VACANT ROOM
Lee Dong Wook x fem! reader
"My dear, could you perhaps verify it one more time?" You asked, mustering the most charming smile you could manage in the face of the disinterested and nonchalant receptionist, who seemed more interested in her nails than her job. "I find it incredibly hard to believe that a reputable company like Starship would commit such a glaring oversight."
At half past midnight, the hotel was teeming with actors, singers and idols. Positioned in the center of the lobby, the luxurious building housing the assistant's desk was where you were standing. The interior exuded an atmosphere of old-world elegance, with polished marble floors, ornate chandeliers, and plush velvet drapes adorning the walls. Soft candlelight cast a warm glow over the dining room, illuminating tables adorned with crisp white linens and sparkling silverware.
Guests, dressed in their finest designer attire, mingled and conversed in hushed tones in the grand ballroom. Their quiet laughter pierced the air, merging in perfectly with the sweet notes of a Mozart sonata that drifted from the grand piano in the corner, played by a virtuoso whose fingers moved like dancers across the keys.
"I regret to inform you, ma'am," she retorted, her eyes barely leaving the glossy pages of an article about the latest trends in Seoul's fashion week. "But your company specifically requested a grand suite with a panoramic view spanning across the sea, located on the 16th floor. One king-sized bed, presumably for you and Mr. Lee Dong Wook."
"But that can't be right! There must be some kind of mix-up." Instant panic set in, your pulse going haywire as images swarmed in your mind—you sharing close quarters with him—definitely not on your wish list.
With an exaggerated sigh, she ditched her magazine and leveled her gaze at you for the first time since this little chit-chat commenced. “I assure you, there is no mistake. Everything has been arranged as per the request we received. The company was very explicit about the arrangements."
"Explicit about throwing me into a room with my ex-husband? That doesn't seem like a professional request."
"That's not for me to comment on, ma'am," she replied curtly, picking up her magazine again. "My job is to ensure our guests have the best experience. If you have a problem with your arrangements, I suggest you take it up with your company."
"But that's... it's... preposterous!" you stammered, feeling the blood drain from your face. "There must be some way to rectify...”
"I'm afraid all other rooms are fully booked. Perhaps you could address your grievances with your company, ma'am.”
"Aish…"
You turned your head to the side, spotting Dong Wook standing in the doorway of the lobby, dressed in a new, crisp navy blue suit with trousers tailored to his frame, complete with a matching tie and polished leather shoes. God, he had become insufferable since he discovered fabrics imported from Milan. This was where all the money had been going before the divorce.
Crushing the last of his half-smoked cigarette under the heel of his polished Italian leather shoes, he looked down and saw the flickering neon sign from the hotel entrance reflected in the trail of smoke.
"What the fuck is going on?”
“You ought to watch the language you use, old man,” you retorted, your thumb and index finger nervously smoothing out creases from the Chanel dress handpicked for the company's decadent birthday celebration held at this isolated high-end dwelling. “Prayers should dominate your vocabulary rather than swear words at this stage in life.”
His sharp gaze turned to you, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath his usually calm exterior.
Unmoved or maybe portraying so, you played along, “Just stating the obvious.”
A dismissive snort escaped him as he ran his hand irritatedly through otherwise meticulously groomed locks. “And if I don’t?”
You rolled your eyes, masking the unease creeping into your voice. "Then you'll just be an old man with a foul mouth, won't you? A grumpy, divorced, aging actor with nothing but a string of B-list movies to his name?"
"Better than being a frustrated little girl who got pissed by losing an award to me,” he retorted, his tone dripping with sarcasm and a bitter bite. "A little girl who can't accept that she's not the best and that someone else could actually outshine her brilliant talent."
A sharp retort tipped the tip of your tongue as you hesitated, but you swallowed it down, heart palpitating. If only the hotel was closer to your home, you'd escape this uncomfortable situation. You'd rather risk wandering down a dark, unfamiliar alley at midnight than share a room with your ex. But you were stuck here, trapped in this ostentatious lobby, miles away from any familiar comfort, forced to face whatever the night would bring.
"Can't you sleep in the same bedroom as your best friend? You two are usually tied by the hip, practically inseparable at every social event," You taunted, eyes glinting under the harsh lobby lights.
“Gong Yoo has a wife and you know it. And I'm not about to impose on their space. What about you? Don't you have other friends that came other than scripts and books? Or did they all get scared off by your charming personality?”
“Oh, you better bet that I'm charming. Maybe that's why our daughter decided to stay with me.”
Before he could respond, a bitter laugh escaping his lips, the woman at the desk cleared her throat, extending a key towards the two of you with a look of forced patience. "I believe this is what you two are fighting over, correct? Perhaps you could decide who gets the bed and who gets the sofa without causing a scene in the lobby?"
You took the key from the receptionist's hand with an exaggerated sigh, turning it over in your fingers. The weight of it felt heavy in your palm, like a lead boulder pulling you down into the pit of despair.
“Yes, of course. Thank you so much; your help was really indispensable.”
Turning back to face Lee Dong Wook, you could barely contain your humiliation as he stood stoically by your side, staring out at the dark ocean beyond the hotel's glass walls. Along with the sound of the ice cubes in his drink and the scent of his expensive cologne, the lobby was filled with the sound of the waves crashing against the coast. You couldn't help but wrinkle your nose at the cloying smell that reminded you too much of your past.
"I suppose we have no choice but to make do," you said finally, motioning for him to follow you towards the elevators.
As he settled into step beside you, the click-clack of your high heels on the marble floor created an odd harmony with his steady gait.
It was almost impossible not to gag at the stale, rich smell of warm metal and coffee that pervaded the elevator. Pressing the button for the sixteenth floor, you peered up at the metal ceiling.
A few seconds later, the doors opened with a soft hiss and you stepped out into the dimly lit hallway, feeling Lee Dong Wook's hot breath on your neck. He seemed to be waiting for you to take the lead, as if this were some kind of game, a cat-and-mouse chase that you just couldn't seem to win.
Swallowing hard, you walked ahead to the suite number indicated by the keycard.
When you finally turned the handle and pushed open the door, you found yourself face-to-face with an opulent display of luxury: plush red and gold carpets underfoot; crisp white linen tablecloths adorning an ornate dining table; fluffy duvets piled high on a king-sized bed; and a decadent bathroom beyond.
It was too much like the honeymoon suite he'd gotten you when you were still married, and your heart skipped a beat as it registered.
Butterflies filled your stomach as you set your luggage down on one of the side tables.
You turned around to face Lee Dong Wook, who was standing in the doorway, watching your every move intently, reminding you of the way Yeosin would look at you when she was planning a prank.
Well, she was his mini version after all.
You held your breath as he stepped inside, taking in his tall frame and perfect nose.
He took a deep breath before reaching up to his necktie and loosening it ever so slightly. "It's going to be a long night," he muttered under his breath as he moved closer towards the window, pulling back one of the heavy curtains to let the cool sea air and the sound of waves splashing against the shore gently lap at his face.
"I'll take the couch. It's not like I haven't endured worse accommodations while filming on location.”
He turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, an all-too-familiar gesture. “You have had back pains all the time since giving birth to Yeosin.”
“I don’t," you snapped back immediately, an automatic response honed by years of bickering.
“Yes, you do," he insisted, his tone softening. "I may not have been around recently, but I do remember. You’d wince every time you thought I wasn’t looking. But if you want to play the stubborn card here, if it makes you feel stronger, be my guest. In the meantime, you can freshen up. I'll make a makeshift bed for you, kid.”
There you stood, in the silence that followed, absorbing the sight of him.
It wasn't fair, an inner voice protested, as you took in the jawline you had kissed and nibbled countless times, the tantalizing constellations formed by the moles adorning his neck, each one a landmark you could identify even with your eyes closed, like a child eager to please and win a candy.
In the end, it wasn't fair that he could still find his way into your heart, the way a worshiper finds their way into a long-abandoned cathedral, kneeling in reverence among the dust and the decay, and still find it holy, still find it beautiful that there’s a vacant room waiting for him to lay his head.
He was the prodigal son returning to the home he once renounced, and you? You were the father left to wonder if welcoming him back was a show of futility or a sign of welcomeness.
"You always were stubborn," you retaliated, folding your arms across your chest. "Always thinking you knew best. Well, I'm not that same naive 23 year old girl you married. I can take care of myself.”
“Stop it. I have a headache right now.”
"You were always quick to jump in and play the hero, weren't you? But this isn't a drama, Dong Wook. There's no director yelling cut, no script to guide us. This is real life. And in real life, I don't need you to save me."
"I never asked to be your hero," he retorted, the quietness of his words cutting through the tension like a knife. "And I never wanted to be one. I just wanted to be there for you. But you always made it so damn hard."
Frustration bubbled inside you, "You think I made it hard? You were the one who walked away. You were the one who gave up on us."
“She’s only six,” he countered weakly. “She doesn’t understand what’s happening.”
“You’d be surprised, Lee. Kids are smart. They pick up on more than we give them credit for. She knows something’s wrong. She misses her father. She misses us being a family.”
As the words left your mouth, you could see a flicker of pain cross his eyes. But you didn't care. You were too angry, too hurt to care about his feelings.
With a huff, you turned on your heel, leaving him alone in the bedroom. As you slammed the door shut, the metal clanged loudly against the wall, echoing through the otherwise silent room. You hear the latch click into place, sealing you inside the small, enclosed space.
The bathroom was spacious and modern, with a luxurious glass-enclosed shower stall and his-and-hers sinks.
Before you was the daunting task of turning on the water to run a hot bath. The faucet gave a small shudder, like a beast waking from slumber, as it sputtered to life, filling the room with the biting smell of chlorine and the comforting warmth of hot steam. A bottle of expensive shampoo, perhaps a gift from one of his many sponsors, sat on the vanity counter. You uncapped it, and its scent—a tantalizing blend of jasmine and sandalwood—tickled your nose as you sniffed it slightly.
The room began to mist up as your fingers fumbled at the buttons on your dress as if they had a mind of their own, desperate to get out of this suffocating fabric that reminded you too much of happier times when he'd slide them down your spine slowly and carefully, making you gasp under the cover of darkness.
Heat flooded your cheeks, remembering how those fingers had once traced your entire body—the pulse point at your wrist, where his wedding ring used to be, now replaced by a thin silver band around your third finger.
Stepping into the tub, the water was scalding hot—almost too hot to touch—but you reveled in it nonetheless.
As you slipped into the tub until it was almost full, feeling it lap at your neck and shoulders, you let out a long sigh of relief.
Closing your eyes, you breathed heavily as you began to scrub the last few days off yourself.
Memories flooded back—years' worth of memories that had led up to this moment: the late-night movie marathons where you both would cuddle on the couch, the way he would laugh at your comical impersonations of movie characters, the way he would always keep the last slice of pizza for you, the way he would read bedtime stories to your daughter, his voice imitating various characters, making her giggle. You remembered his bright smile when your daughter took her first step, his eyes filled with tears of joy, the proud look on his face when she called him 'Daddy' for the first time.
But alongside the sweet memories, the bitter ones also found their way: the arguments that lasted till dawn, the slamming of doors, the sound of shattering glass, and the cold silence that followed. You remembered the canceled family trips due to his sudden shooting schedules, the forgotten birthdays and anniversaries, the vacant spot beside you in bed getting colder each day, late-night calls from agents about last-minute script changes, and sleepless nights spent worrying about Yeosin while he was off filming some romantic comedy filled with clichés and air kisses towards irrelevant starlets.
You scrubbed until your skin began to redden and sting from the heat, until all that was left was residual anger and resentment. Then you climbed out carefully, reaching for the plush white towel hanging on a stainless steel rack.
After drying off, you slipped into your silk pajamas and brushed your teeth with Totoro’s brush, the one Yeosin insisted on bringing so that you could remember her while she stayed with her Nana.
Stepping back into the suite, you expected to see Dong Wook, but he was nowhere in sight. The room was empty, save for the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant murmur of voices from the television.
You walked towards the window, peering out into the darkness. The moon was a thin crescent in the night sky, casting a faint glow over the sea. Lee was probably out there, taking one of his late-night walks along the beach, letting the cool sea breeze clear his mind.
Turning around, you noticed the makeshift bed he had prepared on the couch. The cushions were arranged neatly, with a soft blanket folded at one end and a pillow with a fresh case. Beside it, there was a small side table with a glass of water and a bottle of painkillers—for your bruised ankles and sore legs, no doubt. Despite everything, Dong Wook was still considerate.
You walked over to the couch, running your fingers over the soft fabric. It wasn't a king-sized bed, but it would do.
Lowering yourself onto the couch, you winced slightly, feeling the day's exertion catch up with you.
You slowly stretched out your legs, trying to find a comfortable position. As you did so, you could feel the soreness in your muscles easing slightly.
Curling up on the couch, you wrapped the blanket around yourself, pulling it up to your chin.
Lying there, you found yourself mimicking Yeosin's favorite position—curled up like a small ball, waiting for her father to come home and pick her up. It was a bittersweet feeling, a reminder of the simpler times, when the lines between work and personal life hadn't blurred, when the word 'divorce' hadn't been a part of your vocabulary.
As you closed your eyes, the events of the day replayed in your mind: the party where he'd been eyed by other women, the looks he gave you when you seemed more interested in your Champaign than his speech, the receptionist's words, the look on his face, the tense silence in the elevator. But despite the turmoil, you felt a strange sense of calmness. Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was the realization that you could handle whatever life threw at you.
With that thought, you slowly drifted off to sleep, the soft hum of the air conditioner and the distant sound of the sea lulling you into a deep, peaceful slumber.
-------------------------------------------------
As the first rays of dawn creeped in through the slats of the blinds, you stirred from your sleep.
Slowly blinking your eyes open, you adjusted to the soft morning light, feeling something different.
Under you was not the stiff fabric of the couch, but something softer, more yielding. You didn't know when or why, but here you are, in the king sized bed that was supposed to be Dong Wook’s.
Confusion clouded your sleep-laden mind as you tried to piece together the puzzle and heat hushed to your cheeks as you felt something nuzzling your neck, the soft sensation making you bite back a groan.
Suddenly, you felt a warm presence between your legs, a muscular thigh that was solid yet comforting. It took a moment for you to register the protective arm draped securely around your waist, pulling you closer against a firm, muscled chest.
"Wha--?" you started, your voice cracking as surprise jolted you fully awake.
Before you could react, a chill coursed through you as your shirt was ridden up, an audacious hand slipping underneath to splay across your bare skin.
"Shh, it's just me, baby," a deep voice whispered in your exposed left breast before sucking it into his mouth softly, tugging at the pink flesh with his teeth while rolling the other hardened nub between his fingers.
As he slid down even further, his tongue softly licking the valley between before finding its way into your cleavage, your mind reeled from the situation. You gasped at the feeling of his cool tongue tracing circles around the right nipple, tickling it lightly as it hardened even more under his touch.
Your hand instinctively reached up, fingers tangling in the soft strands of hair. It was familiar—too familiar. The scent of sandalwood and sea salt filled your senses—a scent you had known for years, a scent that brought back a flood of memories, reminding you of all the times he had made love to you on a beach house's balcony after one of his late-night strolls along the shore.
"Dong Wook…” you breathed out, the sound more like a plea than anything else. The name felt foreign on your tongue after so long, tasting bitter and sweet at the same time.
"Yes, it's me," he replied, his voice a soothing hum in the quiet room. "I missed you."
"I--I don't know what to say," you stammered, your mind reeling from the sudden turn of events.
"Just relax. All you have to do is open up those pretty legs and let me fuck this pussy once again.”
His tongue found its way into your mouth; you tasted the remnants of the Merlot from last night. You sucked on it eagerly, feeling him groan softly as he pushed deeper into your throat.
Hungry. You were hungry for him, starved for this intimacy that had been denied to you for too long.
You couldn't believe it—this was Lee Dong Wook, the man who had once claimed not to know how to please a woman properly, who had once slept with dozens of nameless starlets and models just to forget your name.
Letting go of your lips, his head found its way into your neck and his hand slid further up, pressing against the mound hidden by your silk pajamas.
You didn't trust yourself enough to speak, fearing your voice would betray the growing need twisting inside you. Instead, you responded by parting your legs slightly, granting him access to your cunt.
Expertly unbuttoning your pajamas with his other hand, Dong Wook spread the fabric apart, revealing all of you to his hungry gaze.
Your pussy glistened in the dim light, a testament to the tangible evidence of your arousal. He swept away your slit with one broad thumb, gathering slick and marveling at how wet and ready you were for him.
"That's my good girl.”
Unable to resist any longer, he dipped two fingers into your slick folds while his thumb continued its sensual assault on your swollen nub. Pleasure started to unfold in waves of white heat, and the combination made you utter moans.
With a devilish smirk, he withdrew his hand and brought it up to his mouth, sucking on one finger.
"Fuck, you're so wet and sweet for me, honey. Tell me, didn't any of your flings with those little boys in the set make you cum like I used to? Or were they so young that the only things they observed were these lovely curves and a treat for their hands?
His words stung, but the ache between your legs pulsed with need, completely drowning out any traces of regret.
In the haze of his touch, you were lost. It was obvious that you ought to halt him, shoo him away, and remind him of what he had done to you—severing all ties, abandoning you while he toured the globe filming and failed to remember you existed.
But the truth was that you missed him, missed the sensations his mouth could create in your mouth, and missed the way his hands could change from being rough to being gentle in an instant.
“Shut up, Lee.”
There it was, the opening salvo of a fight, but he ignored it, knowing that once you got past this hurdle, you would be his again.
He rewarded your honesty with a devilish grin before sliding his hand back between your legs, slipping his fingers deeper inside you. "Such a dirty mouth on such a pretty girl," he murmured against your skin before pressing his index and middle fingers deeper, crooking them to find your g-spot with practiced ease. “I guess I'm the only one who teaches nice manners to our daughter, huh?”
You moaned long and low, bucking against him. Your whole body felt like it was shivering underneath the touch, like a fever dream that turned into reality.
"Drop this shit before I decide to leave you with a purple dick."
"Calm down, darling… I'm just playing with you, hum?"
He pushed you down into the mattress then, holding your hips in place as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you in a rhythm that had your body trembling with need.
You could feel the bed squeaking beneath you as you arched into him, craving more contact as he thrust faster and harder into your pussy, sliding off on to his fingers as if they were a big, thick dick.
It was perfect; it hurt and felt amazing at the same time.
“Jesus…”
A whimper escaped before you could stop it, betraying how much you needed him inside of you again.
"Yeah, that's it. Just take it," he encouraged, watching with dark eyes as you moaned his name while his fingers plunged deeper into your slick folds, finding that spot that always made you come apart.
"You need this; you need me."
He was right. You did need him in this moment, in this bed, even if it was wrong and twisted. You needed him to make you forget everything else—the cameras flashing, the public scrutiny, the anger. He'd always been good at distracting you from all that.
"Oh, fuck," you moan into the pillow, feeling the pleasure coiling inside you like a snake ready to strike. Your wetness pours down his hand and fingertips before it drips onto the comforter beneath you.
You open your eyes to look at him, seeing how he bites his lip in concentration as he works you open with his fingers, tongue and teeth. His dick twitches against your leg, eager and ready. There's no one else who can make you feel this way; there's no one else who could make love to your body with such precision even after all these years apart.
"Squirt for me, baby. I know you can, hum? Like old times.”
“I… I can't…” you whimper, but he doesn't let up.
“Shhhh, baby… Come on, you can let it out. Soak me. Soak the sheets. Show me how much you want me.” He urges, his words acting like a spell, pushing you further towards the edge.
His fingers worked faster, his thumb pressing down on your clit in relentless circles while his other hand gripped your hip hard enough to leave a mark. His other hand slides up to your throat, fingers closing around it lightly, the threat of pressure making your pulse race even faster.
Overwhelmed, you felt yourself let go, your walls clenching around his fingers as a rush of warmth gushed out of you. Your body arched as you squirted, your release soaking both his hand and the sheets beneath you.
“Dong Wook!" you scream, the words echoing in the room as you come apart under his touch.
The sensation was too much; your body was sensitive and overstimulated. You whimpered, but his fingers didn't relent, continuing to stroke your swollen nub even as your body twitched and shuddered.
As you came down from your high, your mind felt foggy, and your body was limp. The surroundings softened into a comforting mist as you sank deeper into subspace. But he wasn't done yet.
Even as your body begged for a reprieve, he moved over you, his body pressing down on yours as he positioned himself at your slit.
“W-What are you doing?” You ask, your voice weak and shaky.
“What do you think, wifey? I'm going to pound into you until you're begging for mercy. Going to fill you up so good, you'll be begging me for another baby. Want to give Yeosin a baby brother. Want to make a little version of me for her to play with. Can you imagine our son running around the house, causing trouble just like his father? But first...” he trails off, the hand on your throat, applying such pressure that dark spots form behind your eyelashes.
“First, I'm going to fuck you senseless."
Suddenly, your phone rings, the sound piercing the silence like a gunshot. You glance at the caller ID and see Gong Yoo's wife, Ji-Eun, name flashing on the screen.
Well, he'd have to wait then.
"Dong Wook, it's Ji-Eun," you try to protest, but he ignores you, his eyes dark with desire.
"Let it ring. She can wait," he growls, and before you can protest further, he thrusts into you, burying himself to the hilt inside your wet heat.
But the ringing never stops.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four calls.
With a sigh, Dong Wook grabs your phone from the bedside table, places it on the pillow next to you and answers.
Before the line could finally connect, he changes positions, seating himself against the headboard with you straddled in his lap. Your breasts bounce with every single movement, and soft moans spill from your mouth as he continues to thrust into you.
"Hello?" He breathes into the phone, his voice steady as if he isn't buried deep inside you. His free hand grips your hip, guiding you up and down his length at a relentless pace while he talks to Gong Yoo's wife, Ji-Eun.
"Dong Wook, what the hell were you thinking?" She scolds from the other end of the line. "You can't just arrange for you and your ex-wife to share a room, no matter how many strings you pull!"
Dong Wook chuckles lowly. “Well, it seems our plan worked perfectly then," he murmurs in your ear, his warm breath fanning over your skin. His words surprise you, making you pause.
He planned this?
Ignoring your shocked expression, he continues his conversation. "Listen, I appreciate your concern, Ji-Eun, but there's no need to go yelling at the manager or looking for another room. We're adults; we can handle this." He punctuates his words with a particularly harsh lift of his hips, ripping a breathy moan from your throat.
Meanwhile, Ji-Eun continues her rambling, her words becoming background noise as you frown, scratching his shoulders and trying not to lose your shit. It would be humilliating coming all over his dick only from seeing it poking your belly.
Suddenly, Dong Wook pulls the phone away from his ear, offering it to you. "I think she wants to talk to you," he murmurs, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he kisses your nose.
You glare at him, about to protest, but his hand encircles your bruised neck again, making you relent.
With a huff, you take the phone, pressing it to your ear as you try to keep your voice steady. "Hello?"
Dong Wook smirks, his hand dropping to join the other on your hips, guiding you up and down his length like a well-used doll again.
This man is the devil.
"Oh, thank God, you're there, honey." The older woman exclaimed, relief evident in her voice. "I was worried about you! I'm on my way to your room now. We need to sort this out."
Panic set in; the last thing you wanted was for her to see you in this compromising position. You had to dissuade her.
"No, wait! You don't need to do that. We're handling it. We're...we're talking things out," you lied, hoping she'd buy it.
"Are you sure? I can be there in five." Her voice was filled with concern, but you could detect a hint of suspicion.
"Yes, we're fine. Really," you insisted, biting back a moan as Dong Wook hit a particularly sensitive spot. "We'll...we'll talk tomorrow, okay? Goodnight."
Abruptly, you ended the call, tossing your phone onto the nearby bedside table, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest.
Turning your wrath on him, you struck his chest with all the strength you could muster. "I swear I'm going to kill you, you absolute jerk!”
"Oh really?" He groaned in response, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk. "But darling, before you commit homicide, don't you think you should let me leave a lasting heir on this divine body of yours?"
Before you could lash out again, his other hand darted out, capturing your wrist mid-air. His grip was firm effectively stopping your hand from making contact with his broad chest again.
“I want you.”
“You’re crazy, Lee! Delusional, old, out of your damn mind!”
“I’m yours too and I still love you.”
His eyes eyed you hungrily, his gaze dark with desire and something else. Something that made your heart pound out of your chest, something that made you weak in the knees. He loved you once, and he loves you still.
Or maybe it wasn't love anymore—maybe it was possession, maybe it was lust—but it felt real in that moment. You couldn't resist him, no matter how hard you tried.
“L-love me?” you husk, staring at him in disbelief as you feel his cock pulsating inside you. He pushes deeper, but you don't resist. You feel an odd mix of anger and desire, pain and pleasure, all mingling together into an intoxicating brew.
His tongue flicks out, licking your lips as he leans down, his face close enough that your noses touch. "Yes, I do," he murmurs against your lips. "And I always will." His voice is low and rough with want as he kisses you gently before plunging his hips once more.
In the end, you realized that it wasn't about fairness. It was about acceptance. Acceptance of the past, acceptance of the present, and acceptance of the potential of the future. It was about opening up that vacant room in your heart once more, dusting off the cobwebs and letting the light in.
Maybe it was welcomeness. Maybe it was time to let go of the pain of the past and embrace the possibility of a new beginning. Maybe it was time to let Dong Wook find his way back not as a prodigal son but as a cherished guest. Maybe it was time to let love bloom once more.
And just like that, the vacant room wasn't so vacant anymore.
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His smile is everything🌞
He is everything😭💗
NowVIZ mag's season 2023 digital issue is finally out with the interview & photoshoot with Lorenzo that was done before his participation in the Miami Masters 1000 (you'll remember those sneak pics...😏🥵)!❤️🔥
Often, it's a single moment in the course of your career, a moment that may be overlooked by onlookers, that makes you realize you're on the right road.
For Italian Tennis pro Lorenzo Musetti, that came after a five-set loss to former world No. 1 Novak Djokovic at the 2021 French Open. The then 19-year-old Musetti took the first two sets against the Serbian maestro in what was his Grand Slam debut.
"It was a fantastic experience. I was playing my best tennis, for sure," the young player who ranked 76th at the time later told the press, adding, "Now I know how I can play, how far I am from the biggest in the tour, like Nole, so I know that if I play good I can stay at this level."
It was a moment of clarity for Musetti that propelled the player to become one of ltaly's top three tennis players less than two years later. But though he claimed his highest ATP ranking ranking of World No. 15 on 26 June 2023, the road to sporting success had been a long time coming for the Italian star.
Musetti, who was born in Carrara, Tuscany, in Northern ltaly, on 3 March 2002, began playing tennis at the incredibly young age of four. When it quickly became obvious that he had a gift for the game, his father, Francesco, a marble producer, and his mother, Sabrina, a secretary in a local Tuscan company, didn't hesitate to support their only child's tennis dreams.
At the age of 10, Musetti was taken under the wing of tennis coach, Simone Tartarini, who has remained the Italian champ's coach to this day. A regimented training routine and the tight circle of supportive family and friends around him were instrumental in keeping Musetti focused during his teen years as he evolved into a strong junior player.
Between 2016 and 2019, the young Italian won seven singles titles, reaching his peak as the winner of the 2019 Australian Open boys' singles and ranking junior world No. 1 that same year.
2019 was also the year that the star player turned pro. Receiving a wildcard and passing the qualifiers, 17-year-old Musetti made his ATP Tour debut at the Dubai Tennis Championships in February 2020.
In 2021, he reached the semifinals of the ATP Tour 500 Mexican Open where he had his first top-10 win, beating world no. 9 Diego Schwartzman in three sets. Later, he played in the Lyon Open and the French Open, and finished the season with the Next Generation ATP Finals.
In 2022, the determined tennis dynamo scored 44 wins from 74 matches. He scooped winning titles at the Napoli Tennis Cup and the Hamburg European Open, where he beat current Wimbledon winner Carlos Alcaraz. Reaching the quarterfinals of the Paris Masters 1000 Musetti faced-off with Novak Djokovic once again and took another loss against the tennis superstar.
That would change in 2023. In a three-set thriller against Djokovic at the Monte Carlo Masters in April 2023, Musetti finally defeated the former world No. 1 and reached the championship's quarter finals.
"I am really proud of myself," the ltalian player told the media in his on-court victory interview afterwards. "I am struggling not to cry because it is a dream..."
And though he added, "Beating Novak is something remarkable for me," perhaps, beating Djokovic was also an inevitable step on the road to tennis greatness that only a few years ago Musetti had realized was the actual road he was on.
Lorenzo has the phrase, 'Il meglio deve ancora venire' tattooed on the side of his chest. Translated in English as, 'The Best is Yet to Come' inspired by a song from Ligabue.
You've been on fire this 2023 season making your top 20 ranking debut with a career-high singles ATP ranking world No.15!
At this year's Monte-Carlo Master's you upset world No. 1 and top seed Novak Djokovic to reach your second Master's quarterfinal. Then you went to the fourth round at the French Open, and the third round at Wimbledon! Will you talk about some of your best moments?
@lore_musetti: "My best moment in this season so far was when I had the chance to beat Nole. I was living a dream for sure! It was the best win in my career and something that I won't forget!"
@djokernole praise on Musetti's game at 2021 Roland Garros: "I really like how he plays. He's got a lot of firepower from both forehand and backhand. He can play with a lot of spin. He's got a great feel, come to the net. He can play short balls and dropshots. He can flatten out his serve. He can open up with a good kick and slice. He's got an all-around game."
You've been coached by Simone Tartarini since the beginning of your career. What is it that makes him a great coach for you?
"Simone is more than a coach; for me, he is like a parent. We have shared a lot of memories and experiences during our relationship and he definitely knows what I need to do the most."
Every top athlete seems to have or has had a mentor, friend, or someone in their corner to offer guidance. We wonder if you do and, if so, how have they helped?
"I think my family is the best support system I could ever dream of. They are always there for me and they are always supporting me."
What motivates and inspires you daily?
"My daily motivation is to get better every day so that I reach my goals!"
You travel extensively when on tour. So besides playing tennis, how do you stay physically fit?
"I train every day either in the gym or the track field. The fitness part is something really important in our sport, but training is also important for my health."
As a top player how do you stay in control of your game mentally?
"I work daily with a psychologist; the mental side is equally as important as the physical side in this sport. It is a long process to develop and takes time to be defined."
How do you fuel your body nutritionally throughout the season? Is there a specific diet or regime you follow?
"I try to stay as healthy as possible and follow a meal plan, especially during tournament week."
"Music is probably my biggest passion. I'm a huge fan of music in general and I listen to it a lot during the day - literally, every kind of music!"
"The top of one mountain is the bottom of the next. So keep climbing!"
-Lorenzo Musetti (do you remember when he wrote this...?🥺💪🏻🏔🤍)
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