile, and don’t let anyone fluster you.”

Y/N nodded, her fingers brushing lightly over her phone before she typed, “Got it. Smile, charm, and avoid flustered. Anything else?”

Giselle’s lips twitched into the faintest smile as she glanced at the screen. “And don’t let them corner you into answering questions. I’ll handle it.”

As they pulled up to the venue, the Lueur charity gala stood as a beacon of opulence. The grand entrance was lined with elegant floral arrangements, and the soft glow of chandeliers spilled out from the tall windows of the historic villa hosting the event. Paparazzi cameras flashed relentlessly, capturing the arrival of each guest.

The car rolled to a stop, and the driver stepped out to open Giselle’s door. She exited with her signature poise, her presence commanding attention as she reached back to offer her hand to Y/N.

Y/N hesitated for only a moment before accepting, her grip firm but steady. The cameras erupted into a frenzy as the two stepped onto the carpet, their perfectly coordinated attire and the natural grace of their movements captivating the crowd.

Inside, the villa was a vision of luxury. High ceilings adorned with frescoes, gilded accents, and towering floral displays created an atmosphere that was both breathtaking and intimidating. Soft classical music played in the background, blending seamlessly with the murmur of conversation and the clinking of champagne glasses.

Giselle’s hand rested lightly on Y/N’s back as they navigated the crowd, her touch subtle but steadying. Y/N’s initial nerves were soon replaced by a quiet determination, her head held high as they moved through the sea of Milan’s elite.

“Giselle,” a voice called out, smooth and warm. A distinguished man in his sixties approached, his tailored suit exuding wealth and status. “I was hoping to see you tonight.”

Giselle greeted him with a practiced smile. “Of course, Vincent. Allow me to introduce my fiancée, Y/N.”

Y/N extended her hand, her smile polite but genuine. The man took it, his own expression curious but approving. “A pleasure,” he said. “You have quite the remarkable partner, Giselle.”

Y/N caught Giselle’s fleeting glance in her direction, a flicker of something akin to pride in her eyes.

As the evening progressed, Y/N found herself engaging with guests more naturally. Her confidence grew with every introduction, and even Giselle seemed surprised by her ease.

The grand ballroom had transformed into a whirlwind of conversation and elegance, the hum of people filling the space with an energy that was both electrifying and overwhelming. Y/N, however, navigated it all with a poise she hadn’t realized she possessed.

Giselle stayed close, her presence steady and composed, but Y/N noticed the faintest flicker of approval in her eyes whenever she responded thoughtfully to a question or charmed a guest with her quiet humor.

As they moved through the room, the weight of expectation felt lighter. For once, Y/N wasn’t just the quiet fiancée of a powerful CEO, she was holding her own, and it felt good.

They paused near the center of the ballroom, where a particularly lively group had gathered. Laughter and camaraderie swirled around them, the polished glamour of the crowd heightened by the soft glow of crystal chandeliers overhead.

The center of the room buzzed with energy, laughter mingling with the soft hum of music and the clinking of champagne glasses. Among the crowd of high-profile attendees, Giselle and Y/N stood surrounded by a small group of influential guests. Their polished appearances and seamless chemistry had caught the attention of many throughout the night.

One woman, whose tailored dress and diamond-studded earrings hinted at her status as a regular at such elite gatherings, turned her shrewd gaze toward them. Her smile was playful but sharp, the kind that demanded attention.

“So,” she began, her voice lilting with amusement, “you’re the couple everyone’s talking about tonight. Quite the perfect pair.” Her gaze flicked between them, her tone turning mischievous. “But tell me, is this just for the cameras, or is there some real passion behind the façade?”

The remark drew a ripple of murmured interest from the group. Y/N’s cheeks flushed a soft pink, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress as she glanced at Giselle.

Giselle, however, didn’t miss a beat. She arched a brow, her posture as poised as ever. “I wasn’t aware we were expected to perform for an audience,” she said smoothly, her tone laced with dry amusement.

The woman tilted her head, her smile widening. “Oh, come now. Just one kiss. Let’s give the romantics in the room a reason to believe.”

The challenge lingered in the air, buoyed by the laughter of the surrounding guests. Y/N glanced around, her gaze meeting several expectant eyes.

Giselle’s hand lightly brushed Y/N’s arm, a subtle gesture of reassurance. She turned her attention to Y/N, her sharp gaze softening slightly. “Are you comfortable with this?”

Y/N hesitated, her wide eyes searching Giselle’s for any hint of hesitation. But all she found was quiet confidence and an unspoken promise. You can trust me.

Taking a steadying breath, Y/N nodded. Her silent agreement wasn’t just for the sake of appearances, it was a decision to lean into the moment, to trust Giselle despite the vulnerability it demanded.

Giselle stepped closer, her movements deliberate, exuding the confidence that always seemed second nature to her. Yet, as she lifted her hand to cup Y/N’s face, there was a gentleness in her touch that spoke of something deeper, something unsaid.

Her fingers grazed Y/N’s jawline lightly, her palm warm against her skin. The crowd seemed to disappear, the hum of voices and music fading into the background as Giselle’s gaze held Y/N’s. For a brief moment, time felt suspended, the air between them charged with an intensity that neither could ignore.

When Giselle leaned in, her movements were unhurried, almost hesitant, as if testing the boundaries of the moment. Her lips brushed against Y/N’s, soft and feather-light at first, but there was a tenderness in the touch that made it feel far more intimate than it should have.

The kiss was brief, barely more than a heartbeat, but in that fleeting connection was a sincerity that seemed to ripple through the air. It wasn’t forced or calculated, it simply was, carrying with it an unspoken truth that neither of them dared to name.

As Giselle pulled back, her thumb lingered on Y/N’s cheek, grazing her skin in a slow, deliberate motion. The gesture was fleeting, but it felt grounding, a tether in the midst of the surreal moment.

Her hand fell away gracefully, her posture resuming its poised composure, but her gaze lingered on Y/N for just a moment longer. It was a silent exchange, heavy with meaning, before Giselle turned her attention back to the group, her expression unreadable but her eyes betraying a flicker of something softer.

The woman who had issued the challenge let out an appreciative laugh, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Well,” she said, her tone playful but tinged with sincerity, “I wish my husband would look at me like that.”

The comment drew a round of amused laughter from the group, but her words hung in the air, adding an unintentional weight to the moment.

But for Giselle and Y/N, the moment lingered.

As they resumed mingling with the guests, the memory of the kiss stayed with them like a whisper. Y/N couldn’t shake the sensation of Giselle’s touch, the warmth of her palm still ghosting against her cheek.

Giselle, on the other hand, found herself glancing at Y/N more often, her sharp focus briefly faltering every time she remembered the look in Y/N’s eyes before the kiss, the trust, the quiet vulnerability that had made her chest tighten in ways she couldn’t explain.

It was just part of the act, they both told themselves. But deep down, neither of them believed it.

As the evening continued, the gala unfolded like a seamless performance. Giselle was in her element, her every movement calculated to project confidence and control. She introduced Y/N to key figures with polished ease, her words flowing effortlessly as she maneuvered through conversations.

Y/N, bolstered by Giselle’s subtle cues and unwavering presence, found herself stepping into her role with surprising confidence. Her smiles were warm, her nods attentive, and her brief typed responses, translated by Giselle with grace, added a layer of charm to their dynamic. Together, they presented an image so convincing that even the most skeptical onlookers seemed captivated.

Yet, for all her poise, Giselle’s sharp gaze rarely lingered on the faces around her. Instead, it swept the room, dissecting every detail with precision. The slightest change in the atmosphere, a shift in laughter, a glance held too long, registered with her instincts.

A faint unease began to settle in her chest, growing heavier with every passing moment. Something was off.

And then she saw him.

The sight of Jeno standing at the entrance sent a cold shock through her. He was dressed impeccably, his suit exuding effortless sophistication. His sharp features, were lit with a smirk that radiated casual arrogance.

For the briefest of moments, Giselle’s poised exterior faltered. Her back stiffened, her jaw tightening as her pulse quickened.

Y/N noticed instantly. Her hand, small and steady, brushed lightly against Giselle’s arm, a silent question, a quiet reassurance. Giselle didn’t react outwardly, but the touch grounded her enough to steady her breathing.

Jeno’s gaze swept the room, and when it landed on them, his smirk deepened. He began making his way toward them, weaving through the crowd with unhurried steps, as though he owned the space around him.

Each step he took seemed to amplify Giselle’s unease. Memories she had spent years burying threatened to resurface, their weight pressing against the walls she had so carefully built.

“Who is that?” Y/N typed quickly on her phone, holding it discreetly where only Giselle could see.

Giselle’s jaw tightened. Her voice was steady, though laced with an edge she couldn’t quite mask. “Jeno,” she said quietly. “My brother.”

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly, her brows knitting together in concern. She glanced back at Jeno, whose expression was a mixture of charm and menace, as if he were simultaneously offering a handshake and hiding a knife behind his back.

The distance between them closed all too quickly. Jeno’s smirk widened as he stopped in front of them, his gaze flickering between Giselle and Y/N with a knowing glint.

“Aeri,” he said smoothly, his voice low but carrying just enough volume to be heard over the hum of the gala. “It’s been far too long.”

The use of her real name made Giselle’s stomach twist, though her expression remained unreadable.

“Jeno,” she replied, her tone cool and detached. “What are you doing here?”

He spread his arms in mock innocence. “Can’t a brother show up to support his sister? Besides,” his gaze shifted to Y/N, lingering just a moment too long, “I had to see the famous fiancée for myself.”

Giselle’s hand clenched at her side, her nails biting into her palm. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

“Isn’t it?” Jeno countered, his smirk never wavering. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only they could hear. “Charity, glitz, glamour... Seems like the perfect stage for a little family reunion. Don’t you think?”

Y/N, sensing the tension radiating from Giselle, took a small step closer. Her presence was quiet but steady, her hand lightly grazing Giselle’s again in silent comfort. The gesture was subtle, but Giselle felt it like an anchor in turbulent waters.

Jeno’s gaze flicked to Y/N, his smirk deepening. “And you must be the reason she’s kept herself so busy. Quite the power couple, aren’t you?”

“She’s none of your concern,” Giselle snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through his charm.

Jeno raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of interfering.” His tone dripped with sarcasm, but his eyes gleamed with something darker.

He stepped back, his smirk unwavering. “Enjoy the evening, Aeri. I’m sure we’ll talk again soon.”

As he walked away, the tension in Giselle’s shoulders didn’t ease. She stood rigid, her gaze following him until he disappeared into the crowd.

Y/N typed something quickly, holding it up for Giselle to see. “Are you okay?”

Giselle hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line before she nodded curtly. “I’m fine,” she said, though the words felt hollow.

Y/N didn’t press further. Instead, she stayed close, her presence a quiet reassurance that Giselle found herself clinging to more than she cared to admit.

[chrissssssmut]

My Huh Yunjin...

Huh Yunjin x Yandere Male reader

(First ever requested fic! Hope u see this! Pls bare with me with the upload schedule 😭)

Huh Yunjin was perfect.

Everyone loved her.

She was the kind of girl who made people stop and stare when she walked into a room. The kind of girl who laughed like sunshine and made even the coldest hearts melt. Teachers adored her, classmates wanted to be her, and boys tripped over themselves just to get a second of her attention.

She wasn’t just beautiful—she was breathtaking. Unforgettable. The kind of girl who made the world feel like it revolved around her.

And she was your best friend.

At first, you were proud.

She stood beside you, smiling, talking, laughing. With you. No one else had that. No one else was as close to her as you were.

But then you started to notice—

She wasn’t just yours.

She had too many friends. Too many admirers. Too many people who thought they deserved a piece of her.

It made your skin crawl.

She was slipping away.

And you couldn’t let that happen.

So one by one, you took away everything that tried to pull her from you.

And slowly—bit by bit—her world fell apart..

It started with Yunjin’s first real crush, Lee Hyunwoo.

A quiet, charming boy from her class, he played the guitar and always lent her his jacket when she forgot hers. He was gentle, kind—safe.

One day, just when she worked up the courage to confess, Hyunwoo vanished.

"Expelled," someone whispered. "Cheating scandal. His whole family’s embarrassed."

It didn’t make sense. Hyunwoo was obsessively studious—he’d rather die than cheat. But the evidence was airtight. Someone leaked messages, screenshots, proof that he had stolen exam answers.

Yunjin tried calling him. Number disconnected. She messaged him. No response.

The only one who seemed to care was you.

"You’re better off," you had told her, sitting beside her on the school steps. "He wasn’t good for you anyway."

She sighed, leaning into you for comfort.

She didn’t see the victorious glint in your eyes.

Yunjin and Kazuha had been inseparable. They were more than best friends; they were sisters.

Then, suddenly, Kazuha moved away.

"She never told me she was leaving," Yunjin mumbled, scrolling through their old messages.

"Maybe she didn’t think you’d care," you replied.

Yunjin frowned. "Of course I care."

She called. No answer.

She checked social media. Kazuha was gone. Every account deleted.

Her parents wouldn’t tell her anything. It was like Kazuha had been erased from existence.

You sat beside her, stroking her hair.

"People leave," you whispered. "But I never will."

She sniffled, nodding.

She didn’t know that Kazuha’s departure was your doing.

She didn’t know you had threatened her.

Music was Yunjin’s life.

She had spent months preparing for the talent showcase—her shot at being scouted.

Two days before the event, she got the call.

"We received an anonymous tip that you plagiarized your piece. We can’t let you perform."

Her world shattered.

She sat alone in the empty auditorium, fingers shaking.

"Why does this keep happening?" she whispered.

You sat beside her, pressing a hand against her back.

"Maybe it’s a sign," you murmured. "Maybe you don’t need all that. You just need me."

Her throat tightened.

She didn’t know that the anonymous tip came from you.

That you had destroyed her chance at leaving.

Because if she succeeded, she’d go far, far away—away from you.

And that was unacceptable.

At first, Yunjin thought she was just unlucky.

But when everything crumbled—again and again—and you were always there afterward…

She finally saw the truth.

She connected the dots.

Hyunwoo.

Kazuha.

Her dreams.

All gone.

And the only constant was you.

Her heart pounded as she stared at you.

"You did this," she whispered.

You tilted your head. "What are you talking about?"

She stood up, shaking. "You—You ruined my life. Every time I had something good, it disappeared. Hyunwoo. Kazuha. My showcase. It was you, wasn’t it?"

Your expression didn’t change.

Then, slowly—you smiled.

"And if it was?"

Her breath hitched.

"You—"

"You were meant to be mine, Yunjin," you murmured, stepping closer. "I only got rid of the things that were taking you away from me."

Her stomach twisted.

"You’re crazy," she choked out.

You chuckled, shaking your head. "No, Yunjin. I’m in love with you."

She froze.

Your eyes darkened.

"And I won’t let anyone take you from me."

She ran.

She fought.

She lost.

You overpowered her easily, dragging her through the dark streets as she screamed for help.

Her fists slammed against your chest. She kicked wildly, nails clawing at your skin.

"LET ME GO!"

You pressed a cloth over her mouth, voice gentle.

"Shh, Yunjin. It’s okay. I’ve got you."

Her struggles weakened.

Her screams faded.

And when she woke up, everything was different.

At first, she thought she had escaped.

She woke up in her bed. Sunlight streamed through the window. She could hear birds. Smell coffee.

Relief flooded her.

"It was just a nightmare," she whispered.

She sat up—

Chains rattled.

Her wrists were tied to the bed.

The sunlight was just a lamp.

The birds were a recording.

The coffee was a candle.

She wasn’t home.

She was still with you.

Her breath quickened.

The door creaked open.

You stepped inside, smiling softly.

"Good morning, Yunjin. I hope you slept well."

Her heart stopped.

"This isn’t real," she whimpered.

You tilted your head.

"Of course it is," you murmured, brushing her hair back. "You’re home. Our home."

Tears streamed down her face.

"No, no, no—"

You pulled her into your arms.

"Hush, my love." you whispered. "You don’t have to worry anymore."

She tried to struggle, but you were stronger.

She begged.

"I’ll be your best friend forever! I promise! Just don’t—please don’t do this!"

You smiled.

"I don’t want to be just your best friend, Yunjin."

Your grip tightened.

"I want you to be mine."

She sobbed. You hated that sound.

You hit her. Hard.

Not enough to break anything—just enough to make her stop crying.

"Why do you do that?" you muttered, rubbing your knuckles. "I don’t like fucking hurting you. But you make me do it."

Yunjin bit her lip, swallowing her sobs.

Good.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small knife.

She stiffened.

"Shh," you whispered, pressing the tip against her skin. "I’m not going to kill you. I just…"

You pressed down lightly, watching as a thin line of red bloomed against her skin.

"Beautiful," you murmured, leaning down.

Yunjin shuddered as your tongue flicked across the wound, licking up the blood.

You sighed.

"You taste just like I imagined."

Her breathing was ragged.

"Please," she whispered. "Please let me go."

You smiled, cupping her cheek.

"Why would I ever do that?"

The television hummed in the background, and the news anchor’s voice filled the dimly lit room.

"Breaking news: Authorities are still searching for missing girl Huh Yunjin, who disappeared two weeks ago. Police suspect foul play—"

Yunjin’s breath caught in her throat.

You turned to the screen, a slow smile spreading across your lips.

"They’ll never find you," you murmured. Then, you turned back to her, your smile widening. "Because you belong to me, Yunjin."

Tears streamed down her face.

You hated that.

Your grip tightened around her face, fingers digging into her skin until it bled.

"You will never find freedom again," you growled, squeezing until she whimpered.

"You’re mine my love. Forever and always."

[juyeoz]

GOOD GRACES — YANG JUNGWON

46 ┆ Wait a minute

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NOTE — wdym there’s two days left…………

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© JUYEOZ

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “I’M GLAD THEY CAUGHT US..”

୨ৎ pairing: boyfriend!gdragon x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff with some slight angst and super cute moments that will make you ASCEND! also you’re an idol so kinda.. idolish things happening lol

୨ৎ summary: you had known jiyong since you were both young trainees trying to go above and beyond to become better than each other. what you weren’t expecting is falling for him and on a warm summer day ready to tattle on yourself.. he confessed and your life changed for the better. a few months into the relationship dispatch had caught the both of you wanting answers and interviews—that’s where you were now.

୨ৎ from myeong: hello!! I feel as if I’m so bad at these summaries! hopefully I get better and better as I work harder! I’m so happy to take this request and get it done for you. I hope you can enjoy it!! x

summer flashback

pink lips curling up into a gentle smile when seeing the man struggle with the numerous ice cream bars he had in both arms, almost tripping over his own shoe as he finally reached you and the bench you both sat on every afternoon or evening. his laugh caught you off guard when trying to grab one of the melona bars knowing that he would grab the same one which only made you crack another smile at him. “you know I always get us an extra one just in case.” he spoke and you only nodded popping open the package and biting a chunk of the green ice cream letting it melt in your mouth instantly feeling much cooler. though.. it was time. time for you to confess something that’s been bothering you for quite some time. lips parting and head turning to face him—jiyong was already looking at you. his eyes were soft and he had the cutest smile on his face you fell even more in love with him just by this sight. “jiyong I—” but you were never able to finish. he had beat you to it just like he beat you in everything else. “I like you.” and that day your life changed forever but for the better. that day was always your lucky one.

“what if pictures were taken of you? are you crazy jiyong!” you rarely yelled at the man but he had crossed the line with not caring about who saw him entering your apartment building. being an idol yourself wasn’t always sunshine and rainbows.. a lot of hiding and not being able to act yourself was involved. the media and fans already knew you had grown up with the man himself, gdragon or kwon jiyong as you knew—but nothing about the relationship you’ve started with him only months ago. “oh so what? your fans love you way too much to do any harm. plus.. I follow a few pages that ship us together.” jiyong couldn’t help but smirk as his arms wrapped around your waist bringing you closer to his body, letting his face hide in the warmth of your neck as he pressed a few gentle kisses against your soft skin. you wanted to push him away but it was always hard to do so especially when he acted cute and cuddly like this and he knew you loved it. “even if they don’t get upset there’s still a group of your fans! we don’t know how they’ll react ji. I don’t want you in any kind of trouble either.” that’s what jiyong loved the most about you is how caring, attentive, and loving you were to not only him but those around you. “princess, no one will be able to take me from you, okay?” and with that the discussion was over with a sealed kiss.

it had only been a few hours since jiyong arrived at your apartment and the article popped up causing a stir within your fanbase and his own. “so.. something may have happened.” the sound of his voice was enough to make you cringe but not in a bad way—more of a.. I don’t want to know what you did or what happened way. jiyong handed you his phone and hesitantly taking it your eyes widened the second you seen the article. how would pictures be out this fast..? how hard did those reporters work? “gdragon caught arriving at his girlfriend’s house who’s also an idol! pictures below!”

the urge to throw up was stronger than ever and you felt a sudden wave of regret, anxiety, and anger wash over you. why even agree to this? dispatch should be sued for invading your and his privacy in several ways! of course your apartment building wasn’t a secret since it had been leaked months prior but to camp outside and wait for any movement was the most creepiest part. “princess? look at you.. it’s going to be okay, hm? just take a few deep breaths. we’ve gotten through a lot of things together and we can get through this one.” jiyong had a way with words each time he spoke to you like this it made all of the worries and anxiety disappear and never come back. you were most thankful for him.

cutely waving to the camera knowing your fans would enjoy it the most jiyong did the same thing and leaned into your shoulder just a bit, giving off ‘shocking’ pda that made the hosts gasp and tease you. this wasn’t your first rodeo you were a 3rd gen idol you knew how things worked and came about but.. this wasn’t any typical show you’d be on with your group, a boyfriend was here with you and not just any man but the kwon jiyong himself from bigbang. “you both have gotten so much support the past few days! how’s that making you feel?” the question was directed to you and in that moment you paused while looking down at your hands, playing with the charms from your fake nail set. your lips curling up into a sweet smile when you finally found the words to speak up for the first time, “I think it’s.. shocked me the most. I didn’t want to surprise my fans in a negative way but I’m thankful to be here with them on this journey.” you stopped to look at the camera and bowed your head, “thank you my angels.” and gave up a ‘fighting’ fist which you always did with your fans.

jiyong answered a lot more questions since he was far more experienced, popular, and knowledgeable than you but that didn’t mean anything negative. he was the gdragon himself and it was so nice to see him interact with the hosts with confidence rather than his usual anxious and nervous self. confidence looked good on him and he always thanked you which was something you couldn’t ever understand but he always mentioned you gave him his strength and courage to continue on.

“I have a different opinion about that though..” you spoke up quietly not wanting to be rude but it naturally came about and the hosts turned to listen, “I’m dating the kwon jiyong himself! it definitely feels so surreal. we’ve know each other since we were younger and I watched him blossom into this man full of talent and love for what he does. it’s been a great experience so far and I’m very lucky to be dating a k-pop legend.” jiyong covered his face after you finished speaking and for a moment there you felt like it was just him and you back at your apartment being silly together. jiyong would gently push you in a playful way and get so easily embarrassed it was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen. that’s how it felt now and a few giggles left your lips, the chemistry between you both lighting up the entire room—the hosts noticing and making cute comments about it to one another and the camera. “I don’t know what makes her say such things because I’m very lucky to be dating the most popular, loved, and sought after girl.. you’re truly amazing my love.” it shocked you to see how he didn’t shy away from being so intimate with you on camera, his large hand grabbed your own and held it for the rest of the interview. this is what all girls wanted a gentle, genuine, and magnificent love.

after the interview jiyong took you to your favorite ice cream shop.. in daylight. in BROAD daylight which is something you both haven’t done since trainees at such young ages. jiyong was finally able to hold you close to him in public without caring about who was watching. he was finally able to kiss you as much as he wanted loving it when you got embarrassed and shy. “might sound crazy but I’m glad they caught us.” and he only earned a playful slap to his chest. although you had been so pissed about it earlier.. the urge to agree with him was strong—now being able to be a real couple in the public was something so rewarding.

[starconstruction]

Hypothermia and The Cosmos

Yena x Male Reader

Wc:4248

Tags: blowjob, pussy eating, face riding creampie, masturbation,

not proof read.

2072.

Everyone could have predicted the planet being uninhabitable, the rate industrial production sped up exponentially. Nobody wanted to slow down their ventures for more and more money, it wasn't until 2068 where every carbon sink had completely fallen through. Nowhere in the worlds air supply was safe to breathe. The stench of methane as the sky was blocked out. The sun couldn't pierce the thick fog of disease that hung itself across the earth's surface, leaving an eternal dusk that never ceased for brighter times for humanity.

Now humanity's survival was dependant on a mere couple thousand people, those who signed up for the planetary expeditions. A subsect of the divisions designed to protect humanity for years to come, the goal was simple. Find a planet that was habitable and scalable. Today was the day where everyone was heading out, arming yourself in the mandatory assigned space gear, the unpleasant stench of new plastic and nylon mixed with the environmental methane to make something apphrensibly disgusting to breathe into.

You grabbed onto the rails of the staircase, pulling upwards as your gear lulled behind. A crew of 32 including you were grouped together, this was the first time any of you had met. Their presence was both comforting and uncomforting, a pendulum of emotions as everyone loaded the ship full of their stuff.

Your crew gathered into your living quarters, it was a simple design. Two large components connected by a singular hallway, the company thought it'd be cheaper to make them two full inclusive units as opposed to relying on each other. The ship was fully equipped with a kitchen area, containing a brand new kettle, oven, microwave, toaster and tap. The tap didn't have any water properties in itself. But thanks to the companies glorious technology, it can siphon planetary liquid with ease! The scent of coffee pierced the usually pungent atmosphere, being handed a cup by someone completely unknown. The coffee tasted like dirt as it slid down your throat, coffee apparently used to taste better than this. Before the soil got completely filled with disgusting plastics and gases.

The ship has two dynamic captains operating the helm of your operation, one of them was a small man, 5'6? He had brown hair that was being constrained by the tight helmet he was obliged to wear. And his body was slightly out of shape, you didn't know him very well but he seemed average personality wise. He was sat on his pilot chair, legs kicked up against the centre console waiting for liftoff. The other pilot juxtaposed his entire existence. She was anything but average, her hair a dual toned masterpiece, pink and black converged upon each other. She wasn't wearing her helmet yet, allowing you to bask in her entire glory. Her hair ran straight down to her back, you couldn't see her face while she faced the smog filled atmosphere from outside, sipping on the nasty complementary coffee. She was really pretty, but you knew nothing about her personality. Not uttering a word to anyone on this ship since she arrived.

The company provided sirens rung out through the air, firing a blaring warning that take off had to be imminent. The elusive girl put her helmet on and sat up properly, running her nails across the controls as she set up. For some reason the majority of the crew was in the left wing. Chatting it up about nothing in particular as the ship whirred to life. You and the strange pilot was all who was on this side.

Checking the gear stores for your side, the company provided tools for every scenario, ice picks, new motors, batteries, the budget for these missions were unfathomable. Humanity fell on all of you, it's a thought that weighed on your very soul. Weeks of preparation lead up to this mission, it can not fail.

The two space pilots pressed a few tiny buttons, engaging the core engines on the side of the craft, bright LEDs shot out to brightened the fog on the surface as the dirt whipped up by the ships motions. Their movement was synchronised to an art, engaging their ignition as the fuel burned violently. The ship slowly heading into orbit, escaping the disgusting fog in a brief respite. Atmosphere parting away for a clean celestial view, it was going to be a long long flight as you laid on down on the floor.

-

Space was serene, no noises of coughing through the diseased land of earth, only murmurs of chatter could be heard from the other dock, it was a nice contrast from what you had to deal with back on earth. You could get used to this, the strange pilot had long since put the ship on autopilot, letting it drift itself across space. She approached the kitchen, making herself another cup of coffee. Two cups? The mysterious woman brought the two cups towards where you were sitting. Placing them gently on the ground next to the both of you. Crouching down as her suit crunched, lifting the visor up in order to more effectively communicate with you.

"So, what's your name?" Her words were blunt which contrasted with her sweet sugary voice, she gave out a breathy laugh to break the tension between the two of you.

"Y/N. What about you mysterious pilot?" her face visibly cringed at your attempt at a joking nickname, her eyes rolling as she contemplating just walking away. "It's, Yena. Nice to meet you Y/N" she kept sipping on her coffee as her bluntness sapped on your confidence. You two kept exchanging words, none of them were super important or significant as you focused on her beauty, her face was utterly divine, her eyes were enchanting, large bountiful pupils. Her lips were a soft pink, smooth and full of character. Yena tolerated your dry humour and missed punchlines, giving you fake laughter as she jokingly slapped you.

Yena said her goodbyes and got up, her hips swaying as she slowly walked back to her chair. You had to get your hormones under control, she was a crew member and deserved respect.

-

A few hours had passed as you checked inventory to take your mind off Yena, months of food for everyone. Crates of personalised clothes, you brought a mix of clothes for every possible situation. Warm clothes designed for the frozen wastelands, fur coats and gloves. Minimal clothes for scorching climates, a strange mix of shorts, t-shirts and a mix of nic-nacs.

"Fuck!" It was Yena, desperately trying to regain control of the ship as a swarm of asteroids appeared in front of the ship. Various shapes and sizes threatening to crush your entire project.

"Why the FUCK is he not turning!" Yena frantically turned to the right, but the ship wasn't moving fully. The once synchronised pact now disjointed as you panicked. Dropping what you were doing, scraping your feet against the metal as you urgently tried to get to the other side. The pilot was going to get you all killed, the airlock door launched open.

A massive explosion burst out in front of you, sparks flying overhead as metal launched out into orbit. The two halves of the ship now divided.

The sudden loss of pressure nearly throws you out of the ship, boxes of supplies getting thrown out into the vast abyss of space.

Fuck.

Engine batteries, fuel, clothes and more was being thrown out of orbit. Sharp jolts of pain firing through your body as you got hit again and again. Struggling to reach the airlock door button as Yena frantically ran over to you, taking your hand in hers as you got thrown onto the ground. The airlock door closing as the room went silent.

"Shit." One shared word was all that was said as you looked at your inventory, food sprawled over your food. Frozen products shattered, clothes strung over various objects. Atleast those materials survived, all your vital ship pieces thrown overboard.

"We just lost so much Yena." You said briskly, the alarm from earlier didn't stop. Yena panicked and ran back to the helm, dragging you in tow.

"Y/N! Our engine is broken!! I will route us to the only livable planet nearby but it's not pleasant" you nodded as she set your route in motion.

-

The ship landed with a violent thud, crippling further components as they bended under the rock you smashed into. It was cold, really really fucking cold. You could feel it piercing your suit as your skin started to burn up with frostbite.

You looked at Yena and your jaw dropped as the colour was draining from her face, her eyes looked soulless. A loud bang rolled out as she hit the ground. Her body now rendering unconscious, you had to find heat before it was too late for both of you. An axe adorned in pink was lodged into the metal next to the airlock button, it had to be Yena's. You pryed it from the rubble and rushed outside. The cold dug knives into your back as you frantically scanned for trees. Shivers ran down your spine as ice crystallised on the corner of your eyes where the tears formed. A cluster of trees were completely obfuscated by blankets of snow, raining down on your skin as every part of you wanted to shut down.

Smashing Yena's axe into the side of the tree took considerable effort, barely piercing through the thick bark as the cold raged on. The sound of the snowstorm buzzed in your ears as snow landed on every section of your body. You two couldn't die now.

The wood eventually relented, splitting into a small enough log you could throw on your back. The snow made movement slow and sluggish as you desperately fought back to get across. Wood fell at your knees as you finally got back into the ship, slapping the airlock button as the room went quiet. You needed to light this wood urgently, thankfully Yena mentioned wanting to smoke in your earlier conversations. Rushing over to her desk you snagged her shining lighter. You were so close.

*click*

Come on

*click*

Not the time!

*click*

A flame erupted from the small lighter, pressing it deep into the small twigs as it caught fire, slowly spreading to the thicker wood. It wasn't warm, but it was warm enough. Your hands hooked around Yena's body as you pulled her frigid body close to yours. Holding her close to desperately share body heat as you sat by the fire. Eventually succumbing to the tiredness.

-

The world came back into focus as your body felt overly warm, nearly swelteringly hot. Yena was still resting in your arms, her skin returned back to its previous self. You slithered out, the room was so fucking hot. Unnaturally so, looking outside confirmed your lingering suspicions. The sky was red and the heat was leeching through, a stark contrast from the frigid temperatures a few hours prior. What the fuck was with this planet? You needed to change before you passed out from heat exhaustion, sweat trickling down the temple of your head as you put out the campfire.

Your space suit was thrown off as you swapped into the shortest clothes you owned. Yena was still asleep to the world, her breaths being long and patient while her body recovered.

You took the company provided axe, significantly less interesting than Yena's axe. The pink being replaced by a standard wood finish. You had to get enough wood incase that temperature was normal.

-

You got back to the ship as the temperature started to decline back into the arctic nightmare, Yena was laying down on the pull out bed. Wearing clothes that left little to the imagination, crimson booty shorts emphasised her delectable curves. Her legs ran down seemingly endlessly, a sheen of sweat from the abhorrent temperature made her skin glow radiantly. Snapping back to reality as you prepped the firewood for the night.

"Our fucking shower doesn't work and the world is a scorching sweaty shithole!" Yena yelled in your general direction. Frustratedly shaking the pillow locked in her embrace. You could understand her complaints, after all. You could smell both of you and it wasn't pleasant.

" Don't worry! It gets even worse Yena! At night it becomes a frozen wasteland! So you might want to change, and even worse! Our temperature regulator is broken!" You exclaimed, running out of breath as the gravity of the situation came to life. Yena stormed off to change as the night plummeted. You guys didn't have a place to securely change so you turned around. Then you changed.

You two sat by the campfire, appreciating the shelter from the cold closing in all around you.

"Yena, we need a plan. We aren't going to survive in these conditions and I'm not going to die yet." Yena's face was unreadable, the first time you couldn't tell what she was feeling. Her legs tightened as she set and reflected on the situation.

"I've got a plan. We can fix all 3 of the components with some wood and flint, thankfully the technology is designed to work with every fuel source! We just need to get them, as for fixing the engine... That might be a longer plan" Yena spoke with a child like wonder as she gesticulated all her plans, telling you components and how to fix those things you needed so desperately.

-

A week passed as you guys prepared food and general survival before moving onto what you desired.

You two first wanted to fix the temperature regulator, the whiplash every 12 hours was intolerable as you had to burn through so many outfits you couldn't wash with the current supplies. Creating a mess, you two threw all your clothes in one pile.

This was the easiest goal of yours. The two of you went out with your axe and Yena's modified axe. Dicing through enough wood creating a nice collection of scraps usable to repair the first part of your ship.

You and Yena worked together to fix it, jabbing fragments of flint and wood into various documented nodes as you felt it keep a consistent flow of temperature. Helping to reduce the rapid flow of clothes accumulating in the ship.

The next was the shower. You and Yena smelt awful and it was seriously starting to bug you, it required near perfect precision and grinding down the materials to a perfect size. You and Yena made a fantastic team.

It was now night, with the shower and temperature regulators restored you two freshened up thanks to the company's "Infi-Soap" one of the few inventions they managed to muster with the trillions invested into their company.

Yena let you go first, the water spraying down your body for the first time, it was lukewarm as you rubbed the soap all over your body, feeling the dirt and grime wash away as the lather formed all over you. It felt fantastic to not feel completely disgusting.

The shower wasnt exactly the bastion of privacy, it had a small curtain to prevent prying eyes but not much else. Getting out of the shower you quickly ran to change.

You weren't aware of it, but Yena was absently staring at the shower. You pulled the curtain back and your cock was showing for a second while you got out. Yena realised she was staring and turned around. Those lewd thoughts entered her mind for the first time in forever, she rarely ever thought about sex. But it'd been awhile, she wasn't ready for the real thing just yet. But she wanted to get over a big fear of hers.

Yena hopped in the shower, desperate to get away from the grime that encapsulated her body, rubbing the soap into every crevice of her body. Those earlier thoughts entering her body yet again, her lower body heating up as she felt her liquid pool on her lower lips. Yena felt guilt as she licked her fingers, knowing it was wrong to do it so close to someone. Regardless she descended her hand lower, leaning against the wall as she slowly inserted one finger, letting out a needy gasp. Messily rubbing her clit as she put a second finger in. Reaching her knuckles as she went in and out. The pleasure overwhelming her as she thought of your cock. It'd been so long it didn't take her long to cum. Sliding down the shower wall as her head went numb from the mind blowing orgasm. She cleared her thoughts and went outside.

-

Later you two sat by the campfire, no longer a necessity but a luxury as it created a cozy atmosphere for you two to indulge in. She was sucking on a lollipop that she brought with her, the way that her tongue danced around it filled your mind with lewd thoughts again. She was effortlessly sexy. You had to distract yourself.

"So, Yena. Your parents ever tell you much about old earth?" your voice was stuttering as her lollipop released her from her mouth with a pop.

"Yeah, she always talked about a fogless earth, one filled with real butterflies! Not just artificial ones! God if I was there I would have taken so many pictures" she said, her voice trailing off as she thought of her personal utopia.

"Was never a huge fan of butterflies, moths though. I would have loved to see some moths."

"Moths?? What are you an emo boy?" She laughed slightly.

The night flowed on as you talked about the old world that neither of you ever got to experience, Yena finishing her lollipop as she threw it into the cold outside that suffocated your ship.

You approached the campfire getting ready to put it out as a firm grasp on your arm prevented you, Yena. Her gaze was telling you to wait up.

"Hey, Y/N. Its been a long day. You trust me right?" she pleaded with you as she spoke softly.

You nodded and Yena laid you down as she got on her knees. You were shocked as she got closer between your legs.

"I, don't want you to laugh at me. I want to suck your dick. Please please please!" she was rambling slightly as she fidgeted.

You nodded yet again as her hands pulled down your pants and your boxers in one fell swoop. Pooling into your legs, revealing your hardening shaft.

Yena gulped as she stared at it, her fingers tried to touch your cock but reeled back, her face painted a look of panic. Breathing deeply as she closed her eyes.

"Yena are you alrig-" you started, but she quickly interjected "Yes! I can do this... I can do this.." she murmured to herself.

Her fingers gently touched your shaft, the touch was light and shaky. She held there as she smiled, breaking past one of her boundaries. She stroked slowly, getting used to the feeling of your cock pressing against her fingers, the lack of lubricant made every motion come with a slight twinge of difficulty for Yena.

Yena drooled over your cock from a distance, coating her fingers as she rubbed it into your shaft, driving you mad with her intense strokes.

Yena's tongue made contact with the base of your shaft, pulling away as your musk caught her off guard. Spluttering spit as she coughed aggressively. Her eyes locked up into you with sheer determination as she went in for another attempt. Running it up from the base to the tip. Warm breath tickling your shaft as she got more brazen with her licks. You groaned as Yena made out with your cock, pressing kisses into the tip as she coaxed the precum out. Gagging slightly as bitter liquid made contact with her tongue.

Yena ceased her movements as she pulled away, generating a thick glob of her spit which she spat on the tip of your shaft. Her determination was admirable.

Yena spoke, "I can do it, I can do it. If I reach the bottom you can throat fuck me. When your about to cum, pull me off." before you could react Yena's lips were parting as the tip of your dick entered her warm mouth. You moaned as your hips bucked involuntarily. Causing Yena to panic and withdraw.

" I'm sorry Ye-" she cut you off again with a gentle suck on your tip. Her plush lips were pillows for your dick as she tried again. Her sticky saliva coating your dick as she pressed lower. Hands pressing into your thighs for reassurance as she got used to your length. Heat radiated as she took you to heaven. Reaching the base as her nose pressed into your pubes as harsh gags leaked out from her stuffed mouth.

Yena took her hands off your legs, wrapping her dual toned hair around her slender fingers, gifting you makeshift ponytails. She couldn't talk with her mouth so she talked with her eyes pleading with you to use her mouth. Fully into the role of a needy cocksleave. Her tongue swirled around your tip. Hollowed cheeks providing a suction as you penetrated her mouth, lifting her violently up and down as she sputtered even more saliva, coughing as it ended all over your legs. Yena couldn't keep her eyes open as you got rougher and rougher. Pressing against her throat, vibrations amplifying the sensations of her acts.

The feeling of your orgasm was imminent, tensing up as you threw Yena off your cock, her breathing heavy and laboured. Stroking your Yena drenched cock rapidly with her hand, seeing stars as she raised from knees. You were seconds from erupting as Yena's shirt came up. Exposing a tasty midriff as your cock was pressed into her toned stomach, shooting ropes of thick semen as she kept jerking.

The canvas of her chest was now painted with your semen, Yena smiled as she admired her work. Dried spit coating the corners of her lips, her hair frazzled and screwed after you manhandled her.

"Y-Yena, you did it! Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Thank you, let's go clean up."

-

Since that day, you two slept in the same bed, not that there was ever enough space. The ship only providing small pull out beds meaning Yena and you had to create a tangle of bodies to accommodate each other. Her chest heaving as she gingerly breathed, encapsulated in her dream world, she was so cute like this.

You two set your sights to the moon, literally. You and Yena prepared to find a way out off this hellhole, it wasn't going to be easy. The batteries were completely drained and repairing them would require a miracle.

You and Yena were scouting the planet one day, attempting to make a hastefully drawn map of resources. It was like two different universes, at night everything was covered in snow and sleet. Ice spikes form in ravines. At day, the snow swapped out for surges of heat.

You two walked in the blanketed forest, taking notes on the surrounding paths, snow crunched under the two of you. Your jaw dropped, a strange grey ghoulish figure stood in front of you. Bones pressing out of the flesh, nails being bent upwards 90*, organs visibly exposed.

"What the fuck is that thing?" You and Yena spoke in unison, surprised as it runs towards you. Panicking as it tackles Yena to the ground, attempting to bite into her flesh as a struggle ensued. You grabbed Yena's knife from the ground. A swift jab coated your hand in a strange green liquid as it went limp, shoving it to the ground, Yena looked up in fear. Neither of you two felt as confident anymore.

-

It was 3:32am. You and Yena were particularly frustrated as you two found nothing for the third expedition in a row. So frustrated in fact you had Yena on your face. Pussy grinding against your tongue as her hips moved desperately chasing her high, her moans filled the spacecraft as you drowned in her. Her taste was so distinctly Yena, begging for more. Hands grabbing her ass as you pressed her further in. Rhythmic licks went from top to bottom, bumping against her clit as your saliva became an equal with her juices. Yena put your hair in a choke hold, pulling it roughly as you coaxed her to her orgasm. A shrill screech as she came undone on top of you. Falling into the bed.

Yena wasn't one for words when her actions could speak louder, ripping off your clothes as she grinded against you, gasps filling the room as she lubed you up with slick. Putting it in with reckless abandonment, the sounds of skin clapping relentless on the ears as her tightness gripped you. Neither of you were going to last particularly long as she bounced incessantly. Her hair sticking to her head and creating a beautiful frame of her beauty.

The well detonated inside both of you on the final thrust, painting Yenas walls white with your sticky seed, breathing a sigh of contempt as the anger of you two disappeared.

Yena kept it brief "Your my boyfriend now. And we are finding the engine parts tomorrow"

A/N wow I lost steam so rapidly towards the end. Still proud of the rest of the work.

[slytherinshua]

ᜃ　SOFT LIPS, FLUSHED FACE　( 오시온 )

genre fluff , established relationship , sion x fem!reader   cw making out (not rly suggestive tho) , not proofread , ending is prob shit   wc 610   request for my pookie @blue-jisungs   note whipped sion agenda AND ALSO SHY SION AGENDA. he's too charismatic on stage we forget this man is soooo shy   net @kstrucknet @chrimatanet

Your boyfriend had always been clingy. Whether it was with you or any of the boys, it didn’t matter. Physical touch was Sion’s love language, and he seemed to have infinite amounts of it to give. Especially to you.

“Why are you pouting again?” you asked, focused completely on the book you were reading. You didn’t even need to glance in his direction to see his facial expression resembling that of a sad puppy. Whenever your boyfriend got uncharacteristically quiet, you knew he was pouting.

“You stopped kissing me.”

“For two seconds while I finish my chapter,” you reminded him, flipping the page. There were only three paragraphs left. He could wait. 

“Hurry up,” he complained, resting his head on your shoulder, eyes dropping down to skim the words on the page. He never understood why you always read romance books when he was right in front of you. Thirty seconds felt like hours to Sion, but when you finally moved your bookmark to the page, his eyes lit up. You didn’t have a chance to get a word in edgewise before the book was knocked out of the way, and Sion’s hand turned your head towards him for his long-awaited kiss. 

Long-awaited was an exaggeration, but there was rarely a day that your boyfriend wasn’t a little dramatic. That didn’t matter now, though, as you tasted his lips again, eyes falling closed naturally. Now determined to give your boyfriend exactly what he wanted, you pushed his shoulder back, lips still interlocked, until he rested against the headboard of the bed. 

Hands squeezing his shoulder, you finally pulled back from the kiss, slightly breathless. Sion’s eyes followed you, a slight smirk on his face, and yearning eyes longing for more. You smiled at him, pushing back some of his hair and cupping his cheeks. One hand traced his jawline, finger catching under his chin to lift it up. His soft eyes stared at yours, cheeks starting to flush under your touch. You only giggled at how cute he was, placing a few quick kisses to the beauty marks and freckles on his face. 

Sion’s eyes fluttered closed, soft giggles escaping his lips as your feather-light touch slightly tickled his face. He simply adored moments like this. When he was the focus of all your attention; when the world seemed to fade away, and it was just you two drowning in the love you shared. 

It wasn’t long before your lips found his again, gently dancing in tandem with the other. Soft lips and warm tongue falling into each other. Sion’s hands wandered to your waist, pulling you closer. You felt like you could stay like this forever, the taste of Sion’s lips and the warmth of his flushed skin under your body addicting you more every time you kissed him. 

Sion was the first to separate, breathless but still holding you close. There was a moment of silence before you both broke out in giggles. You fell completely into Sion’s hold, no longer trying to keep your head up as you nuzzled into his neck. His arms wrapped around you, hugging you ever close, as if even a single inch of space between you and him would end the world. 

“I love you so much,” you mumbled. The palm you rested on his chest allowed you to feel his heartbeat, still racing slightly. 

“I know.” Sion smiled, all the warm feelings of love swirling in his chest at the sound of your voice. 

“Thought I should tell you more often,” you whispered quietly, an equally big smile on your face as you snuggled closer to him. 

“I love you too.”

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