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faebled-stories · 2 months ago

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The Algorithm of Pleasure

Kinkvember Day 17: Massage

IVE's Ahn Yujin

12.7k words

AN: I said that the winter fic was the longest but this fic surpasses it, hope you all enjoy. Thank you for reading!💖

Yujin juggled her tote bag, phone, and a half-empty water bottle as she fumbled with her keys at the door. The strap of her bag kept sliding down her shoulder, and her fingers, stiff from hours of rehearsals, barely managed to grip the key. She cursed under her breath, jamming it into the lock harder than she meant to until the door finally clicked open.

As she stepped inside, her foot caught on the uneven lip of the doormat. She stumbled forward with a sharp gasp, her phone slipping from her hand and clattering onto the floor. For a moment, she just stood there, frozen in the doorway, her pulse pounding in her ears. A heavy sigh escaped her lips as she leaned against the door, letting it swing shut behind her with a dull thud that sounded heavier than usual. The echoes seemed to magnify the weight pressing on her shoulders.

The day had been a relentless whirl of rehearsals, fan events, and a back-to-back schedule that left her feeling like a marionette whose strings had been pulled just a little too tight. Her limbs ached, her mind buzzed with half-formed thoughts, and all she craved was the sanctuary of her own space—a quiet evening to unravel the knot of tension that had tightened throughout the day.

Yujin bent down to retrieve her phone and kicked off her sneakers, which landed with soft thuds on the wooden floor, the sound muffled by the stillness of the apartment. She padded toward the kitchen, the faint hum of the refrigerator breaking the silence. Her stomach rumbled, but she was far too drained for anything elaborate. A bowl of instant noodles would do. She filled a pot with water, the sharp hiss of the stove’s flame lighting up against the bottom breaking the monotony of the quiet. The aroma of the noodles and broth soon wafted through the small space, warm and savory, wrapping around her like a comforting hug.

Carrying the steaming bowl to her sofa, she felt her muscles relax slightly, her body sinking into the plush cushions. The dim glow of a single lamp illuminated the room, casting long, soft shadows that made the space feel cocoon-like. She took her first bite, savoring the burst of salty and savory warmth on her tongue, when the sudden chime of the doorbell shattered her momentary reprieve.

The unexpected sound froze her mid-motion, her chopsticks paused halfway to her mouth. It was late—too late for visitors—and she wasn’t expecting anyone. A flicker of apprehension passed through her as she placed the bowl down on the low coffee table and moved towards the door.

The camera monitor displayed the figure of a delivery driver, clad in a reflective jacket, standing patiently with a large box balanced on a hand truck. His faint wave through the screen reassured her slightly. She buzzed him in, her curiosity piqued.

“Package for Ms. Ahn Yujin?” he asked, his voice steady but professional as he glanced at his paperwork.

“That’s me,” she replied, her tone uncertain as she opened the door wider to let him maneuver the oversized package inside. She hadn’t ordered anything recently.

“Who’s it from?” she added, her brow furrowing as her gaze darted from the large box to the driver.

He adjusted his clipboard, squinting at the label. “It says it’s from a Miss Kim Gaeul.”

Yujin’s breath caught for a moment, her confusion giving way to surprise. Gaeul? Her fellow group member? What could she possibly have sent? A flutter of warmth began to fill her chest as she signed the delivery form, exchanging quick pleasantries with the driver before closing the door behind him.

The package loomed large in her small entryway, a monolithic presence that seemed to demand her attention. She crouched down, running her hands over the plain cardboard exterior as if it might reveal its secrets. The weight of her day began to dissolve, replaced by a bubbling sense of anticipation.

Tearing through the tape and packaging, she found a neatly folded note resting on top of the contents. Her heart gave a small leap as she unfolded it, the familiar handwriting bringing an instant smile to her face.

"Yujinnie, I’ve noticed how stressed you've been lately, so I wanted to share something that always helps me unwind. These are hard to find, but I just got a new one, so I’m passing my old one on to you. I hope you don’t mind! Enjoy it as much as I did. XOXO, Gaeul unnie."

Yujin let out a soft laugh, the tension in her chest easing completely. Gaeul always had a knack for reading her like a book, for knowing exactly when and how to reach out. Her curiosity heightened, she peeled back the remaining layers of wrapping until the gift revealed itself.

A massage chair. And not just any massage chair.

It stood like a technological marvel, its smooth, dark leather gleaming under the apartment’s soft light. The futuristic design gave it an almost spaceship-like appearance, with seamless contours that hinted at an otherworldly level of comfort. Her fingers traced the stitching along the armrests, each seam meticulously placed. She noticed the padded leg slots, their grooves perfectly aligned to cradle calves and ankles, and the armrests equipped with flexible grooves that seemed to beckon her to try them.

The chair’s control panel glowed faintly, buttons labeled with options like “Neck,” “Back,” and “Full Body,” each promising tailored relief. She marveled at the attention to detail, the backrest designed to mold to the spine’s natural curve. Everything about the chair invited her to sink into its embrace.

Then she noticed it—a tiny tear in the leather near the edge of the seat, closer towards the leg slots. It wasn’t glaring, just a small imperfection, but it stood out in contrast to the chair’s otherwise pristine appearance. She ran her fingers over it, the rough edges of the tear catching slightly on her skin.

For a moment, a pang of disappointment flashed through her. Had it been damaged in transit? But the feeling was fleeting. The gift wasn’t just the chair itself—it was the thought behind it, Gaeul’s effort to ease her stress. That realization filled her with gratitude.

“It’s just a small flaw,” she whispered, her lips curling into a gentle smile. She stepped back, taking in the full sight of the chair once more. It wasn’t perfect, but neither was life. It was real, thoughtful, and exactly what she needed. And tonight, she decided, she would let it work its magic.

The chair loomed like a portal to another world—a world unparalleled relaxation and peace. The sleek contours of its design seemed almost otherworldly, the polished leather glinting softly under the ambient glow of a nearby lamp. Yujin’s gaze lingered on it, her anticipation building. Just looking at it felt like an invitation, a promise of comfort that she couldn’t wait to explore.

Her fingers brushed over the armrest, noticing how it seemed to mold perfectly to her arm, almost like it was designed to cradle her in place. As she traced its contours, her hand slipped into a discreet slot nestled within the leather, grazing something cool and papery hidden inside. Curious, she pulled it free—a worn, slightly yellowed manual with curled edges and faint smudges on the cover.

The scent hit her as she flipped it open, a strange yet oddly familiar musk mingled with the faint aroma of aged paper. It clung to her skin as she skimmed the manual’s brittle pages, her eyes catching on a bold section titled: “For Best Results.” She paused, the faint, unplaceable familiarity of the smell lingering in her mind like a whisper she couldn’t quite hear.

Her lips quirked into a small, amused smile as she read the next line: “Skin-to-seat contact is recommended for maximum effect.”

“Well, they’re serious about this ‘maximum effect’ thing,” she murmured, rolling her eyes with a soft chuckle. The idea was ludicrous—who stripped down for a massage chair? Still, the thought lingered, hanging in the air like a suggestion she couldn’t quite ignore. If she was going to indulge in this gift, why not get the full experience?

The chair waited patiently, its imposing presence almost daring her to follow the manual’s advice. Yujin hesitated only for a moment before shrugging, a faint blush warming her cheeks. Gaeul’s thoughtfulness deserved her full commitment, no matter how silly it felt. Smiling to herself, she began unbuttoning her shirt, the tiny clicks of each button a soft rhythm in the quiet apartment.

As the fabric slipped from her shoulders and fell to the floor, the cool air of the room kissed her skin, raising goosebumps that rippled along her arms. Piece by piece, she let the day’s weight fall away, shedding her clothes until she stood bare before the chair. For a moment, a thrill of vulnerability ran through her—both strange and exhilarating. Her skin tingled in anticipation as she turns to face the chair, its smooth, dark surface now seeming even more inviting.

Yujin lowered herself slowly, the leather cool against her warm skin, sending a pleasant shiver down her spine. The initial contact was startling, the texture of the material silky yet firm, cradling her body like a second skin. As she adjusted her position, the contours of the chair seemed to welcome her, perfectly aligning with her frame.

The snug fit was uncanny, as though the chair had been designed with her in mind. Her back pressed gently into the cushioned support, her shoulders nestling into their designated slots. She felt her legs slip effortlessly into the padded grooves, the dividers between them cuddled her inner thighs, firm but yielding, grounding her in place.

For a moment, Yujin simply sat there, letting the chair’s embrace envelop her. The tension she had carried all day seemed to ebb away, replaced by the soothing pressure of its contours holding her securely. She exhaled softly, a small smile playing on her lips as she prepared to experience the full promise of Gaeul’s thoughtful gift.

Hovering a finger over the glowing control panel, Yujin hesitated for a moment before selecting the “Standard Massage” mode. A soft chime acknowledged her choice, and immediately, a gentle warmth began to spread beneath her. The sensation radiated upward, starting low on her spine and moving in soothing waves that rolled through her body. The warmth was delicate yet enveloping, like sunlight filtering through a thick canopy of trees, melting away the knots of tension that had clung to her muscles all day. She exhaled deeply, her breath carrying away the remnants of stress as the chair worked its magic.

A low, rhythmic hum filled the air, blending seamlessly with the soft ambiance of her apartment. The chair began to vibrate, subtle pulses rhythmically traveling up her back. Starting from her hips, the vibrations danced their way to her shoulders, each motion perfectly calibrated, as if guided by the hands of a master massage therapist. The gentle kneading felt intentional, targeting every sore spot, each ache carefully attended to. Her body responded instinctively, muscles softening and loosening with each pass of the rollers, as though the chair was coaxing her into a state of complete relaxation.

As the chair shifted focus, Yujin’s awareness narrowed to the sensation at her thighs. The rollers moved delicately but decisively to her inner thighs, an unexpected yet blissful addition to the experience. The gentle pressure massaged the tender, often-neglected muscles, drawing a soft, contented sigh from her lips. She hadn’t realized how much tension she had been holding there, and now that it was being released, a new layer of relaxation washed over her. The cushioned divider, which had once felt unfamiliar, now seemed like an anchor, grounding her body in place and creating a cocoon of perfect support.

Her head lolled back against the padded rest as the chair’s motions expanded to her entire body. Her feet were cradled in soft grooves, the rollers gently pressing and kneading her soles with an almost intuitive precision. Her calves were embraced by warm cushions that squeezed and released in a rhythmic pattern, encouraging her circulation to flow effortlessly. Her arms rested snugly in the grooves of the armrests, where subtle vibrations massaged her forearms, releasing the strain of holding microphones, signing autographs, and the countless gestures that filled her daily life.

As the chair worked, it seemed to choreograph its movements to a perfect rhythm. Her back, her neck, her shoulders—all were attended to with the same deliberate care. The rollers pressed firmly yet comfortingly into her shoulder blades, dissolving the knots that had taken root from hours of rehearsals. The soothing warmth emanating from the chair now felt like an extension of her own body heat, wrapping her in a sensation so familiar and comforting it bordered on intimate.

Her mind began to drift, each kneading motion drawing her further away from the chaos of her routine. She let out a soft, contented hum as the chair worked its way up to her neck. Here, the motions were slower, more deliberate, each gentle knead feeling like an eraser sweeping away not just physical tension but the weight of her thoughts. The fatigue that had been clinging to her mind for weeks began to evaporate, leaving behind a serene clarity.

As her eyes fluttered shut, a smile spread across her face, unbidden and pure. In the darkness behind her lids, she pictured Gaeul’s kind expression, her unnie’s ever-thoughtful gaze. The memory filled her heart with warmth, and a wave of gratitude washed over her.

“Thank you, unnie,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost reverent, as though Gaeul might somehow hear her. It wasn’t just the chair she was thankful for—it was the care, the love, and the understanding behind the gesture.

The massage cycle continued, the rollers moving seamlessly back down her body. Her calves were squeezed gently, each motion precise and unhurried. Her feet were kneaded with soft pulses that released tension she hadn’t realized had built up. The chair seemed to know exactly where to focus, working in perfect synchrony with her body’s needs. By now, the warmth radiating through the cushions had synced with her own heat, creating a sensation that felt like an all-encompassing hug.

The low hum of the chair’s movements became a steady backdrop, blending with the quiet stillness of the apartment. Yujin’s thoughts grew lighter, her worries dissipating like smoke in the breeze. Every knead, every vibration, every wave of warmth carried her further into a cocoon of peace, until the outside world felt like a distant memory. Her breathing slowed, deep and even, matching the hypnotic rhythm of the chair’s motions.

As the final rollers worked their way back to her shoulders, pressing gently but firmly one last time, Yujin felt the last vestiges of tension dissolve. Her mind floated free, unburdened and light, cradled by the chair’s tender embrace. For the first time in weeks, she had found a moment to simply be—to exist without demands, without expectations.

Her lips curved into a smile, her chest filled with quiet joy. Gaeul’s gift wasn’t just an object; it was an escape, a sanctuary from the relentless demands of her life. As the chair continued its gentle rhythm, she let herself drift further into its embrace, surrendering to the pure, blissful calm that enveloped her.

Just as Yujin thought she had experienced the full range of the chair’s abilities, a subtle shift behind her head caught her attention. Something soft brushed against her nape, and she opened her eyes in surprise. Two rounded cushions extended smoothly from the headrest, their movement deliberate and precise, almost like the slow, purposeful gestures of a living being. They angled downward, adjusting with meticulous care until they rested gently against her chest, cupping her with a delicate firmness that made her pause.

The sensation was startling—unexpectedly intimate in a way that caught her off guard. Her breath hitched for a moment as she processed the feeling. It wasn’t what she had anticipated from a machine; the touch was warm, almost human, as though a pair of hands were there, offering comfort she hadn’t realized she needed. For a fleeting moment, hesitation crept in, but as the cushions began to apply a steady, rhythmic pressure, that hesitation melted away. The lifelike touch wasn’t invasive; it was soothing, reassuring. The chair seemed to understand her unspoken needs, its gentle persistence inviting her to trust it fully.

As Yujin exhaled, her body softened into the cushions’ embrace, her head tilting back to rest against the padded headrest. The rhythmic pressing and releasing felt like a pulse, a calming tempo that resonated through her chest. She could feel the tension unwinding there, knots she hadn’t even known existed slowly dissolving under the cushions’ steady care. Each rotation seemed to unravel another layer of stress, sending ripples of relaxation through her upper body. A quiet sigh escaped her lips, unbidden, as the cushions pressed a little lower, their focus shifting with seamless precision.

The sensation grew more enveloping, wrapping her chest in a comforting warmth that felt less like a machine and more like a gentle, heartfelt hug. It was deeply reassuring, the kind of embrace that coaxed her body into a profound state of bliss. Her shoulders eased further into the chair as the steady kneading rhythmically matched the rise and fall of her breathing, syncing with her as if it could sense her every exhale. There was nothing cold or mechanical about the touch—it felt deliberate, almost personal, like the chair was attuned to her, understanding her without the need for words.

Yujin let her eyelids flutter closed, surrendering to the hypnotic rhythm. The cushions pressed and released, their soft rotations creating waves of sensation that rolled through her chest, each one drawing her deeper into relaxation. Her heartbeat slowed, steadying itself to the same measured tempo as the cushions. She felt cradled, cocooned in a bubble of perfect calm, where even the faint hum of the chair blended into the background as a soothing melody.

“How could unnie keep this a secret?” she murmured softly, her voice barely more than a whisper. A small, lazy smile formed on her lips as the thought lingered. This wasn’t just a massage chair—it was a revelation, an experience so immersive and thoughtful that it felt tailored exclusively for her. Did Gaeul truly know how transformative, how utterly mesmerizing this would be? A faint blush warmed Yujin’s cheeks as the realization set in, but she was too relaxed to dwell on it.

The cushions continued their rhythmic dance, pressing firmly and retreating with perfect timing, guiding her breathing into an effortless flow. Her chest rose and fell in harmony with the chair’s movements, her muscles melting further with every rotation. Her body felt weightless, supported and nurtured, as though the chair was holding her in a gentle, unbreakable embrace. She allowed herself to sink deeper, letting go of any lingering reservations and surrendering entirely to the chair’s touch.

Time seemed to blur as Yujin drifted into a serene haze, her thoughts fading into the background. The steady motion of the cushions lulled her into a state of blissful stillness, her mind clear, her body completely open to the soothing sensations. It was more than physical relief—it was emotional. She felt a quiet gratitude blooming in her chest, a sense of appreciation for Gaeul’s thoughtfulness that filled her heart as warmly as the chair cradled her body.

As the cushions continued their gentle rotations, pressing and releasing in a hypnotic rhythm, Yujin found herself suspended in an oasis of tranquility she hadn’t realized she so desperately needed. It wasn’t just relaxation; it was liberation from the weight she carried, a sanctuary she had been gifted without asking. Smiling softly, she let herself drift further, enveloped in the chair’s warm embrace and the silent comfort of Gaeul’s kindness.

Yujin settled deeper into the chair’s embrace, her body slack and her mind adrift in the profound ease it provided. The tension that had gripped her muscles earlier was now a distant memory, unraveled by the chair’s expert touch. Yet, as comforting as the experience was, a small spark of curiosity stirred within her. She found herself wanting something more—something that might carry her further into this unexpected sanctuary of relaxation.

Her gaze drifted lazily over the glowing control panel. Among the familiar settings, her eyes caught on a small button she hadn’t noticed before. It was marked with a curious symbol, two delicate waves interlocking, their looping design imbued with an almost hypnotic allure. She tilted her head, studying it, the symbol tugging at her attention. The manual had mentioned “advanced features” in passing, but at the time, she hadn’t given it much thought. Now, under the chair’s warm, enveloping touch, the temptation to explore further grew stronger.

“Guess it couldn’t hurt to try…” she murmured softly, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. Her finger hovered over the button, lingering for only a moment before pressing down with quiet resolve.

The chair responded immediately. The gentle hum beneath her deepened, shifting into a richer, resonant tone that seemed to pulse through the seat, low and steady, like a heartbeat. The vibrations slowed, their rhythm becoming more pronounced, as though the chair were focusing its energy with deliberate precision. The warmth she had felt earlier began to intensify, settling lower along her body. It pooled in her thighs, radiating outward in waves that pressed gently yet firmly against her bare skin.

Her breath hitched at the shift in sensation, her cheeks warming as she registered the chair’s unmistakably intimate touch. For a moment, she froze, caught off guard by the unexpected direction the experience had taken. The heat continued to pulse gently, the rhythm steady and inviting. Her initial instinct to pull back clashed with the growing curiosity that rooted her in place. Her body seemed to respond instinctively to the chair’s rhythm, the warmth stirring something low in her belly—a mixture of intrigue and an undeniable sense of ease.

The sensation deepened as the cushions at her chest began to adjust. Their movements, once soothing and general, became more focused and deliberate. The circular pads pressed down again, their slow, rhythmic rotations drawing her attention. They traced patterns against her chest, their touch precise yet comforting, synchronized with the deeper vibrations beneath her. Each rotation seemed purposeful, the soft pressure coaxing her body to relax even further.

A quiet gasp slipped from her lips as the cushions brushed over her more sensitive areas, the sensation sharper and more vivid than she had anticipated. The padding moved in deliberate, gentle circles, carefully calibrated to her body’s contours. It was as though the chair understood her needs without her having to articulate them, its touch intuitive and attuned to her most tense and tender places. Her breathing quickened, shallow at first, before evening out into a slower, deeper rhythm as the warmth in her chest grew, spreading outward in soft, languid waves.

“What kind of machine is this?” she whispered, her voice barely audible, a breathy question carried away by the stillness of the room. The sensations were so precise, so deeply immersive, that they felt almost human—like an unseen presence was there, devoted entirely to her comfort. She considered sitting up, pulling away, but the thought felt distant, her body too deeply at ease to act on it. The warmth and pressure seeped into her muscles, leaving them soft and pliant, as if the chair was unraveling her layer by layer, coaxing her to let go completely.

Each time her thoughts turned to resisting, the chair seemed to adjust with uncanny accuracy, shifting its vibrations and kneading motions to draw her back in. The steady, deliberate rhythm became impossible to fight. It wrapped around her like a blanket, pressing against her body in all the right places, unrelenting yet gentle. The heat blooming in her chest flowed down to her core, spreading outward in a way that felt grounding, stabilizing, as though she were being gently tethered to the present moment.

Her mind wavered, caught between the fleeting impulse to pull away and the growing desire to surrender fully to the experience. Each motion of the chair seemed to whisper to her, coaxing her into deeper relaxation. The steady pulse of the cushions against her chest matched the rolling vibrations beneath her, creating a seamless, hypnotic rhythm. Her heartbeat slowed to match its tempo, her breaths coming in time with each press and release, each wave of warmth. The sensation was all-consuming, leaving her body weightless and her thoughts suspended in a tranquil haze.

As the chair worked with deliberate care, Yujin’s senses seemed to heighten and blur all at once. Her body melted further into the seat, yielding to the touch that had become impossible to resist. The chair held her in its expert embrace, each motion pulling her closer to a state of total calm. Her muscles softened completely, her worries dissipating like vapor, until all that remained was the comforting rhythm and the warmth cradling her from within.

With each passing moment, Yujin felt herself slipping further into the chair’s hold. The sensations, the warmth, and the steady rhythm wove together, creating a space of pure serenity. Letting go of the last threads of resistance, she allowed herself to be carried away, surrendering fully to the comfort enveloping her. Whatever this chair was—whatever Gaeul had seen in it—it was more than she could have imagined.

As the sensations intensified, Yujin’s body instinctively reacted, her hands moving to push herself up, to regain a sliver of control over the overwhelming experience. But just as she began to shift, something brushed against her wrists. The touch was startling—soft, silken, and almost weightless as it encircled her skin with a surprising swiftness. Her breath caught as she felt the delicate material wrapping around her, firm but gentle, holding her in place with a touch that seemed purposeful.

Startled, she glanced down, her wide eyes taking in the sight of thin, shimmering cords emerging from the sides of the chair. They looped gracefully around her wrists, binding them snugly to the armrests. The restraints didn’t bite into her skin; instead, they felt secure, almost comforting in their deliberate hold. Yujin tugged gently, testing their strength, but the cords tightened subtly in response, their pressure firm yet unyielding. The message was clear: escape was no longer an option.

“What… what is this?” she whispered, her voice trembling, barely audible over the low hum of the chair. Her breathing quickened, her chest rising and falling as she tried to process the surreal sight. Bound by something so inanimate yet so undeniably purposeful, she felt an intimate vulnerability she hadn’t expected. The chair, once a comforting haven, now seemed to take on a persona of its own, as if it were in control of the moment. There was an undeniable thrill in the realization, her pulse quickening with the rush of emotions coursing through her.

Just as she tried to shift her legs, she felt the same silken sensation brush against her ankles. She froze as more cords emerged, looping deftly around her bare skin and pulling her legs firmly into place against the padded footrests. The bindings were seamless, their hold just as gentle yet unyielding as those around her wrists. Yujin tested them, her toes curling instinctively as the restraints held her firmly, leaving her utterly exposed.

The restraints heightened everything she felt, amplifying her awareness of the chair’s every motion. No longer able to shift or pull away, she was forced to surrender fully, her body completely exposed to its attentions. The vibrations beneath her thighs deepened, their rhythm deliberate and unrelenting. Each pulse resonated through her core, sending waves of warmth radiating outward. The sensation was electric, her skin alive with the intensity of the experience. She gasped softly, the heat within her building in time with the vibrations, every pulse driving deeper, leaving her breathless.

As her head tilted back against the chair, Yujin’s breathing hitched, her body responding involuntarily to the unrelenting sensations. The air around her grew heavier, and she caught the faint scent she hadn’t noticed before—a musky, intoxicating aroma that clung to her skin and seemed to saturate the space. Her cheeks flushed as she realized its source: her own arousal, exposed and undeniable in the stillness of the room.

The realization hit her like a wave, her body betraying her real feelings as the scent hung in the air, unmasking the truth she had been unwilling to face. Vulnerable and laid bare in every sense of the word, she shivered under the intensity of the chair’s embrace. The vibrations, the bindings, and the unmistakable scent of her arousal all converged into a singular, undeniable truth: she enjoyed this, even if she tried to deny it.

Her eyes fluttered shut as the chest cushions resumed their kneading motions. This time, their touch felt more focused, more precise. They pressed into her chest with slow, deliberate rotations, the pressure measured and exact. Each movement seemed to mirror the pulsing vibrations below, creating a synchronized rhythm that left her completely captivated. Her toes curled involuntarily as the cushions circled over her most sensitive areas, coaxing her body to respond. The sensations overlapped, layering upon one another in a way that left her overwhelmed and yet completely drawn in.

Bound and unable to escape, Yujin felt her breathing quicken again, each shallow gasp evidence of her growing sensitivity to the chair’s relentless rhythm. The cords at her the end of her limbs reminded her of her helplessness, holding her firmly in place, forcing her to remain still as the chair’s touch grew more intimate, more consuming. Each pulse, each knead, was magnified tenfold, pulling her deeper into the chair’s hold, making it impossible to think of anything but the sensations coursing through her.

Her body melted under the chair’s control, her muscles soft and pliant as warmth bloomed within her. The overlapping motions—the chest cushions, the pulsing vibrations, the heat radiating from beneath her—created a dizzying cycle of sensation that consumed her entirely. Yujin’s mind spun, caught between the impulse to resist and the growing pull to surrender fully. Despite the vulnerability she felt, or perhaps because of it, there was a strange exhilaration in the experience, an undeniable thrill that left her breathless and flushed.

Just as she thought the sensations couldn’t grow more intense, her instincts flared, urging her to stop the chair’s relentless rhythm. Gathering her strength, she strained against the bindings, her fingers fumbling to reach the glowing control panel. The angle was awkward, her movements clumsy, each effort only emphasizing her bound state. Her fingertip grazed the buttons, desperate to press the “Stop” command.

But in her haste, her finger slipped. Instead of ending the cycle, she accidentally pressed a smaller button beside the one she had activated earlier. The chair’s response was immediate. A deep, mechanical hum reverberated beneath her, the sound low and resonant, carrying a purposeful tone. Yujin froze as she felt something firm and warm pressing against her lower body. The sensation was unmistakable, and her eyes widened in shock.

Her breath hitched as she realized the source of the pressure. It was emerging from the slit she had earlier dismissed as a flaw. What she thought was a minor tear in the chair’s leather now revealed itself to be something far more deliberate. The object was firm, its warmth radiating through her in a way that left her stunned, her thoughts racing as the chair continued its relentless rhythm, pulling her deeper into its grasp.

She couldn’t see it, not from her seated position, but the sensation left no room for doubt: something firm and perfectly contoured pressed against her, aligning with a precision that felt unnervingly intentional. Her breath hitched, the air catching in her throat as a deep blush bloomed across her cheeks. Her mind raced, grappling with the surreal experience. “Wait… no…” she whispered, the words faint and trembling, as though she barely believed them herself.

Bound securely to the chair, she was powerless to move, the silken restraints holding her snugly against the chair. She tugged reflexively, testing the cords, but they responded with quiet firmness, keeping her in place. Unable to shift, unable to retreat, she was left entirely at the mercy of the chair’s calculated design. All she could do was feel—her senses heightening as the firm shape pressed forward, its slow, deliberate motion leaving her more aware of her vulnerability with each passing moment.

The object moved deeper, its progress unhurried and precise, as if it understood exactly what it was doing. Yujin’s breath stuttered, her body tensing as the sensation reached an unfamiliar height. A tremor coursed through her as her mind reeled, her awareness narrowing to the singular, startling sensation that resonated throughout her frame. She could feel every inch of its ascent, her body hyperaware of the slow, deliberate progress. The firm presence pressed upward with startling clarity, carving deeper than she thought possible.

Her muscles tightened instinctively as she felt it reach what she believed to be her absolute limit. Her breath hitched, her body trembling with the unfamiliar pressure. “That’s it,” she thought, her mind grasping at the certainty that there was no way it could go further. But just as her body began to adapt, the object ascended further, its movements precise and unrelenting.

The realization sent a jolt through her as it stretched her just a bit more, coaxing her to accommodate what she didn’t think she could. Her mind reeled, disbelief warring with the undeniable sensations. It knew her body better than she did, inching upward with unerring patience, measuring her capacity with mechanical certainty. Yujin’s breath shuddered, her skin prickling as warmth bloomed low in her abdomen, her body trembling as it yielded reluctantly to the measured intrusion.

Her bindings held her firmly in place, ensuring she had no choice but to endure every agonizingly precise moment. Each new height sent waves of sensation radiating through her, amplifying her awareness of just how much she could take. The object finally paused, giving her a moment to adjust to the overwhelming fullness, but her heart pounded as she realized it had stopped only to press just a fraction further, testing her once more.

As she sat motionless, her pulse quickened, and her cheeks burned with a mix of embarrassment and astonishment. “I’ve never…” she murmured, her voice barely audible, as though speaking the words might make the experience feel more real. Her heart pounded as she strained to process the sheer intensity of the moment, her thoughts flitting between disbelief and a growing sense of intrigue.

Just as her body began to adapt, the sensation shifted subtly. The firm presence pulsed faintly, its motion so slight that it felt almost teasing. Yujin’s eyes widened, her breath catching again as the feature seemed to expand with a slow, measured pressure. The gradual increase was slight at first, but every inch brought a new, undeniable awareness. Her muscles tightened instinctively, resisting the unfamiliar stretch, only to relax again as warmth radiated through her, coaxing her body to yield.

The sensation grew with excruciating precision, each incremental adjustment sending ripples of awareness through her. Her body strained to accommodate the increasing width, the warmth of the feature spreading outward, suffusing her limbs with a tingling, electric heat. She could feel the depth with startling clarity, every inch adding to the fullness that threatened to overwhelm her. The expansion felt unrelenting but controlled, a careful test of her limits that pushed her closer to the edge of what she could endure. Her breath grew shallow, each exhale trembling as she fought to adapt to the overwhelming fullness.

With each pause and subtle adjustment, the chair seemed to monitor her, its design attuned to her responses. The faint tremors in her breath, the tightening of her muscles—each reaction seemed to guide its movements, the expansion halting just shy of overwhelming her. The patience in its rhythm was undeniable, its unhurried persistence coaxing her body to surrender inch by inch.

When the feature finally stopped, its fullness left her breathless. Yujin sat still, completely attuned to the sensation, her body alive with awareness. Bound as she was, there was no escape from the intensity of the moment, no way to shift or adjust to ease the unfamiliar pressure. All she could do was feel—the depth, the warmth, the perfect precision with which the feature fit. Every nerve seemed alive, her senses attuned to the faintest shift, the gentlest vibration. Her thoughts blurred as the sensations consumed her, leaving her caught between astonishment and reluctant acceptance

And then, just as she thought she could adjust to the absurd fullness, the chair began a steady, rhythmic motion, drawing back towards her entrance only to push to the same depths as before, each motion precise, powerful, filling her completely. Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the chair’s meticulous design, every thrust magnified by her bound wrists and immobilized state. Every movement felt calculated, pushing, pressing, and filling with a rhythm that left her breathless.

Her earlier thoughts of resistance faded as her body surrendered fully, sinking deeper into the experience, lost to the rhythm that consumed her.

Bound in place, Yujin felt her breathing quicken as the chair’s movements intensified, every pulse and vibration perfectly tuned to her body’s responses. The object inside her moved with a steady rhythm, each thrust reaching that unprecedented depth, while the circular chest cushions rolled and tugged gently on her sensitive skin. The vibrations from the seat pulsed through her, each sensation building upon the last, working in perfect harmony to push her closer to the edge.

As the sensations mounted, she felt her muscles tighten, her mind struggling to keep pace with her body’s growing need. The depth of the toy filled her completely, leaving her no room to escape, no space to breathe. Each motion was slower than the last but powerful, deliberate, driving into her with a force that left her gasping, her body helpless against the precision of the chair’s movements.

“Oh… oh god…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as her body arched, pressing back into the seat. The feature pushed deeper, reaching a place that left her stunned, every thrust brushing over spots she hadn’t realized were so sensitive. Her hands strained against the restraints, and a soft, involuntary moan slipped from her lips. “Oh… fuck…”

The intensity increased with each movement, her body straining as the chair continued its relentless rhythm. The chest cushions pressed in harder, rolling over her nipples, their rotations perfectly synchronized with the objects motion. Each press and pull of the cushions sent jolts of pleasure straight down to her core, leaving her trembling as her breathing grew shallow and her muscles began to tense in anticipation.

The vibrations beneath her pulsed faster, amplifying each thrust until her senses were engulfed by the heat and pressure building within her. “It’s… it’s so deep…” she gasped, her voice trembling as the feature pressed to her absolute limit, sending shockwaves of sensation through her.

The rhythm quickened, the sensations stacking on top of each other, drawing her ever closer. Her body began to react instinctively, muscles tightening as she lost herself to the overwhelming pleasure. Each time she thought she might catch her breath, the chair seemed to adjust, intensifying its movements, pushing her past what she thought she could handle.

“Oh… god, I…” she whimpered, her thoughts scattering, words slipping out as she felt herself approaching the brink. “I can’t… it’s too much…” But her body betrayed her, pressing deeper into the chair’s touch, her last defenses melting away as the chair’s unrelenting design left her no room to resist.

Her pulse raced as the attachment reached her limit, filling her completely, while the chest cushions tugged and rolled her nipples with unyielding precision. Every nerve was alive, each touch, each vibration pushing her further. The intensity was all-consuming, flooding her senses until she could think of nothing else, her entire body caught up in the inescapable rhythm that drove her steadily toward release.

“Oh…Fuck…” Yujin gasped, the words spilling from her lips before she could think. Her body tensed, every muscle tightening as she felt herself reaching a peak, the sensations overwhelming her with their intensity. Her vision blurred, her thoughts scattering as she teetered on the edge, a shudder coursing through her as she finally surrendered to the overwhelming flood of feeling. The release washed over her like a wave, her body arching instinctively as the crescendo of sensations surged through her.

Her breath came in shallow, uneven bursts, her chest rising and falling as the last remnants of the moment ebbed away. The chair’s movements began to slow, its rhythm softening, the vibrations fading into gentle pulses that allowed her to catch her breath. The chest cushions loosened their grip, their kneading touch easing, as though the chair were guiding her back down from the intensity she had just experienced. Yujin slumped back into the seat, her limbs heavy, her mind hazy with exhaustion. The tension that had gripped her moments ago dissolved into a tranquil calm, leaving her utterly spent.

For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to sink into the stillness, her senses dulled, her mind adrift in the aftermath. The low hum of the chair became a soothing backdrop, its faint vibrations lulling her into a sense of peace. She assumed the experience had reached its end, her body basking in the quiet relief of calm.

But as her breathing slowed and her muscles began to relax, a calm, synthetic voice broke the silence.

Fluid capacity not reached. It stated evenly, the tone mechanical and indifferent.

Yujin’s eyes snapped open, her mind jolting into alertness as the words registered. Not reached? Her thoughts raced, trying to make sense of the statement, but before she could process it fully, the chair’s hum deepened. The vibrations beneath her intensified without warning, their strength catching her off guard. Her breath hitched as the sensations returned with a sudden, insistent force, the precision of the movements leaving no room for reprieve.

The chair seemed to come alive with renewed purpose, its rhythm more deliberate, each pulse stronger and more calculated than before. The feature within her resumed its motion, its presence undeniable as it moved with unrelenting precision. Each thrust pressed into her with a focus that pushed her limits, targeting areas already heightened and sensitive from the earlier experience. Yujin’s breath quickened, her body reacting instinctively to the machine’s persistence, her mind struggling to keep up with the intensity.

The seamless design of the chair continued its work, its movements perfectly synchronized to overwhelm her senses. She could feel every shift, every vibration, as the chair seemed to measure her responses, adapting its rhythm to ensure she couldn’t escape its hold. The experience became all-consuming, every sensation building upon the last, pulling her deeper into its relentless rhythm.

Her body, still quivering from her first climax, was instantly overwhelmed by the onslaught. “Wait… stop, oh fuck!” she gasped, her voice breaking as the feature pressed forward, deeper than it had before, ignoring the boundaries it had previously measured. She felt it push against her in a way that left her breathless, her entire form trembling as the pressure intensified. Her limbs strained against the restraints as she tried instinctively to move, but the chair held her completely still, its rhythm relentless.

“Oh god… please, stop…” she whimpered, but the chair showed no sign of slowing. The feature drove deeper, inch by inch, surpassing the limits it had mapped out before, testing her body’s capacity in a way that left her mind spinning. Each thrust seemed to stretch her in ways she hadn’t known possible, every sensation raw and amplified as the machine pushed her further.

The feature pulsed with a new, unrelenting rhythm, driving into her with a force that left her breathless. She gasped, her voice cracking, “No… wait, it’s… it’s too deep… fuck!” Her body instinctively tensed, her senses heightened as the pressure built within her, her nerves lighting up under the strain. Desperation took hold as she tried to lift her hips, arching away from the relentless ascent of the feature, but the chair seemed to read her like a book. The moment she shifted, it surged upward with calculated precision, matching her movements and pushing her further than she thought possible.

Her muscles tightened in protest as the depth became almost unbearable, her gasps turning into soft cries. The bindings around her wrists and ankles responded seamlessly, holding her firmly in place and preventing her from retreating. The relentless precision of the feature left her helpless, her body forced to meet every inch of its advance. Each adjustment, each movement seemed deliberately designed to draw her deeper into the sensation, leaving her trembling with the effort to endure it.

The vibrations intensified, pulsing faster, sharper, each one a shock to her overstimulated nerves. She felt herself slipping further, her breaths shallow, each thrust pressing her to her absolute limit. The relentless rhythm, the merciless depth—it all merged into one overwhelming sensation that left her gasping for air. “No, please… stop!” she cried out, but the machine gave no response, its synthetic indifference all too clear as it continued, unyielding.

The chest cushions returned, pressing firmly over her chest, the circular pads rolling and tugging her nipples with a fierceness that left her whimpering. Each pull was calculated, precise, dragging her deeper into the chair’s control as her sensitivity spiked. The combination was too much; her body felt trapped, bound in a cycle of unending sensation, each pulse, each thrust driving her closer to the edge of what she could endure.

As the device drove even deeper, a sudden surge of vibration coursed through it, adding an intensity that sent shockwaves through Yujin’s overstimulated body. Her head tilted back, a breathless gasp escaping her lips as the sensation mounted, leaving her helpless against the chair’s brutal rhythm. Every thrust felt precise, unrelenting, each movement pushing her closer to an edge she hadn’t known existed.

Control slipped away entirely, her senses overloaded by the relentless pace. Her body, raw and hypersensitive from the first climax, twitched with every pulse, fresh waves of pressure radiating through her. The rhythmic motion of the chair seemed inescapable, calculated, dragging her beyond her limits. She clenched her fists against the restraints, her breath coming in shallow bursts as her body teetered precariously on the brink of release once again.

The attachment surged with sharper movements, its upward thrusts forcing her to accommodate more. She tried to lift her hips, arching away from the overwhelming depth, but the chair was relentless. It responded as though reading her intentions, pressing further and holding her firmly in place, denying her any escape. The chest cushions tightened against her, the circular pads tugging at her nipples with a methodical precision that left her gasping for air.

The relentless rhythm worked in tandem with the vibrations below, targeting her most sensitive nerves. Each pulse drove into her, the sensations layering until every nerve felt exposed, raw, and alive. “I can’t…” she whispered, her voice breaking under the strain, the words tumbling out unbidden. Her hips strained instinctively, but the device refused to relent, the rhythmic ascension reaching depths she didn’t know she could endure. A heavy warmth bloomed deep within her, a pressure she couldn’t contain, spilling over into every inch of her body.

Her breathing grew erratic, her voice trembling as she choked out fragments of disbelief. “It’s too much…” she whispered, her words dissolving into breathy gasps. The device pulsed faster, its movements pushing her further into a space where sensation overtook thought. Heat spread like a fire through her limbs, pooling low as her body arched reflexively, caught in the machine’s relentless control.

The vibrations below seemed to sync perfectly with the rolling pressure on her chest, drawing her sensitivity to a dizzying peak. Her mind blanked, her body responding with a vulnerability she couldn’t suppress. The sensation of fullness became all-encompassing, a rhythmic wave cresting deep within her. She felt the tension building, a powerful swell that left her trembling. “It’s… happening… oh…” she stammered, her voice barely audible as the climax surged through her.

In the instant of release, the sensations reached their crescendo, the chair driving her to a shattering peak. A sudden, warm rush overtook her, unrestrained and unanticipated. The liquid sensation cascaded down her thighs in slow, deliberate streams, the unexpected release leaving her breathless and stunned. Her lips parted, a soft gasp escaping as her body responded instinctively, her awareness overwhelmed by the unrelenting sensations.

“Oh… my god…” she murmured, her voice trembling as the aftermath left her quaking. The warmth traced a path down her skin, a physical reminder of the vulnerability of the moment. Each pulse from the chair amplified the rawness she felt, leaving her suspended in the quiet, electric stillness. Her mind reeled, struggling to grasp the depth of what she’d just experienced. “I… can’t believe it…” she breathed, her cheeks burning as she lay motionless, entirely exposed to her own release.

The rhythmic hum of the chair softened, its motions slowing as though recognizing her limits. The attachment eased, withdrawing as Yujin’s breathing remained uneven, her chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. Her limbs felt heavy, her mind hazy, the echoes of sensation still pulsing faintly through her body. The quiet aftermath enveloped her, the room thick with stillness as she basked in the overwhelming intimacy of the experience.

Then, the silence was broken by a calm, synthetic voice that cut through the haze.

Fluid capacity reached, it announced smoothly, its tone measured and indifferent.

The words hung in the air for a moment, their stark neutrality a strange contrast to the intensity Yujin had just experienced. As the chair’s movements slowed further, the vibrations beneath her eased into a soft, barely perceptible hum. The hidden feature retracted gently, its motion precise and unhurried, leaving her body to settle into stillness.

Her limbs were released as the silken restraints retreated into the chair, their hold disappearing as swiftly as it had appeared. For the first time in what felt like hours, Yujin’s arms fell freely to her sides, her hands brushing lightly against the smooth leather of the chair. She slumped back, her body sinking into the seat, utterly spent. Her limbs felt like lead, heavy and unresponsive, as her breathing slowed and steadied in the soft silence that enveloped the room.

Her mind remained adrift, hovering somewhere between disbelief and quiet awe. The chair, now still, seemed to cradle her with a newfound gentleness, its presence less commanding, more like a silent guardian allowing her to recover. In the quiet aftermath, Yujin could feel the echoes of the experience lingering in her body, her senses heightened, her thoughts distant. The world outside her apartment seemed impossibly far away as she lay there, her body and mind consumed by the memory of what had just unfolded.

Exhausted yet glowing from the intensity of the experience, Yujin lay still, her body basking in the lingering warmth. A faint smile tugged at her lips as her chest rose and fell in steady, calming breaths. The moment felt surreal, the sensations still imprinted on her skin, her muscles tingling with the aftereffects. Every part of her felt both weightless and grounded, as if the chair had unraveled not just her physical tension but the unseen burdens she had carried.

The chair’s steady hum, which had seemed so commanding moments ago, finally faded into silence. She exhaled a long, trembling sigh, letting her head fall back against the soft headrest. Slowly, the silken restraints around her wrists loosened and retracted into the armrests, freeing her from their gentle grip. She flexed her fingers, feeling the return of her movement, though she made no effort to rise. Instead, she sank deeper into the chair, savoring the quiet that enveloped her and the profound sense of calm radiating through her body.

Her gaze drifted toward the control panel, now illuminated and unobstructed, glowing softly in the dim light of the room. The warmth of the chair still cradled her, its presence comforting and steady. As her fingers reached for the panel, her touch was deliberate but light, her body still heavy with the afterglow. A small digital prompt caught her eye: “Session Complete. Save Profile?”

Curiosity flickered through her, cutting through her lingering exhaustion. Without much thought, she tapped the screen, her fingers brushing lightly over the display. The prompt changed instantly, confirming the save under her name. Yujin smiled faintly, imagining how convenient it would be to return to this exact setting in the future.

But as the screen updated, something else appeared—a second profile listed just beneath hers. The name on the screen made her breath catch in her throat: Kim Gaeul.

Yujin’s heart skipped a beat as she stared at the unassuming text. Her unnie’s name sat there plainly, as if it had been waiting for her all along. She blinked, a ripple of intrigue spreading through her as the implications settled in. “Unnie’s profile?” she murmured, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the room. The discovery was unexpected, and yet it sent a quiet thrill coursing through her.

Her fingers hovered over Gaeul’s name, hesitating for just a moment before tapping it. The screen flickered, and a detailed list of settings unfolded before her. With each line, her eyes widened, her pulse quickening as she took in the descriptions.

Heat: Wax simulation.The words stopped her cold, her breath catching in her throat. Yujin hadn’t realized the chair could simulate such sensations, let alone that Gaeul would have chosen it. She pictured the sensation, the warm, teasing precision of wax, and felt a flush creep across her cheeks. The thought of her unnie exploring something so daring sparked a mix of surprise and intrigue. Gaeul, bold and composed as ever, had used this chair for more than just relaxation.

Size: Length 11 inches, width 3 inches.Yujin blinked, her face growing warmer as she read the numbers. Her own session had felt overwhelming, and yet Gaeul had opted for settings far more intense, far more challenging. The audacity of it left Yujin momentarily stunned, her mind racing as she tried to imagine her unnie embracing something so extreme. A faint shiver ran through her as her curiosity deepened, the idea stirring a quiet but persistent flicker of warmth low in her belly.

Vibrations: Max.A soft laugh escaped her lips, incredulous and tinged with awe. She had barely endured the chair’s standard settings, yet Gaeul had chosen the highest possible intensity. The thought sent a ripple of admiration through Yujin, mingling with a sense of disbelief. Her unnie’s boldness seemed boundless, and Yujin couldn’t help but wonder what it had felt like—what Gaeul had experienced in the chair’s unrelenting embrace.

Texture: Ribbed.Her breath hitched as her eyes scanned the words, her imagination immediately conjuring the sensation. The thought of ridges dragging against her overstimulated body made her stomach flip, her cheeks burning brighter as she shifted slightly in her seat. The deliberate pressure and tactile detail the texture promised left her wide-eyed, her lips parting as a soft exhale escaped her. Gaeul’s choices weren’t just bold—they were designed for an intensity Yujin hadn’t dared to consider.

Clitoral focus: Targeted stimulation.The line of text felt stark, almost clinical, but its meaning hit her like a wave. Her thighs tensed reflexively as she imagined the precise, unrelenting pressure this setting would deliver. The thought left her both apprehensive and intrigued, the memory of her body’s hypersensitivity flashing through her mind. “Unnie really… tried all this?” she murmured, her voice trembling with disbelief.

Her gaze moved down the list, catching on the next line.

Breast stimulation: Spanking mode.Yujin’s eyes widened, her cheeks flushing a deep pink as her breath hitched. She hadn’t even noticed this option during her own session, and its revelation left her momentarily speechless. The idea of Gaeul, composed and unflinching, choosing such a provocative setting sent a cascade of emotions through Yujin—shock, intrigue, and a hesitant thrill. Gaeul’s choices hinted at a side of her unnie that Yujin had never considered—a side that was uninhibited and unapologetic.

Double Penetration.Yujin froze, her heart racing as she processed the words. The chair could accommodate such a complex configuration, and Gaeul had chosen it. The implications left Yujin flushed, her thoughts swirling as she imagined the experience, the unrelenting intensity of it. Her mind raced with questions: What had Gaeul felt? What had she thought? Her unnie’s confidence and boldness seemed almost unfathomable, and yet it made Yujin’s pulse quicken.

Her fingers hovered over the option to begin the profile, her chest rising and falling as the room seemed to close in around her. The AI’s synthetic voice interrupted the silence, calm and steady:

“Profile of Kim Gaeul. Would you like to begin?”

The question sent a shiver through Yujin, her senses attuned to the chair’s warmth beneath her. The mere idea of following in her footsteps, of stepping into her unnie’s world, left Yujin breathless. The chair seemed to hold its own quiet intensity now, as though Gaeul’s presence lingered within it, beckoning her to experience everything as she had.

For a moment, Yujin simply sat there, her heart pounding, her body tingling as she considered the choice before her. A small, unsteady smile played on her lips, her breath quickening despite the exhaustion pooling in her limbs. The glowing screen before her seemed to pulse with an inviting warmth, urging her to explore every sensation her unnie had so carefully crafted. Even after everything she had just been through, the allure of experiencing what Gaeul had designed was undeniable. Her mind buzzed with a mix of curiosity, nervous anticipation, and a lingering heat that she couldn’t entirely shake.

The chair, its quiet hum now silent, seemed to watch her in waiting. The faint ache in her muscles from the previous session only added to the surreal allure of the moment, a reminder of the intensity she’d just endured. Yet, against that fatigue, her curiosity burned brighter.

Taking a shaky breath, she tapped Yes

The AI’s calm, detached voice broke the silence: “Profile of Kim Gaeul. Initiating session.”

The chair hummed to life with a low, resonant vibration that seemed to echo in her chest. The sound was deep, almost hypnotic, and carried a weight that seemed to coil inside her. Slowly, the seat tilted backward, cradling her body as it reclined further than before. The movement left her startlingly exposed, her limbs slack against the armrests as the leather adjusted to her frame with a disarming intimacy.

A wave of warmth began low on her spine, rolling outward in deliberate pulses that seemed to seep into her muscles. It was subtle at first, almost teasing, but the intensity built with each passing second, spreading along her skin like molten wax.

Heat: Wax simulation. The words came calm and detached, breaking the silence like a command, just as the warmth settled deeper, teasing her nerves and pulling a faint gasp from her lips.

Yujin’s breath hitched. The warmth wasn’t just heat—it carried weight, a tactile presence that seemed to knead her muscles as it crept lower, flowing down her thighs and curling around her hips. Her muscles fluttered involuntarily as the sensation radiated upward, unfurling across her chest. She bit her lip, her head pressing back into the chair as the sensation deepened.

“It’s so… warm,” she whispered, her voice tinged with awe and disbelief. “Oh god, it feels like it’s everywhere…”

The pulses grew sharper, each one drawing her body further into submission. Her skin flushed as the heat nestled deeper into her muscles, coaxing her tension away even as her heart raced faster. It was intimate, calculated, every ripple designed to tease her in ways she couldn’t ignore. A soft moan escaped her lips as the heat lingered, her body reacting instinctively to the deliberate precision of the sensation.

Without warning, the vibrations surged to life, sharp and commanding, cutting through the haze of heat. The chair’s mechanisms adjusted seamlessly, delivering powerful pulses that hummed deeply into her.

Vibrations: Max. The clinical voice contrasted starkly with the visceral reaction wracking her body, as though indifferent to the way her body jolted against the force.

The vibrations seemed to wrap around her, their intensity rolling through her in rhythmic waves. They blended with the lingering warmth, amplifying the sensation until her entire frame felt alive with electric energy. Her hands curled against the armrests, her breath shallow as the relentless hum sent shockwaves through her body.

“It’s so much,” she murmured, her voice trembling as she struggled to process the overlapping sensations. “I can’t—oh, I can’t…”

The pulses climbed higher, sharper, targeting every inch of her with unrelenting precision. Each wave sank deeper, teasing her nerves into a maddening crescendo.

A new sensation jolted her. Without warning, a delicate pressure closed around her clit. Yujin yelped, her hips jerking as two small prongs adjusted to sit snugly against her most sensitive spot. They pinched lightly, just enough to make her gasp, before beginning a rhythmic vibration that was sharp and devastatingly precise.

Clitoral focus: Activated. The voice followed as though commenting on her quivering form, the prongs already driving her sensitivity to the brink.

The targeted stimulation sent sparks through her body with each relentless pulse. Yujin squirmed in place, her thighs trembling as the dual sensations built rapidly. The subtle pinch added an edge she hadn’t anticipated, heightening every hum and vibration until she could barely breathe.

“Oh… oh god,” she stammered, her voice breaking into shallow gasps. The vibrating prongs seemed to sense her sensitivity, alternating between steady pulses and teasing pauses that left her whimpering.

The sharp, rhythmic taps of the chest cushions came next, catching her off-guard and dragging her deeper into the chair’s grip. Each strike landed with calculated force, perfectly in time with the vibrations below.

Breast stimulation: Spanking mode. The phrase lingered in the air, both clinical and provocative, as if the chair itself reveled in her reactions.

Yujin whimpered, her chest heaving as the alternating taps struck her in perfect rhythm with the vibrations below. The sharp stings jolted her senses, contrasting starkly with the warmth and hum that had engulfed her moments before. She gasped as the taps shifted, alternating between quick bursts and deliberate pauses, leaving her body quivering with anticipation.

“Why does it feel so—ah!—so good…” she managed, her voice breaking into a moan. The rhythm built unpredictably, each strike sending a rush of heat through her chest that traveled downward, syncing with the relentless vibrations.

Before she could process the overwhelming stimulation, something firm pressed against her, unyielding and deliberate. The chair’s mechanisms shifted again, and the feature advanced slowly, pushing deeper inch by inch.

Double penetration. Size: Length 11 inches, width 3 inches, ribbed texture. The voice was even and unflinching, delivering the details as though narrating its own meticulous work.

The ridged surfaces dragged deliberately against her walls as the feature moved, each textured inch teasing her nerves and leaving her breathless. The combination of fullness and texture was maddening, each ridge catching against her hypersensitive body as if designed to drive her over the edge.

Yujin’s trembling hand moved instinctively to her belly, brushing against her taut skin. She froze, her fingers trembling as they met the faint bulge pressing outward. Her eyes widened, a sharp gasp escaping her lips as her chest heaved. The realization of just how deeply the chair had claimed her sent a flush of heat spiraling through her.

“Oh my god,” she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. “I… I can feel it—everything. It’s too much…unnie how do you do it?”

The dual features pressed deeper inside her, their ridged surfaces dragging against her in maddening synchrony. The vibrations grew sharper, blending with the relentless rhythm as her body yielded inch by inch. Her legs quivered, her toes curling instinctively as the fullness swelled inside her.

The clitoral prongs pulsed again, sharper now, sending shocks through her core that made her cry out. Her body arched helplessly as every sensation layered into an unrelenting symphony. Despite the overwhelming onslaught, there was a part of her—a small but undeniable part—that leaned into it. The intensity blurred the edges of her thoughts, pulling her deeper into the consuming waves. Her gasps came unbidden, her lips parting to release a soft moan, as much from pleasure as from the crushing force of the sensations.

The settings merged seamlessly, each feeding into the next to bring her to the brink again and again. The ribbed texture dragged deliberately against her, each ridge sparking jolts of unbearable sensitivity through her body. The vibrating prongs on her clit teased mercilessly, the sharp pinch heightening every pulse that coursed through her. The spanking pads struck her chest rhythmically, their sharp, stinging taps blending with the lingering heat of the wax simulation that clung to her skin like molten silk.

It was too much—her body barely had time to adjust to one sensation before another surged to the forefront. And yet, as overwhelming as it was, it wasn’t pain; it wasn’t torment. Her body responded with raw, instinctive fervor, trembling and tightening as it gave itself over to the overwhelming bliss. Every tap, every pulse, every thrust of the ridged surfaces filled her with an almost unbearable euphoria that she couldn’t deny.

The fullness stretched her impossibly, the ridges teasing her with deliberate precision, while the warmth radiated outward, softening her resistance. The vibrations at her core rippled through her entire frame, blending seamlessly with the targeted pulses on her clit. Her mind spun with the chaos of it all, but her body betrayed her, leaning into the rhythm, craving more even as her trembling thighs threatened to give out.

Her body arched instinctively, her breath catching as the rhythm tightened, faster and more deliberate, pulling her toward the peak with relentless determination. The heat, the sharp taps, the ridged texture—they layered together, each sensation feeding into the next, creating an unrelenting cycle of pleasure that left her trembling and helpless.

“Oh… oh god… I can’t—” she gasped, her voice breaking into a strangled moan. The overwhelming symphony of sensations blurred the lines between pain and pleasure, leaving her lost in the chaos. And yet, as her head tilted back and her lips parted, her cries took on a note of desperate, unabashed need. She was being consumed, but somewhere deep inside, she didn’t want it to stop.

Her body quivered violently, her thighs shaking as the intensity built to an impossible crescendo. The climax approached rapidly, her hypersensitive body teetering on the edge, unable to resist the relentless onslaught. The fullness inside her surged deeper, the ridged texture scraping perfectly against every nerve it touched, while the prongs on her clit pinched and pulsed in a final, devastating rhythm. Her fingers clawed at the armrests, knuckles pale and trembling as she braced herself, her entire body taut with anticipation, the wave of sensation poised to crash over her.

And then it shattered.

The climax ripped through her with unrelenting force, her body seizing violently as the release consumed her. Her back arched sharply, her breath caught in a ragged, desperate cry that broke into gasping moans as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her. The fullness, the heat, the stinging taps, the relentless vibrations—all of it collided into a single, overwhelming surge that obliterated her senses, leaving her utterly undone.

Her cries echoed in the room, raw and unrestrained, as her body shook with the force of her release. Her hands tightened around the armrests, her legs trembling as the relentless rhythm prolonged the peak, drawing every ounce of sensation from her trembling form. The waves began to ebb slowly, leaving her chest heaving as her gasps turned to shallow, broken breaths.

Her body sagged into the chair, her muscles slackening as the aftershocks flickered faintly through her. Every inch of her was hypersensitive, her nerves alive with the echoes of what had just consumed her. Her mind swam in the haze, her thoughts incoherent as her body quivered in the chair’s unyielding embrace.

Just as she thought the chair might relent, the voice cut through the haze, calm and clinical:

Fluid capacity not reached.

The words were punctuated by an immediate escalation. The vibrations intensified, deeper and sharper, the ridged textures dragging mercilessly against her hypersensitive body with mechanical precision. Yujin gasped sharply, her head rolling back as the chair resumed its relentless rhythm. The heat surged again, radiating through her body like molten fire, coaxing every nerve back to life despite her exhaustion. Her muscles twitched involuntarily, her body caught in the unyielding rhythm that refused to stop.

The fullness returned, pressing impossibly deeper, stretching her with ruthless precision. The ridges scraped against her overstimulated walls, igniting sparks of sensation that left her trembling violently. The vibrations pulsed in perfect sync, their overlapping waves building into an unbearable crescendo. Yujin whimpered, her fingers twitching weakly against the armrests as she was forced to endure the escalating pressure.

Her breath hitched sharply as the rhythm quickened, the chair driving her closer and closer to another peak. The sensations surged with a force that eclipsed the first, each calculated motion dragging her higher. Her body arched instinctively, her thighs trembling as the vibrations intensified, the sharp pulses and searing heat blending into an all-encompassing storm.

The second peak loomed suddenly, massive and all-consuming. Her lips parted in a soundless cry as the sensations crested, the relentless rhythm pushing her closer to the breaking point. Her mind spiraled, thoughts dissolving into incoherent haze as her body convulsed. The climax broke over her like a tidal wave, wrenching a strangled moan from her lips as her back arched violently. The fullness inside her swelled impossibly, every nerve ignited in a final, explosive release.

But it didn’t stop.

The sensations refused to relent, their intensity crashing over her without mercy. Yujin’s body bucked helplessly against the chair, her hands clawing at the armrests as her breath came in frantic, shallow bursts. Her vision blurred, the edges of the room dissolving into a haze of swirling lights. The vibrations became muffled, distant, as though her ears were submerged underwater.

Her pulse thundered in her head, drowning out everything else. Even the heat—the unyielding molten fire radiating across her skin—faded into numbness as her body reached its absolute limit. Her legs quivered uncontrollably, her chest heaving as her muscles spasmed one final time. The prongs on her clit delivered one last, devastating pulse, sending a jolt through her body that shattered the remnants of her awareness.

Her head snapped back against the chair, her mouth falling open in a blood-curdling scream that tore through the room before cutting off abruptly. Her entire body stiffened for a single, agonizing moment before collapsing entirely, her limbs falling limp against the chair.

Her breathing slowed, uneven and shallow, her lips parting in a final, trembling gasp as the overwhelming sensations consumed her. A wave of darkness descended, muffling everything—the vibrations, the heat, the ridges, the rhythm—until she felt nothing at all.

Yujin went completely limp, her body unresponsive in the chair’s relentless grip.

The AI’s voice returned, calm and clinical, cutting through the oppressive silence:

User unresponsive. Warming protocol initiated.

The chair’s mechanisms halted immediately, its relentless rhythm ceasing with mechanical precision. The features began to retract, their motions slow and deliberate, withdrawing carefully to avoid disturbing her limp form. The leather cushions shifted, adjusting to cradle her unconscious body with meticulous care.

Then, the warmth began. A soothing heat radiated from the cushions, spreading across her skin in slow, undulating waves. The earlier intensity was gone, replaced by a tender embrace that coaxed her muscles into relaxation. The chair’s presence, once commanding and overwhelming, softened into something protective, wrapping her in a cocoon of comfort.

Yujin’s chest rose and fell faintly, her breathing shallow but steady. Her body trembled softly with the residual echoes of sensation, her skin flushed as the warmth soaked into her muscles. The control panel’s glow dimmed, its light fading to darkness as the room settled into stillness.

The AI’s voice did not return, its task complete for now. The chair hummed quietly, its mechanisms reduced to a faint purr as it stood sentinel over her unconscious form. The relentless force that had pushed her to her limits had vanished, replaced by a serene and protective presence. In the quiet, Yujin lay utterly still, cocooned in warmth and care as the session reached its tranquil conclusion.

The room fell into complete silence, save for the faint, rhythmic hum of the chair’s dormant systems. The stillness was heavy, blanketing the space in an almost ethereal calm. Yujin remained motionless, her body surrendered entirely to the chair’s protective embrace. Her chest rose and fell faintly, her breathing a soft whisper in the air, her flushed skin glowing dimly in the muted light.

Her hair was a wild, tangled mess, damp strands clinging to her forehead and cheeks, a testament to the intensity she had endured. Smudged makeup streaked down her face, dark trails of mascara tracing the paths of the tears that had streamed from her eyes. Her lips, parted slightly, were swollen from the gasps and cries that had torn through her. The soft lighting cast shadows over her features, accentuating the exhaustion etched into her expression—a mix of raw vulnerability and complete surrender.

Her body trembled faintly, her muscles slackened but still quivering with residual aftershocks. Her folds were flushed, the delicate skin red and sensitive from the unrelenting stimulation. A pronounced sheen of arousal still glistened on her inner thighs, the aftermath of a storm that had left her utterly spent. The chair’s earlier precision left her backdoor gaped, the stretched opening a reminder of the fullness that had overwhelmed her.

The scent of her arousal lingered in the air, thick and undeniable, mingling with the faint warmth radiating from the chair. It clung to the stillness like a ghost of the storm that had subsided, saturating the quiet space with a lingering intimacy that was almost tangible.

The faint aroma of the instant noodles she had prepared earlier, once warm and savory, had been completely overpowered. What remained now was raw, primal—a potent reminder of the intensity that had unfolded. It dominated the air, overwhelming the earlier comfort of her small meal with the undeniable mark of her surrender.

The chair’s hum softened even further, its purring vibration fading into near silence, as if giving her space to recover. The leather adjusted beneath her, shifting delicately to cradle her limp form more closely. It held her without force, a silent sentinel watching over her slackened body.

The atmosphere felt heavy yet serene, charged with the echoes of what had transpired. Yujin lay utterly still, her body utterly spent, her mind adrift in a haze far from the quiet room. The world beyond continued on, oblivious to the storm that had raged within these walls. But here, time seemed suspended, as though the room itself held its breath.

And then, the stillness was broken.

A faint buzzing sound cut through the quiet, low at first, then insistent. Yujin’s phone, discarded on a nearby table, vibrated over and over, the glow of the screen casting faint pulses of light in the darkened room. The name flashing across the display was unmistakable: Gaeul Unnie.

The phone continued to buzz, the sound blending with the faint hum of the chair. The rhythm of the vibrations felt deliberate, persistent, as though demanding her attention even in her unconscious state. The air seemed to shift subtly, the charged stillness giving way to something else—anticipation.

And yet, Yujin remained unmoving, her body cocooned in warmth, unaware of the calls that continued, unanswered, as the room watched silently over her.

#kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop smut #girl group smut #kinkvember #kinkvember 2024 #ive #ive smut #ive ahn yujin #ive ahn yujin smut #yujin smut #ahn yujin #ahn yujin smut #izone #izone ahn yujin #izone yujin #izone smut

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bisexual-nightmare · 1 year ago

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The only one of these I’ll accept is the smoke alarm. And I do mean the only one.

If you make me replace my kitchen appliances every decade I’m going to come at you with my vintage handmixer and you can use my ten year old sheets as a shroud.

Who the hell can afford to replace these things that often? Being able to buy my FIRST couch is like a daydream I come back to?! (I don't want a used bedbugs one) Also what the fuck do you MEAN microwaves have removable filters somewhere

#seriously wtf #I kind of get the bed thing re: springs because they wear out #and sure if your sofa has springs that’s likely a cushion repair/replace issue when they wear out #and I probably need to replace some things (like the curtain liner) more often than I do #but three months??? absolutely not #who has the money or the time for that

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pucksandpower · 7 months ago

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Insomniac

Toto Wolff x wife!Reader

Summary: you’re tired of falling asleep in an empty bed due to your workaholic husband’s sleepless nights

Based on this request

You rub your eyes and blink a few times, adjusting to the soft glow of the lamp on the end table as you lift your head from the couch cushion.

2:17 AM.

Again.

This makes the fifth night in a row that you’ve fallen asleep alone on the living room sofa, having given up on the hope of Toto joining you in your shared bed upstairs. The cashmere blanket wrapped around your legs does little to ward off the chill of the night, and you suppress a shiver as you sit up.

With a sigh, you slide out from under the afghan, the plush carpet soft under your bare feet as you quietly make your way out of the living room and down the hall. The sliver of light peeking out from underneath the closed door of the study confirms your suspicions — Toto is still awake, still working at this ungodly hour.

Ever since the news broke that Lewis would be leaving Mercedes for Ferrari at the end of the season, Toto has been unable to relax. He barely sleeps, poring over stats and projections deep into the night as he tries in vain to figure out how to move forward.

You know he feels responsible — for building the team into what it is, for leading it to seven constructors’ titles, for creating an environment where Lewis could thrive. Letting him go feels like a monumental failure in Toto’s eyes, even though rationally there was nothing else to be done. Lewis’ mind was made up.

But knowing how reasonable a decision it was does nothing to quiet the ceaseless chatter of Toto’s anxious thoughts. He second guesses himself constantly, running through hypotheticals and what-ifs over and over.

What if he had offered more money? More freedom? What if he had anticipated Lewis’ wandering eyes and somehow convinced him to stay? But you know better than anyone that his hands were tied — Mercedes’ board of directors simply would not cooperate with his suggestions.

You understand Toto’s anguish, but his sleepless agonizing is starting to take a toll. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced than ever, and the weight of his responsibilities hangs heavily from his slumped shoulders. His embraces are no longer as warm, his kisses no longer as tender. He retreats into his own head, consumed by doubts and regrets, and you feel him slipping away day by day.

Enough is enough, you decide. If Toto won’t take care of himself, then you will have to take matters into your own hands.

You tiptoe to the kitchen and quietly replace Toto’s usual late-night dark roast with decaf. It won’t stop him from working, but at least it won’t add fuel to the fire of his racing thoughts.

After preparing for bed yourself, you head down the hall, suppressing a shiver as your bare feet meet the cool wood floors. Pausing outside the study door, you turn the thermostat down just a couple degrees. It’s a subtle change, but you know Toto will notice, and it just might make him long for the warmth of your shared bed.

Taking a breath, you gently rap your knuckles against the door and let yourself in. Toto is exactly where you expected, hunched over his desk with his brows furrowed, staring fixedly at his laptop screen.

“Hey,” you say softly so as not to startle him. “It’s getting pretty late, I’m going to head to bed.”

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs absently, barely glancing up.

You stifle a yawn, stretching your arms over your head. “Are you coming?” You ask hopefully.

“In a bit,” Toto mumbles. “I just need to finish this analysis.”

You sigh, walking over to him and sliding your arms around his shoulders. “Toto, please,” you plead, nuzzling into his neck. “Come to bed. You need to rest.”

He reaches up to give your hand a quick, distracted pat. “Soon, liebling. I promise.”

Accepting that you won’t sway him now, you kiss his stubbly cheek and head for the door. “Don’t stay up too much longer,” you implore, then make your way back down the hall.

Once in your bedroom, you go through your regular bedtime routine, brushing your teeth and washing your face. But instead of climbing into your big empty bed, you find yourself wandering further down the hall to the nursery.

Pushing open the door, you pause to gaze at your sleeping infant daughter in her crib, her little chest rising and falling with soft even breaths. The corner of the room holds a cozy cushioned rocking chair, and you sink down into it with a yawn, the lateness of the hour finally catching up to you. Your eyes drift closed as you let the gentle motion lull you towards sleep.

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you feel strong arms sliding under your knees and behind your back, lifting you from the chair. You let out a soft murmur, still more asleep than awake, as Toto carries you from the nursery. Resting your head against his chest, you breathe in his familiar scent as he brings you down the hall to your bedroom.

Gently, he lays you down on your bed, brushing a wisp of hair back from your face as he pulls the covers up around you. Through bleary eyes, you see him cross to the dresser and begin shedding his clothes, swapping his button-down and slacks for a t-shirt and pajama bottoms. Finally, he climbs in beside you with a weary sigh, and you immediately nestle against him, seeking his warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his arms encircle you.

You lift your head to meet his tired blue eyes. “It’s okay,” you murmur. “I know this has been hard for you.”

He shakes his head slightly. “That’s no excuse. You shouldn’t have to deal with my restlessness.”

You reach up to cup his cheek. “We’re in this together, remember?” You remind him gently. “For better or worse.”

The corners of his mouth twitch in a hint of a smile. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know if it’s come up,” you tease.

He gives you a playful little squeeze. “Well I do. So much.” His voice grows more serious then. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m thankful for you every day.”

You grin and snuggle impossibly closer. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Wolff.”

His low chuckle rumbles pleasantly against your cheek. “I mean it though. You’re my rock. My safe place. With everything going on ...” He trails off with a heavy exhale.

Reaching for his hand, you lace your fingers through his and give a supportive squeeze. “I know. But it’s going to be okay. Mercedes will find their way again, with you leading the charge. You’re the heart and soul of this team, Toto. You brought them this far, and you’ll bring them even further.”

“I wish I had your confidence,” he admits softly. “I just hope I can live up to it.”

“You will,” you say without hesitation. “You’re the most driven, passionate person I know. Your commitment is unmatched. If anyone can navigate these changes, it’s you.”

Toto is quiet for a moment, his thumb gently caressing your knuckles. “Thank you,” he says finally. “Just … thank you. For believing in me. For supporting me. For loving me, even when I’m being a stubborn arschloch.”

You grin. “Well, you’re my stubborn arschloch. And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

He laughs then, the sound warm and rich, and you feel some of the tension leave his body.

“No more working until sunrise though, okay?” You implore, threading your fingers through his hair. “You need to take care of yourself too.”

He nods, eyes shining with affection. “Okay. I promise.”

Satisfied, you nestle against his chest once more, comforted by the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. His lips find the top of your head in a tender kiss.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “So very much.”

You smile softly, already drifting towards sleep in the safety of his arms.

“I love you too,” you whisper. And with a contented sigh, you surrender to the pull of peaceful slumber, the two of you wrapped up in each other as you should be.

No more empty beds or sleepless nights. Just the comforting nearness of the man you love.

Your partner.

Your home.

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helioooss · 1 month ago

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back to december

synopsis: after years of being together, jimin and y/n’s relationship starts to crack under the pressure of karina’s new-found world: fame.

w/c: 8.5k+

warnings: angst, swearing, this and that, not proofread

a/n: merry christmas

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the apartment door opened with a soft creak, letting in the sound of jingling keys and quiet footsteps. you looked up from where you sat, curled into the corner of the worn-out sofa, a book resting open in your lap. the faint hum of the world outside was replaced by silence as jimin stepped into the apartment.

her black hair, slightly damp with sweat, clung to her temples, and the oversized hoodie she wore looked three sizes too big. her shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but even through her tired eyes, a familiar spark of excitement flickered to life.

“you’re home late,” you said softly, a small smile tugging at your lips as you sat up straight, putting the book down on the coffee table.

she exhaled a breathy laugh as she moved toward you, collapsing onto the spot next to you with a heavy sigh. her body sank with yours onto the cushions as if they were the only things holding her together.

“baby,” she started, voice breathless yet glowing as her face beamed. “it’s happening.”

you frowned lightly, a mixture of confusion and curiosity dancing across your face. “what’s happening?”

she turned her head to look at you, a grin slowly spreading across her face. “the debut.”

your heart stilled for just a second, your mind needing a moment to catch up with her words.

“what?” you asked, almost as though you’d misheard — but you heard her right.

“i’m debuting!” she burst out, her hands flailing briefly before dropping back to her lap. her voice rose with that mix of disbelief and joy, like she was saying the words out loud to make them real. “it’s official. i’m going to debut in a group. with yizhuo, minjeong and aeri.”

the news struck you like a wave, one that carried a mixture of pride, excitement and something you couldn’t quite place — a faint flicker of anxiety.

“baby, that’s fucking incredible!” you threw your arms around her without thinking, and she let out a surprised laugh as you held her tightly. her body was warm and familiar, the scent of her floral shampoo lingering faintly — the smile broke across your face, legs tangled together and all.

her arms tightened around you for a moment before she pulled back just enough to look at you. her dark eyes softened. “i couldn’t have done it without you.”

“i told you it was only a matter of time,” you murmured into her shoulder, your voice muffled but steady. “it’s all you and your hard, baby. i just happen to be the lucky one cheering from the sidelines.”

“you’re always there, cheering me on, even when i doubt myself,” her eyes glimmered, showing adoration towards you.

“of course i am,” you replied simply. “i believe in you. i always have.”

her smile faltered for just a second, like she was overwhelmed by something unspoken. yet she sat up straighter, the energy returning to her. “i want to celebrate with you. i invited the girls over for dinner tomorrow — i hope you don’t mind.”

you nodded, feeling that familiar itch to do something for her. for all of them. “i’ll cook,” you offered without hesitation.

“you don’t have to —”

“i want to,” you cut in, smiling as you already made a mental note of the dishes you were going to cook. “it’s not every day my girlfriend debuts as a k-pop star. it has to be special.”

jimin’s face softened, her eyes lingering on you a little longer than usual. “you’re going to love them,” she said quietly. “and they’re going to love you.”

the next day passed in a blur of preparation. the apartment smelled like home — garlic, soy sauce, and ginger infused the air and the sizzle of meat on the stove echoed through the small space.

you’d been chopping, marinating, and stirring for hours, sleeves rolled up to your elbows and a soft hum of music playing in the background. cooking for people always gave you a sense of calm, as though each dish you prepared was a quiet offering of care.

when the knock came at the door, followed by the distinct sound of your girlfriend’s laugh, you wiped your hands on a towel and peeked around the kitchen doorway. a small, proud smile tugged at her lips as she caught your eye.

“welcome, welcome!” she said brightly as three girls spilled into the entryway, shedding coats and shoes.

their energy filled the apartment instantly — a mixture of excitement, nerves, and something unspoken that came with dreams finally taking shape.

“this place is so cute,” one of the girls said, her sharp features framed by black hair that brushed her shoulders. she was grinning brightly, her accent smooth but distinct. “you must be y/n? i’m aeri. or giselle, i guess.”

you smiled warmly, offering a small wave. “i’m y/n, nice to meet you all. i hope you’re all hungry!”

“oh, trust me, i’m starved,” the blonde beside her piped up, eyes sparkling. “all good things, i hope. i’m minjeong. they’re calling me winter now.”

“and i’m yizhuo,” the third girl said, giving you a small but bright smile. her energy felt calmer but no less vibrant. “ningning on stage.”

“stage names, huh?” you glanced at jimin teasingly. “what’s yours?”

her cheeks blushed faintly. “karina.”

“karina,” you repeated softly, testing the name. you smiled. “it suits you.”

the girls teased her relentlessly over your response, but she took it with that playful pride, her gaze lingering on you.

“you cooked for us?” yizhuo asked, peeking into the kitchen with curiosity.

“it’s nothing fancy,” you said, though you knew the spread was far from simple. “just a little something to celebrate.”

“you’re spoiling us already,” minjeong teased as she followed the others into the living room. “jimin, take notes, would you?”

“idiot,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “i look after you three enough.”

they filed into the living room, and soon enough, the dinner table was alive with chatter, the girls filling the small space with their voices, stories and questions.

jimin sat beside you, her eyes occasionally flickering your way. she looked more at ease than you’d seen her in weeks, even with the chaos.

“so, y/n,” aeri started, leaning forward with curiosity, “your girlfriend said you’re an artist. you have your own gallery, right?”

you nodded, surprised she even knew that much. “yeah; it’s a small space, but it’s mine.”

“that’s so cool,” minjeong added, her eyes wide. “what kind of art do you do?”

“a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling a faint heat creep up your neck. “portraits, landscapes, abstracts…i’ve always loved experimenting with textures and colours.”

“jimin proudly told us she was your muse,” yizhuo teased, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

the girl groaned softly beside you, burying her face in her hands. “ning.”

the girls erupted into laughter while you smiled faintly, looking at jimin’s flustered form. “she’s not wrong,” you shrugged, earning a few squeals from around the table. she peeked at you between her fingers, her cheeks dusted pink.

they fell into an easy conversation with you, despite their initial curiosity about who you were and how you fit into jimin’s life. they teased her endlessly — about her stage name, her habits, her tendency to practice endlessly, but they did so with a kind of deep affection that made your heart ache in the best way.

at one point, yizhuo turned to you once again, grinning mischievously. “so, how did you two meet?”

you glanced at jimin, who was already looking at you with that knowing smile. “we met at my gallery,” you said. “she walked in one day, acting like she was lost.”

“i was lost,” she interjected defensively, though her grin betrayed her amusement.

“sure you were,” you teased back, earning laughter from the table. “she stayed longer than most visitors, though. we got to talking. and she kept coming back.”

“for the art?” minjeong asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“for her,” jimin admitted quietly, her voice almost drowned out by the noise.

the table quietened for a beat, and you felt your cheeks heat under their gazes.

“that’s so cute,” aeri declared, breaking the silence. “karina, the hopeless romantic. who would’ve thought?”

“she’s not as tough as she looks,” you joked, catching her eye. her expression softened, a quiet kind of gratitude lingering in her gaze.

jimin dropped her hands, her voice quieter now. “i’ve always been her biggest fan,” she said softly. “she just doesn’t know it.”

your heart fluttered in your chest, but you focused on scooping rice onto your plate, fighting the smile threatening to take over your face.

as dinner wound down, the conversation shifted to the industry itself. they talked about practice schedules, strict diets and the endless rehearsals that had led to this moment.

“it’s harder than people think,” aeri explained, leaning back in her chair. “we’re up at 6 in the morning most days and sometimes finish past midnight. and then we have to get up and do it all over again.”

“and don’t forget the pressure,” minjeong added. “from fans, the company, and even ourselves. it’s…a lot.”

you listened quietly, glancing at your girlfriend, who was staring down at her plate. something about the way she pressed her lips together tugged at you.

“you’ll all be amazing,” you said softly, cutting through the weight of the conversation. “it’s not easy, but you’re already doing something most people could only dream of. and… ou have each other. that’s what matters, right?”

they all smiled and jimin’s gaze finally lifted to meet yours. there was something unspoken in her expression — gratitude, perhaps, or pride.

“she’s right,” jimin said quietly. “we’ll make it. together.”

as the night drew to a close, you retreated to the kitchen to clean up despite their protests. jimin followed you eventually, leaning against the counter as you scrubbed dishes. the apartment behind her buzzed with the muffled sound of the girls talking and laughing.

“you were right,” you said softly. “i do love them.”

she smiled faintly, stepping closer. “and they love you.”

you turned off the tap and dried your hands before facing her, putting your hands on her waist. “i’m proud of you, you know.”

she placed her palms against your face, her gaze searching yours, and for a second, the world outside disappeared. “i’ll make you even prouder,” she promised. “you’ll see.”

she was always meant to shine. there was such a promise in her words that you believed her. with everything you had.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

aespa’s debut had been nothing short of a phenomenon. their first music video went viral overnight, their sleek, futuristic concept capturing millions. everyone fell in love with them, chanting their names in sold-out arenas and plastering their faces across glossy billboards.

the world had changed in just one year and karina had become its centre. their schedules stretched endlessly, a constant cycle of rehearsals, performances, and interviews.

you watched it all unfold from the sidelines.

it wasn’t a surprise. she had always been destined for this kind of success, but you never realised how much it would take from her — from both of you.

her phone calls to you grew shorter and texts came slower. ‘i love you’ turned into rushed goodbyes, the weight of her schedule pulling her further and further away. you understood. of course you did — this was the dream she had fought for.

understanding didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

the fanmeet was packed, the sound of chatter and excitement vibrating through the venue. you stood in line with the rest of the fans, clutching your aespa album and a small envelope. your pulse thrummed faintly with nerves, though it wasn’t the first fanmeet you’d attended. you’d been to as many as you could manage, standing in the crowds like everyone else, cheering and waving your lightstick.

jimin — karina, you corrected yourself — had spotted you more than once during these events. sometimes, her gaze would linger a second too long, her smile softening at the corners but you never pushed for more.

you were just another face in the crowd. it stung sometimes.

“next!”

you stepped forward, and there they were, seated at the table, faces bright with smiles. giselle was first to see you as she grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners as she took your album. “hi!”

“hi,” you said, smiling back.

she glanced up, studying you for a second. “you look familiar,” she said, pen poised above the page. “have we seen you before?”

you blinked. “uh, maybe? i’ve been to a few fanmeets.”

“oh, a dedicated fan,” giselle teased, scribbling her signature across the page. “i like that.”

dickhead. you laughed softly before moving on to ningning, who beamed brightly as you approached.

“it’s you again!” she said, pointing at you with her marker.

your stomach dropped slightly. “again?”

“yeah! you’ve been to, like, every show, right? and didn’t you trend once for that fan chant video?”

your cheeks burned. “oh…um, yeah. i guess.”

“we appreciate it,” ningning said warmly, leaning forward slightly. “you’re one of those fans — the ones we know are always there.”

your heart clenched at that, but you managed a small smile.

winter was next. her gaze was more observant as you handed her the album. “you’ve got that stan twitter vibe,” she said bluntly, and you nearly choked on air.

“what?”

she smirked. “come on. the energy? the dedication? you’ve got a secret fan account somewhere, don’t you?”

“i…” you began, unable to stop your nervous laugh. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

her smirk widened knowingly as she handed you back the album. “sure you don’t.”

and then it was karina.

she looked up as you stepped forward, her face breaking into a smile that she tried to make look casual but didn’t quite succeed.

“hey,” she said softly, her voice almost lost under the hum of the venue.

“hi,” you replied, keeping your own voice light as you stared at your girlfriend.

“you’re here again,” she murmured as she took the album.

“i always am,” you said quietly, watching her sign her stage name: karina, in elegant loops.

her hand paused for just a second and then she passed the album back to you, her thumb brushing over your skin for a second. her eyes flickered up, searching yours.

“thanks for coming,” she said finally, her tone just a little too soft to be professional.

you swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded. “of course, always.”

the weeks bled into each other and your conversations with jimin really became less and less frequent. you would see her once a week, if you were lucky.

aespa had moved into a luxury apartment together months ago, but most of her old things were still here — left exactly as they had been, like ghosts of a quieter life. her old hoodie still hung on the back of the door, her favourite mug sat unused in the cupboard and you swore her perfume lingered around.

the thing that kept you afloat was constantly reminding yourself of what she’d fought for — how she had argued with her company to keep you, how she had sat across from you, holding the nda papers with shaking hands.

“i won’t lose you, y/n,” she’d whispered that day. “i’ll do whatever it takes.”

and she had.

now, the silence was the hardest part.

it was late afternoon when you arrived at their apartment, a small bag of groceries clutched tightly in your hands. the sleek, modern building seemed too pristine, like it belonged in a magazine, but it suited the: polished, untouchable, larger than life.

jimin wasn’t there. she’d left early that morning for solo activities. a photoshoot, you thought, though it was hard to keep track of her schedule these days. her texts had been brief that morning.

from: my love 🫶

leaving early today. the girls are home, though. they miss you. i miss you. i love you baby

sent 5:07 AM

it wasn’t much, but it was enough.

you stood at the door for a second, taking a deep breath before knocking. the door flew open, revealing yizhuo in an oversized hoodie and socks that looked like they belonged to a child. she grinned at you, eyes lighting up.

“y/n!” giselle’s voice echoed from the doorway, accompanied by the sound of excited footsteps. “is that you? what’s in the bag?”

you smiled, holding up a grocery bag full of ingredients as you slipped off your shoes. “you guys asked for kimchi jjigae, right?”

“oh my god, she came through again,” yizhuo cheered, rushing over to take the bag from your hands. “this is why we love you. well, one of the reasons.”

“don’t flatter me too much, ning,” you joked, nudging her playfully as she helped you into the luxury apartment’s sprawling kitchen. the place was sleek and spotless — completely different from the homey, cluttered flat you still shared with jimin’s belongings.

the other members were scattered around the living room, lounging across sofas like exhausted cats. minjeong, in an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, sat cross-legged on the carpet with a controller in her hands. she glanced up when she saw you.

“y/n!” her face lit up as she paused the game, throwing her hands up. “you’re here! i thought you abandoned us after how awkward that fanmeet was.”

you snorted as you set the groceries on the kitchen counter. “i can’t abandon you guys if you keep bribing me with compliments.”

“it works every time,” aeri said with a wink, trailing behind you. “i nearly slipped up the other day and was about to ask you if you could cook at home and feed us.”

“you’re just stupid like that sometimes,” you chuckled teasingly as, earning a slight push from her. you quickly got to work, tying your hair back and pulling out pots and pans from their neatly arranged cupboards.

while you prepped ingredients, aeri and yizhuo hovered around the kitchen like puppies begging for food.

“so,” aeri started, propping her elbows on the counter. “when are you moving in here officially? we might as well just claim you as aespa’s honorary fifth member at this point.”

you laughed softly, shaking your head as you chopped tofu. “i think you’ll have to run that past your managers.”

“nah, you’re already in,” yizhuo piped up, stealing a piece of green onion from the cutting board and dodging your swat. “jimin just doesn’t want to admit she’d lose her mind without you.”

at the mention of her, something in your chest twisted, but you masked it with a light smile. “you’re all dramatic. i’m sure she’d be fine.”

“don’t let her fool you,” aeri leaned closer with a cheeky grin. “she acts all cool and composed, but we’ve seen her mooning over you. ‘the love of my life is coming over? i’ll clean the living room!’ ‘my girlfriend likes this snack, we should keep some here.’ it’s adorable.”

“stop,” you said, your voice softening involuntarily, cheeks warming.

“she’s lucky, though,” minjeong said from the couch, still tapping idly on her controller. “no one else would put up with her constant brooding and perfectionism. we’d have kicked her out.”

you laughed at that, the weight in your chest lifting for just a moment. “well, someone’s got to keep her in check.”

“exactly,” aeri agreed, clapping her hands together. “and you feed us, which means you’re already way cooler than karina. no offence to our leader.

“all the offence please,” yizhuo teased under her breath, earning a set of laughter from minjeong.

minjeong finally stood up and leaned against the counter, watching you with a curious expression. “so, what’s up with jimin today? she’s doing something solo, right?”

you nodded, focusing on cutting tofu. “photoshoot, i think. she didn’t say much.”

“she never does,” she muttered, though her tone was light. “she’s so busy lately. we barely see her, and we live with her.”

“i know,” you said softly, more to yourself than to her.

the kitchen fell quiet for a moment. yizhuo and minjeong exchanged a quick look, but neither said anything.

“are we gossiping?” aeri teased, breaking the silence. “because i can tell you who’s been stealing my snacks again.”

“not me!” yizhuo shot back immediately.

“sure,” aeri deadpanned before turning to you. “smells amazing, y/n. i don’t know why karina ever let you out of her sight.”

“it’s not like that,” you said quickly, trying to keep your voice casual.

“no, seriously,” she added, crossing her arms. “you’re her soft spot. we’ve seen it.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, making your chest ache faintly. you’d always been her soft spot — her quiet space away from the noise. you wondered if that space was shrinking, if the demands of the world were slowly pushing you out.

by the time you finished cooking, the entire apartment smelled like garlic, simmering kimchi, and savoury broth. you set the bubbling pot of jjigae in the centre of the dining table, along with plates of rice and simple side dishes you’d thrown together on a whim.

“y/n, you’re a literal saint,” minjeong said, sliding into the seat closest to the pot. “this smells so good.”

“i swear you’re trying to ruin us,” aeri added, spooning herself a generous helping. “we’re going to start rejecting all the food the company gives us.”

“you’ll get me blacklisted if you keep saying that,” you teased, sitting down across from them.

“worth it,” yizhuo said through a mouthful of tofu.

it was easy to slip into conversations with them. between bites of stew and rice, they told you stories about their chaotic schedules — forgotten dance moves on live stages, accidentally matching outfits and how yizhuo almost fell asleep during a radio interview.

“fame’s not as glamorous as it looks, huh?” you mused after aeri recounted how she nearly tripped down a set of stage stairs.

“nope,” minjeong, resting her chin on her hand. “it’s exhausting. but when we’re on stage, it feels worth it.”

“still,” yizhuo added, looking at you, “i don’t know how you do it.”

you blinked. “do what?”

“deal with jimin’s schedule,” she said bluntly. “you guys don’t even get to see each other that much anymore, right?”

the air shifted slightly, the question hanging heavier than it should have. you forced a small smile, stirring the rice in your bowl. “we make it work,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual.

aeri glanced at you, a flicker of something like sympathy in her eyes. “she doesn’t shut up about how much she misses you, you know.”

“she’s just bad at showing it,” minjeong added with a shrug.

“really bad,” ningning agreed, earning a smack on the arm from aeri.

you chuckled softly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “i know she’s busy. it’s her dream. i’m proud of her.”

“you’re good to her, y/n,” aeri tilted her head, her voice softer now. “she knows that. and honestly… she’s so lucky to have you.”

something about the way she said it tugged at you — like a quiet reassurance, but also a reminder. you nodded, offering her a small smile before focusing on your food. “well,” you said after a beat, “as long as you guys keep eating what i make, i guess i’ll stick around.”

“don’t need to ask me twice,” minjeong said instantly, earning a round of laughter.

after dinner, the girls collapsed onto the couch, groaning about how full they were while you tidied up the kitchen. you heard one of them flick on the tv, someone grumbling about someone else hogging the remote.

barely noticing the time, you were just finishing up when you felt arms loop around your waist from behind, a familiar chin resting on your shoulder.

“you didn’t tell me you were coming,” jimin murmured, her voice low and tired.

you paused, leaning into her touch slightly. “i wanted to surprise you.”

“you always do,” she said softly, her grip tightening.

you exhaled quietly, turning to look at her. her face was bare of makeup, her eyes slightly shadowed with exhaustion but she still looked like her.

“you okay?” you asked gently, brushing her hair back.

she nodded, though her gaze dropped slightly. “i missed you.”

“i’m right here,” you said softly, trying to smile.

her eyes flickered with something unspoken before the sounds of aeri shouting from the living room broke the moment.

“jimin! get out here! y/n’s our girlfriend now, so you’re being replaced by three beautiful women.”

jimin rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “remind me why i brought them into my life?”

“because they’re good for you,” you murmured, nudging her.

“you’re better,” she replied quietly, almost too soft for you to hear.

you pulled her face, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. “are you still coming to my opening next week? mum and dad will be there.”

“i wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

and even though she pulled you into the living room with the others, her arm slung over your shoulder, you couldn’t shake the weight of her words.

i wouldn’t miss it for the world.

you hoped she meant it. because as you looked at her, laughing with the girls, you couldn’t help but feel how far away she seemed — even when she was right beside you.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the hum of quiet conversation slowly faded as the last of your guests trickled out of the gallery. the evening had been a success — more than that, really. the walls were lined with paintings that had taken months of late nights and countless hours to finish, and people had loved them.

three had sold in the first hour and one was going to los angeles.

yet as you stood by the entrance, offering polite goodbyes, the warmth of the evening didn’t quite settle in your chest the way it should have.

“sweetheart, are you okay?”

you turned toward the familiar voice. your parents stood a few feet away, your mum’s coat draped over her arm while your dad shifted his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

smiling tightly, you tugged the sleeves of your shirt down as you shrugged. “of course, mum. it’s been a great night.”

your dad sighed, his eyes falling towards the nearest painting; a soft, abstract silhouette of a woman, bathed in streaks of light and shadow. “is jimin still coming?”

the question hit you harder than it should have. after all, you’d spent all evening glancing toward the door, hoping for a flash of black hair, hoping to see her slip in quietly, apologetically, but she never came.

you forced a casual tone. “she’s…working still. something ran late, i think. she’ll text me later.”

“she’s going to miss the entire night?” he asked, frowning slightly. “it’s your opening.”

“yeah, idols and their schedules,” you awkwardly rubbed your nape, chuckling. “it’s okay, dad, really.”

your mum gave you a knowing look, the kind only mothers could manage — one that said she saw straight through you. she reached out and gently squeezed your hand. “you’re always so understanding, darling. but don’t let her forget how important you are, too.”

“i’m fine, mum,” you reassured her, though the words felt hollow.

he nodded, clearly wanting to say something else but holding back. “we’re proud of you, kiddo. the show was incredible. you’ve really outdone yourself this time.”

“thanks dad,” you murmured, offering them a small smile. “i appreciate you two showing up, i know the drive was pain.”

“anything for you, sweetheart,” your mum pulled you into a hug, kissing your cheek goodbye. “come over for dinner when you’re free, okay? i miss you both.”

they gave you a final hug before heading out into the night, leaving you alone in the quiet of the gallery. you exhaled slowly, looking around at the space you’d poured yourself into.

the pieces were yours. each stroke, each colour a reflection of something you couldn’t quite put into words, but so many of them were her.

she was everywhere, woven into the canvas, immortalised in paint.

your phone buzzed, breaking the silence. you grabbed it quickly, hope rising in your chest and only for it to deflate as you saw the multiple names on your screen.

from: minjeonggg

your show looked amazing, y/n! karina told us about it. hope you’re celebrating 🫶 sorry we couldn’t be there today but i promiseeee i’ll see u this week

sent 11:31 PM

from: aeri-chan

ok miss popular, dinner’s on me. i’m cooking (please don’t let me)

so proud of your hard work <3

sent 11:40 PM

from: ningx2

i saw photos from a friend of mine who came to the openinggg, showed the girls if u don’t mind. they’re all so beautiful 🤩

sent 11:43 PM

you stared at the screen for a moment, your chest tightening — all but from your girlfriend as you swiped to your call log. no missed calls. no texts.

pressing her name, the phone rung in your ear as you paced the room. it rang once. twice. seven times. just as you were about to hang up, the line connected.

“hello?” her voice was tired, clipped in a way that instantly told you this was going to go poorly.

“hey,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady as you hesitated for a second. “are you still coming?”

“coming where?”

you paused, heart stopping. “the gallery show. my show, jimin. the one you promised you were show up to. in fact, mum and dad actually waited for you.

a beat of silence stretched between you.

“y/n, i told you i was busy tonight,” she muttered, a hint of frustration bleeding into her voice. “i had a shoot that ran over. it wasn’t like i could just leave.”

“i know you’re busy,” you replied softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “but this was important to me and i wanted you to be there, even just for a little while.”

“you think i don’t know that?” she shot back, her voice rising slightly. “i’m sorry, okay? i wanted to be there, but i can’t just drop everything for a gallery show.”

you flinched, her words striking deeper than she likely intended. “it wasn’t just a show. it was my work — a year’s worth of it.”

“and what do you think i’m doing?” she snapped suddenly. “you think i’m working this hard for nothing? i’m doing this for us. for our future.”

“i’m not asking for a future, i’m asking for now,” you replied, your voice catching at the edges. “you don’t even call anymore. you don’t text. i feel like i’m standing on the outside of your life, watching you move further and further away.”

“fuck y/n, stop,” she called out, sharper this time. “you’re making it sound like i’m doing this on purpose — like i don’t care. i care about you, you know that.”

“then why do i feel like i don’t have a place in your life anymore?” you asked in a quiet voice, trying to hold back your tears.

the silence that followed was deafening. you could hear her breathing faintly on the other end, uneven and tense. “i don’t have time for this,” she muttered, her voice cold.

“wait —“ you followed, desperation evident in your voice.

the line went dead.

you stared at your phone, your fingers still clutching it tightly. the words felt like they’d been ripped out of you, leaving you hollow. you wanted to apologise and tell her you weren’t angry — just hurt, but knowing jimin during arguments, all you could do was wait.

the next few days crawled by. she didn’t call, and you didn’t text her. every time your phone buzzed, you reached for it instinctively, only to feel that sting of disappointment when it wasn’t her.

you spent your hours in the gallery, moving through the motions — packing paintings, restocking supplies, tidying the studio, anything to keep your mind busy.

three days later, the doorbell above the gallery chimed and you looked up, surprised to see aeri and minjeong walking in, their faces bright with easy smiles.

“look what the cat brought in,” you said, trying to sound cheerful as you tucked a cloth into your pocket. “what are you two doing here?”

“we came to see your show properly,” aeri smiled. she glanced around the space, her eyes widening as she took in the paintings on the walls. “wow, these are amazing!”

minjeong wandered toward a painting near the window — a soft, abstract piece of two hands reaching for each other but not quite touching. “you’re really talented, you know that?”

“i appreciate it,” you replied, the words feeling hollow in your mouth.

awri paused, pointing to another painting; a woman sitting alone by a window, light spilling onto her face. “is this karina?” she asked softly.

you nodded, trying to keep your voice steady. “yeah.”

minjeong studied the piece for a moment before turning back to you. “she’s lucky to have someone who loves her like this, you’re so good to her.”

you chuckled, pressing your hands together. “i try.” they both stopped at another canvas, an abstract piece this time — gazes lingering on the soft blues and greys. “that one sold immediately for twenty thousand dollars. i was in the middle of packing it down.”

minjeong’s eyes widened. “holy shit, y/n. that’s insane. i’m glad we got to see it then!”

you smiled faintly, though the ache lingered. “thanks. i want to make something that matters, you know?”

“you already have,” aeri said firmly. “ning would’ve come too, but she got dragged into solo schedules today.”

your heart sank slightly, though you didn’t let it show. “it’s fine. i’m glad you guys came.”

“we wouldn’t miss it,” minjeong wrapped her arms around you. “your work deserves to be seen, y/n. don’t ever forget that.”

aeri kissed your cheek, letting out a laugh when the brim of her hat hit your face. “i’m sorry!”

“idiot,” you shook your head, smiling. “sorry to see you guys go.”

minjeong sighed. “we’re sorry too, we have a meeting with our director in half an hour.”

you bowed your head. “please send my regards to ning and jimin.”

after they left, the gallery fell quiet again, leaving you alone with your thoughts. you sank onto a small bench near the centre of the room, staring at the paintings surrounding you.

they were all pieces of her — fragments of moments, memories captured on canvas. her laughter in the kitchen as you danced around with flour on your hands, the way she’d lean her head on your shoulder when the world felt too heavy.

the way she’d whispered, “i’ll always be here.”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

it was november and the city was wrapped in the magic of the season. soft snowflakes drifted from the sky, blanketing the streets in white. shop windows glowed with warm lights, adorned with wreaths, tinsel and cheerful displays.

the world around you buzzed with a festive energy, but it felt distant; a joy you couldn’t quite reach.

jimin hadn’t spoken to you in over a week.

she told herself she was giving you space, letting things settle before she reached out but every passing day without hearing your voice made the ache in her chest grow heavier.

she missed you. horribly.

she missed the sound of your laughter, the way you always tilted your head when you were concentrating on a painting. she missed your voice, even the way you’d tease her about how serious she could be.

but what hurt most was the way you’d sounded during the argument: disappointed, like she’d let you down beyond repair and she shut you down.

her phone sat untouched on her bedside table, but she couldn’t bring herself to call you.

she told herself you were fine, that you always understood.

and then she found it: an old flyer tucked into her wallet, creased from months of being ignored.

free weekend art class: saturdays, 2-5 p.m.

without a second thought, she grabbed her hoodie and a coat, pulled a cap low over her face, and left the dorm.

when she arrived, the small studio sat quietly on the corner of the street. large windows stretched across the front, letting in subtle beams of warm afternoon sunlight. she stopped just outside, heart pounding in her chest as she looked in.

there you were.

you stood near the window, laughing with a group of students as you demonstrated something with your hands. you wore an old paint-streaked apron over your clothes, your hair messily tied back with strands falling loose around your face.

jimin froze, her chest tightening painfully at the sight of you.

you were so beautiful.

for a moment, she couldn’t tear her eyes away. your laugh carried faintly through the window, and she felt like someone had punched the air from her lungs.

you looked happy here, in your space — your world. one she hadn’t been a part of in far too long.

her hands trembled as she pushed open the studio door. the small bell above it jingled, startling you mid-sentence. your gaze flicked to the door, and when you saw her, your expression froze.

the soft smile on your face faltered, replaced by something unreadable.

“oh…hello, have a seat,” you said, your voice calm but distant. “the class finishes in an hour, sorry you missed most of it.”

the class turned briefly to look at her, then back to their work, unfazed. she stood awkwardly near the door, her cap pulled low, unsure of whether to move closer.

“i’m sorry,” she said quietly, though her voice barely carried over the hum of the room. “it’s okay, i’ll stay and watch for now.”

you stared at her for a beat before turning back to your students, forcing yourself to focus. “right, let’s keep going. we’re almost done for today.”

jimin stayed silent at the back of the studio, hands shoved deep into the pocket of her hoodie. she watched as you moved between easels, stopping to encourage your students with soft words and kind smiles.

“light strokes,” you were saying, guiding a young girl’s brush across the canvas. “you’re not fighting the paint, you’re moving with it, okay? let it flow.”

the girl nodded, grinning up at you. “like magic?”

you laughed softly, the sound carrying faintly through the glass. “exactly like magic.”

jimin’s heart clenched painfully. she’d forgotten what it was like to just watch you.

the way you moved between students, offering encouragement, helping them mix colours, or joking with them about how ‘happy accidents’ were just part of the process.

“mr. kim,” you said with a grin to one of your older students, “i know damn well you didn’t mean to paint a tree in the middle of your cityscape, but we’re rolling with it now.”

the man laughed heartily, shaking his head. “art is chaos, isn’t it?”

“exactly,” you replied with a wink.

as the class carried on, you felt her gaze on you. it was familiar, but you didn’t meet her eyes.

when the class ended, the students began packing up, thanking you as they grabbed their bags and coats. you busied yourself cleaning brushes and wiping down tables, pretending not to notice jimin still standing by the door.

eventually, the last student waved goodbye, and the doorbell chimed softly as it closed.

once the last student left, the room fell eerily quiet. you didn’t say anything at first, just continued gathering supplies, your back to her.

“y/n,” jimin said softly, taking a small step forward.

“did you enjoy the class?” your voice was polite, but there was no warmth in it.

she flinched at how distant you sounded. “i didn’t come here for the class.”

you finally turned to face her, arms crossed over your chest. your face was calm, but your eyes gave it away; hurt and guarded.

“then why did you come here, jimin?”

her throat tightened, her voice almost failing her. “because…because i missed you.”

you turned away, picking up brushes and placing them back into jars. “it took you over a fucking week to realise that?”

she flinched at the quiet sharpness in your words. “baby, i’m sorry. i —”

“don’t,” you said quickly, cutting her off. “don’t say anything if you don’t mean it.”

her face fell, guilt flashing across her features. “i know. i messed up. i…i wanted to come to the show, my love. i wanted to, but —”

“but you didn’t,” you said flatly, crossing your arms.

she flinched. “i know. i’m sorry.”

you shook your head, your voice quieter. “you’re always sorry, jimin, and it doesn’t change anything.”

for a moment, neither of you said anything.

“let me take you home,” she said suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. “just…please. let me come home. i want to talk. let me fix this.”

she looked terrible — tired. the bags under her eyes indicated that she’d been crying, the sight of her tugging your heartstrings.

you stared at her for a long moment before sighing softly. “fine.”

the drive to your shared apartment was quiet. jimin glanced at you occasionally, trying to make small talk, but you stared out the window, your expression unreadable.

when you got to your shared apartment, it felt strange walking in again, like she was intruding something she shouldn’t be a part of.

everything was still the same.

her old hoodie still hung on the back of the chair in the living room. her favourite mug; chipped at the rim, sat on the kitchen shelf. and piles of her shoes were still lined up neatly by the door.

she felt her throat close as she picked up the hoodie, fingers trembling. “you didn’t move anything,” she whispered.

you paused, turning to look at her. “of course it is.”

her voice cracked. “you didn’t…you didn’t throw anything out?”

“why would i?” you replied softly, setting your bag down on the table. “i was still hoping you’d come home one day.”

she sank onto the sofa, her head in her hands. her eyes burned, the weight of her guilt crashing over her all at once. she looked down at her lap, her shoulders trembling slightly.

you turned at the sound of a soft sob, stunned. “jimin?”

“y/n,” she looked up at, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her face. “i’m so sorry.”

you stared at her for a moment, surprised to see her like this.

“i’ve been so caught up in everything that i forgot,” she whispered, her voice choked. “i forgot what this…what you mean to me. i’ve been so afraid of losing everything that i ended up hurting the one person who’s always been there for me.”

you felt your own throat tighten as you watched her wipe her face with the sleeves of her hoodie, her tears unfiltered. she never cried — not like this.

slowly, you stepped toward her and sat down on the edge of the sofa beside her.

she reached for your hand, her fingers trembling as she gripped desperately, afraid that you’d pull away. “i don’t want to lose you. please…please don’t let me lose you.”

your heart clenched painfully, and you sat down beside her, letting her hold onto you like you were the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

“you just need to talk to me, my love,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm. “you can’t keep shutting me out. i need to know you still want this — still want us.”

“i do,” she whispered, tears still spilling down her cheeks. “more than anything.”

you sighed, leaning your head back against the sofa. “you’re home now.”

she nodded, squeezing your hand tighter. “i’ll do better. i swear.”

you looked at her then, seeing the sincerity in her tear-streaked face. she looked small, like the girl who used to curl up beside you in this very apartment, sharing dreams she never thought would come true.

she’d gotten so far.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a month had passed and though jimin tried to make an effort, the space between you only seemed to grow. the list on her relentless schedule grew longer with each passing day — leaving no room for you. like always.

she started coming home more often, not to her luxury apartment, but home, to the apartment you both called yours.

sometimes she was too tired to say much, collapsing onto the couch while you worked on a new painting in the studio but her presence was enough.

“this is where you work your magic, huh?” she said one evening, peeking her head into the room.

you looked up from the canvas, smirking faintly as you tucked a brush behind your ear. “magic is a strong word, baby.”

“nah,” she murmured, crossing the room to press a kiss to your temple. “it’s magic to me.”

you didn’t respond, but you smiled softly as she wandered back out, her footsteps light as she disappeared into the bedroom.

she tried, she really did — but it even felt like the universe was just pulling you two apart. there were calls scattered throughout the day, sweet but fleeting texts that felt more like habit than genuine conversation.

practice went late. how’s your day?

just saw a dog that looks like the one that peed on you

goodnight. i love you!

the words still made your heart ache, but it was different now: almost routine. and on her rare days off, you no longer got a call asking if you wanted to spend time together. or if she could come home to you.

instead, you saw photos online; grainy shots on social media, taken at a distance but unmistakable — jimin out with other idols, at parties, smiling brightly in the dim glow of neon lights. you recognised the faces of her friends, ryujin and yeji among them and the aespa girls were always there too, which gave you some relief. but it still hurt.

you weren’t her person anymore. and you sat just right where she left you.

one evening, you were sitting at your parents’ kitchen table, a cup of tea warming your hands as your mum watched you carefully. your dad sat nearby, pretending to read a book but clearly listening to every word.

the quiet ache in your chest refused to let go as you tried to focus on the tv chatter.

it was your birthday.

and while your parents had gone out of their way to make it special, the absence of a single message from jimin loomed over you like a shadow.

“you’re quiet today,” she said gently, passing you a slice of bread.

you forced a smile, wrapping your hands around the mug. “just tired. it’s been a long week.”

your dad glanced up from his book, his brows furrowing. “you’re not supposed to be tired on your birthday. you’re supposed to be happy.”

“i am happy,” you said quickly, though your voice lacked conviction.

she gave you a knowing look, the kind that only mothers could master. “has she called yet?”

you hesitated, your throat tightening. “she’s busy.”

“busy?” he repeated, setting his book down with a soft thud. “too busy to call on your birthday?”

“dad, it’s not like that,” you said quietly, though the words felt hollow.

“and she doesn’t tell you anything anymore?” she asked gently, brow furrowed.

“not really,” you murmured, stirring your tea absently. “she calls, she texts but it’s…surface-level stuff. like she’s trying to keep me calm without really including me in her life.”

“you’ve been together for years, kiddo. have you told her how this makes you feel?”

“i’ve tried,” you said, voice small. “but she doesn’t hear me. it’s like…i’m shouting into a void and she’s not even there to listen.”

“y/n, love,” she began softly, reaching for your hand, “we’ve known jimin for years. we know she’s a good person, but even good people make mistakes, they can get lost.”

“she’s busy. her life has changed,” you replied, repeating the excuse you’d given yourself countless times.

he shook his head. “being busy doesn’t mean she can’t try. you deserve someone who makes you feel seen, y/n. we accept the love we think we deserve, and you —” he pointed at you gently. “deserve so much more than feeling invisible.”

you swallowed hard, the words hitting you square in the chest. “i love her,” you said softly. “but i don’t know if she loves me the same way anymore.”

your mum gave your hand a small squeeze. “then maybe it’s time you ask yourself whether love is enough to keep holding on.”

the words settled heavily in your chest, but you forced a small smile, not wanting to ruin the moment. “thank you, mum, dad. and thank you for this,” you gestured to the table, trying to shift the focus.

“we just want you to be happy, kiddo,” your dad said, squeezing your shoulder.

you returned to your apartment later that evening, the quiet space feeling colder than usual just like the season. you hadn’t heard from jimin all day —not a call, not a text. you tried to tell yourself it was fine, that she was busy with rehearsals or a schedule she couldn’t control. but as the hours dragged on, the ache in your chest grew heavier.

it was nearly midnight when your phone finally rang. your heart leapt as her name flashed on the screen, and for a moment, you hesitated. but you answered anyway.

“hey,” you said softly, trying to keep your voice steady.

“my love,” jimin’s voice came through the line, soft and warm. you could hear the faint hum of noise in the background — music, voices — before it quieted. “are you busy?”

you leaned back against the couch cushions, clutching the phone tighter. “no. just…relaxing. where are you?”

“still at the studio,” she said, her tone carrying that familiar exhaustion. “we’re running late again, but i just wanted to hear your voice.”

your chest ached at how sweet she sounded —soft, almost needy.

“you sound tired,” you murmured. “have you eaten?”

“not yet,” she admitted. “but i will. promise.”

you smiled faintly. “you always say that.”

“because you always ask,” she replied softly. “how was your day? tell me about it.”

you hesitated, surprised at how genuine she sounded as you swallowed the lump forming in your throat. “it was fine. quiet, mostly. i went to see my parents.”

she really forgot your birthday.

“how are they?” she asked quickly, her tone filled with genuine curiosity. “i miss them. did your dad make his lemon bread again?”

you managed a faint smile despite the ache in your chest. “yeah, he still calls it his signature recipe.”

she laughed softly, the sound tugging at your heart. “i wish i could’ve been there. your mum’s tea, your dad’s bread…i miss all of it. and them. and you.

your heart squeezed painfully at her words.

“they miss you too,” you mumbled quietly.

you heard faint shouting in the background — yizhuo’s voice calling, “is that y/n? let me say hi!”

“nope,” jimin said firmly, her voice playful but resolute. you heard shuffling, then a door slam shut. “i’m hiding in the bathroom. they’re trying to steal the phone.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “you’re ridiculous.”

“you love me,” she teased softly.

“i do,” you admitted quietly, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

there was a beat of silence on her end before she whispered, “i love you too.”

you closed your eyes, holding the phone to your ear like it might pull her closer. “i miss you,” you added, forcing the words out before your emotions could betray you.

“i miss you more baby, i’ll be home soon,” she heaved a sigh. “i’ll get them to drop me off at our place if you don’t mind.”

our place — it sounded nice, but you don’t know if it held so much meaning anymore. the apartment was quiet, unbearably so. the only sound was the faint hum of the heater.

“baby?” her voice cut through the line, a set of knocks coming from her end. “are you still there or did you fall asleep? i have to go!”

“yes, sorry,” you sniffled. “i love you, see you at home.”

“love you too, bye,” she whispered; you heard shuffling, then the line went dead.

your eyes burned as tears spilled over, hot against your cheeks. you’d told yourself you wouldn’t cry tonight, but it was so hard to sit here, in the apartment that still held so many memories of her feeling like you were the only one left trying to hold onto them.

the thought echoed in your mind, relentless and cruel. no matter how much you tried to rationalise it: how busy she was, how hectic her life had become — it didn’t change the fact that she’d forgotten a day that once felt sacred between you.

the girl who used to light up at the sight of you, who’d once been your rock, that jimin felt like a ghost now, a memory fading further with each passing day.

you buried your face in your hands as the sobs came harder. you lifted your head up when you heard a buzz on the table, phone lighting up.

from minjeonggg

happy birthday, y/n. sorry it’s so late, only just coming home from visiting my family in busan. sorry i couldn’t spend your special day with you and the girls but i hope rina spoilt you!! <3

sent 11:47 PM

well, at least she remembered.

part of you still hoped she’d walk through the door, even if it was late and sweep you into her arms, apologising for everything — for forgetting your birthday, for the distance, for the way she’d made you feel so small.

for everything.

but the hours dragged on and the door never opened.

you curled up on the couch, the blanket pulled tightly around you like a shield, and cried until your throat was raw and your chest ached.

you loved jimin.

but tonight, as the silence stretched on and your tears soaked the pillow beneath you, it felt like that love wasn’t enough to fill the growing void she’d left in her wake.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

a few days later, you didn’t hear from karina and neither did she hear from you. you were tired of chasing after her love, of being neglected. instead, her friends were the only ones making an effort to get you out of the apartment.

from: aeri-chan

why are you ignoring me :( do you not like me :( i thought we were friends :( can you come over :(

sent 10:15 AM

from: minjeonggg

missing u y/n, come over today? jiminnie isn’t here but i’m sure you love us enough to cook us italian right

sent 10:16 AM

to: minjeonggg

you only love my cooking, not me. but i guess i love u all enough

sent 10:17 AM

from: ningx2

????? hello come over

sent 10:23 AM

from: aeri-chan

management is starving us !! why only reply to minjeong >:( ok you don’t care about me

sent 10:25 AM

the apartment felt both familiar and foreign when you stepped inside an hour later. outside was freezing cold and their heater being cranked up was so inviting.

“y/n!” aeri practically shouted when she opened the door, pulling you into a hug before you could even step inside. “about fucking time.”

“we thought you forgot about us,” minjeong said from her spot on the couch, where she was curled up with a blanket.

“she can’t forget us,” yizhuo added, peeking her head around the corner from the kitchen. “we haunt her dreams.”

you laughed softly, slipping off your shoes. “you’re all ridiculous.”

“and you love us,” aeri replied smugly, grabbing your hand to pull you toward the kitchen. “come on. we’re starving, and we saw the grocery bags.

“where is karina?” you asked, feeling your throat tighten. you were hoping she’d be here…and maybe talk to you.

she raised an eyebrow. “karina who now? since when did you ever call her that? and she’s out with ryujin and yeji right now.”

since i stopped knowing her, you thought. and yet another free schedule she refused to spend time with you on.

“just in case i slip up and call her baby in front of everyone,” you mumbled. gotta get used to it.”

“tea or coffee, y/n?” minjeong smiled as she took your coat in her hand. “we have matcha too.”

“coffee, please,” you nodded as you placed the bags on the counter. “at least someone in this room cares about me.”

“yah!” aeri slapped your shoulder playfully. “ning, get our weapon.”

and before you knew it, minjeong covered your eyes with her palms. “don’t even try to wiggle out of here — ning, hurry up!”

you could hear giggling and whispering as minjeong slowly uncovered your vision, revealing a beautiful white box wrapped in satin just sitting on the counter.

“you didn’t think we’d forget, did you?” aeri said with a smirk, gesturing for you to sit.

“we’ve been busy, but we didn’t want to let it go uncelebrated,” minjeong added, smiling softly.

your throat tightened as you looked at them, their bright smiles and genuine excitement pulling at your heart.

“guys, you didn’t have to do this,” you said quietly, sitting down as yizhuo plopped down beside you.

“we wanted to,” aeri nudged the box closer to you. “now open it before ningning explodes.”

“hey!” the girl protested, though she grinned just as widely.

you carefully untied the ribbon, lifting the lid to reveal a collection of beautifully wrapped items. your eyes widened as you started pulling them out one by one.

“you guys…”

first, a sleek cartier box holding a stunning watch, its elegant design making your breath catch.

“that’s from all of us,” minjeong smiled shyly. “we wanted you to have something special.”

“it was mostly her idea, you’re always asking for the time but you never have the watch for it,” yizhuo revealed, making minjeong slap her playfully.

next, a stack of cookbooks, each one carefully chosen. “because we know you’re basically our personal chef,” aeri teased.

then a set of high-quality art supplies — paints, brushes and sketchbooks, each item carefully selected. “ning picked those out,” minjeong mentioned, pointing at her proudly. “she insisted on the fancy stuff.”

“nothing but the best for our artist,” yizhuo said with a grin.

but it was the last item that made your breath hitch — a photo album.

your hands trembled slightly as you opened it, flipping through pages filled with photos of you and jimin, some candid, some posed. moments you didn’t even know had been captured — her laughing as you cooked together, the two of you curled up on the couch, a blurry shot of her kissing your cheek while you looked embarrassed.

“we’ve been taking these over the years,” aeri said softly. “thought you might like them all in one place.”

you pressed a hand to your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes.

“y/n, are you crying?” minjeong asked, leaning closer, her voice full of concern.

“no,” you mumbled, wiping at your cheeks with a laugh. “okay, maybe.”

“we just wanted you to know how much we love you,” minjeong muttered, sitting down on the other side of you. “you’ve always been there for us— even when you didn’t have to be. you deserve to feel special.”

you closed the album carefully, holding it to your chest as fresh tears fell. “thank you. i…i don’t even know what to say. this is a lot.”

“nothing’s too much for you,” aeri said firmly.

“besides, jimin’s probably already spoiled you, right?” yizhuo added with a grin. “what did she get you?”

the question hit you like a punch to the stomach, your mind going blank as you scrambled for an answer. “uh,” you began, your voice trembling slightly. “karina…she got me this really expensive ring. it’s beautiful.”

aeri raised an eyebrow. “a ring? that’s a big deal.”

“yeah,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “it’s…a promise ring.”

your heart twisted painfully as the lie left your lips.

minjeong clapped her hands together, grinning. “of course she did. she’s always been extra when it comes to you.”

you nodded, your smile wavering as you clutched the photo album tighter.

the conversation moved on, but the weight of your words lingered in your chest. you knew you shouldn’t have lied, but admitting the truth, that karina had completely forgotten your birthday felt too raw, too painful.

the apartment buzzed with warmth and noise as you worked in the kitchen, sleeves pushed up and hands busy slicing tomatoes and kneading fresh dough for pasta. aeri hovered nearby, stealing bites of cheese while yizhuo pestered you with questions about how to properly season garlic bread.

“you don’t get to criticise when you burn instant noodles,” you teased, flicking flour in her direction.

“that was one time,” yizhuo shot back, dodging the flour.

minjeong wandered in at one point, sneaking a spoonful of the sauce and groaning dramatically. “y/n, you’re a genius. we don’t deserve you.”

“you really don’t,” you replied with a faint smile.

“careful,” aeri teased, leaning on the counter. “if you cook like this all the time, we might just keep you here.”

“it’s tempting,” you admitted softly, but the words carried a weight you didn’t intend.

they didn’t press further.

“my parents visited your gallery, by the way,” yizhuo added.

“what?” you asked, surprised. “when? abd why didn’t you tell me?”

“like two days ago, they said it was like stepping into a dream,” yizhuo explained, her voice full of admiration. “they loved it, y/n. i swear they were ready to redecorate their whole house.”

you smiled, your chest swelling with pride. “that’s really sweet of them — i wish i was there to meet them.”

“you’re so talented,” minjeong added from her seat at the table. “jimin’s lucky. she gets to be your muse.”

the mention of karina made you pause for a split second, but you forced yourself to smile. “thanks, minjeongie.”

dinner was a lively affair, the girls laughing and talking over each other as they devoured the dishes you’d made. it felt good to be here, to see them again, even if a quiet part of you wondered why your own girlfriend hadn’t said anything about inviting you over herself.

it was minjeong who dropped the bombshell halfway through dinner.

“we have a world tour coming up,” she said casually, twirling spaghetti onto her fork.

you froze. “the what?”

aeri shot her a look, as if to say ‘why’d you say that?’ but the girl didn’t seem to notice.

“the tour,” she repeated, looking at you. “it starts in a couple of months. did jimin not…tell you?”

you felt your chest tighten, though you kept your voice even. “no. she didn’t.”

the table fell quiet for a beat. yizhuo fidgeted with her fork, avoiding your gaze, while aeri sighed softly. “she’s probably just waiting for the right time to tell you,” she said, though it sounded more like an excuse.

“it’s fine,” you replied with a small, forced smile. “it’s a huge opportunity. i’m proud of you guys.”

and you were. but beneath the pride was a sharp ache — an understanding that this would mean months of not seeing her, of waiting for calls that might never come.

and what might be the end of your relationship.

after dinner, you were curled up on the sofa, leaning against the back of it while aeri and yizhuo picked a movie to watch and minjeong finished up the dishes.

“you mean you have terrible taste,” yizhuo shot back at something aeri said, crossing her arms as she stood near the couch.

“please tell them notting hill is a masterpiece,” yizhuo pleaded, looking at you for reassurance.

“it is,” you said, laughing softly. “julia roberts is iconic.”

“see!” she yelled triumphantly, flopping onto the couch.

as they began another argument about snacks and who got control of the remote, you really settled onto the couch, letting the warmth of their presence ease some of the tension that had been building in your chest for days.

the argument over the movie ended in a win for yizhuo and the group eventually settled into the couch with bowls of popcorn. the soft glow of the television illuminated the room as notting hill began, the familiar soundtrack filling the air.

minjeong sat down beside you, the couch sinking further. “sorry,” she pursed her lips.

you playfully rolled your eyes, groaning. “i was already comfortable!”

your phone sat untouched on the coffee table, the screen dark. you couldn’t stop glancing at it, hoping it would light up with her name.

but it didn’t.

all the lights were turned off, the tv illuminating most of the apartment. it was late when the door finally opened, and karina stumbled in.

the first thing you noticed was the smell —alcohol, faint but unmistakable. she looked slightly disheveled, her hair loose and falling into her eyes, her cheeks flushed as if she’d been out drinking all night.

“y/n?” her voice was sharp, her brows furrowing as she stopped in her tracks. “what are you doing here?”

the room fell silent. yizhuo paused the movie, her gaze flicking between the two of you.

“we invited her,” minjeong said, standing up and crossing her arms. “she didn’t just show up, jimin.”

“are you drunk?” aeri asked concerningly, stepping closer to your girlfriend. “maybe sit down before you say something stupid.”

karina shot her a glare before turning back to you. “why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”

you frowned, your chest tightening at her tone. “because i didn’t think i needed to, karina.”

“you should have,” she snapped, frustration clear in her voice.

“okay, that’s enough,” aeri said, stepping between you two. “y/n didn’t do anything wrong. we invited her because we missed her.”

“can i have some privacy?” karina asked sharply, her gaze hardening.

aeri exchanged a look with yizhuo before sighing heavily. “fine. but don’t make this worse, jimin. and minjeong is another world you have to tackle.”

she and ningning retreated into the kitchen, but minjeong stayed rooted in place, her arms crossed as she watched karina carefully.

“minjeong,” she warned, her voice low.

“don’t start with me,” she replied, not moving an inch.

“i mean it,” she muttered, her tone sharper now. “go.”

minjeong looked at you, her gaze softening slightly. “are you okay?”

you nodded faintly, though your chest ached. “it’s fine. i’ll be fine.”

reluctantly, minjeong followed the others into the kitchen, leaving you and karina alone in the living room.

“what’s wrong with you?” you asked softly, your voice trembling. “why are you acting like this? i haven’t even seen you in days.”

she sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair as she slumped onto the arm of the couch. “i just…i didn’t expect you to be here, okay?”

“why does it matter?” you shot back, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “you’re the one who hasn’t been around. what’s wrong with me spending time with people who actually want to see me?”

her face softened slightly, her gaze dropping to the floor. “it’s not that…i just wish you’d told me.”

“why? so you could avoid me too?” you asked bitterly, the words spilling out before you could stop them.

her head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “that’s not fair.”

“what’s not fair is me finding out about your world tour from them,” you said, your voice rising.

she froze, her eyes widening slightly.

“you didn’t even tell me,” you continued, your voice trembling. “you’ve had all this time, and you couldn’t say a word? do you know how that feels?”

“i was going to tell you,” she said defensively, though her voice lacked conviction.

“when, jimin?” you asked, stepping closer. “when it was too late for me to even process it? when you were already gone?”

she sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose. “can we not do this here?”

“why not? because it’s inconvenient for you?” you shot back.

“because it’s not their business,” she snapped, gesturing toward the kitchen. “come with me. we’ll talk in my room.”

you hesitated, your chest tightening.

“y/n,” she said more softly this time, her voice steady but firm. “please. just come with me.”

you glanced toward the kitchen, where aeri and yizhup were clearly trying to eavesdrop. minjeong stood leaning against the counter, her expression unreadable as she watched you.

finally, you nodded, following her down the hallway.

as she opened the door to her room, she turned back to glance at minjeong.

“stay out of it,” she warned.

minjeong’s gaze narrowed, but she said nothing as you stepped into the room, the door closing softly behind you.

the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the heater. karina stood by the door, her arms crossed, while you stood near her desk, trying to keep your emotions in check.

“so,” you began, your voice trembling slightly, “you were going to tell me about the world tour?”

“i was,” she replied flatly, avoiding your gaze.

“when?” you asked, your voice sharper this time. “after you left? after i found out from some interview or social media post?”

“don’t be dramatic, y/n,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair. “i was going to tell you when the time was right.”

“the time was right weeks ago,” you snapped, your frustration spilling over. “do you even hear yourself? i’m supposed to be part of your life. why am i always the last to know about everything that matters?”

“because it’s hard,” she shot back, her voice rising. “it’s hard to keep up with everything. my career, my schedules, this relationship — you don’t get it.”

“no, i don’t,” you admitted, tears stinging your eyes. “because you don’t let me in. you shut me out. you don’t talk to me, you don’t tell me things, and then you act like i’m the problem for wanting to be included in your life.”

“maybe you are the problem,” she said coldly, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

you froze, staring at her in disbelief. “what?”

“you’re so needy, y/n,” she continued, her voice harsh. “you’re always clinging to me, always wanting more. i’m doing my best, and it’s never enough for you.”

“needy?” you repeated, your voice trembling with anger. “what the fuck?”

“yes, needy,” she snapped. “it’s like you can’t function without me. it’s not my fault you don’t have any other friends. you built your whole life around us, and now you expect me to do the same?”

the tears you’d been holding back finally spilled over, but you refused to let them stop you. “that’s not fair,” you whispered. “i sacrificed so much for you because i love you, karina.”

“life isn’t fair, y/n,” she said, her tone bitter. “and it’s not my fault you don’t have anything else going on. i didn’t ask you to make me the centre of your world.”

you stared at her, your chest tightening with each word she threw at you. “jimin, do you even hear yourself right now?”

“i do,” she said sharply. “and you should, too. my world doesn’t revolve around you, y/n. it never did, and it never will. my life will keep spinning with or without you in it.”

the words hit you like a physical blow, stealing the breath from your lungs. for a moment, the room was silent, save for the sound of your shaky breathing.

“you don’t mean that,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“maybe i do,” she muttered, looking away. “you don’t belong in my —“

your chest tightened painfully, and before you could think, you raised your hand and slapped her right across the face.

the sound echoed through the room, sharp and final.

her head snapped to the side, her hand flying up to her cheek as she stared at you coldly — eyes devoid of the love she held for you that filled them.

“you don’t get to talk to me like that,” you said, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “not after everything we’ve been through. not after everything i’ve done for you and all the bullshit you put me through.”

you grabbed the photo album from her desk, the one the girls had made for you.

“this was supposed to be a gift,” you shoved it into her hands. “for my birthday. the one you forgot. but i don’t want it anymore. you can have it.”

she stared at the album in her hands, her mouth opening slightly as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out.

“we’re done, jimin, karina, or whoever the fuck you are right now,” you said, your voice breaking. “i can’t do this anymore. i can’t keep loving someone who doesn’t love me back. it’s over.”

“y/n —” she began, but you shook your head, cutting her off.

“don’t,” you raised your hand, voice firm despite the tears streaming down your face. “don’t say anything. just…don’t.”

you turned and walked out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

as you gathered the rest of your things with quiet sniffles, you felt a hand stop you. you looked up at minjeong with shaky breaths.

“let me help you, y/n,” she started putting your gifts in the box whilst aeri handed you your coat.

there was an unspoken silence — it told them everything they needed to know. as you left the dorm, the cold night air hit you like a wave, but it did little to numb the pain in your chest. and even though it felt like your heart was breaking into a million pieces, you knew it was the right thing to do.

because you deserved more than this.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the morning after the breakup, you woke up to a silence so thick it felt like it might suffocate you. the cozy apartment you once loved, nestled in the corner of a quiet street, now felt hollow.

this was the place where you’d built a life with jimin — before she was karina. it was your shared sanctuary, the place where laughter echoed in the evenings, where the smell of her favourite tea lingered in the air, where you both dreamed of a future that now felt like a distant memory.

you sat on the edge of the sofa, your phone in your hand. the screen lit up with a flood of messages — aeri, yizhuo and minjeong. they were worried, apologising for the night before, telling you they were there if you wanted to talk.

but you couldn’t face them. not because they’d done anything wrong, but because they were a part of jimin’s world; the one she didn’t want you to be a part of.

your thumb hovered over the screen for only a moment before you made the decision.

aeri-chan. ningx2. minjeonggg.

you blocked each of them, one by one.

when it was done, you set the phone down, staring at it blankly. it felt like another thread severed, another piece of your life with jimin falling away.

the next task was harder.

you stood in the middle of the bedroom you’d decorated for her, staring at the collection of her belongings scattered around. her favourite hoodie was still draped over the chair in the corner, her skincare products neatly lined up in the bathroom and stacks of her old clothes in the wardrobe.

with trembling hands, you began packing them into boxes. each item was a reminder of the life you’d built together, and as you held them, memories surfaced unbidden.

the books: the ones she’d never quite finished, tucked away on the shelf.

your hands moved methodically, placing everything into boxes, but your mind drifted. you remembered how she’d sit at the tiny kitchen table, humming softly as she waited for you to finish cooking. how she’d sneak up behind you while you painted, her arms wrapping around your waist as she whispered, “you’re amazing, you know that?”

you paused when you came across framed photos of you throughout the years — from that one vintage photobooth in gangnam.

the tears didn’t come. you were past that now. there was only an ache; deep and heavy that settled into your chest like it might never leave.

you knew what you had to do.

the photos couldn’t stay. not for your sake, and not for hers.

gathering every picture of the two of you, you made your way to the kitchen. with a deep sigh, you lit the edges with a match, watching as the flames consumed the images.

it wasn’t anger that drove you. jimin was karina of aespa now, a name and face known to millions. these moments were yours, and yours alone. no one else needed to see them.

as the last photo burned, you stood in the quiet kitchen, the faint smell of smoke lingering in the air.

you stood in the doorway, looking out at the space you had called home. the sofa where the two of you had spent countless nights watching movies. the tiny kitchen where you’d cooked her favourite meals. the walls that had once been filled with laughter and love.

you were going to miss this place; you had built a life with her here, after all.

it was the one place where she wasn’t karina, but just jimin.

that life was gone now.

within three days, with your dad’s help, you packed up your things and moved out of the apartment. he worked tirelessly, carrying box after box to the car, only pausing to check on you every so often.

“you okay?” he asked gently as you stood in the now-empty living room, staring at the bare walls.

you nodded, though your chest felt tight. “yeah. i just…i need a minute.”

he gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before stepping outside, leaving you alone.

you took one last look around, the memories flashing before your eyes. the laughter, the love, the life you’d built here — they were all distant now.

then, you closed the door behind you, feeling both the weight of the past and the faintest glimmer of relief.

the air inside the gallery was heavy with the scent of paint and wood varnish, a smell that had always felt like home to you.

today, it carried a bittersweet edge. the light streaming through the windows highlighted the scattered boxes and carefully wrapped canvases as you stood in the centre of the room, trying to figure out where to begin.

“y/n, where do you want these?”

you turned to see jaehyung, one of your long-time students, balancing a stack of sketchbooks in his arms. his brows furrowed with focus, though his boyish grin peeked through.

“just over there by the window, jae,” you said, gesturing toward a corner where you’d already begun stacking supplies.

“got it,” he replied, setting them down gently before glancing around. “i can’t believe this place is closing. it feels…weird.”

“you’re telling me,” mr. kim chimed in from across the room, his usual warm demeanour tinged with sadness. he was one of your older students, a retired schoolteacher who’d taken up art as a hobby. “this gallery has been like a second home for us.”

you smiled faintly, though the weight of their words pressed on your chest. “it’s not forever,” you said gently. “just…a break. for now.”

mr. kim paused, studying you with his kind eyes. “sometimes a break is necessary, y/n. don’t forget, you’ve built something special here. we’ll be waiting when you’re ready to come back.”

“yeah,” jaehyung added, his grin widening. “and in the meantime, you’re stuck with us online.”

you laughed softly, the sound easing some of the tension in the room. “i’ll hold you to that. i expect all of you to still send me your projects, okay? no slacking off just because i’m not here to check in person.”

“you got it, boss,” jaehyung said with a mock salute, earning a chuckle from mr. kim.

the three of you worked steadily throughout the day, wrapping paintings, packing supplies, and carefully disassembling easels. the gallery grew quieter as the shelves emptied, the once-vibrant space slowly transforming into a blank canvas.

as the last box was taped shut, you glanced around the room, frowning.

this gallery had been your dream — a place where you could share your passion and build a community.

“y/n,” mr. kim said gently, interrupting your thoughts. “you okay?”

you turned to him, offering a small smile. “yeah. it’s just…hard to say goodbye.”

“it’s not goodbye,” jaehyung said quickly. “it’s ‘see you later.’ right?”

you chuckled, nodding. “right.”

once everything was packed, you sent out a final email to your students.

Dear Everyone,

The gallery will be closed until further notice. Thank you for your support, your creativity, and the joy you’ve brought into this space. I’ll miss seeing your faces every week, but this isn’t the end — just a pause.

If you need anything or want to continue lessons online, please don’t hesitate to reach out. You know where to find me.

With gratitude, Y/n

the last thing you did was hang a small notice on the gallery door.

you stepped back, staring at the sign as it swayed gently in the breeze. the weight of finality settled in your chest.

“ready?” jaehyung asked, stepping up beside you.

you nodded, taking one last look at the gallery before turning away.

“goodbye.”

“see you later,” mr. kim corrected you firmly.

the morning was cold, the air sharp and heavy with the promise of snow. as you carried the last box of your ex-girlfriend’s belongings down the stairs.

mrs. choi’s apartment was just two doors down from yours and when you knocked, she answered almost immediately, her warm, familiar smile faltering slightly when she saw your expression.

“y/n-ah,” she said gently, stepping aside to let you in. “come in, come in. it’s freezing out there.”

you stepped inside, the warmth of her small, cozy apartment wrapping around you like a blanket. her place smelled of fresh kimchi and tea.

“you’re all packed, then?” she asked softly, gesturing for you to set the final box near her kitchen table.

“yeah,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “this is the last of it.”

she glanced at the box, her expression growing even softer. she reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “you’re really leaving, aren’t you?”

you nodded, swallowing hard. “i need to, ajumma.”

she looked at you for a long moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you and jimin…always thought you two would make it. watching you both grow up, seeing the love you had — it was something special, y/n.”

her words made your throat tighten, but you forced a small smile. “it was special,” you said quietly. “it just…wasn’t enough.”

she sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly. “sometimes, the ones we lose find their way back to us,” she murmured. “not always, but sometimes. and if they don’t, it’s only because something better is waiting.”

you looked down at your hands, her words both comforting and bittersweet.

“you’ve always been kind, y/n,” she continued, her voice warm and steady. “to jimin, to everyone. don’t let this make you hard. the world needs more people like you.”

her words brought tears to your eyes, but you blinked them away quickly, not wanting to break down here. “thank you, mrs. choi. for everything.”

she smiled, patting your hand before glancing at the box. “i’ll keep this for her. she’ll come by eventually and i’ll make sure she gets it.”

“thank you,” you said again, your voice barely above a whisper.

as you stood there, ready to leave, she suddenly tilted her head, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “now, tell me, is she on tv?”

you blinked, surprised by the question. “yeah,” you said softly, a small, proud smile tugging at your lips despite everything. “she’s doing really well. she’s…she’s amazing.”

her eyes lit up and she clapped her hands together. “i knew it was her and my mahjong friends called me crazy. she must be famous!”

you nodded, the pride in your chest mingling with the ache of loss. “she is now.”

she frowned, reaching out to pull you into a hug, her small frame surprisingly strong as she held you close. “you’ll be okay, y/n,” she said softly. “i know you will. and wherever you go, they’ll be lucky to have you.”

“thank you,” you murmured, your voice breaking slightly as you clung to her for just a moment longer.

when you finally stepped back, she smiled at you again, her eyes filled with a quiet sadness but also hope.

“goodbye, mrs. choi,” you said softly, your hand lingering on the doorknob.

“goodbye, y/n-ah,” she replied, her voice warm. “don’t be a stranger. and remember — sometimes, lost ones find their way home.”

as you stepped out into the cold morning air, her words stayed with you, wrapping around your heart like a fragile thread of hope.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the christmas tree sparkled in the warm glow of the living room, the scent of pine mingling with the faint aroma of mulled wine and cinnamon candles.

you carefully placed the last ornament — a delicate glass bauble your mum insisted on saving for last: on the highest branch.

“perfect,” your dad said, stepping back to admire the tree with a satisfied nod. “i’d say we’ve outdone ourselves this year.”

“we always do,” your mum chimed in, setting down a tray of wine glasses on the coffee table.

you stepped back, joining them as the three of you stood side by side, taking in the sight of your handiwork. the tree was a masterpiece, adorned with years of collected ornaments, each one holding a memory.

she handed you a glass of merlot, raising hers with a smile. “to family,” she said softly.

“to family,” you and your dad echoed, clinking glasses.

the warmth of the wine spread through you, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a sense of peace.

you sank into the couch with your parents, the fire crackling softly in the background. as you sipped your drink, the weight of the past few months hung heavy in the air.

“this isn’t how i thought the year would end,” you admitted quietly, staring at the tree. “i mean…i didn’t think i’d be single for christmas.”

your mum placed a gentle hand on your knee, her eyes soft with understanding. “life has a way of surprising us, sweetheart. sometimes in ways we don’t expect.”

your dad nodded, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “but you’re here with us now, and we couldn’t be prouder of you, y/n. you’ve handled everything with so much grace.”

their support wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and you felt a lump rise in your throat. “i don’t know what i’d do without you two,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “thank you. for everything.”

she smiled, squeezing your knee. “you don’t have to thank us. that’s what family is for.”

there was a pause, a comfortable silence as the three of you sat together. then your mum broke it, her tone gentle but curious. “so, what’s next for you, y/n? what’s the next chapter?”

you hesitated, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts. “actually,” you began slowly, “there’s something i haven’t told you.”

both of them turned to you, their expressions attentive.

“way before aespa debuted,” you said softly, “a gallery in paris has been sending me yearly invitations for an artist-in-residence program. it’s a huge opportunity…one i’ve always dreamt of. but…i kept declining.”

your dad frowned slightly. “why?”

you took a deep breath, the words heavy on your tongue. “i didn’t want to be far away from her. i didn’t want to miss any part of her life, specially when she was working so hard to make her dreams come true.”

your mum’s expression softened, her eyes glistening. “oh, y/n…”

“i made a lot of sacrifices,” you admitted, your voice steady but quiet. “and i don’t regret loving her. but now…i think it’s time i start saying yes to things for me.”

“are you going to accept this time?” he asked, his voice full of quiet encouragement.

you nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “i already did. i’m going to paris a week after the new year.”

she gasped, her smile wide as she reached over to hug you tightly. “paris! oh, sweetheart, that’s wonderful!”

“about time you did something for yourself,” he added with a proud grin.

she pulled back, a playful glint in her eye. “do they have any good korean restaurants in paris?” she asked your dad.

he chuckled, shaking his head. “we’d better find out.”

“maybe we’ll come with you,” your mum teased, winking at you.

you laughed, the sound light and genuine. “you two would love it.”

“to paris next week then!”

that night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, your thoughts drifted to jimin.

there was no anger in your heart, no hatred for her. you couldn’t hate her. she wasn’t a bad person. she wasn’t even a bad girlfriend — not entirely.

she was just someone who had been swept up in a world that demanded more than she could give.

you thought about who she was before the world knew her as karina — the girl who made you laugh until your sides ached, who held you when you cried, who whispered dreams of forever into the quiet of the night.

you had grown up together, loved each other deeply. and while it didn’t last, it had been real.

“thank you,” you whispered into the darkness, not knowing if the words were meant for her, yourself, or both.

as you closed your eyes, the weight of the past began to lift, paris awaited.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

jimin stumbled out of her car, the freezing air biting at her cheeks as she stared up at the familiar apartment building. the snow fell in slow, heavy flakes, blanketing the quiet street in white. her breath came in uneven puffs, her heart pounding harder with every step she took toward the door.

her first day off in weeks and all she could think about was you. it had been over five weeks since she’d seen you and she couldn’t ignore the ache in her chest any longer.

it was the first time she’d had enough space to think, to realise just how much had slipped through her fingers. she told herself it wasn’t too late, that if she just got to you, everything would be okay.

she could explain, apologise, fix things — really try her hardest this time.

her hand trembled as she unlocked the door, her key sliding into place like muscle memory. she pushed it open, half expecting to see you curled up on the couch with a book or maybe in the kitchen painting something.

the first thing she noticed was the silence, heavy and suffocating. her eyes darted around the space, searching for any sign of you, but everything was gone.

the walls, once decorated with your paintings and small shelves of trinkets, were bare. the bookshelf was empty. the worn-out sofa, still in its usual spot, felt smaller without your blanket draped over it or the little pillow you always used.

“y/n?” she called out, her voice cracking.

no answer.

she stepped further inside, her footsteps echoing in the hollow space. the bedroom door was open, and when she walked in, the emptiness struck her all over again.

the closet was empty. no clothes, no art supplies, no trace of you. the desk where you used to work on sketches late at night was gone, leaving only faint scuff marks on the floor.

her chest tightened as she stood in the centre of the room, her breathing shallow.

“no,” she whispered to herself, shaking her head. “this isn’t…this can’t be —”

she turned back to the kitchen, her eyes frantically scanning the counters, hoping to find something that would tell her where you’d gone.

that was when she saw it — a folded piece of paper with her name written in your handwriting.

her hands trembled as she picked it up and opened it.

“jimin,

i’ve left a box of your things with mrs. choi. there are about three of them filling up her apartment. please pick it up when you can. i asked her to keep it safe for you.

take care,

y/n.”

the note slipped from her fingers, landing softly on the floor.

for a long moment, she stood there, staring at the paper, her mind racing. you were gone.

her next stop was mrs. choi’s apartment, just two floors down. the elderly woman answered almost immediately, her kind face softening when she saw jimin.

“jimin-ah,” mrs. choi said gently, stepping aside to let her in. “come in, dear. you must be freezing.”

she stepped inside, her eyes darting around as though expecting to find some sign of you here, even though she knew better. “mrs. choi…where is she? she’s not at the apartment, and i…i thought maybe…”

she sighed, her expression tinged with sadness. she gestured toward a neatly packed boxes sitting by the sofa. “y/n left before christmas, dear. she asked me to hold onto these for you.”

jimin stared at the boxes, her chest tightening. “she…she left?”

mrs. choi nodded, her voice soft. “she didn’t say much else, just that it was time for her to go.”

the words hit her like a physical blow, and her knees nearly buckled. “i didn’t think she’d actually leave,” she whispered, more to herself than to mrs. choi.

the older woman reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. “you know, jimin, love can’t grow if you don’t take care of it. even the strongest love can wither if it’s left in the cold for too long.”

her eyes filled with tears, her throat tightening as she looked down at the box.

“sometimes,” mrs. choi continued, her voice even softer now, “the ones we lose find their way back to us. but you have to be willing to meet them halfway.”

jimin nodded numbly, unable to respond.

“thank your, ajumma,” she bowed her head. “i’ll have someone pick these up from you, but for now, i have to visit her gallery.”

the snow was heavier now, falling in thick flakes that clung to her hair and lashes as she sprinted down the familiar streets. when she reached the building, she stopped short, her heart sinking all over again.

the windows were dark, the inside barren. a small sign hung on the door:

“closed until further notice. thank you for everything.”

her hands pressed against the cold glass as she peered inside. the space that had once been alive with your creativity and passion was empty, stripped of all the warmth and colour that made it yours.

her forehead rested against the glass as tears streamed down her face, her breath fogging the window.

“y/n,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “please…”

but there was nothing.

jimin gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles white as tears blurred her vision. the snow fell heavier now, making it harder to see the road, but she didn’t care.

the silence in the car was unbearable, filled only with the sound of her shaky breaths and the occasional muffled sob. she couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t breathe properly. she had spent weeks distracted by her career, ignoring the growing distance between you and now the weight of what she had done — what she had lost — was crashing down on her.

she should’ve followed you that night.

her phone buzzed in the cupholder, and with trembling hands, she reached for it, barely able to see the screen through her tears. it was aeri.

“jimin, where are you?” aeri’s voice was steady but tinged with worry. “minjeong and ningning said you ran off. we’re freaking out —”

“she’s gone,” she interrupted, her voice cracking as the tears came harder. “aeri, she’s gone.”

“who’s gone?” aeri asked, her voice softening with concern.

“y/n,” jimin sobbed, gripping the phone as if it were the only thing anchoring her. “i went to the apartment, she’s not there. the gallery, it’s closed. mrs. choi said she left before christmas. i don’t know where else to look.”

“yu jimin, breathe,” aeri said firmly, though her voice remained gentle. “where are you now?”

“driving to her parents’ house,” she whispered. “i just…i need to see her. i need to fix this.”

“okay,” the other girl said. there was a brief pause before she added, “i’ll call our manager. we’ll come get you.”

“no,” jimin pressed on, her voice trembling. “just meet me there. please.”

“jimin,” aeri said again, her tone more insistent. “you shouldn’t be driving in this state. pull over. we’ll come get you, okay?”

she hesitated, her grip tightening on the wheel, but the desperation in aeri’s voice broke through her haze. finally, she pulled over to the side of the road, the car skidding slightly on the icy pavement.

“please hurry,” jimin whispered before hanging up.

when the van arrived, aeri was the first to step out, her face pale with worry as she rushed to jimin’s car. yizhuo and minjeong followed closely behind, their eyes wide with concern.

jimin opened the door, stumbling out into the snow as the sobs overtook her again.

“she’s gone,” she choked out, her voice barely audible. “i fucking ruined everything and now she’s gone.”

aeri caught her before she could fall, holding her tightly as she cried into her shoulder. yizhuo placed a hand on her back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, while minjeong stood close, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as if trying to hold herself together.

“we’ll figure it out,” minjeong reassured her, though her voice trembled. “let’s just go to her parents’ house, okay? maybe they’ll know where she is.”

jimin nodded weakly, allowing them to guide her into the van.

the drive felt awfully long. when they finally arrived at your parents’ house, the driveway was empty, the windows dark.

her heart sank as the reality began to set in.

she stumbled out of the van, ignoring the biting cold as she made her way to the front door.

“y/n!” she shouted, her voice echoing into the still night. “please! i’m sorry! just talk to me!”

the silence was deafening.

she pounded on the door, her fist striking the wood harder and harder as tears streamed down her face.

“y/n!” she screamed again, her voice breaking.

there was no answer.

she backed away, her legs giving out as she fell into the snow. “no,” she whispered, shaking her head. “no, no, no…”

the sobs came harder, wracking her body as she clutched at the ground.

minjeong knelt beside her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders while aeri crouched in front of her, gently holding her face.

“jimin,” yizhuo said softly, her voice breaking. “she’s not here. we need to go.”

“i can’t,” she sobbed, shaking her head violently. “i can’t leave. she has to come back. she…she has to.”

“she’s gone,” minjeong mumbled, her voice thick with emotion as she rubbed circles on her back. “but it doesn’t mean she’s not coming back.”

jimin let out a guttural scream, the sound ripping through the night as she collapsed into minjeong’s arms.

“please,” she whispered, her voice barely audible now. “just let me stay. please.”

their manager stepped forward, his expression filled with sympathy. “karina, we need to go. it’s not safe out here.”

jimin shook her head, her tears freezing on her cheeks. “i can’t…i can’t leave her. i can’t.”

aeri’s voice cracked as she gently pried jimin away from ningning. “jimin, she’s not here. staying won’t change that.”

finally, after what felt like hours, jimin allowed them to guide her back into the van. her body felt heavy, her mind numb as she stared out the window at the dark house, her tears falling silently.

as the van pulled away, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the empty driveway in white.

and for the first time, jimin truly understood what it meant to lose the person she loved most.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

the end.

#karina imagines #karina x reader #kpop x reader #aespa x reader #aespa imagines #kpop gg #aespa #karina #angst #kpop imagines

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freshxsturniolo · 8 months ago

Text

how much did you hear? chris sturniolo x femreader

SUMMARY :chris and nick think you're fast asleep on the couch after watching a movie and chris confesses he's in love with you.

You feel your boyfriend pull the blanket down and over your feet as you feel his weight shift from the sofa, his thighs you'd had your feet tucked under now replaced by the blanket and the absence of his arm across the length of your leg as his hand had been resting at your hip. You had fallen asleep, for sure, and you could hear the soft sound of some music playing on the TV rather than the movie you had just been watching, but you were too tired to even stir, so you allowed yourself to fall back into a soft slumber. You could hear brief sounds around you, but you knew sleep would come over you again soon.

Chris had been your boyfriend for the last 6 months, and you had never felt anything like what you did for Chris with anyone else. You were nervous at first, knowing Chris had voiced his fear of relationships in the past, but it had progressed much quicker than either of you had anticipated. You were each others shadow, and if you weren't together you were sending each other randoms messages, letting the other know you could wait to see them again, or that you were you simply thinking of the other. It was wholesome, that was the best way you could describe it. On this particular day, you were both so tired and wanted nothing more than to be in each other presence. Both being tired from working and some other social events that had left both your social batteries a little drained and your bodies a little sleep deprived, so a movie on the sofa had been the perfect idea. Matt and Nick had also joined, but at some point Matt had gone to his room and the chuckle you just heard from Nick confirmed he had stayed for the duration. In your light sleep, you heard both Chris and Nick enter the kitchen just behind you, and the general clatter of them moving around, grabbing drinks and more snacks, no doubt getting ready to turn on their consoles and play something together whilst you slept, which only made you nuzzle your head into the cushion you were lay on even further, feeling less guilty for falling asleep instead of spending time with your boyfriend and his brothers. But just as you were about to doze off, you heard Nicks voice. Soft, so not to wake you, but unaware you were only lightly falling asleep.

"I love that Y/N feels comfortable enough to just come over and sleep like this, with all of us in the room." You smile at Nicks words, eyes still closed, glad that he had noticed that not only had Chris become a comfort for you, so had Nick and Matt. "She loves you guys." Chris speaks. "Good. Cause we love her." Nick says. There's silence, and you open your eyes slightly. You were facing the TV and didn't want to draw attention to the fact you were awake, but suddenly you wanted to hear in. You had sometimes felt a burden to the three triplets since becoming Chris' girlfriend. He spent less time alone with them these days and you were afraid Nick and Matt resented you for that, so to hear they didn't could only make your heart sing. But your heart stopped singing, and suddenly it was dancing out of your chest when you heard Chris speak next. "Nick, can I tell you something?" he said, and he almost sounded scared. Anxious. Like he wasn't sure how to get his words out. There was silence from his brother and you had wipe your tongue across your teeth, suddenly feeling your mouth go dry. "What?" Nick said. Silence again, but you strained your ears to listen. "I'm in love with her." Your eyes were wide. Your heart was hammering in your chest. You had an inkling over the last few weeks that Chris was going to tell you he loved you. The way he looked at you sometimes when you were sat in silence. The way he had started lingering around your mouth after a kiss, like he wanted to say something. The way he said your name to get your attention and when you asked what was wrong, he would smile and say nothing and go back to what he was doing. It was giving your butterflies every time, and there were times you had almost said it for him, because you too loved him. So much. "I know." you hear Nick say, and you have to stifle a laugh so they don't know you're awake. "You know?!" Chris speaks now, and theres a pitch to his voice. "Chris, the whole world probably knows. It's so obvious" Nick says again. "Have you told her?" "No" Chris sighs. "So tell her."

You were itching to sit up. You wanted him to tell you, so badly. And you wanted to tell him back. But something about telling him in front of his brother didn't feel right. "What if she doesn't say it back, bro?" You practically hear the eyeroll Nick gives him. "I promise you, she will." Theres silence again. And you can hear them opening cupboard doors once more, the conversation now turning to something completely different, and you don't know how you're going to pretend to be asleep when they come back. You felt hot, the overwhelming feeling to rip the blanket from your skin was overpowering and you wondered if you could get away with acting like you had only just risen, when announced he needed the bathroom. "I'll be 2 minutes, get the game ready." Your heart starting hammering again as your heard Nick run upstairs to his bathroom, closing your eyes quickly knowing he would have to pass you as he did so, but you opened them again once you heard his footsteps disappear. But then the moment you opened your eyes, you heard your boyfriends footsteps come closer, and you knew it was too late. Your eyes locked. He stopped in his tracks. Can of Pepsi in hand and a bowl of chips in the other. You smiled, and the blush appeared on his cheeks immediately. "How long have you been awake?" he asks, leaning forward to put his drink and snack on the table, before standing back upright and not moving another inch. "A while." you say, but it's almost a whisper. "Did you -" he stops and ruffles his hair. "How much did you hear?" He knew. He knew you'd heard him. You smile again, and finally sit yourself up. You know he's not going to move, the blush on his face is proof enough he feels nervous. Or embarrassed. Maybe both. So you push the blanket off of your body and stand yourself up. He takes in your body. One of his black hoodies and shorts, and when he reaches your eyes he finally lets out a breath of air. You chuckle. You hold out your hand as you walk to him and when he you finally reach him, he grabs hold of it tightly. "I'll say it back." you whisper. You hear Nick open the door to his bathroom from upstairs. He's singing the words to Espresso by Sabrina Carpenter, and suddenly Chris relaxes, a small chuckle escaping his lips. It was now, or it would hang over us. "I love you." You stare at him for a second, before letting go of his hand and warping your arms around his neck. His arms immediately come around your waist and he pulls you closer, his nose grazing against your neck. "I love you too, Chris. So much." He lets out a chuckle before you pull away and look at other other, your arms still around his neck and his still around your waist, and he leans forward to plant a kiss on your lips. "I wanted to tell you so long ago." he whispers now, the sound of Nicks footsteps finally coming down the stairs. You knew he was only seconds away from walking in on you both, but if Chris wasn't moving, neither were you. "Me too. Me too." you smile, and you lean froward and kiss him again. You both let out a chuckle into each others lips as you hear Nicks footsteps come to abrupt stop. You remove your lips from his to look over his shoulder, and Chris turns his head in the same direction, both still wrapped together. "Did you tell her?" Nick says, an excited look on his face as he looks between you both. "Tell me what?" you say, playing dumb as you look at the side of your boyfriends face just in time to see him roll his eyes before turning to face you. "Shut up," he whispers, before planting another kiss on your lips, pulling away and pushing you backward slightly so he can grab hold of your hand to walk you back over to the couch. "I'll take that as a yes, shall I?" you hear Nick say, and you turn around and give him a smile.

You spend the rest of the night with your legs draped over Chris', your hands twirling around in his hair as you peacefully watch him playing his games with Nick, turning round and giving you the occasional kiss when he had a spare second he didn't need to concentrate. And when you get into bed that night, Chris' arms holing you tightly into his chest, it's the first night of many more he whispers I love you before you fall to sleep.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fluff #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets

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hedgehogsaretheultimatelifeform · 8 months ago

Text

More thinking about getting assimilated into the retired 141 polycule.

[part one]

Soap opens the door, dragging you out of the bedroom’s soft dimness into semi darkness. The only way you know that you’re walking down a corridor is the light at the other end, coming from down stairs. Gaz is following so closely behind that he’s nearly catching your heels, his hands hovering by your shoulders in case you stumble as Soap leads the way downstairs.

You emerge into a kitchen, filled with the sound of a kettle about to boil. Soap glances back at you, making sure you made it down behind him okay, leaving Gaz free to brush past the pair of you, to greet the man waiting in the kitchen.

‘Morning, John.’ Gaz embraces John from behind, grabbing at his loose shirt to pull it tight around his body. Soap sees you swallow as Gaz shows off the muscles in John’s back, highlighted under the taut material of his sleep shirt.

‘Mornin,’ John grumbles, in the same husky voice as before. Soap pulls you close to him, leaning your heads against each other as you both watch John turn to kiss Gaz, the pair murmuring something between them as the kettle clicks, and steam curls out of the spout.

John is the one to break away from the cuddle, leaving Gaz take over the tea as he turns to face you. ‘This our guest, then?’

‘It is.’ You nod your head, feeling Soap step back as John approaches, his feet scuffing as he drags them on the floor.

John reaches out, gently cupping your wrist before sliding his fingers down to your hand, and lifting it to his lips to press a kiss to your knuckles. ‘A pleasure to finally meet you.’

‘Come off it.’ Soap pulls your hand free, replacing it with his own as he kissed John’s cheek. ‘Why don’t you go down and let Simon in?’

‘Why don’t you?’ Price pulls Soap close and makes him kiss him properly, twisting their bodies so you can see it all, before pointing Soap in the direction of the door.

‘Don’t wanna. Wanna stay here.’ Soap pushes back, reaching towards you.

Gaz chuckles in your ear as you watch the bickering begin to unfold. ‘Come on, you don’t need to see this. Come have a seat.’

Gaz guides you with a hand on your back, steering you out of the kitchen and into the living room. He sets you down on the well loved sofa cushions, hovering over you for a second too long for you to not ask.

‘Want a kiss?’

He doesn’t reply verbally, just taking what was offered, and then another, before the third is interpreted by a smack on someone’s ass, and Soap hurrying past, covering his flushing cheeks.

‘Aww, look at him…’ Gaz chuckles, glancing back as John emerges in Soap’s wake.

‘Aren’t you meant to be making tea?’

‘It’s brewing.’ Gaz grumbles, but slips back towards the kitchen, leaving you alone with John.

‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’

‘May I?’ He gestures to the seat next to you.

‘Yeah.’

He sinks down next you you, throwing an arm on the back of the sofa, just behind your shoulders. You tilt your head back, resting it in the crook of his elbow.

He chuckles. ‘You’re something else, aren’t you?’

‘I am.’ You confirm, meeting his eyes when he turns his head to look at you.

‘You know,’ he leans in close, and lowers his voice, ‘you sounded delightful last night.’

You gasp, covering your mouth as you scramble through the blurry memories of last night trying to remember what you had done for him to overhear.

He chuckles again, brushing a finger down the side of your face, about to say something else, when Gaz sets two mugs of tea down on the coffee table.

‘Think you’re mistaken, there. That was all Soap.’ Gaz passes a third cup to you, before sitting on your other side. ‘He gets real high pitched when you fuck him right.’

‘I wasn’t talking about high pitched...’ Price grumbles, reaching down to get his own tea as Gaz opens his arms and lets you lean into them.

‘Is that true?’ You whisper.

‘What?’

‘About soap.’

‘Course it is. We can show you how, if you want.’

‘You’d do that for me?’

‘Of course, for you. And for soap, because he enjoys it like nothing else.’

‘And we like watching him get fucked.’ John chimes in, sliding his arm down to rest on your thigh, gently squeezing.

‘All of you?’

They both nod.

‘We could ask Simon to show you, when he gets up.’

‘It’s…’ you glance around, spying a clock on the wall, reading half seven. ‘Too early for that, surely.’

‘That clocks broken, love.’ John flips his phone screen to you, showing that the time is closer to ten thirty. ‘But, we can always do it later, if you prefer.’

‘If you want to stay, of course.’ Gaz supplies, behind you.

‘You’ve made me curious, of course I’m staying.’ You sip your tea, gently blowing over the rim of the cup to cool it each time.

‘Staying?’ John glances at Gaz over your shoulder. ‘For today, or…’

‘I mean… however long it’s okay for me to stay,’ you hurry out, suddenly embarrassed to have overstepped.

‘No, no, it’s fine, love.’ Gaz hushes you, slowly getting you to sit up. ‘That’s not what he meant.’

‘Oh… okay.’ You settle, glancing between the two men to see who will speak first.

‘You might have worked out that we don’t exactly have a typical relationship.’ Gaz starts.

‘Yeah, I got that.’ You nod. ‘You’re… poly?’

‘Yeah. We’re all together in a polycule.’ John nods, seeming glad that you had already figured out something along the right lines.

‘Fuck, that is not what we’re calling it. We agreed on this, Price.’

‘It’s what it is, Kyle, don’t start this again…’

‘It just sounds so formal and pretentious…’

‘Wait,’ you gasp, ‘your name is Kyle?’

‘Yeah. Something wrong with that?’

You shake your head. ‘Just never saw myself living with a Kyle.’

‘So you’re in?’ John leans towards you.

‘If you’ll have me.’

‘Course we’ll fucking have you…’ Gaz kisses you, as John snags your tea away to our on the table before it gets spilled. Just in time, as Gaz shoved you back into Price’s lap, your arms thrown over his shoulders as you realise Gaz isn’t going to let you breathe, until John pulls him away, letting your head fall back on his chest as he pulls Gaz up for himself, cradling his face between his hands as he takes kiss after kiss after kiss from Gaz, before they lean down and take kiss after kiss from you, before the door bangs open.

‘We’re back!’ Soap hurries into the room, stopping short when he sees what’s going on. ‘Fuck, Si we interrupted them!’ He calls over his shoulder, before coming over for a kiss of his own, as the as of yet unseen Simon enters the room.

‘I have hunted and gathered.’ Simon holds up a plastic bag, the smell of bacon and chips slowly filling the room.

‘Oh get in.’ Gaz fist pumps the air, pulling you up as Simon comes closer to the couch.

‘Hi.’ He holds is hand out to you.

‘Hi. Nice to meet you.’ You shake hands.

‘It is.’ He smiles, eyes crinkling above the black surgical mask he’s wearing.

‘Come on, Si, I’ll give you a hand.’ John stands up from the sofa, taking Simon into the kitchen, as Soap eagerly takes his place.

‘So, what’s the word?’ He looks expectantly at Gaz.

‘You’re in, aren’t you, love?’ Gaz looks at you, and you suddenly wonder if Soap’s departure was a set up for Gaz and Price to give you that invitation.

‘Yeah. I’m in.’ You nod. Who gives a fuck if it was a set up. You’re in now, and you’re not leaving any time soon.

‘Fuckin beautiful.’ Soap presses a kiss to your shoulder. ‘Knew you would be.’

‘You did?’

‘Course I did. Just sauntered up, bought both of us a drink like it was nothing.’

‘You can’t call tequila love at first sight, Soap.’

‘You’re calling rum love at first sight, what’s the difference?’ Soap snipes back at Gaz over your head, and you break out laughing.

‘If I’d known it was going to lead me here, I would have sat on your dicks right there at the bar.’

‘What at the same time?’ Gaz mocks shock, before pulling you close, burying his face in your shoulder as he squeezes you tight. ‘Fuck I’m glad we met.’

‘Me too.’ Soap wrapped his arms around you too, sighing happily as you sank into them.

‘Oi, love birds. Food’s here.’ Simon breaks you up, setting sauces down on the table as he doles out the sandwiches. ‘Bacon, chips, chips, bacon for price when he’s done wanking in the kitchen, and bacon for me.’

‘You want me to spit in your tea, Simon?’ John calls out from the kitchen.

‘Don’t ask that, you might be surprised.’ Simon returns, before you all open your sandwiches and tuck in.

It’s quiet as you eat. Gaz and Soap on either side of you, Simon only looking away from you when John returns from the kitchen with his tea. Simon lets John sit next to him, the pair leaning on each other as they put away a bacon butty.

John does so quicker than anyone else, so as soon as Gaz and Soap are both left licking sauces from their fingers, he’s standing up. ‘Come on, you two. We’ve got to get a start on cleaning up.’

They grumble but go with him, taking paper wrappers and empty cups with them. You suspect that cleaning didn’t need three people, rather this was an excuse for you to be alone with Simon.

He leans forward, grinning lazily at you, the full expression visible now that he’d ditched the mask. ‘John told me that you’re in.’

‘John told me that you’d fuck soap and let me watch.’ The words spill out of your mouth before you’ve really thought about them, but it makes him smile more.

‘Did he?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘And do you want me to do that?’

‘Yes. Very much yes.’

He sits back, spreading his legs wide. ‘Then you ditch those borrowed clothes, get on my lap, and earn it.’

[part three]

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tojisun · 8 months ago

Text

sugar, spice, everything on ice (hockey au)

part of the ‘if fwb’ spinoff // simon riley x f!reader

johnny’s been… doubting, you see, about the validity of simon’s dating life.

like, for example, if he really was dating anyone.

simon looks content in a way that he never was before—intense eyes turned down towards his phone, unapproachable aura less angry but more settled, like he’s warding off people not because of his dislike but more so because he’s not available anymore.

not like he ever made himself available before, but it’s fundamentally different this time around; self-imposed walls brought down to make room for unbridled fulfillment.

he looks like he’s won the damn cup.

and that’s what makes johnny twitch—someone out there was just as, if not more, valued as the championship cup to simon, but he’s never introduced anyone to them.

not a picture nor an update nor even a PSA that they need to commission another WAG jacket for his partner because simon is tight-lipped about whoever it was he’s seeing. it’s not like he’s even dancing around the fact, it’s just that whoever it was he’s dating was never free.

not for a game nor a night-out nor a party. in simon’s house.

this level of secrecy was just unheard of. even the other men in the league who have a tight leash on their private lives still have living proof of their partners unlike simon who leaves it at, “she’s busy,” like that covers anything.

which is why johnny would like to go on record and say: he is totally valid for choosing to crash at simon’s place without letting him know.

he remembers getting wasted with the others, then refusing to be driven home, only to take a cab to simon’s place. he must have been coherent enough to remember the code for simon’s house, and was shockingly coordinated enough to even punch it in, but his memories begin to splinter there.

next thing johnny knows, he’s waking up, feeling like he’s been hit by a freight train. his tongue is heavy inside his mouth, the pungent taste of last night’s alcohol rising from the back of his throat like bile. he groans, blinking blurry eyes as he tries to remember where he’s at or what he’s done, only for nausea to wash over him so intensely he flops back down onto the bed—

he pats at the cushioning.

—onto the sofa then.

by the devil, what did he do last night? got him drinking like he’s got a new liver to replace this one he fucked with.

christ. he needs water, or a whole bottle of mouthwash, honestly.

“mactavish?”

johnny jumps, twisting his head to the side at the call of his name. it’s simon, of course it is, but he looks dishevelled, unkempt in a way that looks criminal because—johnny roves his eyes over his friend—who the hell looks that good when they’ve just woken up?

simon looks like he can be the next cover of inside fitness; give tyler fucking seguin a run for his own money.

“wha’,” is all johnny gets to say because he starts sputtering, dizziness hitting him intensely again. he gags, and only has enough mind to cover his mouth with his fist.

“jesus– down the hall. go,” simon barks and johnny warbles his thanks before locking himself in the guest bathroom.

johnny comes back out to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and melted butter wafting through. simon did say he had a problem with his kitchen vents which made cooking a problem, but johnny sure isn’t complaining right now. although, he supposes that it is a whole different problem when it’s steak or some ribs that simon’s firing up.

oh well, johnny thinks, scratching his side as he ambles to the island, pointedly quiet because simon might kick him out before breakfast is even done.

simon eyes him with a muted approval and johnny grins because, hey, he just secured free breakfast.

he’s about to break the silence, to apologize once more he guesses, when the sounds of padded feet descending from the stairs leading up to simon’s lavishly decorated—sarcasm intended—second floor pierces through the silence.

johnny’s back straightens, his exhausted mind clicking awake.

he turns to his friend but simon’s already angled towards the kitchen door, facing away from johnny. he looks relaxed, previous half-bareness now covered up with a thin white shirt, and johnny doesn’t know why he missed it but simon looks like a perfect picture of a boyfriend fixing up breakfast post-coitus.

“jesus–” johnny begins to say, the pieces linking because yeah, simon’s never denied that he’s been doing some dating around and it’s just johnny’s drunken whim to assume that the most talented ice hockey player of this decade was lying about his relationship status and—good lord, that’s a fucking person diving in simon’s arms, alright.

johnny watches, with his mouth agape, as simon and the mystery woman talk to each other in hushed whispers, his friend having to bend forward to make up for the height difference.

johnny watches, like the third-wheel he is, as simon laughs, actual quiet chuckles and not that children-crying-in-terror-inducing cackle, before nuzzling his nose over your own, and breathing you in.

johnny watches the quiet kiss, just lips pecking each other, and it’s all so soft and tender and johnny feels really, really bad that he didn’t get to give simon and his girl the privacy you two surely deserve and—

your eyes open, flitting to him because johnny is sure that he’s standing out amidst what must be a normally empty kitchen. he doesn’t even get to count three seconds before you’re screaming, lurching out of simon’s hold and hiding behind his bulk in your terror.

simon, screw him, seems to not have cared that johnny was privy to such an intimate moment and just turns enough to catch your attention again before murmuring reassurances. he says things like, “mactavish? the punk ass who got his hair shaved for the new season only to realize no one’s actually gon’ see it because of the helmet? remember?”

“what,” johnny chokes out, embarrassed that that’s what simon told you about and not, like, his player number or something.

“oh,” you gasp out anyway, clearly having heard of the shaved-sides and using it as a marker for johnny. “oh!”

you dance away from behind simon to make your way to johnny, your previous embarrassment gone from your gait. he’s so sure, though, that he’s seen you from somewhere, but the thought’s dashed out of his mind when you chirp, “you’re my best friend’s favourite player!”

“yeah?” johnny replies, gaining his confidence back.

“yeah! she won’t stop showing me the highlights of your guys’ game against that big german fella an’ his team!”

johnny laughs, his own giddiness ramping up. he remembers that game, alright. he remembers the miracle play during the final period when price was able to score an empty-netter. he remembers how, in his adrenaline-induced ecstasy, johnny turned to the player to his side, konig, and laughed in his face.

johnny made headlines then, and he’s saved every single one. his fiancee even printed a copy of her favourite shot and stuck it in her wallet.

(“for good luck,” she said with a wink, like johnny doesn’t have his prick twitching in her fist.)

“well, y’got anything for me to sign for her?”

“uhh…”

“guess you can use that one group photo our marketing team gave to us,” simon finally pipes up, and johnny turns, surprise lining his face at seeing the rich spread of breakfast.

he didn’t even notice simon setting up the table, too engrossed in the high that came from reliving the memory of laughing at konig’s face which resulted to him being pushed into the glass protector by a protective horangi.

not even that had dampened johnny’s elation then and now.

“oh yeah. thanks!” you say to simon before you run out.

you’re barely out of their eyesights when johnny turns to simon with a grin.

“what.”

“oh, you fucken’ sap!” johnny sings because he’s still too hungover to come up to simon and playfully punch him. “and why were ye hidin’ lassie?”

simon grumbles something as he turns, pretending to busy himself with the now-empty coffee pot.

“wha’s’at?”

“i said,” simon begins, heaving out a sigh. “that we jus’ became official last week.”

“oh, shit,” johnny whispers sagely. he blinks. “so, uh, who’s the one you’ve been callin’ yer girl?”

“oh fuck off johnny,” simon hisses, sputtering, before throwing the tea towel at him.

“what now!?” johnny yelps, ducking away from the soaring towel. “what’d i do now–” he gasps, realization dawning on him. “you didn’t.”

simon looked like he was going to say something but by then you were running back with the photo and a marker pen, telling him your friend’s name—alessandra, “or sandy!”—for johnny to sign.

while johnny’s busy practicing his signature on a scrap of newspaper that simon gave to him, he pretends not to hear the giggly whispers between his friend and his friend’s new but longtime-pining-for girlfriend.

“and me? why aren’t you asking f’r my signature?”

“oh ‘cuz y’r mine.”

johnny dutifully ignores the lips smacking sounds as he finally signs the picture, making sure to add devil horns on simon’s head.

serves him right.

i just. love fluff and hockey au sm 😞

#hockey au #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod x reader #suns #guys we are so back (to fixating to the point i cant even function anymore) !!!!#im so sorry if u guys are tired of this :(( i just love this au sm. its so refreshing

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hoshifighting · 11 months ago

Text

Threesome – Bratty Sub Seungcheol & Hard Dom Jeonghan

— Synopsis: After weeks of trying to schedule a happy hour with your friends, you find space in your tiring schedule. Taking a time to have a Bratty Sub Seungcheol and a Hard Dom Jeonghan to take care of you. — WC: 5.6k — WARNINGS: Smut, threesome, sensory overload, oral (f. and m. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected sex, penetrative sex, degradation, praising, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, voyeurism, power dynamics and etc.

As you settled in Jeonghan's cozy living room, surrounded by the comforting familiarity of your best friends, Seungcheol and Jeonghan, a sense of relief washed over you. It had been far too long since the three of you had managed to sync your schedules and just hang out. The weight of weeks of relentless work melted away as you cracked open cold beers and sank into the cushions of Jeonghan's sofa.

Jeonghan, with his signature pout, couldn't help but tease you about your perpetual busyness. "Hey, you finally decided to grace us with your presence, huh? We were starting to think you forgot about us completely!"

You chuckled, taking a swig of your drink before replying, "Hey, cut me some slack, will ya? You know how crazy things have been at work lately. But seeing you guys now, I realize just how much I've missed this."

Seungcheol chimed in, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, seriously, it's been too long. We were beginning to think you'd been abducted by aliens or something."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Well, thankfully, no alien abductions yet. Just drowning in paperwork and deadlines."

Jeonghan shook his head in mock disapproval. "You need to learn to take a break every once in a while, you know? Life's too short to be all work and no play."

You frowned slightly at Jeonghan's teasing, taking another sip of your drink to hide your amusement. But before the conversation could take a different turn, Seungcheol's voice cut through the air with unexpected boldness.

"So, Y/N," he began, his tone suddenly shifting to a more sensual one, "how's your love life been treating you lately? Any juicy details you've been keeping from us?"

The living room seemed to shift with the sudden change in atmosphere, the playful banter replaced by a charged energy that caught you off guard. You glanced at Seungcheol, eyebrows raised in surprise, before shooting a look at Jeonghan, who was grinning mischievously.

Caught off guard by the unexpected turn of conversation, you hesitated for a moment before responding, "Uh, well, you know how it is... Work's been keeping me pretty occupied, so not much action on the romantic front lately."

Seungcheol leaned in closer, his gaze intense. "Come on, don't hold out on us. We're your best friends. Spill the tea."

You couldn't help but laugh nervously, feeling the weight of their anticipation. "Alright, alright," you began, taking a deep breath, "I did go out with a guy from HR recently, but..." you trailed off, a hint of disappointment in your voice, "he wasn't exactly what I was looking for. Cute, sure, but way too vanilla for my taste."

As you looked down, chuckling at the absurdity of it all, you felt their eyes on you, exchanging glances with an expression you couldn't quite decipher.

Jeonghan, ever the curious one, broke the silence with a raised eyebrow and a sip of his beer. "So, what is it that you like then?" he asked, his gaze fixed on you.

You met his gaze, feeling a surge of honesty wash over you. "Honestly," you admitted, "I just felt like I needed more. Like I had to do everything in bed with him. And lately, I've just been yearning for someone to take care of me for a change."

Jeonghan's response was a low, contemplative hum as he licked his lips, a sign of his deep thoughtfulness. Seungcheol nodded understandingly, his arms crossed in front of him as he absorbed your words.

"You need to find someone who knows what they're doing," Jeonghan finally stated.

You chuckled, a playful glint in your eye as you teased, "Where am I gonna find that then? Boys nowadays are so difficult," throwing your head back with closed eyes, feigning exasperation.

Suddenly, beneath the table, you felt Seungcheol's touch, his hand gently caressing your thigh. Your eyes shot open, meeting his gaze with a mixture of surprise and excitement. His touch sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a spark of anticipation within you.

"Looks like you might not have to look too far…" Seungcheol whispered, but you and Jeonghan listened very clearly.

As Jeonghan scoffed and walked off to the kitchen, Seungcheol seized the opportunity, his eyes searching for confirmation in yours. You met his gaze, feeling a rush of excitement mingled with apprehension, before nodding slightly, giving him the green light.

In an instant, Seungcheol closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours with a hunger that sent a thrill coursing through your veins. His tongue danced with yours, a fervent intensity igniting between you as he sucked gently on your lips.

Your cheeks flushed with a mixture of desire and fear, the thought of Jeonghan catching you two sending a thrill of adrenaline through you. But in that moment, all you could focus on was the intoxicating sensation of Seungcheol's lips on yours.

Suddenly, you felt hands wrapping around your waist from behind, and soft kisses being trailed down your neck. A moan escaped your lips, muffled by Seungcheol's mouth as you arched into the touch.

"Jeonghan," you gasped, the sound barely audible over the pounding of your heart. The realization of the situation dawned on you.

Jeonghan's smirk widened, his gaze flickering between you and Seungcheol. "Relax, Y/N," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle, "we're your best friends. We're just here to make sure you're taken care of."

As Jeonghan's hands slipped beneath the fabric of your top. Shivers racing along your skin as he pressed his fingers against your nipples with a delicate yet firm pressure. You couldn't help but melt at his touch, your breath catching in your throat.

"Is that right?" you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

Jeonghan's response was a low chuckle, his breath warm against your ear as he leaned in closer. "Does it feel right?" he murmured, his fingers tracing teasing circles around your sensitive flesh.

You nodded, a soft moan escaping your lips as you leaned into his touch, craving more of him.

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you realized Seungcheol was now in front of you, his gaze fixed on your flushed face. You lowered your gaze, unable to meet his eyes, feeling a surge of shyness washing over you.

Seungcheol gently lifted your chin with his hand, his touch tender as he urged you to look at him. "Why are you shy, Y/N?"

You swallowed nervously, feeling a knot form in the pit of your stomach as you struggled to find the right words. "I-I don't know," you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper, "It's just..."

Before you could finish your sentence, Seungcheol's other hand slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, he caressed your wetness over your panties, stroking your clit. A gasp escaped your lips, your body responding instinctively to his touch as you arched into his hand, craving more.

Seungcheol's gaze never wavered as he continued to stroke you, his touch sending a huge heat radiating through your stomach. "You don't need to be shy with me," he murmured, his voice husky, "I want to make you feel good, too… Let me take care of you."

Before Seungcheol could proceed further, a commanding tone from Jeonghan cut through the heated atmosphere like a sudden gust of wind, freezing the moment in its tracks.

"Stop." Jeonghan's voice rang out, firm and authoritative, causing both you and Seungcheol to pause in your actions.

Seungcheol looked at Jeonghan with wide, doe-like eyes, surprised. His hand hesitated, lingering at the waistband of your pants as he awaited further instruction.

Jeonghan's gaze shifted from Seungcheol to you, his expression unreadable as he took in the scene before him. There was a moment of tense silence, broken only by the sound of your erratic breathing.

Finally, Jeonghan spoke, his voice softened but no less commanding. "Not like this." he said, his tone carrying a weight of authority that brooked no argument. "Let's go to the bedroom."

Your heart raced at the suggestion, your legs trembling, you struggled to steady yourself, the overwhelming arousal making it difficult to stand.

Sensing your need, Seungcheol stepped forward, his strong arms wrapping around you to offer support. A chuckle escaped his lips as he felt you tremble against him, the sound both comforting and arousing in equal measure.

"Easy there," Seungcheol murmured, his voice low and husky, "I've got you."

As Jeonghan stood before you, his hands deftly pushing your top up, the cool air hit your exposed nipples, causing them to harden in response. His touch trailed down your belly, he smirked knowingly at your quivering state.

Jeonghan unbuttoned your pants, sliding them down your thighs. You couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, feeling a rush of heat pooling between your legs as he exposed more of your trembling body to his gaze.

Then, as if sensing your need for reassurance, Jeonghan cupped your face in his hands, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. The taste of alcohol lingered on his tongue as he deepened the kiss.

Meanwhile, Seungcheol wasted no time in removing his own shirt, his bare chest pressing against your back as he pressed his growing erection against your ass. Trapped between the two bodies, your breath grew unsteady, the heat of their touch fueling the fire of desire that raged within you.

Seungcheol pressed his bulge against you, simulating the sensation of being penetrated, a moan escaped your lips, the friction making you melt pathetically. But before the moment could escalate further, Jeonghan abruptly halted the kiss, his expression suddenly serious as he addressed Seungcheol.

"Seungcheol, could you stop?" Jeonghan's tone was firm, his request laced with a hint of authority.

You clung to Jeonghan's shirt, feeling confused and aroused as you turned to look at Seungcheol. You feared that both of them would start bickering even now that they had you half naked between their arms.

But Seungcheol responded with a bratty tone, as he challenged Jeonghan's authority. "Why should I?" he retorted, his voice dripping with defiance, his hands still gripping your hips possessively.

Jeonghan's response was sharp, almost degrading, as he put Seungcheol in his place. "Because I said so," he snapped, his tone laced with authority, his eyes flashing with determination. "You'll obey me, understood?"

Seungcheol's attitude faltered for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and Jeonghan as he grappled with his own desires and the need to submit. Eventually, he relented, his demeanor shifting to one of obedience as he complied with Jeonghan's command.

As Jeonghan carefully laid you down on the bed, his lips tracing a path of kisses down your thighs.

With delicate precision, he removed your panties, his fingers trailing teasingly along your skin as he discarded the last barrier between you and your pussy.

Then, as he positioned you on his chest, his hands caressing your inner thighs, Seungcheol's voice cut through the heated atmosphere like a knife.

"Can I eat her out?" he asked, his tone thick with desire as he knelt before you, his eyes burning with hunger.

You nodded eagerly, unable to suppress the need that pulsed through your veins. But before Seungcheol could act, Jeonghan interjected, his voice calm.

"Did I say you could?" Jeonghan's words were a challenge, a reminder of the dynamic that existed between them.

Seungcheol immediately sat back on his heels, his gaze flickering between you and Jeonghan as he grappled with his own desires and the need for permission.

With a deep breath, Seungcheol closed his eyes, his breath ragged as he struggled to maintain control. The sight of your glistening pussy before him was almost too much to bear, a tantalizing temptation that threatened to drive him to the brink of madness.

As Jeonghan's fingers traced between your wet folds, a hiss escaped your lips at the cold sensation. Your breath caught in your throat as he collected your slick, his touch making you melt again against his chest.

With deliberate care, he began to circle his fingertips around your clit, the sensation causing your legs to tremble uncontrollably. The intense arousal pooling in the pit of your stomach made it difficult to think, your mind consumed by a fog.

Seungcheol's voice broke the silence, thick with desire as he asked, "Can I join in yet?"

Jeonghan's fingers continued their relentless assault on your clit, making you moan needy, with a smirk, he responded, "Not yet. For now, you're just going to watch."

The moment Jeonghan slid two fingers inside of your slick, wet pussy, a loud, squelching sound echoed in the room, mingling with your unabashed moans of pleasure. Your head fell back, resting on his shoulder, as you clutched his forearm with both hands, seeking support and grounding amidst the overwhelming sensation crashing over you.

The stretch and pressure of his fingers filling you made you flinch, each movement sending you deeper into a haze of ecstasy. You pressed yourself against him, seeking solace in his embrace as he skillfully worked you towards the edge of bliss.

As you glanced over at Seungcheol, you could see the hunger in his eyes, his hand moving discreetly, touching himself. The sight of him indulging in his own desire at the sight of you only fueled the craving of having him, heightening your arousal to new heights.

"Uhh... mmm..." Your moans filled the room, the needy sounds echoing off the walls as Jeonghan's skilled fingers worked wonders inside you.

Then, in a sudden burst, Jeonghan curled his fingers, hitting your g'spot with pinpoint accuracy. Your eyes rolled back in your head as your stomach twirled with the sensation, a loud husky moan escaping your chest.

"Ah! Oh my g-god!" you cried out, your voice echoes.

But Jeonghan's command snapped you out of your reverie. "Hands to yourself," he admonished, his voice firm.

Immediately, you obeyed, withdrawing your hands from where you had been gripping his arm, placing them obediently by your side.

The sensation of Jeonghan's fingers teasing your most sensitive spot sent you spiraling closer and closer to the edge of climax, your moans growing louder and more desperate with each passing moment.

"I'm going to cum, Jeonghan," you gasp out, the words tumbling from your lips in a desperate plea as your walls clench tightly around his fingers. But Jeonghan remains quiet, his focus solely on driving you to the brink of orgasm.

You steal one last glance at Seungcheol, the intensity of his gaze fueling the fire burning within you, before you close your eyes tight, surrendering yourself to the impending release.

As the waves of your orgasm crashes over you, you feel your body convulse with ecstasy, your inner muscles contracting rhythmically around Jeonghan's fingers. A prolonged moan escapes your lips, echoing through the room as you ride out every single shock of pleasure.

As Jeonghan removed his fingers from your trembling core, placing them firmly on your thighs and spreading you open, a sense of vulnerability washed over you. You gasped as you felt the cool air against your exposed flesh, your senses heightened by the anticipation of what was to come.

Then, his commanding voice broke through the silence, "Seungcheol, eat her out," he ordered, his tone authoritative.

Your eyes widened at his command, your body still tingling from the intense orgasm moments before. You were too sensitive, too overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through you to handle any more stimulation.

But Seungcheol wasted no time, his tongue diving eagerly into your dripping folds, sucking your clit between his lips with a hunger that mirrored your own desire. You contorted beneath him, the sensation almost too intense to bear as your clit felt almost like burning against his warm tongue.

"N-no, too sensitive!" you managed to stammer out between moans, your body writhing with pleasure as you struggled to process the overwhelming sensations coursing through you. "S-Seungcheol-ah! Ah! I can't, I can't..."

Desperately, you reached out, grabbing onto Jeonghan, the sheets, anything you could find to ground yourself amidst the whirlwind of pleasure that threatened to consume you whole.

Seungcheol held you close, his strong arms wrapping around you as he continued to lavish attention on your throbbing clit, his tongue flicking and swirling with practiced skill.

Meanwhile, Jeonghan took charge, spreading your legs wider, immobilizing you as he positioned himself between them. Your hips instinctively began to move, humping your pussy against Seungcheol's face as Jeonghan held your trembling body in place.

"Such a good girl," Jeonghan murmured, his voice low and husky as he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear. "But you know you want this. You want to cum all over Seungcheol's face, don't you?"

His words only served to heighten your arousal, pushing you closer and closer to the edge of another explosive climax. You couldn't help but revel in the delicious torment of being caught between the two men who knew exactly how to push you to the brink of.

As Seungcheol's tongue worked tirelessly to elicit more moans from your lips, you couldn't resist stealing a glance at him. His eyes locked with yours, filled with hunger, seeking confirmation that he was indeed pleasing you. But that simple act of meeting his gaze proved to be your undoing.

"Oh S-Seungcheol!" you gasped, your body convulsing as the intensity of your orgasm crashed over you, overwhelming all of your already overstimulated senses. Seungcheol closed his eyes in bliss, savoring the taste of your sweet release as you soaked his mouth with your juices.

Jeonghan held you securely in his embrace, his hands roaming your trembling body.

"That's it, cum for him," Jeonghan whispered, his voice a seductive murmur in your ear. "You're such a good little slut, letting Seungcheol devour you like that. Look at how wet you are for him. You can't get enough, can you?"

Jeonghan lets your legs go, and Seungcheol stops, a line of your cum between his lips and your pussy. He grins at you, licking his lips, enjoying the taste of your arousal. You smile back, feeling satisfied and exhilarated by the intense pleasure he just gave you. The sight of him with your essence still on his lips sends a surge of desire through you, even as you lay there, breathless and spent.

Jeonghan cocks his head slightly, catching sight of Seungcheol touching himself. A frown creases his brow as he moves closer, his voice laced with a hint of dominance.

"You're such a brat," Jeonghan admonishes, his tone dripping with disdain. "Can't even follow a simple command, can you? Always have to do things your own way."

Seungcheol's eyes widen in surprise, his hand freezing mid-stroke as he meets Jeonghan's gaze. There's a flicker of defiance in his eyes, but it quickly fades under the weight of Jeonghan's disapproving stare.

Jeonghan continues his tirade, his words cutting like a knife. "You think you can just do whatever you want, don't you? Well, let me remind you who's in charge here. It's not you. It's me."

Seungcheol's cheeks flush with embarrassment, his gaze dropping to the floor as he mumbles an apology.

"On your knees," you obediently followed Jeonghan's command, leaving the bed and kneeling on the floor before him. As he lowered his sweatpants and underwear, his cock sprung free, already glistening with precum. You looked up at him with half-lidded eyes.

Jeonghan's commanding tone sent a thrill down your spine as he instructed you to suck it. Suppressing a smile, you complied, running your tongue along the length of his shaft from base to tip before enveloping his cock in your hot mouth.

Seungcheol watched in awe as you took all of Jeonghan's length inside your mouth, your lips stretched around him as you eagerly worked to please him. Jeonghan's grip tightened on your hair, guiding you as you deepthroated him, your own desire to please him matched only by your desire to impress Seungcheol.

"See, Seungcheol?" Jeonghan's voice was a mixture of praise and degradation as he looked down at you. "Look at how good she is, taking me so well. She's a good girl, isn't she?"

You moaned in response, the vibrations send to his cock, pleasure coursing through Jeonghan's body. Your desire to please him and prove yourself to Seungcheol only fueled your determination as you continued to suck and stroke him, eager to show them both just how skilled you could be.

As Jeonghan guided you to stand, his firm grip on your hair, you followed his lead obediently.

With a gentle push, he directed Seungcheol to lay back on the bed, his gaze locking with yours as he positioned you on all fours over Seungcheol's prone form.

Your hand found purchase on the bed, the other resting on Seungcheol's chest as you braced yourself for what was to come. Then, without warning, Jeonghan entered you from behind, his cock sliding slowly but surely into your slick, eager pussy.

A gasp escaped your lips as you felt him fill you completely, the sensation both shocking and exhilarating. You hadn't expected Jeonghan to fuck you with Seungcheol beneath you, and the sheer intensity of the moment left you reeling with pleasure.

With each powerful thrust, Jeonghan's cock drove deeper into you, eliciting screams of pleasure that echoed through the room. Your hand clenched Seungcheol's chest tightly, the sensation causing him to hiss in response.

Feeling embarrassed by Seungcheol's proximity and intense gaze, you hid your face in the crook of his neck, seeking solace in his comforting touch. His hand caressed your back soothingly, a silent gesture of understanding and support in the midst of the overwhelming pleasure.

"That's it, take it all, you dirty little slut," Jeonghan growled, his words dirty, byt always acaping sweet between his lips. "You love getting fucked like this, don't you? With Seungcheol watching you, helpless and needy beneath you."

His words sent a shiver of arousal coursing through you, the slick sound of his cock pounding into your wet pussy growing louder with each passing moment.

"Look at Seungcheol's face," Jeonghan's command pierced through the haze of pleasure, pulling you back to the present moment.

Seungcheol's own desire was palpable, his cock straining against his restraint as he watched you with hungry eyes. The sight of you moaning and writhing in pleasure, your gaze locked with his, sent a surge of arousal coursing through him, making him even squirm, almost to the point of pain.

"Fuck," he breathed out, his voice strained with need as he struggled to maintain control. "You look so fucking hot like this."

Jeonghan turned to Seungcheol with a smirk, his voice dripping with amusement. "How much do you want to fuck this pussy?"

Seungcheol's eyes gleamed with desire as he replied, his voice husky with need. "I want to fuck you until you can't think straight Y/N-nie."

Your pussy clenched involuntarily around Jeonghan's cock at Seungcheol's words, the sheer intensity of his desire driving you wild with pleasure, a silent affirmation of your own horniness.

Jeonghan moans at your sudden clench then he chuckles mockingly, his tone teasing. "Looks like someone liked hearing that," he remarked. "Did you enjoy that, sweetheart? Did Seungcheol's dirty talk make you clench so hard around my cock? Hhmm? Did it make you wet, feeling how much Seungcheol wants to fuck you?"

Jeonghan coos, his gaze flickering to Seungcheol as he remarked, "Looks like she enjoyed hearing that, didn't she?" He nodded towards your trembling form, noting how you clenched tightly around his cock in response to Seungcheol's words.

Your breath hitched at his words, a moan escaping your lips as the sensation of Jeonghan's cock filling you combined with the eroticism of Seungcheol's words.

Undeterred, Jeonghan turned back to Seungcheol, his tone playful yet demanding. "Tell me again, Seungcheol. How much do you want to fuck this pussy?"

Seungcheol moaned in response, "I want to fuck you so hard!"

Your pants stop, mouth falling agap as you feel another orgasm washing over you, you dripped your arousal down the sheets, and Jeonghan spread your ass to see the enticing view.

Jeonghan laughed heartily at Seungcheol's words, his amusement evident in the sparkle of his eyes. "How pretty," he remarked, his voice filled with amusement and satisfaction. "She came just because you said that."

Jeonghan chuckled in amusement at your reaction, his laughter mingling with the sounds of your moans and the slick, wet sounds of his cock plunging into your cunt.

"Look at you baby…" he murmured, his tone laced with satisfaction. "So pretty when you cum like that, all because Seungcheol said a few words."

Seungcheol's expression was a mix of pride and desire as he watched you quiver and tremble with pleasure, your body reacting so intensely to his words. He couldn't help but feel a surge of satisfaction at knowing the effect he had on you, at being able to elicit such a powerful response with just his voice.

As your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting and spent, Jeonghan leaned in closer, his voice low and seductive. "You're such a good girl, aren't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Cumming so hard just from Seungcheol's words. You're such a slut for him, aren't you?"

A mischievous grin spread across Jeonghan's face as he heard your response. "Yes, I love it. I love being a slut for Seungcheol." you declared with unabashed enthusiasm, embracing the label with pride.

Seungcheol's own desire flared at your words, his cock throbbing with renewed urgency as he watched the exchange between you and Jeonghan. The knowledge that you were willing to submit so completely to him sent a surge of lust coursing through him, igniting a fire of desire that threatened to consume him whole.

Jeonghan's laughter filled the room, a rich and satisfying sound that echoed off the walls. "That's my girl," he chuckled, his voice tinged with approval. "Such a good little slut for Seungcheol."

Seungcheol's eyes sparkled with desire as he heard your confession, a surge of arousal coursing through him at the sight of you embracing your submissive side so willingly.

With a satisfied smile, Jeonghan leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "Now, let's see how much more you can take, my love." "Can you ride Seungcheol for us, sweetheart?" he asked.

You hesitated for a moment, your legs trembling with exhaustion from the intense pleasure you had already experienced. But as you looked into Seungcheol's eyes, seeing the raw desire and longing reflected there, you knew you couldn't deny him—or yourself—this pleasure.

Summoning every ounce of strength you had left, you nodded slowly, determination flashing in your eyes. With shaky hands, you positioned yourself over Seungcheol's lap, his hard cock pressing against your entrance, begging for entry.

Seungcheol understood your hesitation, sensing the fatigue in your trembling legs. With a gentle touch, he guided you, supporting you as you slowly lowered yourself onto his cock. He moved with care, knowing that if he didn't help you, you might sink too quickly and risk hurting yourself.

As you slid down onto him, feeling the fullness of his cock filling you once again, a moan of pure pleasure escaped your lips. Seungcheol held you close, his hands supporting you as you found a rhythm that worked for both of you.

And as you surrendered yourself to the pleasure of riding him, you couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the care and consideration he showed you, ensuring that every moment of pleasure was shared and enjoyed to the fullest.

With trembling legs and a relentless need for pleasure, you reached out, guiding Seungcheol's hands to your breasts, urging him to take control as you continued to ride his cock with abandon. Your wetness soaked his pelvis, evidence of your intense arousal and desire for him.

Your voice was hoarse from the screams of pleasure that had already escaped your lips, but now it was filled with the raw need and longing as you moaned Seungcheol's name. Your hands tightened around his, urging him to squeeze and fondle your breasts, amplifying the sensations coursing through your body.

Seungcheol whimpered in response, his own desire reaching a fever pitch as he finally succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure of your wet and throbbing cunt. His hips thrust upward to meet yours, his cock driving deep inside you with each delicious stroke.

Jeonghan reclined against the headboard, his eyes dark with desire as he watched you exhaust yourself in an effort to please Seungcheol. His hand moved with increasing urgency over his own cock, mirroring the rhythm of your movements as you rode Seungcheol's cock with determined fervor.

As you felt the burn in your muscles and the sweat trickling down your back, Seungcheol's words of praise filled your ears, spurring you on even further. "That's it, baby," he moaned, his voice husky with desire. "You feel so fucking good. I'm loving watching you ride me like this."

Your heart swelled with pride at his words, your determination to please him driving you to push yourself even harder. With each thrust, you sought to elicit more moans of pleasure from him, your body moving with a desperate need for release.

Jeonghan's gaze never wavered from the sight before him, his own pleasure building with each stroke of his hand. He nodded in encouragement, urging you to keep going, to keep riding Seungcheol until you both cum. "Keep going, sweetheart," he encouraged, his voice laced with desire. "You're doing so well. Ride him harder. I want to see you cum for us."

As you reached the peak of your pleasure, your vision blurred and your senses were consumed by a white-hot ecstasy unlike anything you had ever experienced before. Your pussy clenched around Seungcheol's cock with such intensity that you could feel every ridge and vein.

The sounds of Seungcheol's increasingly desperate moans filled the room, merging with the sensations of heat and wetness inside your cunt. And then, finally, you let go, surrendering to the overwhelming wave of pleasure that crashed over you with relentless force.

Your orgasm was prolonged and intense, the most powerful and satisfying climax of your life. As you collapsed against Seungcheol's chest, your body trembling with the aftershocks of pleasure, you lost all sense of time and space.

When you finally opened your eyes, you were greeted by the sight of Jeonghan and Seungcheol by your side, their faces concerned as they gazed down at you. Their voices were a soothing mantra, calling out your name with both worry and wonder.

"Are you okay?" Seungcheol's voice was filled with worry, his hand reaching out to gently caress your cheek.

Jeonghan's expression mirrored Seungcheol's concern as he leaned in closer, his voice soft and reassuring. "You were amazing, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your skin. "But we need to make sure you're okay. Can you hear me?"

You nodded weakly, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you basked in the warmth and affection of their presence. Despite the intensity of the experience, you knew that you were safe and cared for, surrounded by the love and concern of your two closest friends.

"We need to take a bath," Jeonghan declared, breaking the post-orgasmic silence that hung in the air.

You glanced down at your state, the sweat and other fluids clinging to your skin, and nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," you replied, your voice still slightly breathless from the intensity of your climax.

Seungcheol chuckled beside you, his arm wrapped around your waist. "Yeah, Jeonghan even came on my arm." he admitted with a smirk.

Jeonghan's eyes widened in horror, and he quickly swatted Seungcheol on the arm. "Yaaa! No need to tell her that!" he scolded, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

You couldn't help but burst into laughter at their exchange, the sound echoing through the room as you doubled over with mirth. "Oh my god, you guys are ridiculous!" you managed to gasp out between fits of laughter.

Despite his embarrassment, Jeonghan couldn't help but join in your laughter, the tension of the moment dissipating as he realized the absurdity of the situation. "Alright, alright, let's just get cleaned up." he said, still chuckling as he got to his feet.

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