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jupiterpilgrim · 2 months ago

Text

Heaven for Three

Yujin x Rei x male reader

word count: 20K

Okay, so here you are: standing in the middle of Yujin’s apartment, your heart is doing a weird drum solo against your ribs, a frantic beat mixing anticipation and a touch of nervous energy. It’s been almost two fucking months. Sixty-three days, if you’re counting, and yeah, you’ve counted every single one. Sixty-three days of shitty time zones, glitchy video calls that froze her face mid-laugh or mid-sentence, and texts that always felt like they were missing something vital, like her touch, her scent, the specific way her eyes crinkle when she’s genuinely amused. You glance at the small, ridiculously expensive cake sitting on her clean kitchen counter, next to a little pile of carefully chosen ‘welcome back’ trinkets, nothing major, just stupid inside-joke things you knew would make her smile.

A Hello Kitty keychain because you know she's obsessed with, some ridiculously flavored snacks she can only get overseas, a framed silly picture of you two from before she left, pulling faces at the camera. It feels both inadequate and excessive after so long apart. You check your phone for the tenth time in as many minutes. Her flight landed an hour ago. Traffic from Incheon can be a bitch, but she should be getting close. The lie you told her: "babe, I'm so sorry, work is chaos, I don't think I can get away until super late, maybe not even tonight", sits heavy in your gut, but the thought of the surprise wipes away the guilt. You wanted this moment, needed it, after weeks of feeling like a background character in her whirlwind life. You needed to see her face when she realized you were here... that you hadn't let the distance win.

You wander into her living room, running a hand over the back of her sofa, picturing her curled up there. God, you miss her. Not just the big moments, but the mundane shit too, arguing over what movie to watch, stealing bites of her food, the way she hums off-key when she’s cooking. The tour looked amazing, professionally, you know it was huge for her and the group, you saw the clips, the screaming crowds, the flashy stages. You were proud, genuinely. But fuck, it was hard. Every picture she posted with her members, every interview where she talked about how much fun she was having, felt like a tiny pinprick to your lonely heart, even though you knew it was irrational. You shake your head, trying to banish the insecurity.

That’s why you planned the other surprise.

One you know she'll love.

A whole week, just the two of you, cocooned away from the world in that ridiculously luxurious mountain cabin you somehow managed to book. Heated floors, private chef service if you wanted it (but you chose absolute privacy), panoramic views, and the pièce de résistance—that outdoor hot spring overlooking a snowy landscape. You grin, imagining her reaction to that. She’s going to lose her mind. You just need her to walk through the door first.

Then, you hear it. The unmistakable sound of a key scraping against the lock. Your breath hitches. Showtime. You quickly duck behind the edge of the doorway leading to the kitchen, heart pounding like crazy now. The door swings open, and you hear the clatter of a suitcase being dropped, followed by a heavy, exhausted sigh that seems to carry the weight of the entire continent she just traversed.

"Finally," Yujin mutters.

You hear her kick off her shoes, the soft thud against the floorboards echoing in the quiet apartment. She’s probably expecting to collapse onto her couch, maybe order takeout, and face the mountain of unpacking tomorrow. She definitely isn't expecting you. You hold your breath, listening to her footsteps padding further into the apartment. She rounds the corner into the living area, probably heading for the light switch, and freezes. You step out from your hiding spot, a slightly shaky grin plastered on your face.

"Surprise?"

Her eyes, wide and shadowed with tiredness beneath the brim of the baseball cap pulled low on her forehead, take a second to register you. First, confusion flickers across her face, then a flash of alarm—maybe thinking you were an intruder—before recognition dawns. Her jaw literally drops. "What the… you… how?" she stammers. The exhaustion mask cracks, replaced by pure, unadulterated shock. And then, it melts away into something else entirely, something raw and overwhelming. Her eyes well up instantly, shimmering under the dim hallway light. "You said… you couldn't…" she chokes out, taking a hesitant step towards you, then another, faster one. Before you can even reply, she closes the distance, launching herself at you with a force that nearly knocks you backward.

Her arms wrap around your neck like she’s drowning and you’re the only life raft, burying her face against your shoulder. You stagger back a step, wrapping your arms tightly around her waist, pulling her flush against you, finally feeling her solid warmth after weeks of holding pixels and air. Her scent, that familiar mix of travel staleness and her underlying sweetness, floods your senses, more intoxicating than any perfume. She’s trembling, or maybe you both are, clinging to each other desperately.

"Fuck, I missed you," she sobs into your jacket. "I missed you so much."

You just hold her tighter, burying your face in her hair, murmuring, "Me too, baby. God, me too," over and over again, unable to form more coherent words. The sheer relief of having her back in your arms is dizzying, eclipsing everything else.

After what feels like an eternity, she finally pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. Her face is tear-streaked, her cap askew, her eyes red-rimmed but shining with a fierce, desperate joy. Her hands come up to cup your face, thumbs tracing your cheekbones as if verifying you're real. "You're really here," she whispers, a watery smile breaking through. "You lied to me." There’s no heat in it, only wonder.

"Best lie I ever told," you manage.

You lean down and finally kiss her, a collision of longing and relief. It’s not gentle; it’s desperate, hungry, a reclaiming. Her lips are soft and instantly responsive, kissing you back with an equal measure of pent-up need. It’s messy and frantic, tongues tangling, hands clutching, trying to bridge the gap of the last two months in a single moment. It tastes like her, like exhaustion, like the faint saltiness of her tears, and it’s the best fucking thing you’ve tasted in sixty-three days.

You pull apart, both breathless, foreheads resting against each other. "Happy welcome home," you whisper against her lips. She lets out a shaky laugh, a sound that makes your heart clench. "This is… way better than takeout." She finally seems to register her surroundings, her gaze flicking past you to the cake and gifts on the counter. "And you brought cake?" A real smile, wide and bright, finally lights up her tired face. "Of course. And some other stupid stuff." You gently disentangle yourself, keeping one hand linked with hers, and lead her towards the kitchen. She picks up the ridiculous keychain, her laugh louder this time. "You remembered!" She hugs it to her chest like it's treasure before eagerly tearing into the snacks. You watch her, contentment washing over you. Seeing her here, safe, happy, touching the silly gifts you brought… It feels like clicking back into place.

She’s halfway through a weirdly flavored chip, eyes drooping slightly as the adrenaline rush starts to fade, replaced by the bone-deep weariness of international travel. "Okay," she says, rubbing her eyes. "As much as I want to just stand here and kiss you senseless until tomorrow, I think I might actually pass out vertically." She manages a tired grin. "Bed?" You shake your head, reaching out to take the chip bag from her hand, a playful glint in your eye. "Not just yet. I have one more surprise." Her eyebrows shoot up, curiosity momentarily chasing away the fatigue. "Another one? What could possibly top you ambushing me in my own apartment?" You grab your phone, pulling up the booking confirmation for the mountain house, complete with pictures of the stunning interior, the snow-dusted peaks outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the steaming outdoor hot spring.

You turn the screen towards her. "How about a week of this? Starting tomorrow. Just you and me. No schedules, no managers, no interruptions. Our own private little world." Her eyes scan the screen, widening progressively with each photo she swipes through. The chip bag slips completely from her other hand, scattering onto the floor unnoticed. Then she looks up at you, eyes blazing with an incandescent mixture of disbelief and pure, unadulterated joy that completely obliterates any lingering trace of tiredness. "Are you serious?" she breathes. "A whole week? There?" You nod, unable to stop grinning. "Booked and paid for. Pack your warmest clothes... and maybe not much else." That last part gets you the reaction you were hoping for. She lets out an earsplitting shriek of pure happiness, jumping up and down on the spot before throwing her arms around your neck again, kissing you wildly all over your face—cheeks, nose, forehead, lips.

"Oh my god! Oh my GOD! You absolute lunatic! I fucking love you!" she laughs breathlessly against your skin. "A hot spring? Seriously? Outside? In the snow?" The tiredness is completely gone. She pulls back, grabbing your hands, her eyes dancing. "Wait, we leave tomorrow? What time? I need to pack! What should I bring? Is there snow right now? Can we go sledding? Oh my god, just us for a week…" The questions tumble out of her, fast and excited, her mind already racing ahead to the mountains, to the seclusion, to the uninterrupted time with you. The strain of the past two months, the worry, the distance, it all seems to evaporate in the face of this grand gesture, this promise of reconnection. She squeezes your hands, her face radiating pure, unadulterated bliss. The apartment, the unpacking, the jet lag are all forgotten, replaced by the dazzling prospect of the week ahead.

—

The next morning dawns bright and ridiculously early, not that either of you got much sleep. Packing is a blur of excited energy and low-key chaos. Yujin, despite her professed exhaustion just hours before, is practically bouncing off the walls, flitting between her closet and her suitcases like a hummingbird on espresso. You try to inject some calm organization, making sure essentials like chargers, toiletries, and the really warm coats make it in, while she debates the merits of bringing five different oversized hoodies versus six. "They're for comfort," she insists, holding up two nearly identical grey ones. "Crucial for optimal relaxation!" You just laugh, shaking your head and adding her favorite fuzzy socks to the pile.

Loading the car feels like a victory, the city streets gradually giving way to highways, then winding country roads. The further you drive from Seoul, the more the tension seems to drain from Yujin’s shoulders, replaced by a palpable sense of freedom. She’s got her feet up on the dashboard, a habit you usually nag her about, but not today, scrolling through playlists, and chattering away. She tells you about the last few gigs, the roar of the crowd in Manila, the weird hotel food in Jakarta, the sheer relief when they nailed that difficult choreography transition during the final encore in Bangkok. She doesn’t dwell on the negatives, but you can read between the lines; the gruelling schedule, the lack of sleep, the constant pressure...

"Honestly," she sighs, leaning her head back against the seat, eyes closed for a moment, "by the end, I was just running on fumes and caffeine. Seeing the fans is amazing, always, but… fuck, I needed this. Needed you."

She reaches over, her hand finding yours on the center console, fingers intertwining tightly. "I just want to... melt. No schedules, no makeup unless I feel like it, just… exist. With you." Her thumb strokes the back of your hand, sending little shivers up your arm despite the car's heating blasting. You squeeze her fingers, bringing her hand up to kiss her knuckles.

"Melting is the primary objective for the week, Captain."

She grins, her eyes sparkling. "Aye aye."

The landscape transforms dramatically as you climb higher, tarmac roads turning into gravel tracks, the air growing crisp and smelling faintly of pine. Eventually, the road becomes impassable for the car. "End of the line," you announce, pulling into a small, designated clearing barely big enough for one vehicle. "Time for phase two." You both bundle up in layers; thermal wear, thick sweaters, insulated jackets, hats, gloves. The air bites at your exposed cheeks the moment you step out of the car's warmth. It’s invigorating. You haul your backpacks and duffels from the trunk, the silence profound, broken only by the wind whispering through the tall trees and the distant chirping of unseen birds. The path forward is marked but looks barely used, winding uphill through dense woods dusted with a layer of yesterday’s snow that crunches satisfyingly under your boots.

It's not a hardcore trek, but it's enough to get your blood pumping and reinforce the delicious feeling of isolation. Yujin, surprisingly energetic, takes the lead, every so often, she stops, pulling out her phone to snap pictures of frost-covered branches or panoramic valley views glimpsed through breaks in the trees. "Okay, this is already insane," she breathes, her breath misting in the cold air, turning back to grin at you. "Worth the hike." You nod, catching up to her, stealing a quick, cold-nosed kiss. "Told you."

After maybe thirty minutes of steady climbing, the trees thin out, and you see it. Nestled on a slight plateau, overlooking a breathtaking expanse of rolling hills and snow-capped peaks, is the house. It's a modern marvel of wood, stone, and glass, somehow managing to look both incredibly chic and perfectly integrated into the rugged landscape. Smoke curls lazily from a stone chimney, the landlord wasn't lying when he assured you that the house would already be heated before you arrived.

"Holy shit," Yujin whispers, grabbing your arm, her eyes wide. "It's… wow."

You share a triumphant grin. "Welcome home for the week."

The final approach feels almost ceremonial, crunching through the pristine snow towards the heavy wooden front door. You fumble slightly with the key code—cold fingers—and then the door swings inward, revealing the sanctuary within. The difference is immediate and staggering. Warm air, thick with the scent of cedarwood and a crackling fire, washes over you, melting the chill from your bones. The interior is stunning: plush, deep-toned sofas are arranged around a massive stone fireplace where logs are already blazing merrily. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate one wall, showcasing the incredible mountain view like a living artwork. Polished wooden floors are softened by thick, inviting rugs. It’s the epitome of cozy luxury, a perfect cocoon against the stark beauty outside. You drop your bags by the door with simultaneous sighs of relief.

Yujin lets out a low whistle, spinning slowly in place, taking it all in. "Okay, you officially win all the points," she declares, already shrugging off her heavy jacket. "This is beyond anything I imagined." She doesn't even pause to properly explore. Her eyes, scanning the space, seem to fix on an internal goal: maximum comfort, immediately. "Right," she announces, kicking off her hiking boots without bothering to undo the laces properly. "Operation Melt starts now." She disappears through a doorway you assume leads to the bedroom wing, shedding layers as she goes; hat tossed onto a chair, gloves stuffed into pockets.

You start unlacing your own boots, chuckling softly. Her single-minded focus on relaxation is adorable. You hear drawers opening and closing in the other room, then silence for a minute. When she reappears, you honestly have to stop yourself from staring. Gone are the bulky, practical travel layers. She’s changed into a pair of soft, charcoal-grey leggings that cling lovingly to every curve of her lower body—the swell of her hips, the undeniable thickness of her thighs, the perfect roundness of her ass. Up top, she’s wearing a simple, slightly cropped, cream-colored fluffy sweater that leaves a tantalizing strip of smooth skin visible at her waist when she stretches.

Her hair is pulled back loosely, stray strands framing her face, her skin glowing from the hike and the warmth of the house. She looks soft, touchable, and incredibly sexy in a way that stage outfits or carefully curated airport fashion never quite capture. It’s the casual, effortless confidence, the way the soft fabric hugs her figure, showcasing the solid, athletic build beneath; those strong thighs honed by years of dancing, the curve of her calves, the gentle slope of her stomach.

Fuck, you think, she really does have a 'thick and juicy' body, as the internet often thirsted over, and seeing it displayed so casually, so comfortably, right here in your shared private space, hits differently. It makes something low and primal stir inside you, a possessive urge mixing with pure adoration. She looks utterly relaxed, utterly herself, and it’s ridiculously hot.

She pads barefoot across the wooden floor towards the massive sofa, throwing herself onto it with a contented sigh that echoes in the high-ceilinged room. She curls up against the plush cushions, tucking her feet beneath her, already looking half-asleep but utterly blissful. "Okay," she murmurs, eyes fluttering closed for a second. "I could get used to this." You stand there for a moment, just watching her, the discarded hiking gear at your feet, the fire crackling merrily, the stunning view outside the window, and the sight of her, finally here, finally relaxed, looking so damn edible in her comfy clothes.

You don't move for a long moment, just drinking in the sight of her curled up on that ridiculously plush sofa, bathed in the warm glow of the fireplace. That sliver of pale skin exposed by the cropped fluffy sweater at her waist seems to pulse with warmth in the firelight, an invitation your body understands even if your brain is still catching up to the reality of finally being here. Two months. Two fucking months of cold screens and yearning touches that never landed.

The sight of her, so real, so soft, so utterly desirable in her deliberate comfort, short-circuits something in your chest. That simmering desire, kept on a low boil for weeks by distance and shitty Wi-Fi connections, suddenly cranks to high, threatening to boil over.

Unpacking? Later.

Relaxation? This feels like a much more urgent, much more necessary form of melting right now.

You move before you consciously decide to, crossing the space between you, your own discarded jacket and boots forgotten near the door. You approach the sofa, your shadow falling over her. Yujin's eyes flutter open, a lazy, contented smile gracing her lips. "Hey," she murmurs. "Comfy?" Her smile falters slightly, replaced by a flicker of understanding, then a dawning heat that mirrors your own. Her breath catches almost imperceptibly. She knows this look. She hasn't seen it directed at her, in person, for far too long. You don't say anything, just kneel on the thick rug beside the sofa, bringing yourself level with her. You reach out, your fingers tracing the exposed line of skin at her waist. She shivers, a full-body tremor this time, and her eyes darken, pupils blown wide.

"Yeah?" she whispers, the single word thick with implication, a question and permission all at once.

Your hand slides under the fluffy fabric of her sweater, fingers splaying across the surprising warmth of her stomach. Her skin is so soft, yielding. You lean in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that’s miles away from the desperate reunion clashes at her apartment door last night. This is slow, deliberate, a claiming. You taste the lingering sweetness of whatever snack she was eating, mixed with her own unique flavor, a taste you’ve craved like a lifeline. Her lips part instantly, inviting you deeper, her tongue meeting yours with an eagerness that betrays her own carefully banked fire. Her hand comes up, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling you closer, erasing the last few inches between you.

The kiss deepens, grows hungrier. The slow burn explodes into a wildfire. Two months of frustration, of longing, of picturing this exact moment, fuels the escalating intensity. Your hands are everywhere, rediscovering her shape, her feel. One hand slides up her ribcage, thumb brushing the underside of her breast through the thin material of whatever bra she has on under the sweater, eliciting a soft gasp against your mouth. Your other hand isn't idle; it slides down from her waist, over the curve of her hip encased in the soft grey leggings. You squeeze, feeling the solid, powerful muscle beneath the yielding flesh. God, her thighs. You’ve fantasized about being wrapped around them again, feeling their strength. She moans into the kiss, a low, guttural sound that vibrates through your connection, arching her back slightly, pressing her hips forward into your touch almost instinctively.

She breaks the kiss, pulling back just enough to breathe, her chest rising and falling rapidly, cheeks flushed. "Fuck," she pants, her eyes glazed with need. "Okay. Operation Melt just got… upgraded." You grin, leaning down to press kisses along her jawline, down her neck, finding that sensitive spot just below her ear that always makes her squirm. She shudders, tilting her head to give you better access, her fingers tightening in your hair. "Been waiting," you murmur against her skin, "to make you melt." Your hand slides further down her thigh, fingers tracing the seam of the leggings, heading towards the juncture of her legs. She shifts on the sofa, unconsciously spreading her knees slightly, a silent invitation. The fluffy sweater suddenly feels like too much of a barrier. You pull back slightly, your eyes locking with hers.

"Too many clothes," you state. She nods mutely, already reaching for the hem of her sweater.

Helping her pull the soft garment over her head feels like unwrapping the most precious gift. Underneath, she’s wearing a simple, dark sports bra that pushes her breasts together slightly, framing their soft swell. Her skin gleams in the firelight, smooth and inviting. You don't hesitate, leaning down to capture the peak of one breast through the fabric, sucking firmly. Yujin cries out, her back arching off the sofa cushions, hands flying to grip your shoulders. "Oh, fuck… yes," she gasps, hips tilting up again. You lave attention to both sides, switching back and forth, using teeth and tongue, feeling her nipples bead into tight points against the damp fabric. Her breath comes in short, sharp pants, her fingers digging into your muscles.

While your mouth is busy, your hands work on the leggings, hooking your thumbs into the waistband. She lifts her hips obligingly, helping you peel the tight fabric down over the generous curve of her ass, down her thick, strong thighs, past her knees, until they're bunched around her ankles. She kicks them off impatiently. Now she's wearing only the sports bra and a pair of simple, dark cotton panties. The sight is devastatingly intimate, devastatingly hot. Her thighs are bare now, powerful and pale in the flickering light, slightly parted. You move your attention lower, pressing kisses to the strip of skin above her waistband, then lower still, nosing at the fabric covering her mound. She groans, tangling her hands back in your hair, trying to guide you. "Please…" she whimpers

You oblige, replacing your mouth with your hand, pressing your palm flat against her mound through the cotton. She’s already damp, the fabric clinging slightly. She whimpers again, bucking her hips against your touch. You slide your fingers beneath the elastic band, finding her slick heat immediately. She gasps, her eyes rolling back slightly. Two months. You can feel the sheer amount of desperate need radiating from her. Your fingers explore, finding her clit, already swollen and sensitive. You circle it gently at first, then with increasing pressure, watching her face contort with pleasure.

"Oh god… don't stop," she pleads, her voice strained.

You add another finger, sliding inside her wet heat. She’s so tight, so welcoming, slick and ready for you. You pump your fingers in and out, slow and deep, while your thumb continues its relentless work on her clit. Her hips rise off the sofa to meet your rhythm, her moans becoming louder, less inhibited. The sound echoes slightly in the large, high-ceilinged room, mixing with the crackle of the fire. You move from the floor onto the sofa beside her, straddling her hips, needing to be closer, needing to feel all of her. You kiss her again, deeply, swallowing her moans, while your fingers continue their magic below. She claws at your back, leaving trails of heat through your shirt.

It's not enough. You need to be inside her. Now. You pull back from the kiss, fumbling with the button and zipper of your jeans, kicking them off hastily along with your boxers, leaving them in a heap on the floor. Your cock springs free, hard and aching. Yujin's eyes lock onto it, a predatory gleam mixing with the raw need. She reaches out, her hand closing around your length, her touch both hesitant and demanding after the long absence.

"Missed this," she whispers, stroking you slowly, deliberately. You groan, gritting your teeth.

"Fuck, Yujin…" You gently push her hand away. "My turn."

You reposition yourself between her legs. Her thighs fall open wider, granting you full access. She looks up at you, eyes dark pools of anticipation, biting her lower lip. You take the hem of her sports bra, pulling it up and over her head, tossing it aside. Her breasts spill free, perky and pale, nipples still tight and dark from your earlier attention. You lean down, kissing the valley between them, then take one nipple into your mouth again, sucking hard as you position the head of your cock at her entrance. She cries out, her body tensing, hands gripping your biceps. Her slickness coats you, hot and welcoming. With a low groan, driven by sixty-three days of pent-up frustration, you push forward, sinking into her heat.

Her gasp is sharp, her eyes squeezing shut as you fill her completely. Fuck, she feels incredible. Tight, wet, impossibly hot. It’s like coming home after the longest, hardest journey. You stay still for a moment, buried deep inside her, letting both of you adjust to the overwhelming sensation of being joined again. Her inner muscles clench around you involuntarily, drawing a pained groan from your own throat.

You rest your forehead against hers, both of you breathing heavily. "Okay?" you whisper. She nods, eyes fluttering open, glazed but focused on you. "More than okay," she breathes. "Don't you dare stop now." That’s all the encouragement you need. You begin to move, pulling back slowly, almost completely, before thrusting back in deep. Yujin throws her head back against the cushions, a long, keening moan escaping her lips. You establish a rhythm, slow and deep at first, savoring the friction, the feeling of her tight pussy gripping you with every inward stroke.

Her hands slide down your back, fingers digging into the muscles of your ass, urging you deeper, faster. You oblige, picking up the pace, your thrusts becoming harder, more frantic. The sofa bounces slightly beneath you, the only sounds the crackling fire, your ragged breaths, her increasingly desperate moans, and the wet slap of your bodies colliding. Firelight flickers across her sweat-slicked skin, highlighting the flush spreading across her chest, the cords standing out in her neck as she arches into each thrust. Her legs come up, wrapping around your waist, locking her ankles behind your back, pulling you impossibly deeper. The angle is perfect, hitting that spot inside her that makes her cry out your name.

"Fuck, right there… yes…" she gasps, her nails scoring lines on your back, not hard enough to break skin, but enough to leave marks, claiming you. You lower yourself, bracing your hands on the sofa cushions on either side of her head, driving into her relentlessly. You watch her face, her expression a mixture of intense pleasure and building pressure. Her eyes are squeezed shut again, her lower lip caught between her teeth. You lean down, kissing her fiercely, swallowing her breathless cries.

The intensity builds, coiling tight in your belly, mirroring the tension you see in her straining body. Her hips buck beneath you, meeting your thrusts with equal force, chasing her release. You feel her inner muscles starting to clench rhythmically around your cock, fluttering desperately. "Fuck," Yujin gasps, her eyes snapping open to lock with yours, pupils blown wide, swirling with raw lust. "God, I am so fucking horny for you right now, I can barely breathe. It’s insane."

You smirk, leaning down to capture her mouth in a brutal, tongue-tangling kiss, one hand sliding down to grip her ass cheek, kneading the firm flesh. "Tell me about it," you bite out against her lips when you finally pull back for air. "Feeling you this tight, this wet around my cock… knowing I'm the only one who gets you like this… driving me fucking crazy, baby." You emphasize the point with a particularly deep, grinding thrust that makes her cry out, nails digging into your shoulders hard enough to sting this time. "Yes! Oh god, yes! Just like that!" she pants, bucking her hips frantically against you. "Fuck, I love your cock. I missed it so much. Just having you inside me… it feels… perfect. Don't stop, please don't ever stop."

Her admission, the sheer worship in her tone as she talks about your cock, sends a fresh wave of heat straight to your groin. You pick up the pace, pounding into her relentlessly, your rhythm savage, pushing her further and further towards the edge. Her moans become higher pitched, more desperate, her body starting to tremble with oncoming pleasure.

"Oh fuck… oh god… I'm getting so close," she whimpers, her eyes squeezed shut again, face contorted in a mask of excruciating pleasure. "So close… please…!" You feel the tension coiling in your own body, your balls tightening, the inevitable climax building like a pressure cooker. "Me too, baby," you groan, your own voice strained now, pushing faster, harder. "Fuck, I'm right there with you…" Yujin's eyes fly open again, fucking onto yours with fierce intensity, a desperate plea shining within their depths. "Then cum with me!" she begs, her voice cracking with urgency. "Please, please cum inside me! Now! Fill me up! I need it! I need your cum inside me so bad!" Her hips buck harder, grinding against you in a frenzy.

Fuck. Hearing her beg like that, so needy, so utterly consumed by lust, demanding your seed deep inside her… it obliterates any remaining shred of control you might have had. You love this side of her, the hidden 'slutty' Yujin that only you get to see, the one who sheds all pretense and just needs to be filled, used, claimed. "Yeah, baby?" you manage, leaning down close to her ear. "You want me to fill that tight little pussy up? Want my hot cum flooding your womb?"

You give another vicious thrust, feeling her inner walls clench hard around you. She nods frantically, tears of sheer pleasure and desperation starting to leak from the corners of her eyes.

"Yes! Please! Begging you! Fill me up! Cum in me now!"

That's it. Her desperate, slutty plea shatters your control completely. "FUCK YES!" you roar, abandoning all finesse, slamming into her with everything you have, a final series of deep, punishing thrusts aimed at driving yourself as deep as physically possible. "I'm cumming babe, I'm cumming on your cock!" Her answering scream is pure ecstasy as her orgasm rips through her, her body convulsing violently around your straining cock, milking you with impossible strength.

That final, desperate clenching triggers your own release. With a guttural shout that echoes hers, you explode, unloading torrents of thick, hot cum deep within her tight pussy. You keep thrusting hard as you come, pumping every last drop into her, feeling the incredibly intimate sensation of filling her completely, picturing your seed flooding her womb just like she begged for. It's a volcanic release, fueled by weeks of absence and the sheer intensity of her begging, far more powerful than usual.

As your orgasm finally subsides, leaving you utterly spent, you feel her own shudders gradually lessen, though she continues to clench around you sporadically. She just melts underneath you, boneless and whimpering softly, completely overwhelmed. You collapse onto her, burying your face back into her neck, trying to catch your breath, your heart pounding like a drum against hers. You know how much she loves this, how much she craves the feeling of being filled by you, and the thought that she went two whole months without it… no wonder you both just about broke the fucking sofa.

You stay like that for a long time, glued together, skin sticky with sweat, limbs tangled, the only sounds the crackling fire and your slowly normalizing breaths. You can feel the warmth of your cum seeping out of her slightly, pooling between her legs and onto the expensive upholstery beneath her ass. Neither of you cares. The intimacy of the moment, the sheer relief and satisfaction, is profound. Her arms are wrapped loosely around your back, her cheek resting against your chest, her breathing soft against your skin. Eventually, she stirs, lifting her head slightly, her eyes soft, languid, utterly content. She presses a soft kiss to your collarbone. "Okay," she whispers, voice still rough with spent passion. "That was… worth the wait."

She shifts slightly, and you feel a little more of your cum trickle down her thigh. She glances down, then back up at you, a mischievous glint entering her eyes. "Speaking of waiting… that hot spring is still out there. Probably nice and warm by now…" She arches an eyebrow suggestively. "Seems like a good excuse to get cleaned up… maybe?" You chuckle, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Her 'excuses' are rarely subtle. "Yeah? Think maybe we need to wash all this… evidence… off?" You gesture vaguely at the sticky mess on her, you, and the sofa. She grins. "Exactly. Wouldn't want to stain the furniture on day one."

Getting untangled and upright takes effort, muscles pleasantly sore, bodies feeling heavy and satisfied. You're both naked now, clothes discarded in haste much earlier. You grab a couple of the ridiculously fluffy towels the house provided, tossing one to her. Standing there, naked in the warm glow of the fire, you take a moment to just appreciate her body—the flush still high on her cheeks and chest, the slight sheen of sweat, the curve of her hips and those incredible thighs, slightly marked by your grip. She catches you looking and smiles, a soft, knowing smile. "Like what you see?" she teases, stretching languidly, making her breasts jiggle slightly. "Always," you reply honestly, your voice still a bit thick. You lead the way to the back door, opening it to a blast of cold night air.

The contrast is sharp after the cozy warmth inside. Steam rises invitingly from the stone-lined hot spring built into a wooden deck area just outside, partially sheltered by the overhang of the roof but open to the starry sky above. The surrounding snow glows faintly blue in the moonlight. "Last one in is…" Yujin starts, but doesn't finish, instead making a quick dash across the freezing deck boards with a little shriek and sliding into the steaming water with an audible sigh of pure bliss. "Oh my god, that's amazing," she calls out, sinking down until the water reaches her chin, her eyes closed in pleasure. She opens them again, looking at you expectantly. "Come on!"

You hesitate at the edge, the cold biting at your bare skin. "In a sec," you call back. "Figured Operation Melt might require refueling soon. Gonna grab some snacks first." Yujin pouts dramatically for a second, then her expression softens. "Okay, fine," she concedes. "I am starving, actually. You're the best." You flash her a grin and duck back inside, heading for the well-stocked kitchen.

You quickly assemble a platter—some cheese, crackers, fruit, some chocolate you found in the welcome basket, plus a couple of bottles of cold water. Balancing the tray, you head back out. The cold air feels even colder now after the brief respite inside. Yujin is leaning back against the edge of the spring, watching the steam curl into the night sky, looking completely serene. You carefully set the snack tray down on the edge of the deck within easy reach before finally stepping down the submerged stone steps into the hot spring yourself. The heat is instantaneous, intense, enveloping you like a comforting blanket, chasing away the chill in seconds. You let out a sigh of relief, sinking into the water opposite her.

She watches you enter, her eyes soft and filled with an undeniable warmth that has nothing to do with the water temperature. There's gratitude there, affection, and a deep, simmering satisfaction. "Seriously," she says, the words soft and sincere, paddling a little closer to you through the steam. "Thank you. For… all of this." She gestures vaguely, encompassing the house, the trip, maybe even the mind-blowing sex you just had. "You're just… amazing. Spoiling me like this after I was gone so long." She reaches out, trailing her fingers lightly across your chest under the water. "I really need to figure out a really good way to reward you properly this week, make it up to you…" Her eyes hold yours, full of promise, the steam swirling around you both like a curtain, creating your own private world under the vast, cold night sky.

—

You wake up slowly on the second day, cocooned in an almost obscene amount of warmth and softness. Sunlight streams through a gap in the heavy curtains, painting a bright stripe across the ridiculously comfortable king-size bed. Yujin is still fast asleep, curled against your side, one arm thrown possessively over your chest, her face relaxed and peaceful in a way you haven't seen since before the tour madness began. Her dark hair is fanned out across the crisp white pillowcase, strands clinging slightly to her cheek. You watch the slow, even rise and fall of her breathing, feeling a profound sense of peace settle over you.

This.

This is what you both needed.

Just quiet, uninterrupted closeness. You resist the urge to wake her, instead just lying there, soaking in the silence, the luxury, and the simple fact that she's here.

Eventually, her eyelids flutter. She murmurs something incoherent, nuzzling closer into your warmth like a contented cat before her eyes finally drift open. They focus on you, still hazy with sleep, and a slow, soft smile spreads across her face. "Morning," she whispers.

"Morning, sleepyhead," you reply, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. She hums contentedly, stretching languidly under the duvet, her bare leg brushing against yours. The casual intimacy sends a familiar jolt through you, but it’s softer this morning, less frantic need, more simmering appreciation.

Getting out of bed happens eventually, reluctantly. You pad into the sleek, modern bathroom together, brushing your teeth side-by-side, sharing sleepy smiles in the mirror. Yujin pulls on one of your oversized band t-shirts that you packed, the hem falling to her mid-thighs, and pairs it with some ridiculously tiny, lacy black sleep shorts that barely peek out from underneath. It's an ensemble that's simultaneously adorable, comfortable, and mind-bendingly sexy. She knows it, too. As she heads out to the kitchen ahead of you, presumably in search of caffeine, she pauses in the doorway, turns back, and gives her hips a slow, deliberate sway, her ass looking incredible beneath the soft cotton of your shirt. She catches your eye in the mirror, winks, and then disappears around the corner, leaving you momentarily stunned and already half-hard before you've even had coffee.

She’s going to make this week exquisitely torturous, isn’t she?

You follow her out, finding her already navigating the high-end coffee machine like a pro. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee fills the spacious open-plan living area. The fire from last night has died down to embers, but the underfloor heating keeps the whole place incredibly toasty. You pour yourselves mugs of steaming coffee, adding a splash of milk, and wander over to the massive windows. The view is even more spectacular in the daylight: crisp white snow blanketing everything, distant peaks sharp against a brilliant blue sky, sunlight glinting off the icy surfaces. You stand there for a while, sipping your coffee, shoulder-to-shoulder, just taking it all in. "It's unreal," Yujin murmurs, leaning her head against your shoulder. "Feels like we're in a snow globe."

Breakfast is a joint effort in the state-of-the-art kitchen. You find pancake mix in the well-stocked pantry, while Yujin tackles frying bacon and scrambling eggs, humming happily off-key. Working together feels easy, natural, falling back into a comfortable rhythm despite the months apart. There’s playful nudging, stealing bites of bacon straight from the pan (earning you a light smack with a spatula from Yujin), and lots of laughter. You eat sitting at the solid wood dining table, sunlight streaming in, talking about everything, trying to make up for lost time. She tells you more anecdotes from the tour, the funny mishaps, the exhaustion, but it’s lighter now, told with the relief of someone who’s reached the finish line and can finally breathe. You devour the delicious food—fluffy pancakes, crispy bacon, perfectly scrambled eggs—feeling utterly content.

After cleaning up together (a surprisingly domestic and pleasant task in this setting), the clear skies and stunning scenery outside beckon. "Walk?" you suggest. Yujin nods eagerly. "Definitely. Need to explore our kingdom." You bundle up again, the ritual of layering thermals and jackets feeling familiar now. You grab your phone, intending to capture the beauty of the place, and maybe its most beautiful inhabitant. The air outside is bitingly cold but incredibly fresh, scrubbing your lungs clean. You follow a different path this time, one that leads away from the house and deeper into the surrounding pine forest. The snow crunches loudly under your boots, the only sound besides your own breathing and the occasional gust of wind sighing through the branches overhead. Sunlight filters through the trees, making the snow sparkle like scattered diamonds.

Yujin is captivated, constantly pointing out animal tracks in the snow, or the intricate patterns of frost on fallen leaves. You hang back slightly, watching her, and start taking pictures. You capture her profile as she gazes up at a particularly tall, snow-laden tree, her breath misting in the air. You snap a shot of her laughing as she nearly slips on a patch of ice, catching herself at the last second. You get one of her turning back towards you, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold, eyes sparkling with life and happiness, a genuine, unguarded smile gracing her lips. "Hey," she calls, noticing you aiming your phone. "Paparazzi even out here?" She strikes a deliberately goofy pose, hand on hip, lips pursed. You laugh, snapping that one too. "Can't help it," you call back, lowering the phone and walking towards her. "You look incredible."

You show her the pictures, scrolling through them. Especially the candid one, the laughing one. "See? Told you." You zoom in slightly on her smiling face against the snowy backdrop. "Absolutely beautiful." She ducks her head, a genuine blush rising on her cheeks this time, distinct from the cold-induced pinkness. "Stop," she mumbles, but she leans against you, looking at the photos on your screen, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Okay, maybe that one's kinda cute," she admits, pointing to the laughing shot.

You spend another hour exploring, venturing further until you reach a ridge with an even more expansive view of the valley below. You take more photos, some posed, some candid, each one capturing a piece of her relaxed joy, her stunning beauty amplified by the raw, majestic nature surrounding you. Every time you tell her how good she looks, she either preens playfully or swats your arm, but you see the pleasure it brings her in her eyes.

Returning to the house feels like stepping back into a warm embrace. You shed your cold-weather gear by the door, toes and fingers tingling as they warm up. Hot chocolate feels mandatory. You whip some up using the fancy milk frother and some high-quality chocolate flakes you found, topping them with whipped cream. You curl up on opposite ends of the massive sofa, feet tucked underneath you, mugs warming your hands, the silence comfortable again. Yujin sighs contentedly after a long sip. "This is literally heaven," she murmurs, eyes closed. The afternoon drifts by in a haze of blissful relaxation.

You put on some mellow music. Yujin finds a stack of glossy art books on a shelf and gets absorbed in one, while you try to read but find your eyes constantly drifting towards her. She's kicked off her socks now, feet bare. Your t-shirt has ridden up slightly as she shifted, revealing more of those ridiculously enticing lace shorts and the smooth curve of her hip. She seems completely oblivious, lost in her book, occasionally pushing her hair back from her face or biting her lip in concentration. Every small movement she makes sends a jolt of awareness through you.

The memory of how she felt beneath you last night, how she begged for you, is a constant, simmering undercurrent beneath the placid surface of the afternoon. Later, she gets up to refill her water bottle, pausing on her way back from the kitchen. She stretches languidly, arms reaching high above her head, arching her back. The movement pulls your t-shirt taut across her breasts and lifts the hem significantly, giving you a deliberate, heart-stopping view of her ass in those tiny black shorts. She holds the stretch for just a moment too long, catches your eye, and gives you a slow, knowing smirk before dropping her arms and continuing back to the sofa as if nothing happened. Fucking tease.

As evening approaches, you decide on dinner. The fridge is stocked with ingredients for steak, asparagus, and potatoes. Cooking together again is just as fun as breakfast, maybe even more so now that you've opened a bottle of red wine. Yujin expertly sears the steaks while you handle the sides, moving around each other easily in the spacious kitchen. She's still in your t-shirt and the tiny shorts, seemingly uncaring that she's flashing generous amounts of thigh and occasionally the curve of her butt cheek as she bends or reaches. You're pretty sure she's doing it on purpose now, enjoying the effect she has on you.

You sneak up behind her while she's focused on basting the steaks, wrapping your arms around her waist, pulling her back against your chest. You nuzzle her neck, inhaling her scent mixed with the delicious aroma of cooking food. "Smells amazing," you murmur. She leans back into you, tilting her head slightly. "The steak, or me?" she teases, turning her head just enough to press a quick, wine-flavored kiss to your lips before deftly flipping the steaks.

You eat dinner by candlelight, the food tasting incredible, the wine warming you further. Afterwards, instead of retreating back to the sofa, you brave the cold for a few minutes, stepping out onto the deck, wrapped in blankets this time, to look at the stars. The sky here, away from city lights, is unbelievable; a vast, dark canvas dusted with millions of brilliant stars. Yujin leans heavily against you, pointing out constellations she recognizes. The peacefulness is immense, broken only by your soft voices and the distant sigh of the wind.

Back inside, you rekindle the fire, the logs catching quickly, casting flickering shadows across the room. Yujin curls up beside you on the rug this time, leaning against your legs as you sit on the sofa, idly scrolling through the photos you took earlier. She looks up at you, her eyes soft in the firelight. "Today was perfect," she whispers. "Just… easy. And fun." She pauses, then a slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. "But you know," she adds as she reaches out, her hand landing purposefully high on your inner thigh, fingers starting a slow, tantalizing exploration beneath the fabric of your sweatpants. "All this relaxing… It's making me really needy. Maybe perfection needs a little… spicing up?" Her fingers tighten, finding the ridge of your hardening cock through the fabric, and her eyes hold yours, full of blatant, delicious promise.

—

You drift awake on the third morning feeling boneless and utterly drained in the best possible way. Last night… well, last night Yujin definitely collected on her promise to 'spice things up'. After her suggestive comment by the fire, things had escalated quickly, moving from teasing touches on the sofa to a full-blown, hours-long session in the massive bed that left you both sweat-soaked, marked, and completely spent. She’d ridden you like she was trying to break a world record, screaming your name, demanding you fuck her harder, deeper, finally begging, pleading for you to cum inside her again and again until neither of you could move.

Now, though? Now she sleeps beside you like a goddamn angel. Curled on her side, facing you, lips slightly parted, breathing softly, one hand tucked trustingly under her cheek. The picture of innocence. If you didn't have the faint soreness in your muscles and the lingering scent of sex clinging to the sheets (and probably both of you) as evidence, you might almost believe last night's debauchery was a particularly vivid dream. Seeing her like this, peaceful and cute after being such a demanding little demon just hours before, makes a fond, possessive warmth spread through your chest. You stay put for a while, just watching her sleep, letting the relaxed satisfaction wash over you.

The day unfolds with the same lazy rhythm as yesterday, but there's a subtle difference in Yujin's energy. While yesterday was about blissful relaxation and melting away stress, today she seems… effervescent. There's an extra bounce in her step as she pads around the house (today choosing a ridiculously soft-looking cashmere lounge set—pale blue joggers and a matching loose hoodie—that still manages to look incredibly sexy on her). She hums constantly, a cheerful, slightly tuneless sound. And she's definitely glued to her phone more than usual. You catch her sending off quick texts, a secretive little smile playing on her lips as she taps away, quickly pocketing the device whenever you glance over for too long.

You try asking casually who she's texting, but she just waves a hand dismissively, "Oh, just group chat stuff, checking in," before changing the subject with suspicious speed. It's weird, but you brush it off. Maybe she's just genuinely happy, fully recharged after a couple of days away and a night of intense sex. You spend the morning reading by the fire again, drinking coffee, occasionally getting lost in conversation, but her slightly distracted, anticipatory energy It's something you can't completely ignore.

Around midday, you both decide on lunch. Yujin takes the lead this time, announcing she wants to make a big batch of kimchi jjigae, claiming she's craving something spicy and hearty. You're happy to be her sous-chef, chopping vegetables while she handles the broth and meat. As she adds ingredients to the large pot, you notice she seems to be prepping way more than necessary for just two people. She adds nearly a whole block of tofu, a generous amount of pork belly, and practically the entire head of kimchi. "Hungry today, huh?" you comment lightly, eyeing the overflowing pot. She just grins, not looking up from stirring. "Starving! All that fresh mountain air… and, you know…" She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, referencing last night. You laugh, shaking your head. Fair enough. The rich, spicy aroma starts filling the kitchen, making your own stomach rumble.

You're setting out bowls and spoons when it happens: the sudden, sharp, totally unexpected chime of a doorbell echoes through the house.

You freeze, spoon clattering onto the counter. What the actual fuck? A doorbell? Out here? You’re miles from anywhere, accessible only by a private track and a final hike. You weren’t expecting deliveries, and certainly not visitors. Your head whips around to look at Yujin, expecting to see similar confusion or alarm on her face. Instead, she’s completely unfazed. She wipes her hands on a kitchen towel, a bright, almost smug smile spreading across her face. "Oh, good! Right on time," she says cheerfully, as if this is the most normal thing in the world. Your confusion morphs into suspicion. "On time for what? Who is that?" you ask. Yujin just pats your arm reassuringly. "Don't worry about it. I'll get it." She practically skips towards the front door, leaving you standing bewildered in the kitchen, the simmering jjigae momentarily forgotten. You follow her slowly, hesitantly, stopping in the main living area, peering towards the entranceway. Yujin swings the heavy wooden door open.

Standing on the threshold, looking impossibly small surrounded by the vast snowy landscape and bundled up in a thick, long padded coat, scarf wrapped high around her neck, and a woolly hat pulled low, is Naoi Rei.

Your brain takes a second to compute. Rei? Here? She has a large backpack slung over one shoulder and is juggling a couple of tote bags, her cheeks flushed bright pink from the biting cold. She looks exhausted and slightly grumpy. "Ugh, Yujin!" she complains immediately, voice muffled by the scarf. "It's freezing out here! And that hike was no joke. Are you trying to kill me?" Yujin just laughs, stepping aside to let her in. "You made it! I was starting to worry." She pulls Rei into a warm hug, then playfully pinches one of her rosy cheeks. "Aw, look at you, so cute when you're grumpy." Rei grumbles something unintelligible but allows herself to be pulled inside, stamping snow off her boots.

She starts unwrapping herself from her layers, revealing slightly tousled hair and wide, expressive eyes that finally land on you standing awkwardly a few feet away.

"Hey there," she says, smiling at you like she always does, but there’s a distinct curve to her lips this time, It's a smile that seems… knowing. Different. Like she expected you to be here, like she's in on some secret you're definitely not privy to.

"Rei, hi," you manage, trying to sound casual, friendly, plastering on a polite smile while your mind races. "Didn't expect visitors. Welcome." You gesture vaguely around the luxurious space. "Nice place, huh?"

Rei nods, her eyes scanning the room with appreciation before flicking back to you. "Yeah, it's beautiful. Yujin wasn't exaggerating…" she trails off, that knowing little smile playing on her lips again.

Yujin claps her hands together. "Rei, go warm up! Bathroom's down the hall if you need it. Lunch is almost ready." Rei nods gratefully, murmuring thanks, and disappears down the hallway with her bags, leaving you alone with Yujin in the suddenly charged silence.

You turn on her immediately, keeping your tone low but urgent. "Yujin. What. The. Hell?" You stab a finger towards the hallway where Rei vanished. "Why is Rei here? This was supposed to be our week. Just us. To reconnect. What is going on?" Yujin doesn't look guilty or apologetic. She looks amused, maybe even a little triumphant. She steps closer, reaching up to smooth the front of your shirt, her touch lingering.

"Baby," she says softly. "Don't you remember the first day? At the hot spring?"

You frown. "Yeah? You were talking about… rewarding me?"

"Exactly," she confirms, her smile widening. "I told you I needed to figure out a really good way to reward you. For waiting two months, for planning this amazing trip, for… well, for being you."

Your brain is still struggling to connect the dots. "Okay…? So you invited Rei for lunch?"

Yujin lets out a soft laugh, shaking her head like you’re being adorably dense. "No, silly." She leans in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, her gaze intense.

"Rei is the reward."

This sentence hits you like a physical blow, a jolt of memory so sharp it makes you dizzy. That night, months ago, before the tour. Both of you tipsy on wine after a date night, curled up on her sofa back in Seoul. The conversation had gotten silly, then bold. Yujin, flushed and giggling, had pinned you with a surprisingly serious look. "Hypothetically," she'd slurred slightly, "if you had to… you know… with me and one of the other girls… who would it be?" You'd tried to deflect, laughing it off, but she'd persisted, poking your chest, teasing you, her eyes full of drunken curiosity and maybe something else, something testing. "Come on! Just hypothetically! Who do you think is hot?"

Cornered, flustered, and definitely influenced by the alcohol and her relentless, playful interrogation, you finally mumbled something about how, hypothetically, you thought Rei had this unique mix… she was adorably cute, almost a doll with her cheeks and mannerisms, but there was also something undeniably sexy about her, a hidden heat beneath the surface.

"Rei?" Yujin had repeated, her eyebrows shooting up in surprise, before a slow, considering smile spread across her face. "Interesting…" The conversation had moved on quickly after that, dissolving into more drunken kisses, and you'd completely forgotten about it. Until now. Holy shit. Yujin remembered. She actually fucking remembered that drunken, hypothetical confession and somehow, somehow, she'd made it real. Standing here, in this secluded mountain paradise, she'd arranged for Naoi Rei—cute, adorably hot Rei—to show up as your 'reward'. The sheer audacity, the implications… your mind reels, struggling to process it.

And then, overriding the shock, comes a powerful, undeniable physical reaction. Heat floods your groin, your dick instantly surging against the inside of your jeans, growing thick and hard at the mind-blowing possibility Yujin just dropped into your lap. Rei. Yujin. Together. Your reward. Holy fuck.

You stare at Yujin, the kimchi jjigae bubbling forgotten on the stove behind her, the rich scent suddenly secondary to the absolute bombshell she just dropped. Your dick is throbbing insistently against your zipper, a physical testament to how quickly your body accepted this insane premise, even while your brain struggles to catch up. "Are you fucking serious right now, Yujin?" you finally manage. She doesn't flinch. Her smile remains firmly in place, smug and utterly confident. "Completely serious, baby," she confirms, reaching out to trail a finger down your chest, her touch electric. "Think of it as… a very special welcome home present. For both of us." You shake your head, trying to clear it. "But… Rei? Does she know? I mean, what did you tell her? Did she just… agree to show up here and be my 'reward'?"

The idea sounds ludicrous even as you say it. Yujin lets out a low chuckle, a throaty sound that sends another jolt straight south. "Let's just say Rei is… adventurous. And maybe a little curious about certain things." She leans closer again, eyes sparkling with wicked delight. "And maybe she trusts me. Give her a couple of glasses of wine with lunch," she murmurs conspiratorially, tapping your chest lightly. "You might be surprised what our little Rei agrees to." Your mind races. Open-minded? Curious? This is Naoi Rei, the group's seemingly sweet, slightly shy Japanese member. The image clashes wildly with what Yujin is implying.

"And you think…" you swallow, still grappling with the reality of it, "...you think I'll like this?" Yujin raises an eyebrow, her expression playful but challenging.

"Do you?" she counters, turning the question back on you, her gaze flicking down pointedly towards the noticeable bulge in your jeans before meeting your eyes again. Fuck. She knows she has you. The shock is fading, replaced by raw, undeniable arousal. The memory of that drunken confession, the image of Rei—cute face, unexpectedly hot body— joining you and Yujin… it’s becoming terrifyingly appealing. "...I guess we'll find out, won't we?" you finally concede.

Yujin's triumphant smile tells you that was the answer she wanted.

Right on cue, Rei reappears, padding softly back into the living area. She’s ditched the heavy coat and layers, now wearing a simple pair of black sweatpants and a slightly oversized, fluffy pink hoodie that makes her look incredibly soft and approachable, almost negating the knowing glint you keep seeing in her eyes. "Wow, smells amazing, Unnie!" she exclaims, sniffing the air dramatically as she approaches the kitchen. Yujin immediately switches back into hostess mode. "Right? Come on, it's ready. Let's eat before it gets cold." The three of you gather around the dining table, ladling generous portions of the steaming, vibrant red stew into bowls.

Lunch is… surreal.

On the surface, it's perfectly normal. Polite conversation flows easily. Rei talks more about her journey—a series of train rides and then a slightly confusing taxi drop-off where Yujin's detailed instructions for the final hike were apparently crucial. Yujin fills her in on your first couple of days, describing the house and the surroundings with enthusiasm. They chat about mutual friends, upcoming schedules (vaguely, avoiding specifics), and the food.

But underneath the mundane chatter, there’s a shared awareness; at least between you and Yujin, and you strongly suspect Rei too—of the real reason she's here. You catch Yujin sending subtle glances towards Rei, then flicking her eyes towards you with a tiny smirk. Rei, while mostly interacting with Yujin, occasionally directs comments or questions at you, her smile friendly but still holding that hint of something… more. Shy curiosity? Playful anticipation? You can’t quite read it, and the ambiguity is driving you crazy. You focus on eating the delicious jjigae, the spiciness a welcome distraction, though you make sure to pour Rei a generous glass of the red wine left over from last night, remembering Yujin's suggestion. Rei accepts it with a grateful smile, taking a healthy sip.

"Seriously, Yujin-unnie," Rei says between mouthfuls, looking around the luxurious space again, "this place is incredible. Getting here was hell, honestly, that taxi driver looked so lost, and the hike! But wow." She shakes her head in amazement. "I can only say that I am happy to have been invited."

Yujin beams. "Told you it was worth it! And we haven't even shown you the best parts yet. Wait till you see the hot spring."

Rei's eyes light up instantly, just like Yujin predicted. "Yes! You kept talking about it on the phone! Is it really that amazing?" Yujin leans forward slightly, her tone dropping conspiratorially, though she directs the comment mostly towards Rei, she makes sure to catch your eye too. "Oh, it's the best part. Especially… after dark." Rei giggles, taking another sip of her wine, her cheeks slightly flushed now—maybe from the spice, maybe the alcohol, maybe something else entirely.

After lunch, with the dishes cleared away (Yujin insisting you all leave them for later), Yujin suggests showing Rei the stunning view you discovered yesterday. You all bundle up again and head outside. Rei is instantly enchanted by the vast, snowy landscape, gasping at the panoramic view from the ridge. She pulls out her phone, snapping dozens of pictures, posing playfully for Yujin, and even asking you, with a slightly shy smile, if you could take a few of her with the mountains in the background. You oblige, trying to act normal as you direct her slightly, acutely aware of Yujin watching you both with keen interest. Rei loves the quiet, the crisp air, the sheer beauty of it all, her earlier grumpiness completely vanished, replaced by wide-eyed wonder.

Back inside, shedding the cold gear feels even better this time. The warmth of the house, the lingering smell of kimchi and woodsmoke, feels incredibly welcoming. "Coffee?" Yujin suggests. "Or more hot chocolate? Need to warm up properly." You opt for coffee, while Rei eagerly accepts another hot chocolate. You settle back into the living area, the energy shifting slightly now. The exploration is done, lunch is finished. The unspoken 'agenda' for the afternoon seems to loom closer. Yujin strategically steers the conversation towards more personal topics, asking Rei about her family, reminiscing about funny trainee stories, creating a relaxed, intimate atmosphere. Rei seems to visibly unwind, laughing easily, her initial shyness fading further, helped along perhaps by another small glass of wine Yujin casually tops up for her.

Eventually, Yujin stretches languidly on the sofa, catching your eye. "Well," she announces. "I think it's officially hot spring time. Before the sun goes down completely." Rei perks up immediately. "Yes! Finally!"

Yujin grins and pushes herself off the sofa. "Okay, you two wait here. I'll grab the towels. Need to change into something more appropriate first." She winks at you before disappearing towards the bedroom wing. Rei shifts slightly on her seat, suddenly looking a little nervous again now that the moment is here. She avoids your gaze for a second, taking a sudden interest in the pattern on her empty hot chocolate mug. Before the silence can become awkward, Yujin returns, carrying a stack of fluffy white towels.

And she's changed. Gone is the cozy cashmere set. Instead, she’s wearing a sleek, black one-piece swimsuit. It’s one you absolutely love—high-cut on the legs, showing off the curve of her hips and length of her thighs, with a plunging neckline held together by daring crisscross straps that frame her cleavage perfectly. It emphasizes her lean strength, her dancer’s body, radiating confidence and pure sex appeal. She looks incredible, and she knows it. "Your turn, Rei," Yujin prompts gently, tossing her a towel. Rei takes a deep breath, nods quickly, and scurries off towards the guest room Yujin must have prepared for her.

You wait, heart pounding a little faster now.

This is it.

The 'reward' is about to be fully revealed.

Yujin comes over to you, leaning down to whisper in your ear, her breath warm against your skin. "Excited?" You just nod, unable to form words. A moment later, Rei reappears in the doorway, looking hesitant but resolute. And holy shit. She’s wearing a simple, triangle-string bikini, a soft lilac color that contrasts beautifully with her skin tone. And Yujin wasn't kidding about her being 'open-minded' or maybe just incredibly trusting. Because the bikini reveals everything. Just like Yujin, Rei possesses that surprising idol duality: the cute, almost cherubic face paired with a body that is unexpectedly, devastatingly curvy and womanly. She is as thick as Yujin, maybe even slightly more so in certain places. Her hips flare generously from a trim waist, her thighs are full and strong, touching voluptuously at the top. Her stomach is soft but toned. And her breasts, fuller than Yujin’s, spill enticingly from the small lilac triangles, looking incredibly soft and heavy.

It's a stunning contrast—the sweet, almost shy face atop a figure that screams pure, unadulterated sex. She nervously adjusts the string at her hip, refusing to meet your eyes directly, a becoming blush staining her cheeks and spreading down her neck towards those impressive breasts. Yujin beams at her encouragingly. "See? You look amazing, Rei!" Rei mumbles a thank you, still looking anywhere but at you. But you see it all.

The whole reward, unwrapped and standing nervously before you. Yujin is practically vibrating with a smug 'I told you so' energy beside her in that killer black one-piece.

Right, if they're dressed for the water, lingering in sweatpants feels wrong. "Okay, okay, give me two seconds," you say, holding up a hand. "Need to change into something more appropriate myself." You jog back towards the bedroom, quickly shuck off your sweatpants, pulling on a pair of comfortable swim shorts instead. You glance in the mirror—shirtless, shorts, feeling ready. You head back out, finding Yujin has efficiently detoured via the kitchen counter where the wine was chilling. She now has the opened bottle in one hand, three stemmed glasses held expertly by their bases in the other. She nods approvingly at your attire change. "Perfect timing. Let's go."

The three of you head out onto the deck together this time. Yujin leads the way carefully with her fragile cargo, you follow with the towels slung over your shoulder, and Rei walks beside you, hugging herself slightly against the sudden blast of cold air on her mostly bare skin. "Woah! Okay, definitely cold out here!" Rei exclaims, teeth chattering slightly. "Get in, get in!" Yujin urges, already heading for the steps.

You all descend into the steaming water, the intense heat a blissful shock after the cold. Rei lets out a long, audible sigh of pure pleasure as she sinks gratefully into the warmth, her eyes widening as she takes in the surroundings properly—the steam rising into the twilight sky, the snow-dusted landscape stretching out around you, the luxurious feel of the smooth stone beneath the water. "Okay, wow," she breathes, looking genuinely impressed. "This hot spring is… seriously incredible, Unnie." She seems to visibly relax almost instantly, the tension melting from her posture as the heat works its magic.

Yujin beams, clearly pleased. "Told you!" She wades over to a built-in underwater ledge, carefully setting down the glasses before pouring a generous amount of red wine into each. She deliberately settles onto the ledge right next to Rei, their bare shoulders almost touching, before handing her a glass and then passing one over to you. "To relaxing properly," Yujin declares, raising her glass. You and Rei echo the sentiment, clinking glasses gently. The wine tastes good, warming you from the inside as the water warms you from the outside. As you sip, you watch the dynamic between the two girls. Yujin seems completely at ease, leaning back, swirling her wine, while Rei, though clearly more relaxed now, still seems slightly hyper-aware, occasionally glancing nervously at Yujin, then at you. The wine definitely helps, though. After a few more sips, Rei's posture loosens further, a genuine smile playing on her lips as she watches the steam curl upwards.

"Seriously though," Rei says after a comfortable silence, looking between you and Yujin. "Thank you both. For… well, for inviting me. Or letting me crash, whichever." She takes another sip of wine. "This place is amazing. I think I really needed this too, after everything." Yujin reaches over, playfully bumping Rei's shoulder. "Hey, all the credit for this genius idea goes to this one," she says, nodding towards you with an appreciative smile. "He organized the whole amazing surprise trip for me." She turns her attention back to Rei, her expression softening. She starts gently playing with the ends of Rei's wet hair where it floats on the water's surface, tucking a stray strand behind her ear. "You just relax, princess," Yujin murmurs, the pet name slipping out naturally. "You deserve it just as much after that crazy tour." Rei ducks her head slightly at the pet name, a faint blush rising on her cheeks, but she smiles, clearly not minding the affectionate term or the casual touch.

Yujin continues to hypnotically twist a lock of Rei's dark hair around her finger, her gaze fixed on Rei before suddenly looking directly at you. "Isn't she lovely?" Yujin asks, her voice soft, almost dreamy, but the question is pointed, demanding your participation. "Just adorable, right?"

You meet Yujin's gaze, then let your eyes drift over Rei; the cute face, flushed slightly now from the heat and wine, the surprisingly voluptuous body half-submerged in the steaming water, the wet hair clinging to her neck. Yujin isn't wrong. "Yeah," you agree, your voice coming out slightly rougher than intended. "She is. Very pretty." Rei's blush deepens instantly at your direct compliment. She looks down into her wine glass, then glances up at you quickly through her lashes. "Thank you..." she murmurs shyly, "...really."

Before Rei can look away completely, Yujin leans in suddenly, tilting her head. "So cute I could just eat you up!" she exclaims, and gives Rei's cheek a quick, playful nip with her teeth. It’s not hard, more of an affectionate nibble, but it’s startlingly intimate, fueled perhaps by the wine and the charged atmosphere.

Rei lets out a surprised little yelp, her eyes flying wide as she instinctively touches her cheek, looking at Yujin with a mixture of shock and amusement. Yujin just throws her head back and laughs, clearly enjoying Rei's flustered reaction. Rei swats playfully at Yujin's arm, giggling despite herself.

Yeah, the wine is definitely working its magic, alongside the simmering heat that has little to do with the water temperature. Yujin, sensing the shift, leans back against the stone ledge, swirling the wine in her glass, her eyes alight with mischief. She tops up Rei's glass, then yours, her movements fluid and deliberate. "We need to rearrange," Yujin announces suddenly, her gaze sweeping over the current seating arrangement. "Why are we sitting all spread out? This is supposed to be cozy." She looks pointedly at Rei. "Come on, princess, let's go flank our generous host. Make him feel appreciated." Rei hesitates for only a second before nodding, a tipsy giggle escaping her lips. "Okay, Unnie."

They both carefully maneuver through the water, splashing slightly, until they're positioned much closer to you. Yujin settles on one side, hip bumping yours companionably under the water, while Rei takes the spot directly opposite, close enough now that her knees occasionally brush yours. The proximity immediately cranks up the intensity, the steam trapping the scent of wine, chlorine, and their warm skin.

"You know," Yujin begins conversationally, though her tone is laced with intent, reaching out to gently stroke Rei’s wet shoulder, letting her fingers linger. "When I first texted you, Rei... floated the crazy idea of you maybe, possibly, joining us up here..." She pauses for dramatic effect, glancing at you. "This little one," she gestures towards Rei with her glass, "didn't even ask questions. No hesitation. Just texted back 'YES!' in all caps immediately." Yujin chuckles, shaking her head. "Seems someone was very eager for a little mountain getaway."

Rei splutters, splashing Yujin playfully. "Unnie! It wasn't exactly like that! You made it sound really nice..." Yujin just raises an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Mmmhmm. And," she continues, leaning closer to Rei, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper loud enough for you to easily hear, "you should have seen her face later, when I called her. When I finally told her the little detail about how our host here," she nods towards you, "specifically mentioned finding a certain Naoi Rei 'adorably hot' that one time." Rei's face flames crimson, and she tries to hide behind her wine glass, muttering denials, but Yujin barrels on, clearly enjoying this. "She practically glowed, didn't you, princess? Couldn't stop smiling." Yujin winks at you over Rei's head.

"And don't even get me started," Yujin adds, turning back to Rei, "on how much you loved our little late-night debriefs during the tour. My very detailed... 'reports from the field'." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, making Rei groan and hide her face further. Yujin looks back at you, grinning. "Standard girl talk, you know. Just sharing... experiences." The implication hangs in the air: Yujin explicitly telling Rei details about your sex life. You decide to engage directly, turning your attention fully to Rei, whose blush now extends down her neck, disappearing into the water near the top of her lilac bikini.

"Is that true, Rei?" you ask, keeping your voice level, curious. "You enjoyed Yujin's... 'girl talk'?" Rei lowers her glass slowly, her eyes darting between you and Yujin. She takes a deep breath, seeming to gather her courage, fueled by the wine. "Well..." she starts, voice a little shaky but holding your gaze. "Unnie... she tells very vivid stories." A small, nervous smile plays on her lips. "It was... interesting. Hearing about... things." It's a confirmation, albeit a slightly flustered one. You can see her chest rising and falling a little faster now, her nipples clearly pebbled beneath the thin bikini fabric; maybe the cooling air hitting the wet fabric, maybe arousal, likely both.

Yujin laughs triumphantly. "Interesting? Oh, please! Admit it!" She nudges Rei again. "I bet you were lying there in your bunk after those calls, wide awake, picturing it all, huh? Imagining it was you underneath him instead of me?" She gestures towards you with a blatant lack of subtlety. "Picturing his hands on you, his mouth…?"

"Unnie! Stop it!" Rei squeals, splashing Yujin again, but there's no real heat behind it, only embarrassed giggling. She looks quickly at you, her eyes wide, then away again. "Maybe a little!" she finally admits, her tone muffled as she tries to hide her smile against her shoulder. "But it was your fault! Telling me all those things right before I was trying to sleep… it wasn't fair!" Even in her denial, there's an undertone of confession.

You can almost picture it: Rei, alone in her hotel room, listening to Yujin's explicit tales, her imagination running wild. The thought makes the pressure in your shorts almost painful. Yujin seems to sense Rei's flustered state, her arousal mixed with embarrassment. She assesses the situation, then pats the water beside you, or rather, directly over your submerged thighs. "You look uncomfortable all squished over there, princess," she says soothingly, though her eyes dance with calculation. "Why don't you come sit over here? On his lap. Much more comfortable, I bet."

Rei freezes, her eyes snapping towards the spot Yujin indicated—your lap. She looks at Yujin, then her wide, uncertain eyes land on you. She bites her lip, seeming torn between desire and nervousness. "Is... is that okay?" she asks you directly. Your heart hammers. This is a major step, orchestrated by Yujin but requiring Rei's explicit consent and action. You nod slowly, patting your thigh through the water as an invitation. "Yeah, sure. If you want to." Holding your breath, you watch as Rei carefully pushes herself off the ledge, maneuvering through the water towards you. She moves hesitantly at first, then with more purpose, finally positioning herself directly in front of you before slowly, carefully, lowering herself onto your lap, facing you.

Her wet skin slides against yours, her bikini bottom against your swim shorts. The initial contact is electric. You feel the surprising weight of her, the softness of her thighs pressing against yours, her stomach against your chest. Her arms instinctively come up to rest lightly on your shoulders for balance. She feels impossibly soft, warm, and undeniably real. You carefully bring your hands up, resting them gently on her waist, spanning the soft skin above the low-cut bikini bottoms. You feel her sharp intake of breath at your touch, her whole body tensing for a second before she seems to consciously relax, sinking slightly heavier onto you. Tentatively, her hands slide down from your shoulders to cover yours where they rest on her waist, her fingers intertwining with yours or maybe just gently massaging the back of your hands, a silent acceptance, even an encouragement, of your touch.

Yujin watches this entire transaction with a look of intense satisfaction, like a master puppeteer admiring her work. She takes a long, slow sip of her wine, letting the moment settle. "You know," she says eventually, dangerously casual, though her eyes gleam, "this reminds me..." She looks from Rei, now settled on your lap, back to you. "Way back, before you and I were even a thing..." Her gaze drifts back to Rei, who seems to freeze slightly at Yujin's tone. "...I used to help Rei relax just like this sometimes." Rei's eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't deny it. "Remember those nights, princess?" Yujin continues softly, her voice intimate. "After a stressful practice? You'd come over, curl up on my lap just like this..." Yujin pauses, letting the image sink in, "...and I'd help you out downstairs. With my fingers."

Fuck.

Picturing Yujin—your Yujin—with her fingers buried inside Rei, Rei sitting on her lap, moaning… holy fuck. Hearing it spoken so casually, so possessively, makes your cock instantly strain against the confines of your shorts, becoming painfully, throbbingly hard beneath Rei's oblivious weight.

Rei surely must feel it now.

Yujin leans closer to Rei, ignoring your obvious physical reaction for the moment, focusing entirely on her friend now trapped on your lap, pinned by the memory and the present situation. "You miss that feeling, don't you?" Yujin probes gently. "Having someone's fingers teasing you just right? Making you come apart..." Rei trembles slightly, unable to meet Yujin's intense gaze. A tiny whimper escapes her lips. She manages a shaky, almost imperceptible nod, her eyes wide and glazed now with a mixture of memory, wine, and burgeoning need. "Yes..." she whispers. Yujin turns her triumphant gaze towards you, her eyes gleaming with manipulative delight and shared arousal. "Well?" she prompts, nodding towards Rei. "What are you waiting for? She clearly misses being touched. You should do it." Her voice is a command wrapped in suggestion. "Touch her." You look down at Rei, her face now tilted slightly upwards towards you, her lips parted, breathing shallowly. You can definitely feel your erection pressing insistently against the juncture of her thighs through the thin layers of your shorts and her bikini bottom.

"Rei?" you ask. "Do you want me to?" Rei's eyes flutter briefly, then focus on yours, dark pools of undeniable heat and pleading. She bites her already swollen lower lip. "Yes..." she breathes, the word shaky but firm. "Please... it would be... great." She leans slightly closer, her warm breath ghosting your cheek, her voice dropping to an urgent whisper. "Unnie... Yujin said you're really good," she confesses, the final piece clicking into place, confirming the depth of their prior conversations. "With your fingers..." The invitation, the endorsement, the explicit permission hangs in the steamy air between you.

Rei's breathy consent, the confirmation that Yujin has already sung your praises ("good with your fingers"), hangs in the steam-filled air like an electric charge. Her eyes are locked on yours, wide and dark with a potent mix of wine, heat, and blatant, pleading need. She's heavy on your lap, the soft weight of her pressing down against your throbbing erection. There's no room for doubt, no space for hesitation now.

This is happening.

Your hand, still resting possessively on her waist, slides lower, fingers trailing over the smooth, wet skin revealed by the high-cut leg of her lilac bikini bottom. You feel her shiver beneath your touch, a full-body tremor that has nothing to do with cold. Your thumb traces the delicate line where the fabric meets her skin, right at the crease of her thigh. She lets out a tiny, sharp gasp, her fingers tightening instinctively on your hands where they still cover yours. Taking that as further encouragement, you carefully hook a finger under the thin, stretchy fabric of her bikini bottom, pulling it gently to the side. The movement reveals her completely beneath the water's surface: glimpses of soft folds, glistening pink flesh, looking impossibly vulnerable and inviting.

With painstaking slowness, you slide one finger forward, finding her entrance. She gasps again, louder this time, her head tipping back against your shoulder as your fingertip breaches her heat. Fuck, she feels incredible. Tight, velvety, impossibly hot. You push slightly deeper, feeling her inner muscles clench around your finger reflexively. "Mmmph," a soft, sweet moan escapes her lips, muffled against your skin. It’s the sound of pure, unguarded pleasure, and it sends another jolt straight to your already painfully hard cock. You add a second finger, sliding it in alongside the first, stretching her slightly. She whimpers, hips lifting instinctively off your lap for a second before settling back down, accommodating your intrusion. You start to move your fingers, a slow, exploratory rhythm, curling them slightly, searching, learning the feel of her. Her answering moans become less inhibited, soft sighs and sweet cries mixing with the gentle bubbling of the hot spring.

As you focus on exploring Rei's wet pussy, Yujin leans back against the stone edge beside you, watching the scene unfold with an unnervingly calm, intensely focused expression, like a scientist observing a fascinating experiment—albeit a scientist who is clearly getting turned on by the results. Her own breathing is slightly faster, her lips slightly parted, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. She takes a slow sip of wine, then begins to speak, her tone a low, seductive purr that cuts through the steamy air, deliberately amplifying the intimacy of the moment. "Mmm, listen to that sound," she murmurs, her gaze fixed on Rei's face, which is now flushed and contorted in pleasure. "She likes that, doesn't she, princess?" Yujin doesn't wait for an answer, her eyes flicking down to where your hand is working beneath the water, then up to meet your gaze.

"You know," she continues, "when I finally told her the full plan… not just that she was visiting, but that she was the main event..." Yujin lets the phrase hang in the air, savoring it. "...the official 'reward' for our very patient host here…" She smiles slowly. "...she practically melted right there on the phone. Couldn't stop asking questions. So excited, weren't you, Rei?" Rei just moans again in response, burying her face against your neck now, unable or unwilling to speak, lost in the sensations your fingers are creating.

Yujin chuckles softly, knowingly. "And she loved the idea… didn't you, baby?" she directs at Rei's hidden face, before looking back at you. "The idea of just… letting go for a week. Being taken care of. Being pampered, obviously, but also… being good." The word choice is deliberate, loaded. "Being obedient. She admitted she's fantasized about it… about submitting. Just handing over control and being told what to do, how to please." Yujin pauses, letting the implications sink in, her own arousal evident now in the slight flush on her cheeks and the undisguised heat in her voice. "So that's the deal," she declares, her tone becoming firm, almost business-like, yet still dripping with seduction. "For the rest of the week." She reaches out, trailing cool fingers across your bare shoulder, before gesturing between herself and Rei. "She's yours. Completely. We're yours." Her eyes lock with yours, intense and serious beneath the playful facade. "Anything you want. Any fantasy, any desire… consider it done. No limits, no questions asked. Our only job is to make you happy… and to take whatever you decide you want to give us." The sheer possessiveness in her tone, the explicit handover of control, the promise of absolute submission from both of them… it hits you like a drug. You feel your own cock pulse violently against Rei's backside, an involuntary throb of pure, unadulterated lust and power.

Rei certainly feels it. She gasps, her body going momentarily rigid against yours as your erection jerks beneath her. Her head snaps up from your shoulder, her eyes wide and glazed, looking at you with a mixture of shock and raw, escalating horniness. She knows exactly how turned on you are, pressed right up against her ass. And hearing Yujin lay out the terms, describing Rei's own supposed desire for submission while you're actively pleasuring her… it's clearly pushing Rei closer to the edge too. Her hips begin to move more deliberately against your fingers now, a small, instinctive grinding motion seeking more pressure, more friction. Her sweet moans are becoming louder, less inhibited, punctuated by sharp, breathy gasps. She clutches your arms tighter, her nails digging in slightly, not painfully, but with undeniable urgency.

The combination of Yujin's explicit, arousing words painting a picture of the week ahead, and the feel of Rei squirming and moaning on your lap, her tight heat clenching around your fingers, is making you dizzy with lust. You focus back on your task, increasing the pressure, finding a spot deep inside that makes Rei cry out, a high, keening sound that echoes off the water. Yujin watches, her lips curled into a satisfied smirk, her own body radiating waves of heat.

The night is dark now, the stars brilliant overhead, the steam swirling around the three of you in a cocoon of heat, wine, and rapidly escalating desire. Your fingers move faster inside Rei's slick pussy, finding a rhythm that makes her gasp and buck against your hand. She's incredibly responsive, her tightness clenching around you with every inward stroke, her wetness making your movements slick and easy. You alternate between deep, curling motions and circling pressure against that sensitive spot just inside her entrance, while your thumb finds her clit through the water, rubbing firmly, relentlessly.

Rei is completely lost in sensation now, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, sweet, helpless moans tumbling from her lips with increasing frequency. "Oh god… oh fuck… yes, right there," she gasps. "Please… please don't stop… fuck, I'm close… so close…" Her fingers dig into your shoulders, seeking purchase as her body trembles uncontrollably on your lap. Yujin watches, leaning forward slightly now. Her eyes are dark, pupils dilated, fixed on Rei's writhing form and your relentless fingers. "That's it," Yujin breathes. "Listen to her whimper… she needs it so bad. Make her come apart for us, baby. Make my little princess fucking scream all over your hand."

Yujin's crude encouragement, combined with Rei's desperate pleas, pushes your own excitement higher. You lean down, bringing your mouth close to Rei's ear, your lips brushing the sensitive shell. "You feel that, Rei?" you whisper. "How close you are? You're going to cum for me now. Right now. Let go. Fucking cum for me." Your words, low and demanding, seem to sever her last thread of control. A choked sob breaks from her throat. Her entire body goes rigid, tensing violently against you. Her inner muscles clench down hard around your fingers in a series of rapid, powerful pulses. A high-pitched, strangled cry rips from her lungs as her orgasm crashes over her, intense and overwhelming. She convulses on your lap, hips bucking spasmodically against your hand, riding out the waves of pleasure, completely undone. You hold her steady, keeping your fingers buried inside her, feeling the throbbing aftermath of her release, the hot slickness coating your hand.

As her shudders begin to subside, leaving her limp and trembling against you, gasping for breath, you gently lift her chin. Her eyes are unfocused, glazed with bliss, her face flushed a deep crimson, lips swollen and kiss-bruised looking. You capture her mouth with yours, a deep, possessive kiss, tasting the wine and her own unique flavor, a hint of salt from a tear of pleasure that escaped. You slide your tongue against hers, dominating the kiss for a moment before pulling back slightly, just enough to gently bite her plush lower lip, holding it for a second between your teeth. She whimpers softly at the small sting of pleasant pain. "Good girl," you murmur against her lips. "Such a good girl for me."

She just stares up at you, dazed and utterly pliant. You release her lip, letting your gaze drift from Rei's blissed-out face over to Yujin, who is watching you both with an intensely aroused, almost predatory gleam in her eyes. "Fuck," you breathe out, the word rough. "Seeing you like this," you nod towards Rei, still trembling slightly on your lap, "and hearing you talk like that," you glance at Yujin, acknowledging her filthy commentary and the power dynamic she established, "...you're both making me so fucking horny right now, it actually hurts."

The proof is undeniable, straining painfully against the inside of your swim shorts, pressed firmly against Rei’s soft backside. Action feels necessary, immediate. You gently take Rei's wrist, lifting her hand from your shoulder where it had been clutching tightly. Still holding her gaze, you guide her hand down through the warm water, pressing her palm flat against the thick, hard ridge of your erection straining beneath the damp fabric of your shorts. Her eyes fly wide open as her fingers make contact, a soft gasp escaping her lips. It takes her a second to process, then her fingers tentatively curl, closing around your length through the material. Even muffled by the fabric, the size and sheer hardness is obvious.

Her eyes widen further in genuine surprise, maybe even a little intimidation, before fascination takes over. Her fingers tighten, giving you an experimental squeeze, testing the feel of you. You watch her face, see the flicker of awe mixed with burgeoning, greedy curiosity. "You want this, Rei?" you ask, making sure Yujin can hear too. You push your hips forward slightly, letting Rei feel the full extent of your hardness pulsing against her palm. "Feel how hard you both make me?" Rei's breath hitches. She looks from her hand gripping your cock, up to your eyes, then maybe a quick, uncertain glance towards Yujin who nods almost imperceptibly, giving silent permission. Rei turns back to you, her eyes dark with newfound determination and undeniable lust. "Yes," she breathes. "God, yes… very much…"

Her confirmation is all you need. "Okay," you say softly, carefully easing Rei off your lap, helping her settle onto the submerged ledge beside where Yujin sits. Rei seems reluctant to let go, her eyes fixed on your groin. You stand up slightly in the hot water, ignoring the sudden rush of cooler air on your upper body, and quickly peel off your wet swim shorts, tossing them carelessly on the deck.

The second your cock springs free—thick, long, throbbing with blood and arousal—it draws a visible reaction. Rei’s lips part with a sharp little inhale, and Yujin's gaze drops instantly, lashes lowering with heat. You step up to the stone edge, placing one foot out of the spring, bracing it wide, grounding yourself, hips tilted just slightly forward. You know what you look like right now: cock hard and hanging heavy, glistening, your whole body haloed by steam and hunger.

“Come here,” you say. “Come suck.”

They don’t hesitate.

Yujin is first to move, slicking her soaked hair back as she wades forward, her eyes fixed to the way your cock twitches at the command. Rei’s right behind, crawling through the water like it’s instinctive, like her body doesn’t even require conscious thought anymore. She settles in beside Yujin, the two of them kneeling just at the lip of the spring, hands gripping the stone edge as they lean into you.

Yujin’s lips part as she leans in, but Rei beats her to it.

“Oh my god,” she whispers, almost reverently, breath warm as it ghosts across the head of your cock. “It’s huge…” She wraps a small, wet hand around your base, unable to fully close her fingers around it, and looks up at you like she’s discovered a secret meant only for her. “You weren’t kidding, unnie,” she murmurs without breaking eye contact. “You told me he was big, but… fuck. He’s thick. It’s so… hot.”

Your cock twitches hard in her hand, veins bulging under her fingers as she strokes you slowly, getting used to the heft, the weight of you. Yujin just grins, watching her like she’s proud of a new recruit.

“Told you,” Yujin says, inching closer. Her hand joins Rei’s, wrapping around the upper half of your shaft, and the two of them begin to stroke in sync—Rei near the base, Yujin working the upper half, their small hands overlapping, warm and slick from the spring. “He’s addictive. Just wait till you taste him.”

Rei’s breath catches, and she leans in, lips brushing the tip, kissing it like she’s testing heat from a fire. Then her mouth opens and she takes just the head into her mouth, slow, wide, soft lips forming a seal around your swollen tip. The warmth of her mouth makes your hips flex, your hands curling into fists at your sides. She lets out a soft, muffled moan, cheeks hollowing as she sinks down a little deeper.

Yujin doesn’t wait her turn—her mouth finds your balls, her tongue tracing slow, teasing circles over the sensitive skin before pulling one into her mouth with a hum of satisfaction.

“God, fuck,” you mutter, breath catching in your throat, stomach tightening as you watch them both worship you. Rei’s head bobs slow, tentative but eager, her mouth stretching wider every time she sinks a little deeper. She drools easily, spit rolling down your cock in messy strands, painting you wet and shiny. Yujin's sucking hard now, one hand gently massaging your other ball, and the contrast—Rei’s tight little mouth above, Yujin’s skilled tongue below—makes your knees tremble.

Rei pulls off with a gasp, strings of spit clinging between her lips and your cock, her eyes wide and wild. “It barely fits,” she breathes, stroking your length with both hands now, licking her lips like she’s starving. “It’s fucking perfect. Like… thick enough to make my jaw ache.”

Yujin chuckles, leaning in to lick a long stripe up the underside of your cock from base to tip, tongue flattening against the thick vein that pulses along it. “Bet your throat stretches around him,” she says to Rei. “Let me show you how deep he goes.”

Before Rei can reply, Yujin takes over, her mouth wrapping around your cock and sliding down like she knows exactly what she’s doing—and of course, she does. She takes more in one go than Rei managed, her lips sinking halfway down your shaft in one wet, practiced glide. She moans around you, vibrations rolling up your cock, eyes fluttering shut with bliss.

“Shit, baby,” you groan, reaching down to push her damp hair off her face, watching it cling to her cheeks. “That mouth is gonna make me lose it if you keep that up.”

Rei stares, spellbound, her fingers still wrapped tight around your base. “You’re seriously deepthroating him,” she says in awe, her free hand sliding down to her own chest, palm rubbing over the swell of one breast through the soaked bikini. “That’s so hot. I want to try.”

Yujin pulls off with a slick pop, grinning up at you, her lips red and swollen. “Tag team?”

You just nod, hips twitching, cock soaked and gleaming with their spit, twitching again when Rei leans in, licking a circle around your tip before slowly sinking down again, her tongue moving like she’s mapping every inch. Yujin stays low, trailing wet kisses along your balls and inner thighs, her fingers slipping between Rei’s stroking hands to cup your base.

“God, you taste amazing,” Rei whispers, looking up at you through thick lashes, her mouth returning to your cock without waiting for an answer. Her lips part and she sinks a little deeper this time, gagging slightly but not pulling away.

You’re groaning now, hips flexing forward in short, shallow thrusts, letting your cock nudge against the back of her throat just once—just enough to make her moan around you and pull back again, gasping for air.

Yujin leans up beside her, licking the side of your shaft before pressing her cheek to Rei’s. “Good girl,” she whispers. “You’re taking him so well. Bet your pussy’s soaking just from having his cock in your mouth.”

Rei whines, rubbing her thighs together beneath the water, still bobbing slowly on your cock, her hands trembling where they grip your hips.

Your hand slides down, fingers curling under her chin, lifting her off your cock with slow, wet resistance. Her lips pop off with a breathy gasp, her eyes glazed, mouth red and glistening. She licks the spit off her bottom lip like it’s sugar.

“Let’s take it further,” you say.

And both their eyes light up—Rei’s with wonder. Yujin’s with knowing.

Rei starts sucking your cock again, her lips stretched wide around your length, face flushed, her dark lashes fluttering every time your tip presses against the soft resistance at the back of her throat. Her tiny hand cradles your balls delicately, almost reverently, fingers splayed, palm warm against the slick weight of them. She’s trembling slightly, maybe from the heat, maybe from the way her mouth is completely full of your thick cock. Either way, the image is obscene, perfect—her soft cheeks bulging, eyes watery, her petite face dwarfed by the sheer size of you.

And she’s trying. Desperately. Gagging now and then, but not pulling back. Moaning low, the vibrations wrapping around your shaft, her lips soaked with spit and determination.

Yujin crouches beside her, one hand casually braced on Rei’s shoulder, the other gently stroking through her hair, occasionally slipping down to cup the side of her face, steady her. "Look at her," she murmurs, her breath hitting your thigh as she leans in. “Such a good girl. Taking that fat cock so deep already.” Her tongue flicks across her lips, eyes gleaming with heat. “You like that, baby? You like seeing our sweet little Rei choking on your dick?”

You groan, the sound guttural, involuntary. “Fuck yes.”

The heat coils tighter in your belly as you grip Rei’s jaw gently, guiding her mouth back to your cock, and this time—this time you don’t wait for her rhythm. You move. You slide in deeper, pushing past the resistance of her lips, her tongue, the soft clamp of her throat. She makes a surprised sound, a muffled whimper as her hands clutch at your thighs, but she doesn’t pull away. Her lips seal instinctively around you again as you push, slow at first, testing how far she’ll let you in.

And then you thrust.

Harder.

Faster.

Rei’s moan turns into a wet, choking sound, tears instantly springing to the corners of her wide eyes. You watch, transfixed, as your cock stretches her jaw, disappears between her lips again and again, her throat working frantically to take you. Her small, perfect face becomes a canvas for your desire—spit streaming down her chin, cheeks flushing deep pink, eyeliner starting to smear from the pressure building behind her eyes.

Yujin’s voice snakes up beside you, dirty and low. “That’s it. Fuck her face. Use that pretty little mouth.” Her grip tightens in Rei’s hair, not yanking, just anchoring her in place. “Don’t be shy, baby. She can take it. She wants it, look at her.”

You do. Rei looks up through the blur of tears and spit, and the expression in her eyes is devastating—need, submission, that messy pride of making you this desperate, this wild. She gags again as you bottom out in her throat, but her hands don’t push you away. She stays still for it, lets you rock your hips and fuck her mouth just the way you need. Her moans are guttural now, rising every time you slide deep into her throat and hold for a breathless moment before pulling back.

You can’t stop.

Every time you draw back and see the trail of spit that clings to your cock, the glisten of it painting her lips, it makes you growl—low and hot and feral. Her jaw is working to keep up, her face messy and slick, completely ruined for you. And Yujin—Yujin fucking loves it. Her hand strokes Rei’s cheek while her other dips between Rei’s legs, unseen beneath the bubbling surface of the water, but the sharp little gasps that break free between chokes tell you she’s not just comforting her.

“You’re making her so wet,” Yujin breathes, eyes half-lidded. “She’s so horny, I can feel it. Just from getting her throat used like this. Fuck, babe. She’s so fucking into it. You feel how she moans around your cock? She’s gonna cum just from this, just from choking on you.”

That image sears into your brain. Rei on her knees, sobbing, gagging, coming with nothing but your cock down her throat and Yujin’s fingers in her soaked cunt. You fuck her mouth deeper, harder, a few short brutal thrusts that make her gurgle and spasm, her eyes rolling up slightly. She coughs and chokes, but doesn’t pull back. Her nose presses against your pelvis, breath coming in desperate little hitches between thrusts.

“God—Rei,” you groan, your hand tightening at the base of her skull, your hips still grinding forward. “You’re fucking amazing.”

Yujin presses a kiss to the crown of Rei’s head, still holding her steady, her voice soft but edged with something twisted and proud. “That’s right, princess. Take it all. Let him use you.”

Rei lets out a strangled, needy whimper as she forces her eyes to look up again, lips stretched wide, tears tracking down her cheeks now. You don’t stop. Her throat is tight around you, wet and desperate and swallowing you again and again as you fuck into her with deep, powerful strokes.

“You gonna cum down her throat?” Yujin whispers beside you, licking her lips as she watches Rei drool around your cock. “You gonna stuff her little tummy full of your cum, huh? Let her feel it flood inside her? You know she’ll swallow every drop. She’d beg for it.” She shifts closer, one hand cupping your balls with slow, teasing strokes as Rei gags again, helpless, obedient. “I’d watch. I’d rub myself raw watching you finish in her mouth.”

Your control hangs by a fucking thread. Rei is a mess beneath you now, her mouth stretched red, spit pouring, eyes swimming—but she’s not stopping. She’s moaning around your cock like she loves it, even as she chokes, even as her throat spasms.

You don’t stop. You fuck her mouth harder.

You make her take it…

Your rhythm gets brutal. The slap of your hips against Rei’s flushed face echoes off the wood deck like a metronome set to ruin. You hold her by the back of the head now, no pretense of gentleness—just raw, driving need. Her lips are red and shiny, stretched to their limit, her cheeks stained with tears and saliva, your cock disappearing into the tight heat of her throat over and over with unrelenting force. She gags again, full-body spasms racking her frame, and you still don’t stop. Her hands are gripping your thighs, nails digging in as she tries to brace herself for the next deep thrust, her tiny form jolting with every fuck-deep stroke you feed her.

And then—she looks up.

Her eyes lock on yours, glassy, wet, completely wrecked and yet still wide open.

Wanting. Needing.

That look shoots straight down your spine like a lightning bolt. Something cracks inside you, a pressure that’s been building with every choking gasp, every wet drag of her lips, and it detonates in your gut.

“Fuck—” you grunt, your hand twisting in her hair, holding her face right where you want it. “I’m gonna cum—”

Yujin gasps beside you, like she’s been waiting to hear those exact words. Her tone is ragged now, laced with lust so thick it could choke. “Yes—fuck yes, baby, cum in her mouth. Give it to her. Stuff that little throat full. She’ll swallow it all.” Her fingers are already pulling her one-piece aside, the sleek black fabric dragged across her hip so she can slide two fingers directly into the slick mess between her thighs. “Look at her. She’s ready for it. She wants every fucking drop.”

Rei makes a choked noise around your cock, a garbled moan that shudders through your shaft as her throat clenches in anticipation. Her eyes never leave yours. She knows what she’s doing to you. Your hips jerk forward, faster now, desperate, out of control. You don’t care that she’s gagging, that her body convulses every time you push deep. She’s not stopping. She wants this.

Yujin’s hand is working between her thighs now, her other hand on Rei’s head, holding her steady as you use her mouth like a cock sleeve. Her lips part on a gasp. “Cum, baby,” she whispers, voice full of filth and adoration. “Cum in her mouth. Let her taste it. Fill her up so full she has no choice but to swallow every fucking drop. She’ll do it. She’s so good. Such a good little cocksucker for us.”

That’s it. That’s the last thread gone.

Your whole body locks. You push in deep, balls slapping wet against her chin, burying yourself fully down her throat. Her nose presses flush to your pelvis, her throat a tight, spasming vice around your cock—and then you explode.

“Fuck—fuck, take it—”

Thick jets of cum shoot down her throat, your cock twitching violently with every pulse, unloading more than you thought you even had in you. Rei chokes, spasms, her throat working frantically to swallow around your cock. She moans around it, eyes rolling back slightly, face flushed and raw and so fucking obedient as she gulps every single drop you feed her.

Yujin’s watching, panting, two fingers fucking herself hard and fast as she murmurs, “That’s it, swallow it—good girl, good fucking girl, don’t waste a drop—” Her own hips are jerking against her hand, the slap of fingers on wet flesh lost under the growl of your release.

You stay buried in Rei’s mouth until the last pulse fades, your thighs trembling, your hand still knotted in her hair. When you finally pull back, a long string of spit and seed clings from her lips to your cock before snapping, falling to her chin in a viscous trail. Rei gasps for air, coughing slightly, but she swallows again, visibly, her tongue darting out to catch the last of your mess. Her lips are puffy, cheeks shiny with tears, but she looks—fucking blissed out.

Yujin’s still panting, her hand shaking as she rubs herself through the aftershocks of her own orgasm. Then she leans forward, still flushed and glowing, and reaches down with one hand, tilting Rei’s chin up gently.

“Tongue out,” Yujin says softly. “Show me.”

Rei obeys instantly, her mouth falling open, tongue extended—wet, pink, glistening with spit and cum.

Yujin moans.

She leans in, pressing her mouth to Rei’s, not a kiss—no, this is something else entirely. She sucks on Rei’s tongue, slow and dirty, her lips sealing over it, her cheeks hollowing as she drinks the remnants of your cum from Rei’s mouth like it’s her fucking reward.

Rei moans again, hands twitching in the water, her whole body visibly shuddering from the sheer intensity. When Yujin finishes, chin drooling, Rei gasps for air, looking completely ruined, yet entirely hot.

“So,” Yujin says softly against Rei’s ear, “what’d you think?” Her hand drifts up, knuckles grazing the side of Rei’s neck, fingers trailing back down the curve of her spine. “You like being used like that? Mouth full of cock, throat stuffed like a little toy?”

Rei lets out a shaky laugh, cheeks coloring deeper, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she runs her hand up your thigh, fingers grazing the inside, slow and teasing, until she’s just beneath your cock again, her palm flat against your skin, dangerously close. She glances up at you, lips still wet, and that shy-turned-hungry smile spreads across her face like she’s only just realizing how much she loved it.

“I felt… so slutty,” she admits, almost breathless. “Like I was just a thing. A plaything for you. It was…” Her fingertips slide higher, brushing your balls with delicate, lingering pressure. “It was hot.” Her eyes search yours, equal parts reverent and mischievous. “Was it good for you?”

You reach down, gently cradling her cheek in one hand, thumb brushing across her damp jaw as you lean in. She closes her eyes, tilting into the touch. You press a kiss to her forehead, slow and warm. “It was perfect,” you murmur.

Then she feels it—your cock, still hard, still heavy, throbbing just inches from her face.

You don’t need to say it.

Yujin’s already watching the twitch of your shaft, the tension in your body, the way your hips are still subtly tilted forward like you’re fighting not to grind against Rei’s hand. “Mmm,” she hums, lips brushing Rei’s shoulder. “Still so hard… Guess you’re not done with us yet, huh?” She meets your eyes with a wicked grin. “You still have a lot of cum to give, don’t you?”

You nod slowly, jaw tight, blood still pumping hot with need.

“Then come on,” Yujin says, standing up and pulling Rei with her, water cascading down both their bodies in glistening streams. “Inside. It’s freezing out here and I want more to fuck without slipping into the damn hot spring.”

You laugh under your breath, grabbing a towel where you left it around the hot spring. Rei stumbles slightly, still a little dazed from the throatfucking, and Yujin steadies her with one arm, pulling her close as you wrap the towel around your waist. You grab another for the girls, slinging it around their shoulders like a shared cocoon, all three of you huddled together as you hurry across the deck. The cold wind slices at your skin, but you barely feel it. The only real heat lives between your legs and in the way both of them press against you—Rei at your left side, damp hair clinging to her neck, and Yujin at your right, one hand tucked low against your back, fingers sneaking lower.

You reach the door and stumble inside, laughing as you kick it shut behind you. The warmth hits instantly, the heat from the fire wrapping around your bodies. The towel clings wetly to your thighs. You’re still dripping, still slightly shivering, but that doesn't matter because you’re already pulling them toward the bedroom, your free hand tangled in Yujin’s.

The bed swallows you as you drop back onto it, not even bothering to pull the covers back. The girls land beside you, Rei’s towel slipping off her shoulders, baring one flushed shoulder, the curve of her breast peeking out. You catch her, hand sliding behind her neck as you pull her in for a kiss. Her lips are soft and wet and still taste faintly of you. Her body presses into yours, towel loosening, the curve of her hip against your bare side.

You break the kiss and turn to Yujin, who’s already crawling up your chest like a predator, straddling your waist. You pull her down, mouth colliding with hers in something rougher, deeper. Tongues slide. Teeth graze. She moans into you, grinding her hips slowly against your stomach.

Then you pull both of them in—arms around their waists—and your mouths meet in a chaotic tangle. A triple kiss, hot and messy, your tongues brushing, lips dragging, breathing in each other’s heat. It’s clumsy in the best way—spit-slicked and uncoordinated and absolutely filthy. Rei moans softly into your mouth, then turns her head slightly and kisses Yujin, their lips pressing together in a quiet gasp, and you just watch, heart pounding, cock pulsing, as the two of them fall into each other’s mouths like they were always meant to.

“Mmh,” you murmur, reaching between them to cup Rei’s ass, giving it a slow, possessive squeeze. “Take off the swimsuits.” Your cock is already twitching in your hand, precum beading at the tip as you stroke slowly, eyes fixed on the girls as they scramble to obey.

Yujin’s already halfway out of her black one-piece, dragging the fabric over her hips with a sharp tug. She shrugs it down her shoulders and tosses it to the floor, stretching out on the bed naked and glowing, her thick thighs spread just enough to flash a teasing hint of the pink between them. Rei hesitates for a second, Then she unties her bikini top, letting her breasts fall free and heavy, after that she finally takes off her bottom.

And there she is. Fully nude. Finally.

You don’t even try to hide your reaction—your cock throbs violently in your fist at the sight. Her body is delicate, soft curves where you imagined them, her breasts, bigger than Yujin's, are fuller and rounder too, her waist tapering down to a gentle flare of hips, her pussy bare, glistening faintly with the mix of arousal and water. She flushes under your gaze, biting her lip, eyes dropping to your cock like she knows exactly what she’s done to you.

You don’t give her time to second guess.

You grab her, pulling her close, crashing your mouth to hers again. One hand grips her ass—juicy, smooth, perfect in your palm—the other sliding up to cup her breast, your thumb brushing over the pebbled nipple. She gasps into the kiss, hips jerking against yours, her chest rising sharply as you roll the nipple between your fingers.

Then Yujin groans.

“Don’t forget about me, baby!” You can feel the arousal in her voice, needier than she probably means it to sound. “You think I’m gonna just lie here and watch while you play with your new toy?”

You grin, breaking the kiss with Rei, and turn to face her.

“Impossible,” you say simply, crawling between her thighs, lining your cock up with the heat that’s practically dripping from her greedy pussy. “You’re unforgettable.”

Yujin arches into you the second your tip presses against her, her hands flying to her breasts, squeezing them together as you push inside, slow and heavy. She lets out a loud, shameless moan, her head tipping back, mouth open, one leg locking around your waist.

“Fuck—yes, that’s it—fill me up—”

You start thrusting, your rhythm fast from the start, desperate to bury yourself in that velvet heat. Her pussy grips you like it remembers, like it missed you as much as you missed it, and your breath shudders out of you as you drive in harder.

Yujin reaches for Rei, pulling her closer, guiding the girl to straddle her chest. “Come here, baby,” she whispers, mouth already open, eyes hazy. “Let me taste you too.”

Rei moans softly, hips jerking as she moves, and a second later Yujin wraps her lips around one of Rei’s breasts, sucking it deep into her mouth while she’s beneath you, spread wide and soaking wet, her thighs slick with arousal and your cock punching into her over and over in a rhythm that’s pure desperation. Her body rocks up with every thrust, tits bouncing, hands braced on Rei’s waist as she keeps her mouth locked around one perfect breast. Her lips are sealed tight around Rei’s nipple, tongue swirling and flicking with the kind of focused hunger that makes Rei gasp, her fingers tightening in Yujin’s hair, head tipped back in a dazed, helpless moan.

Your hands are gripping Yujin’s hips, pulling her down hard to meet every thrust, drowning in the soft gasps and wet sucking noises filling the air. You’re balls-deep, your cock practically dragging her moans out of her with every stroke, and she’s so fucking tight around you—like her pussy is trying to milk every ounce of cum out of your body, even though you’ve barely recovered from the last time.

“Fuck,” Yujin groans, lips slick with spit and soft pink skin as she pulls back from Rei’s chest just for a breath, then dives right back in with a growl, dragging her tongue across the other breast. “Taste so good. Don’t stop, baby.”

Rei’s thighs tremble as she shifts forward, her body flush against Yujin’s, straddling her chest while you pound into her from below. Her hand trails down, fingertips feathering along Yujin’s stomach, nails grazing lower until she finds the swollen cunt between Yujin’s thighs. You feel her touch even from where you are, your cock brushing the edge of her fingers as she slides them across Yujin’s clit in slow, deliberate circles.

Yujin’s reaction is instant.

She cries out, arching her back hard, her tits pressing up into Rei’s mouth, the sudden pulse of pleasure making her tighten around you like a fist. “Shit—yes—right there, keep going!” she gasps, grinding herself against Rei’s hand even as she tries to fuck herself harder on your cock. “Don’t stop, don’t fucking stop—”

Rei’s breath hitches, her fingers working faster now, slipping through the flood of wetness as her thumb flicks Yujin’s clit with practiced precision. Her voice is breathless, reverent. “You’re so beautiful like this, unnie,” she whispers, eyes fixed on Yujin’s flushed face, her parted lips, the tears beading at the corners of her eyes from the intensity. “Getting fucked like this… moaning for his cock, clenching so tight… it’s making me so fucking horny.”

Yujin lets out a choked moan, her hips jerking violently between you both, your cock slamming deep as her cunt contracts around you like she’s on the edge. Her hands claw at the sheets, at Rei’s hips, her teeth grazing Rei’s nipple as she bites down lightly, overwhelmed by the dual assault of your cock pounding into her and Rei’s fingers teasing her clit with such focused intent.

“You hear that?” you growl, leaning down to press your chest to Yujin’s, your lips brushing her ear. “You’ve got her dripping just watching you get ruined on my cock.”

Yujin nods frantically, her legs spreading wider, her heels digging into the mattress. “Yeah—fuck, I can feel it—feels so fucking good—I’m gonna—”

But she doesn’t finish the sentence. Rei’s fingers are too precise, too hungry, and your pace doesn’t let up for a second. You slam into her again and again, her body jerking under yours, her cunt fluttering around you in a frantic, desperate rhythm. Rei moans softly as Yujin sucks harder on her breast, her own thighs grinding against Yujin’s stomach, every one of her senses lit on fire by the sight of her unnie breaking apart beneath you.

And still—you don’t stop.

Yujin’s body is shaking now, her moans slipping into helpless little cries that bounce off the bedroom walls, every breath stuttering through clenched teeth as your cock drills into her harder, deeper, without pause. Her eyes are half-lidded, mouth open, drool smeared on her bottom lip, and her fingers claw at the sheets like they might anchor her through the hurricane you and Rei are dragging her into. Her thighs tremble around your waist, flexing and locking every few seconds like she’s fighting off the inevitable—like her orgasm’s already coiling hard in her core, just waiting for permission to destroy her.

And you and Rei? You’re fucking relentless.

You pound into her with wild, piston-like thrusts, hips snapping forward as you bury your cock again and again in her slick, greedy pussy. She's soaked, you can feel it with every wet slap of your bodies—feel the obscene gush of her arousal coating your length, dripping down your balls. Rei hasn’t moved from between Yujin’s thighs, her fingers circling her clit with expert rhythm, her other hand groping Yujin’s tits, squeezing and slapping them playfully, watching the way they bounce with each thrust you give her. Her eyes are wide with hunger, her mouth parted as she pants against Yujin’s stomach.

Yujin screams through her teeth, her voice raw. “Fuck—fuck—I’m close—so fucking close—”

You lean in, grabbing her by the jaw, making her look at you. “Yeah? You gonna cum for me, baby?” you snarl, grinding your hips deep. “You gonna cum all over my cock like a good fucking slut?”

Rei's giggle is high and bright, but there’s a filthy edge to it, a manic kind of thrill in her tone as she presses harder against Yujin’s clit. “She is, she’s so close,” Rei coos, licking her fingers to taste Yunjin's juices and then returning the relentless assault. “Look at her. Fucking wrecked. She’s gonna explode just from us using her. You gonna cum, unnie?” Her fingers slap Yujin’s clit once, a sharp flick that makes her jolt, back arching off the bed. “You gonna make a mess for us?”

“Say it,” you growl, fucking her harder. “Say it, cum for me.”

“Do it, slut,” Rei spits, her tone suddenly darker, filthier. “Cum like the whore you are. You love this, don’t you? Getting fucked like a bitch in heat. Getting used by your dongsaeng and your man like a cheap little cumrag.”

Yujin’s eyes flutter back in her head, a long, trembling moan spilling from her throat. “Yes—yes—I’m your fucking whore——I don’t care, just don’t stop—please, don’t stop—”

Rei's dirty talk turns savage, insatiable, you can hardly recognize her. “That’s right. Take it, slut. Let everyone see how much of a mess you are. Getting pounded like a dumb little toy, drooling like a dog. Bet your pussy’s gonna squirt all over the bed, huh? Gonna fucking soak us, unnie?”

“Cum for us,” you demand, breath burning through your chest as your cock slams into her again, again, again. “Fucking cum—now.”

Rei’s voice layers on top of yours, teasing, cruel, loving it. “Do it, unnie—cum on his cock like a little whore, make a fucking mess—cum—”

Yujin breaks.

She screams—no words, just pure noise, the kind that comes from deep in the gut, primal and raw—and her body locks up beneath you, thighs squeezing around your waist as her pussy spasms violently around your cock. Then it hits—hard—a sudden gush that blasts out of her, hot and wet, soaking your hips, your stomach, the sheets beneath her.

“FUCK—she’s squirting,” Rei shrieks, laughing in breathless delight, pulling her hand back to watch Yujin’s orgasm drench everything. “Oh my god, you’re squirting for us, you filthy little slut—fuck, that’s hot—”

The bed is soaked, dripping with the force of it, and still you keep fucking her, your cock driving through the spasms of her climax like you’re determined to draw every drop of pleasure out of her trembling body. Her hands are limp beside her head, fists curled into the sheets, her chest heaving with every gasping breath, her mouth slack and smiling, glowing with fucked-out bliss.

Rei's crawling up beside her now, brushing the wet hair from her face, giggling softly as she kisses her cheek. “So fucking pretty like this,” she whispers, tracing her fingers along the mess between Yujin’s thighs. “You’re perfect when you cum like that. You’re our perfect little cumslut.”

Yujin just sighs, her eyelids fluttering, her lips curling into a lazy, satisfied smile. “I love you both,” she murmurs. “So fucking much.”

Her skin glowing with sweat and afterglow, her inner thighs glistening with her own juices. Her breath comes in soft little sighs, each exhale a ripple of contentment across her flushed lips. But her eyes—they’re sharp now, glinting with a familiar spark as they shift from you to Rei. Rei’s sitting on her knees beside her, hair tousled, still giggling under her breath, clearly reveling in the chaos of Yujin's explosive orgasm, fingers tracing random shapes across the wet sheets like a girl who’s just watched her favorite fireworks show and wants it all over again.

Yujin watches her with a tilt of her head, her lips curling up slowly into something delicious. “You know…” she says in a warm voice, a little hoarse, “I think Rei might be getting a little too comfortable calling me a whore.”

That catches Rei’s attention immediately. She blinks, straightens up slightly, eyes flicking to you, then back to Yujin. “I was just… helping,” she says with mock innocence, but her smirk betrays her.

Yeah. She’s definitely not sorry.

You glance at Yujin, eyebrow raised, and she grins up at you. “Don’t you think our little baby here’s being a bit bossy? Throwing all that dirty talk around like she forgot who the real slut is?”

You chuckle, rolling your hips slowly into Yujin one last time before pulling out, your cock heavy and still hard, glistening with her juices. “I do,” you say, meeting Rei’s gaze. “Sounds like someone needs a reminder about her place.”

Rei’s expression falters for just a second—her breath catches, her thighs clench subtly—and then her tongue darts out across her bottom lip.

“W-what do you mean?”

Yujin hums, her hand reaching out to stroke Rei’s cheek. “It means, baby girl, you forgot that I’m your unnie,” she says sweetly. “And you don’t get to call me names like that unless we tell you to.” Her fingers trail down to Rei’s lips, thumb brushing her lower one. “So I think it’s time you show a little respect, don’t you?”

You nod, shifting on the bed, your hand tangling in Rei’s hair. “Start by cleaning her up,” you say, firm and low. “That pussy’s a mess because of you. Lick her clean. Use that filthy little mouth for something useful.”

Rei hesitates for half a beat. Then, slowly, deliberately, she crawls down Yujin’s body, eyes never leaving yours. She settles between her unnie’s thighs, her hands sliding under Yujin’s knees to hold her open, and lowers her face.

The second her tongue flicks out and brushes across Yujin’s oversensitive clit, Yujin’s entire body jerks.

“Fuck—” she hisses, hips twitching violently. “Oh my god—so sensitive—”

But she doesn’t stop her. In fact, her legs fall wider apart, trembling slightly, breath ragged. Rei’s tongue moves slowly, almost reverently at first, lapping up every trace of cum and slick smeared across Yujin’s swollen folds. Her mouth shines with it within seconds, spit and juice and sweat painting her chin as she dives in deeper, tongue curling through Yujin’s folds, licking around her clit, flicking across the soft skin just below.

Yujin moans, hands fisting in the sheets. “Holy shit, baby girl… You’re lucky I’m not too wrecked to push you off—fuck—right there—”

Rei moans softly, her own thighs rubbing together as she licks Yujin clean, slowly, thoroughly, like she’s savoring every drop. Her hands keep Yujin’s legs open even as they twitch and quake, her tongue moving with agonizing patience over every inch of her unnie’s cunt.

Finally, when Yujin pushes at her head with a shuddering breath, too sensitive to take more, Rei pulls back—her lips glossy, cheeks flushed, her mouth open and panting. She looks up at you for approval, eyes wide and pupils blown, her mouth slick and pink.

You reach down and cup her jaw, pulling her in close. You kiss her—deep and dirty, tongue sliding into her mouth to taste your girl’s cum straight from her tongue. She melts into it instantly, moaning against your lips, her hands gripping your arms for balance.

“Good girl,” you murmur against her mouth. “You clean your unnie up so sweet.”

You shift on the bed, stretching out onto your back. Yujin smiles and rolls to the side, still catching her breath, propped up on her elbow to watch. You pat your thigh, eyes locked on Rei. “Now ride me. Let me feel that tight little pussy.”

Rei’s breath catches, eyes wide as she moves into position. She swings one leg over your hips, straddling you. Her hands plant on your chest, and she lines herself up—gripping your cock in one shaking hand and guiding the head to her soaked slit. You both groan at the contact.

She lowers herself slowly, inch by inch, and the tight heat of her pussy wraps around your cock like a vice.

“Shit,” you groan, your head tipping back. “Fucking tight—Jesus—”

Rei gasps, mouth open as she sinks down fully, her walls stretching wide to take your full length. Her nails dig into your chest, her entire body shaking as she bottoms out, your cock pulsing inside her.

“Oh my god,” she moans, hips trembling. “I—he’s so big—I feel so full—”

She sits there for a second, breath stuttering, getting used to it. Then, slowly, achingly, she starts to move—lifting her hips an inch, then sliding back down. Over and over, slow and shallow, her body adjusting to the stretch, her breath catching every time your cock brushes deep inside her.

Yujin watches with that wicked smile returning, eyes glued to where your bodies meet. “Look at her,” she purrs, reaching out to run her hand down Rei’s spine. “Fucking herself on that cock like she was made for it.”

And you don’t disagree.

Because Rei looks like she was made to be fucked just like this.

Rei begins to move with more confidence, her breath soft and fluttering with each bounce, hips rolling into a rhythm that makes her moan louder with every rise and fall. Her knees dig into the mattress on either side of your thighs, thighs flexing, slick skin catching the low firelight as she works herself down your cock with growing need. She’s tight, unbelievably so, her pussy stretching just enough to take you, her inner walls clenching around you like they want to keep every inch buried inside. The sounds—wet, obscene, addicting—mix with her whimpers, the slap of her hips against yours, the breathy gasps that escape her parted lips every time your cock punches up into that spot that makes her whole body twitch.

You grip her waist, thumbs digging into the soft dip above her hips, guiding her, not controlling—just giving her something to grind against. And fuck does she grind. Her pace picks up, small moans catching in her throat, her head falling back as she bounces a little harder, a little deeper. Her hair sticks to her neck and shoulders, her breasts rising and falling with each thrust.

Yujin’s watching, eyes hungry, a slow grin curving across her lips. She shifts up onto her knees, scooting closer until her chest presses against Rei’s back. Her hands reach around, cupping Rei’s tits, squeezing them roughly. Rei lets out a sharp gasp, arching against her, grinding your cock even deeper inside herself.

“Mmm,” Yujin hums, kissing the curve of Rei’s neck, her fingers pinching lightly at her nipples. “Tell me, isn't his cock better than my fingers, baby?” she whispers, sliding one hand down to press against Rei’s belly, feeling how deep you’re inside her. “Still think they feel better than his cock?”

Rei’s head tips forward, lips trembling. “N-no,” she gasps, voice high and shaking. “Nothing—nothing’s better than this. Than him.”

Yujin bites at her shoulder lightly, dragging her tongue across the red mark left behind. “That’s what I thought.” Her hand snakes back up, fingers rolling Rei’s nipples again, harder now, making her whimper and clench around you. “You look so fucking hot like this, getting ruined on his cock.”

You groan, hands sliding up Rei’s sides to meet Yujin’s, fingers brushing, the three of you moving together like a machine of heat and rhythm. Rei keeps riding, her moans getting louder, sharper, her body rocking forward every time your hips meet hers. You thrust up to meet her now, hard and deep, the rhythm intensifying until the wet slap of skin is constant, echoing through the room.

Yujin laughs softly, catching the way your jaw tightens, your eyes locked to where your cock disappears into Rei’s soaked pussy. She reaches down and brushes her fingers across your cheek, dragging your attention up to her face.

“You like watching her ride you, huh?” she says with a voice like velvet, sultry and knowing. “Like seeing our little toy bounce on your cock like she’s starving for it.”

You let out a low groan, hips jerking up harder into Rei, making her cry out and collapse forward against your chest.

“She’s perfect,” you breathe, your hands gripping Rei’s hips harder now, keeping her locked in your rhythm. “Fuck, you’re the best girlfriend in the world, Yujin.”

Yujin giggles, delighted, her lips brushing your jaw. “Damn right I am.” She leans down to kiss you, slow and deep, her tongue curling against yours, wet and hot and tasting like sex. Rei’s still riding through it, gasping between you both, her breath stuttering against your neck as her cunt milks your cock with every thrust.

You break the kiss just in time to watch her sit up again, her face pink and glowing, her body slick with sweat. She grinds down harder now, her pussy gripping you tighter, her rhythm more frantic, needier. Her hands press to your chest, nails raking slightly as she tries to steady herself, to keep control, but she’s unraveling—every second on your cock breaking her down more.

Yujin leans forward again, wrapping her arms around Rei from behind, pulling her flush to her chest. “Don’t slow down now, baby,” she whispers, lips brushing Rei’s ear. “Show him how good that tight little cunt of yours is. Make him lose his fucking mind.”

Rei moans, louder than before, her entire body jolting as she rides harder, faster. She rides you like she’s unraveling, hips jerking faster, sloppier, every grind more desperate than the last. Her moans have lost all inhibition—high, sweet, sharp little cries that echo off the walls, spiraling up through the rafters of the mountain home and disappearing into the cold air beyond the glass. She’s not holding back anymore. Every bounce makes her whimper, her thighs clapping down against yours, sweat glistening along the curve of her spine. Her tits sway with every frantic motion, her hands splayed on your chest as she fucks herself on your cock like she’s chasing something too big for her little body to hold.

“I—fuck—I’m close,” she gasps, eyes fluttering shut, head tilting back as her voice cracks on the confession. “So close—”

And god, hearing that, feeling how wet she’s gotten, how tight her pussy’s squeezing you like a vice, like she’s trying to hold you inside forever—it does something to you. The idea that she’s about to cum this fast, just from riding you, just from being watched and used and praised, carves itself into your memory. You know you'll use this to your advantage later.

You drag your hands up her sides, gripping her waist tight, halting her just enough to make her whimper in protest.

“Turn around,” you say. “I want to see that perfect ass swallowing my cock while you cum.”

Rei doesn’t hesitate. She bites her lip, nods quickly, and lifts herself off you with a breathless moan, your cock slipping free, drenched in her slick. She pivots around, her knees pressing to either side of your hips, her back now to your chest. She looks over her shoulder once, cheeks red, hair clinging to her damp skin, eyes glassy with submission.

And then she sinks back down.

You groan like you’re being pulled under water—her pussy splits around your cock again, tight and soaking, the new angle even more punishing. Her ass presses down against your pelvis, and fuck, it’s perfect. Juicy, round, the way it bounces with every move—it’s hypnotic. You can see everything now. The pink stretch of her cunt around you, the soft ring of her hole hugging your shaft like it was made for you. Every grind, every bounce, lets you watch her fuck herself open in real time.

“Holy fuck,” you hiss, hands grabbing handfuls of her hips as you push up into her. “You’re so fucking tight, baby.”

Yujin lets out a low whistle from beside you. “Damn,” she says, kneeling behind her, eyes locked on the way Rei’s pussy grips your cock. “That ass is unreal.”

Then she slaps it. Hard.

Rei jolts, letting out a surprised cry, her whole body shaking from the impact. Yujin grins, slapping her again, the sound sharp, obscene.

“Faster,” she commands, dragging her nails across Rei’s back. “I said faster, slut. Don’t slow down now. You’re about to cum, right? Show him how desperate you are.”

Rei lets out a broken moan, hips snapping faster, the cheeks of her ass bouncing wildly now, jiggling with every impact. Her hands dig into your thighs for leverage, her body working like she’s chasing orgasm with everything she’s got. Yujin leans forward, grabbing a handful of her ass and spreading her open, just to get a better view of your cock slamming into her soaked pussy.

“This your place now, huh?” Yujin sneers, slapping her again. The mark blooms bright red on her pale cheek. “Still think you’re the bossy one? Still wanna call me names?” Her voice drops to a growl, filthy and dripping with delight. “Look at you now. Just a fucktoy, getting your pussy destroyed for our entertainment. Serving daddy like a good little cumdump.”

Rei cries out, her moans high-pitched, shaky, legs trembling as she grinds down hard, trying to stay on rhythm even as her body threatens to fold. “Y-yes—yes, this is my place—want to serve you—want to make you both feel good—”

You slap her other cheek, hard enough to make it bounce and match Yujin’s. “Then fucking keep going,” you growl, your hands now dragging her down, your cock driving up into her with every bounce. “You want to cum? Then show me. Ride me like you mean it.”

Rei’s pace turns frantic, desperate. Her moans turn to cries, sharp and breathless, her hands gripping your knees so tight her knuckles turn white. Yujin’s slaps don’t stop—quick, hard, alternating cheeks, making her ass bloom with bright handprints. Rei’s entire body shudders with each one, her moans rising in pitch.

“You’re so fucking close,” you say. “I can feel it. You’re choking my cock. Don’t you fucking dare stop.”

“Daddy—oh god—fuck—I’m—”

You feel it—first in the subtle quiver of Rei’s thighs, then in the tightening of her pussy around your cock, pulsing rhythmically, almost pleading. Her pace falters for the first time, hips starting to stutter, her cries growing sharper, pitched higher with every bounce. You know that sound. That trembling, fragile edge of control that always shatters a second later. She's about to cum, and it's coming hard.

So you take over.

Your hands clamp down on her waist, dragging her down onto you harder, faster, each thrust slamming into her with force that makes her cry out, her nails digging into your thighs as she tries to brace herself. Her body rocks under the impact, spine arching as your cock pounds up into her, hitting that sweet, devastating spot over and over again.

"Fuck—fuck—he’s fucking me so hard!!" she screams, breathless and wild.

Yujin is right there behind her, her palm cracking against Rei’s already raw ass, loud and sharp. The mark deepens into a blazing red, the flesh bouncing with the blow. Rei howls, her voice breaking with the shock and pleasure. She can’t even stay upright anymore—her back arches, her body trembling like she’s about to break apart completely.

“Oh my god, she’s shaking,” Yujin laughs, breathless herself, her hand striking again, then again. “You’re gonna cum, huh? Gonna cream on his cock, you needy little bitch?” She grabs Rei’s hair, pulls her head back just enough to see her face—eyes fluttering, mouth open, cheeks flushed.

“Say it,” you growl, your hands moving now—spreading her ass open, wide, so you can watch everything. Her swollen pink pussy clenched tight around your cock, her slick dripping down your shaft and balls, and above that—her tight, twitching little asshole winking with every thrust.

The view is obscene. Filthy. Perfect.

Rei screams, her hands slamming against your legs for leverage, her whole body jolting. “I’m cumming—I’m fucking cumming—oh my god—DADDYYY!”

She falls forward with it, collapsing against your chest as her orgasm rips through her. Her pussy clenches violently, sucking at your cock like it’s trying to drain you, her body convulsing with each wave. Her mouth hangs open in a silent scream, her breath caught, eyes rolling back as she trembles through it, completely undone. You hold her in place, grinding your cock deep inside, keeping her filled through every shake.

She’s so tight—too tight—and it nearly breaks you.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you growl, your hands clutching her ass, your hips still rolling up into her softly now, chasing that last spark of heat. “Get off. Now. Lie down.”

Rei shudders one last time, barely able to move, and Yujin helps her off your cock, your length sliding out wet and throbbing. A thick strand of cum and slick clings from her dripping pussy to your cockhead, and your hands are already guiding them both.

“On the bed,” you command. “Heads on the edge. Open those mouths.”

Yujin smirks, moving without hesitation, dragging Rei with her. The girls crawl across the bed, bodies flushed and glistening with sweat, their asses in the air, breasts pressing into the sheets. They lie on their stomachs side by side, faces turned up, heads hanging slightly off the mattress, mouths parting in perfect unison.

Your cock is throbbing, heavy and ready to blow. Their tongues stretch out instinctively, eyes full of eager heat.

You step in close, cock heavy and gleaming, inches from their waiting mouths, and you let it fall against Yujin’s lips first. She smiles without breaking eye contact, licking the tip slowly, deliberately, her tongue circling the crown before flicking up under the frenulum. That single motion almost makes your knees buckle. Her mouth is warm, practiced—she sucks the head in, sealing her lips around it so tight that you almost cum right there.

Then you shift, feeding more to her. She takes a few inches easily, sucking hard enough to make your thighs tense, tongue teasing every ridge and vein as you begin to fuck slowly into her mouth. Wet, obscene sounds rise up between her lips and your cock—every time you push deeper, her throat hums around you, moaning softly like she needs it, like this is how she says thank you.

But it’s Rei who stuns you next.

When you pull from Yujin’s mouth with a soft pop, a thin strand of spit clinging to your tip, Rei tilts her chin higher, holding her mouth open like a good little slut, and you slide in—slow at first, watching the stretch of her lips around your girth, her lashes fluttering as the head pushes over her tongue, then deeper. She doesn’t stop you. She doesn’t flinch.

She swallows everything.

“Fuck—Rei,” you groan, hands gripping her jaw, guiding the pace now as her throat opens and her lips press flush against your base. “You just took it all, huh?”

Her answer is a wet gag and a shiver that rolls down her spine—but she doesn’t pull back. You feel her throat clench, a tremble passing through her whole body, and she moans around your cock, gurgling softly. Her nose is against your pelvis, her lips stretched around you, and it’s all too fucking much.

You start to fuck her throat properly now, pulling back an inch or two before driving back in, over and over, your cock disappearing down her tight, hot throat while Yujin strokes herself beside her, moaning softly as she watches.

“Look at her,” Yujin purrs, reaching out to brush hair back from Rei’s face. “So eager now. You were such a brat earlier, but this? This is your place. Swallowing cock for us. And you’re so fucking good at it.”

Rei moans in response, her eyes fluttering shut as her cheeks hollow. You pull back and slide into Yujin again without warning, and she groans around you, sucking you deep immediately, hands on your thighs for balance, throat flexing as you push deeper. Then Rei is back—she kisses and licks your shaft while Yujin’s mouth works your head, dragging her tongue up your length, kissing your balls, moaning like she’s addicted to your taste.

Each girl begs in her own way. Yujin pulls off just long enough to whisper, “Give it to us, babe. Cover our faces. I want to feel you dripping down my chin.” Then her mouth is back on you.

Rei strokes your shaft when she can, kissing the base, whispering, “Cum for me, daddy. Paint me. I want to wear it.” Her mouth finds your tip again, sloppy and desperate, sucking with the kind of pressure that makes your spine curve.

You can’t hold it anymore.

“Fuck—fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you growl, pulling out of Rei’s mouth with a wet sound. She gasps for air, mouth still open, tongue hanging, eyes wide.

You grip your cock, jerking it fast, tight strokes from base to tip as both girls hold their mouths open, faces tilted up, tongues out, waiting. Their eyes are locked on your hand, then on the head of your cock, and they’re moaning in sync—Yujin panting, Rei whispering “please, please, please—”

And then you explode.

Your cock pulses violently in your fist and thick ropes of cum launch from the tip, hot and heavy, splattering across their faces in long white streaks. Rei flinches as the first shot hits her cheek, then moans when the next hits her lips, dripping down her chin. Yujin gets a thick stream across her nose and mouth, a few drops painting her cheek and lashes. They both gasp, letting it hit them, worship them, mark them.

You keep stroking through it, more spurting out, your thighs trembling as you finally empty yourself, painting them both in messy, dripping ropes. It drips from Rei’s chin onto her breasts, rolls down Yujin’s cheek and pools at her collarbone.

The silence that follows is a different kind of intimate—no rush, no frenzy—just breathless stillness and bodies pressed close. You watch them breathe, watch their chests rise and fall in sync, the flush slowly fading from their cheeks as the afterglow settles in.

Yujin moves first.

With a slow, almost tender touch, she reaches for Rei, brushing her thumb across the corner of her mouth where a thick drop of your release clings. She scoops it gently and brings it to her lips, sucking it clean, eyes locked on Rei’s. “Messy girl,” she murmurs with a faint smirk, but there’s affection underneath it.

Rei doesn’t look away. She shifts forward, mirroring the gesture, her fingers curling under Yujin’s jaw as she leans in and slowly licks a thick smear of cum off Yujin’s cheek. It’s unhurried, like she’s savoring it, letting her tongue drag deliberately slow before pulling back with a faint moan. “You taste like him,” she whispers, almost in awe, then grins. “Kinda addictive.”

You slide down beside them, your body still pulsing faintly with the remnants of your climax, and lean back against the headboard. They press in on either side, warm and soft, naked and smeared with your cum. The room smells like sweat and sex and skin. You wrap an arm around each of them, fingers threading through theirs, grounding yourself in this closeness.

Yujin tilts her head against your shoulder, her voice lower now, that teasing edge replaced with something quieter. “So?” she asks, eyes half-lidded as she turns to look at you. “Now that you’re not fucking the soul out of one of us… what did you think? Be honest.”

You smile. You can’t help it—it stretches wide across your face, a lazy, completely satisfied grin. “It was amazing,” you say. “Really. I mean it.” You turn toward Yujin, squeeze her hand gently. “Thank you. For planning this. For bringing her. For knowing exactly what I needed when I didn’t even ask.”

Yujin blushes a little, like she wasn’t expecting you to get soft, but she leans in and kisses your shoulder. “You earned it,” she murmurs. “Two months waiting? You deserved more than just me on your lap for a week.”

Then you look to Rei. Her eyes are shining, lips parted like she’s trying to figure out what to say, what she’s supposed to feel right now. You reach over and take her hand, intertwining your fingers.

“And thank you,” you say, quieter now, more deliberate. “For trusting us. For being here, like this. You didn’t have to say yes. But you did.”

Rei’s eyes flicker, then she nods slowly. “I was nervous,” she admits. “At first. But… it feels right. Being here with you both. Like I’m not just watching, I’m part of something.”

“You are,” Yujin says immediately, reaching over to run a finger down her arm. “You are part of it. And you’re not getting rid of us now, so…”

You laugh, and the sound cuts through the lingering haze, lifting the tension just enough. You squeeze both their hands, looking between them. “This week’s going to be unforgettable.”

Rei smiles, glowing now, more open than you’ve ever seen her. “So what do we do now?” she asks, almost shyly.

Yujin stretches, yawning a little, her body arching beautifully as she slides off the bed. “We shower,” she says. “We’re sticky, we smell like sex, and the bed looks like someone got waterboarded with cum.”

Rei giggles, burying her face in your neck for a moment before pulling back. “Gross. True. But gross.”

Yujin turns toward the bathroom, looking back over her shoulder. “Come on. We clean up, then we crawl back into that bed and cuddle properly. I want to fall asleep between my two favorite people.”

Rei rises to her knees, stretching out her back with a soft moan. “And maybe we do it all again later.”

Yujin smirks. “Oh, baby. That’s a guarantee.”

And just like that, the three of you slip off the bed, bare skin brushing, fingers still tangled, limbs overlapping as you stumble toward the bathroom. Together.

—

The house transforms. After the first night as a chaotic threesome—the tangled limbs, the cum-soaked sheets, the three of you curled into one another like some beautiful, breathless tangle of heat and trust—something shifts. It’s not a fling anymore, not just a wild vacation. It becomes a rhythm. A dynamic. An unspoken contract that every glance, every obedient gesture, every parted mouth affirms.

The mornings start slow, but never soft. Rei’s the first to rise most days, slipping from the bed on quiet feet only to crawl back between your thighs, warm mouth sealing over your cock before you’ve even opened your eyes. She worships you in silence, gentle kisses and long, wet licks, until you’re hard in her throat and groaning into the pillows. Some mornings, you pull her up by her hair and fuck her mouth while Yujin wakes to the sounds of her little toy gagging on your cock. Other mornings, Yujin pulls Rei into her lap, rubbing slow circles on her clit while you slide inside her from behind, fucking her while she’s still half-asleep, her head buried in Yujin’s chest, moaning softly.

The rules become natural. No one speaks them aloud, but they’re etched in the way Rei drops her eyes when you approach, the way Yujin spreads her legs for you with a smirk that dares you to make her beg. You tell them what to do, when to open, when to kneel, when to cum (and when not to). And they obey. Not because they have to, but because they want to.

You fuck them everywhere.

The kitchen island becomes a favorite: cold marble on their bellies, their knees hooked over the edge, their cheeks flush with exertion as you alternate between them, cock slick with both their juices, slapping against their asses before slamming back inside. Yujin’s louder there, moaning openly as she gets filled, one hand clutching Rei’s hair as she holds her in place beside her, their lips brushing as they pant through it together. Rei’s frame bounces with every thrust, whimpering when you grab her hips and whisper how tight her little cunt is, how easy it is to ruin her.

The living room couch isn’t spared. One afternoon, fire roaring, snow falling lazily outside the wide glass windows. Rei on her knees, mouth wide, tears dripping off her chin as you fuck her throat, one hand buried in her hair, the other holding Yujin’s leg up as you finger her slow, deep, denying her the orgasm she’s clawing toward.

“You don’t cum until I say,” you murmured, lips brushing her ear. She sobbed in frustration, her slick soaking your hand, thighs trembling, but she nodded. “Yes, daddy.”

You used your belt that night. Their wrists bound, their asses striped with marks. Yujin counted out every hit with a moan, each number slurred between her gasps. Rei sobbed and whimpered but never begged you to stop—she just pushed her hips higher, her soaked thighs glistening as the red marks bloomed bright across her pale skin.

And they loved it.

“Thank you,” Rei whispered after, her eyes wet but not from pain. “Thank you for putting me in my place.”

You kissed her then. You always did after.

The hot spring was used more at night, when the steam clung thick to the air and the cold wind made every movement outside the water a delicious shock. One night, you made Rei cum three times in a row, her pussy so swollen and sensitive she begged you to stop, even as her hips chased your fingers. You held her down, whispering praise and filth into her ear, while Yujin sat beside you, masturbating lazily, watching her lovely friend fall apart with a smirk on her lips.

“You’re so sensitive, baby,” you murmured. “But this pussy’s still fucking greedy, isn’t it?”

Rei only nodded, eyes rolling back as another orgasm tore through her.

Other nights, you took Yujin to the edge and held her there—fingers deep inside her, tongue dragging slow circles over her clit, stopping just as her thighs locked around your head. She cursed you, clawed at your hair, begged and pleaded.

“You’ll cum when I say,” you reminded her, wiping her slick off your lips and making her taste it on your tongue.

The hot spring became your throne. Yujin on your lap, straddling you, bouncing on your cock slowly while Rei knelt on the edge, watching, touching herself, waiting her turn. You pulled Rei in after, making her ride your face while Yujin kissed your neck, her breasts pressed to your chest, still grinding down onto your lap, still greedy for more.

But it wasn’t just the sex.

There were quiet moments too. Evenings where you cooked together, Rei sitting on the counter, legs swinging, still wearing your hoodie and nothing else. Yujin behind you, arms wrapped around your waist, her cheek on your back, humming while the pasta boiled. Long hikes once the snow melted, bundled in coats and scarves, holding hands, stealing kisses behind trees. You stopped to take photos of them—Rei leaning into Yujin, Yujin’s head tilted, a grin tugging at her lips.

And always, at night, you ended up back in the same bed. Sometimes naked and aching. Sometimes just wrapped around each other, warm under the covers, their breathing soft and even as they slept against your chest. Rei tucked against your side, Yujin draped over your stomach, your arms around both of them. Safe. Close.

One night, as the fire crackled low and the sky outside darkened to a violet hush, Rei whispered, “I don’t want this to end.”

Yujin didn’t say anything, just reached for your hand under the blanket and held it tight.

Yeah. Neither did you.

—

The snow melts in pieces.

At first, it’s subtle; just a softening at the edges of the deck where the heat of the hot spring spills over. Then the air starts to change. Less bite, more breath. The icicles drip, slow and steady, and patches of green appear between the stone steps leading from the house to the trees. What once was a white-blanketed silence becomes a landscape of new possibilities: thawed trails, streams trickling with cold meltwater, sunlight dappling through the trees as if the forest was waking up with you.

You take them outside often, now that the world’s no longer buried in frost. The hikes stretch longer. Mornings start with Rei bouncing against your chest as you fuck her up against the side of a pine, her hoodie bunched up under her arms, her bare ass slapping against your thighs while Yujin watches with her hands in her panties, panting, whispering encouragement.

Afternoons are for sunlit fucking in the grass, knees pressing into soft earth, their mouths full of your cock while the trees sway above. You remember one particular moment: Rei straddling your lap in a clearing, her cunt dripping onto your cock before you even sank in. She rode you like she was trying to leave marks on your pelvis, while Yujin kissed her neck from behind, whispering “Good girl. That’s it. Take daddy’s cock like you need it.”

And she did. Every damn time.

The deck becomes another playground. With the snow receded, it’s all open space now—warm planks under your feet, bodies glistening in the sunlight, the girls naked and on their knees in the late afternoon glow. You use them however you want. Rei lies across your lap, ass red from your belt, moaning into Yujin’s pussy while you fuck her mouth. You deny Yujin again that night, teasing her over the edge four times in a row until she’s crying from frustration, her body trembling, begging, telling you she’ll do anything

And you still make her wait until the next morning.

They thrive in their roles. Not just the sex, but the trust in it. The clarity. The pure, unshakable knowing that they are yours, and that you take care of what’s yours. You fuck them with dominance, punish them with intention, reward them with care. You spoil them when it’s earned, and you’re cruel when it’s needed. Yujin leans into your hand when you pet her hair. Rei practically melts every time you whisper 'good girl'. You tuck them in at night like they’re precious. Because they are.

The house becomes a memory before it even ends. The walls feel like they’re made of more than wood now. Every room has a story. The kitchen tile still bears the faint mark where Rei’s knees pressed while you came on her tongue. The windows fogged over during Yujin’s first denied orgasm. The hot spring bubbled around your waist as both their mouths worked your cock in tandem under the stars.

And then it’s the last day.

You wake before them. Habit, maybe. The bed is warm, the sheets tangled with limbs and the scent of skin. Rei’s cheek is on your chest, Yujin curled along your side, her arm draped across your stomach. You lie there, just watching the ceiling, your hand stroking Rei’s back in lazy circles, feeling the weight of time pressing in from the edges. There’s no more food in the fridge. The towels are already packed. The silence is heavy.

Eventually, you shift, brushing hair from their faces, and they both wake slowly—blinking, stretching, sighing into your skin.

Yujin kisses your jaw. “Is it really the last day?”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “We should start packing.”

No one moves for a long time.

When you finally do, it’s slow, unhurried. Rei sits on the edge of the bed in your shirt, staring out at the mountain view one last time. Yujin folds clothes with robotic precision. You zip up the suitcase and pause before closing it, staring at the belt coiled neatly inside.

The hike back down the trail feels different. The thrill of arrival is replaced by a quiet reluctance, the damp earth breathing a soft scent of pine and thawing soil where crisp snow crunched just days ago. Rei walks between you and Yujin, her hand tucked firmly in yours, Yujin’s on your other side, occasionally bumping her shoulder against yours. The silence isn't awkward, just... full. Heavy with memories made, unspoken emotions, and the lingering heat of that last night, that last morning fuck that left you all tangled and blissed out until the absolute last second.

Loading the car in the small clearing feels anticlimactic after the grandeur of the house. You slide into the driver’s seat, the familiar smell of the car—leather and lingering coffee—a stark contrast to the house’s cedarwood and sex musk. Yujin takes shotgun, immediately fiddling with the music, searching for something mellow. Rei curls up in the back, pulling Yujin’s discarded travel jacket over herself like a blanket, tucking her feet up onto the seat.

The drive starts slow, bumping back down the gravel track onto smoother pavement. Mountains recede in the rearview mirror, replaced by rolling hills, then farmland, then the first hints of approaching civilization. Sunlight streams through the windshield, warming your face. Maybe it's the warmth, maybe it's the comfortable silence stretching a little too long, but a thought that's been nagging at the back of your mind surfaces. You glance over at Yujin, then catch Rei’s eye in the mirror.

"So..." you start, trying to sound casual, one hand steady on the wheel. "Week was... okay? For you guys?"

Yujin turns down the music slightly, giving you a sideways look, eyebrow arched. "Okay? Seriously? After that?" She gestures vaguely, encompassing the entire insane, intense week. "What brought this on?"

You shrug, feeling a little awkward now you've voiced it. "I dunno. Just thinking back." You grip the wheel a bit tighter. "Was I... too much? Sometimes?" You glance in the mirror again, meeting Rei’s wide eyes. "Like, uh... the belt that night? Or keeping you waiting, Yujin? Making Rei ride me till she basically passed out?" A flush creeps up your neck. "Maybe I got carried away. Just wanted to make sure... you know. It was good. Not just... rough."

Yujin bursts out laughing. She twists in her seat, elbow resting on the center console, leaning towards you. "Babe," she says. "Did you miss the part where we basically signed up for exactly that? Where Rei practically glowed when I told her she was the 'reward'?" She shakes her head, still chuckling. "Overdo it? You gave us exactly what we didn't even know how badly we needed. Don't go getting all insecure on us now."

From the back seat, Rei leans forward quickly, sliding between the front seats, her expression earnest. "No! He's right, Unnie, don't laugh!" she insists, though a small smile plays on her lips. She looks directly at you, her gaze surprisingly steady now. "It wasn't too much. Not at all." Her cheeks color slightly, a familiar pretty pink. "Honestly? I... I loved it."

She takes a breath, seemingly gathering her thoughts. "It was... intense, yeah. Sometimes it hurt, like the belt. And sometimes..." she trails off, glancing away for a second before meeting your eyes again, "...sometimes when you were fucking my throat, I thought I might actually pass out. But..." Her tone drops slightly, becoming more intimate. "It wasn't just rough. Not ever. Even when you were being... demanding... or cruel..." She searches for the right words. "I never felt scared. Or unsafe. I felt... seen."

She gestures vaguely towards herself. "Like, you saw the part of me that wanted that. The part that liked being told what to do, liked being pushed, liked... feeling like a toy, maybe?" Her blush deepens, but she doesn't look away. "But you always took care of us afterwards. The kisses, the cuddles, the way you'd just hold us..." She shrugs, a small, vulnerable movement. "It made the hard parts... worth it. More than worth it. It made me feel... cherished, even while you were leaving marks on my ass." A tiny, self-conscious laugh escapes her. "Does that sound crazy?"

"No," you say immediately, reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulder where she's leaning between the seats. "Not crazy at all. Makes perfect sense."

Yujin nods emphatically beside you, her expression softening as she looks at Rei. "She's right. You nailed the balance, baby." She reaches over, taking your free hand from the wheel, intertwining her fingers with yours on the center console. "You knew exactly when to push, when to praise, when to punish, and when to just... hold us. That's not easy. That's... rare." She brings your joined hands up, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "And honestly? Bringing Rei?" She grins, glancing back at the her. "Best fucking idea I ever had. Watching you two together... the way she looked at you, the way you handled her... pure magic." She winks. "Definitely got me off more than once just watching."

Rei playfully swats Yujin's arm, though her eyes are shining. She stays leaning between the seats, after a moment of comfortable silence, punctuated only by the hum of the tires, Rei speaks again, hesitant this time

"So... um... do you think..." She clears her throat, looking from you to Yujin and back again. "Could we... maybe... do this again sometime? Like, another trip?"

Yujin answers instantly, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh, hell yes. In a heartbeat." She squeezes your hand tighter. "Same house, if we can get it. Or maybe a different but equally isolated place, who knows? Definitely same rules... maybe even some new rules?" She raises a suggestive eyebrow. "Definitely same people. And next time? We stay longer. A week wasn't nearly enough."

You turn your head slightly, catching Rei’s hopeful gaze.

"You'd really want to come again, Rei?" you ask softly. "Seriously? After everything? The throatfucking? The denials? Making you lick Yujin clean?"

Rei doesn't even blush this time. A slow, wicked smirk spreads across her face, transforming her expression from sweet ingenue to knowing participant. It’s ridiculously hot.

"Especially after everything you put me through," she replies, her tone steady. "Try and stop me."

Yujin laughs, delighted. "See? Told you she was hooked." She leans back in her seat, already brainstorming. "Okay, so next time... maybe we explore denial a bit more? For both of us?" She glances at you slyly. "See how long you can make us wait? How much we'll beg?"

Rei nods eagerly. "Ooh, yes! And maybe... maybe some outfits? Like, actual maid outfits? Or collars?" Her eyes sparkle with ideas. "And maybe... could you tie me up? Properly? Like, spread-eagled on the bed?"

"Baby steps, princess," Yujin chuckles. "But I like where your head's at. Collars are definitely happening. Maybe leashes?"

"Okay, okay," you interrupt, laughing, though the ideas are definitely sparking something low in your gut. "Let's get back to the city first before we plan the next round of debauchery." You steer the conversation slightly. "But yeah. Another trip sounds... essential."

They start chattering excitedly, bouncing ideas off each other: different locations, maybe a beach house next time, incorporating public play dares, exploring different dynamics, maybe Yujin dominating Rei more explicitly under your direction. The conversation flows easily, punctuated by laughter, suggestive touches, and shared glances in the rearview mirror that hold promises of filthier, more twisted adventures to come. The melancholy of leaving fades… Now there’s the certainty that this incredible, intense connection you've forged isn't ending here.

It's just taking a breath before diving even deeper.

#yujin smut #ive yujin #Ive Yujin x reader #yujin x male reader #yujin x reader #ive yujin smut #kpop m!reader #ive rei smut #rei x reader #Naoi Rei smut #Naoi Rei x Reader #rei ive #naoi rei #ive rei #ive smut

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nosyp · 6 months ago

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Care For Another Game?

Warning = smut🔞, gambling(?), destroying food, small spoilers, dubious consent

Pairing = Salesman (squid game) x fem! reader

Summary = A simple game of ddakji turns into something much more when he shows up at your door with a proposition. The stakes are higher, and this time, it’s not just about winning. Now it’s about control and desire.

Word count = 2.8k

Part 2

A/N = I'm genuinely so horny for this man please forgive me

“Excuse me, ma’am, would you like to play ddakji?”

You turned to face the voice, unsure if it was meant for you or someone else. A man stood just a few feet away, a small, polite smile on his face. You were sitting on the bench in the subway, waiting to catch the next one.

“M-me?” you muttered out.

“Yes.” he replied, very quickly. Damn, he’s so certain. How could I possibly reject it?

“Ehh? Sure I guess…” you mumbled, your words almost inaudible.

“Excellent,” he said, his smile widening just a fraction. He stepped closer, lowering himself to your level. Up close, you noticed how sharp his features were, it was like he was carved out so carefully. His suit didn’t even have a single wrinkle, and his posture was impossibly composed, as if he was used to winning in life.

He then knelt on the dusty subway floor and placed two folded paper squares in front of you. “The rules are simple,” he explained. “You use your tile to flip mine. If you succeed, you win.” You started to roll your eyes as he was explaining the preface of the game… well that was until he held up the stack of cash. Oh you’re not losing now.

“And if I lose?” you asked cautiously.

“Then…” His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite name. “You owe me.”

You blinked, your unease growing. “Owe you what?”

“Let’s not worry about that just yet.” His voice was calm, almost reassuring, but it only made you more aware of the trap you might be stepping into.

Your fingers fidgeted with the hem of your coat. You were unsure whether to back out now or follow through.

“Well?” he prompted, tilting his head slightly. “Which colour do you want?”

“Red please.” you responded, evoking a small smile from him.

You hesitated, then picked up one of the paper tiles. Its edges were surprisingly crisp, as though it had been folded just moments ago. Taking a deep breath, you crouched down to face him.

“Okay,” you said, steadying your hand. “Let’s do this.”

You both immediately got up and started playing. He seemed like an innocent guy from the outside but in the game, he seemed like a completely different person. The force he put into flipping the stupid tiles was so strong you swore you heard the ground shake beneath you.

Somehow, miraculously, you won most of the rounds and earned 500k won. You’d expect him to be a bit better if he was spending a bunch of time running around asking to play. You saw him a few days prior doing the same thing he did with you with other people. Though, they didn’t win much, mostly slaps to the face.

“Thank you,” you say, holding the stack of cash in both of your hands.

He still had that stupid smile plastered on his face. It never disappeared. How annoying.

“Mm. You’re welcome.” he responds, his face quickly darkening. And he walked away, without saying anything else. He also left the red paper tile with you.

With a satisfied hum, you skipped your way into the arriving subway.

—

Somehow, that didn’t end up being your last meeting with him.

A week later, you were strolling through the park, enjoying the rare peaceful silence. The chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves accompanied the sounds, but something disrupted the serene atmosphere. A sharp, rhythmic sound.

It was… stomping? And yelling? What the fuck?

Curious, you followed the noise, rounding a corner near the fountain. There, in the middle of an open patch of grass, stood the man from the subway—the Ddakji guy. He was dressed just as sharply as before, though his once-pristine shoes were now caked with crumbs.

You froze, watching in disbelief as he stomped repeatedly on a pile of bread scattered on the ground. It was like a massacre of carbs. He was literally stomping on it while screaming “this is your guys' fault” or some shit like that, in the middle of the park. Holy shit.

“What the hell?” you muttered under your breath while walking closer to him.

He looked up, pausing mid-stomp as if he’d heard you. His eyes locked onto yours, and that familiar polite smile spread across his face.

“Ah,” he said, straightening his posture as if he hadn’t just been waging war on baked goods. “We meet again.”

You blinked, pointing at the corpses of the bread. “What… are you doing?”

He glanced down, brushing a speck of flour off his pants. “An experiment,” he said simply.

“An experiment?” you echoed, incredulous. “In what? Angering pigeons?”

He chuckled softly, stepping away from the pile. “You wouldn’t understand. But it’s good to see you again, ma’am.”

“Okay, no.” You held up a hand, as if to stop whatever strange explanation he was about to give. “First, why are you stepping on bread? Second, why are you here, in this park, at the exact same time as me?”

His smile didn’t falter, but something in his gaze shifted. It became more calculated, as though he was about to beat you up– okay maybe not literally.

“Coincidence, perhaps,” he said, though the tone of his voice suggested otherwise. “Or maybe it’s fate.”

You took a step back, your instincts telling you that fate wasn’t the right answer. “You’re not stalking me, are you?”

“Stalking is such an ugly word.” He tilted his head, his expression almost amused. “Let’s just say… I find you interesting.”

Your stomach flipped, and not in a romantic way at all. “Right. Well, maybe don’t ‘find me’ again, okay?” you say, giving emphasis to the ‘find me’ with your two index and middle fingers on both hands.

He took a step closer, and you immediately regretted not leaving sooner. “I have a proposition,” he said smoothly, ignoring your obvious discomfort.

“Another game?” you guessed.

“Not quite.” He reached into his pocket, pulling out something that made your heart race—a single piece of folded paper. Ddakji.

“Nope, no way,” you said, backing away. “I’m not doing this again.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, his smile widening. “This time, the stakes are higher.”

Then you stopped. Halted in your position. “You really wanna try again after losing? You’ve got guts. Or maybe you’re just dumb. Who knows?”

He rolled his eyes at you and pulled out the same two tiles.

“Oh! You’ve got another one,” you mentioned, reminding him of the night.

“Yea yea… let’s start,” he demanded.

To your surprise, you won again. Well, won most of the rounds. He seemed a bit frustrated at the outcome.

“What? You upset?” you tease.

“...”

He didn’t respond.

You flipped the tile in your hands again, a smug grin plastered on your face. “You know, for someone who’s so insistent on playing, you’re really not that good at this.”

His jaw tightened, but the polite smile stayed in place. “Luck doesn’t last forever, ma’am.”

“Maybe not, but it sure seems to be holding up today,” you say while stuffing your winnings into your pocket. “Thanks for the cash, by the way. It’s not everyday someone bankrolls my coffee addiction.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead adjusting his cuffs with an almost mechanical precision. You could tell he was trying not to let your teasing get to him.

“So,” you continued, leaning against a nearby tree, “is this what you do for fun? Wander around challenging strangers to games you’re bad at?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “I wouldn’t say I’m bad.”

“Oh? The scoreboard says otherwise,” you shot back, gesturing to the imaginary tally in the air. “I’m up by, what, a hundred rounds?”

His smile faltered for the shortest moment, and you felt a spark of triumph. “You’re quite the character,” he said finally, his tone more measured.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you said, shrugging. “Anyway, thanks for the game. I’ll be sure to tell my friends about the weird guy in the park who hands out money for getting owned at ddakji.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “You won’t have to. They’ll find out for themselves.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

He didn’t answer, instead stepping closer and plucking the tile from your hand with surprising speed. You blinked at the empty space where it had been.

“Hey! That’s mine!” you protested.

“Consider it a rematch token,” he said, tucking the tile neatly into his pocket. “When you’re ready to lose, find me.”

“Lose? You’re delusional,” you scoffed.

He gave you a slight bow, his polished demeanor back in full force. “Until next time, ma’am.”

And just like that, he turned and walked away, leaving you with a mix of irritation and amusement.

“Next time, I’m taking your shoes too!” you called after him.

He raised a hand in a lazy wave but didn’t look back.

You shook your head, letting out a breathy laugh. “What a weirdo.”

Still, as you walked back to your bench, you found yourself wondering if there really would be a next time. And if there was, you weren’t planning to lose.

—

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Three consecutive knocks at your door. You wondered who it was. You hesitated for a moment, eyeing the door warily. It was late, and you hadn’t been expecting anyone. You didn’t have many visitors… well, actually, you had no visitors, except for the occasional delivery or perhaps a neighbor. The knocks repeated again, a bit harsher this time.

"Who the hell is it?" you muttered under your breath before rising from the couch and moving cautiously towards the door. Then you peeked through the peephole, but the hallway was empty.

A chill ran down your spine, and for a moment, you considered not answering. Maybe it was just some mistake, or a knock meant for someone else. But then the thoughts of being too paranoid crept in, and you didn’t want to seem like an idiot ignoring a visitor.

You pulled the door open a bit, just enough to see who was there.

And behold, there he was—the ddakji guy. Of course. How the heck did he dodge the peephole? He’s quite tall.

His smile was as unnerving as always, that same polite grin he always wore that never failed to send a shiver through you. He was standing there, holding a small black briefcase in his right hand. His suit, crisp as always, was illuminated by the light, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something about his presence wasn’t exactly… safe.

“Ah, I knew you were home,” he said, as if he’d known the entire time you were debating whether or not to open the door.

“Are you… stalking me?” you asked, raising an eyebrow, trying to maintain your composure despite the strange situation.

“Stalking is such a harsh word,” he said smoothly, giving his usual tilt of the head. “I still much prefer… coincidence… or fate,”

You crossed your arms, still not entirely convinced. “Fate? That sounds like a line you use on people before you scam them into some ridiculous deal.”

He chuckled lightly. “I assure you, no deals. Just a proposition.” He took a step closer, his presence suddenly more intimidating than before. “I’ve come to finish what we started.”

You frowned, the memory of your last meeting flashing through your mind. From the look on his face after you won the game, and the way he seemed so nonchalant about everything.

“I’m pretty sure I already finished it,” you shot back, trying to sound unaffected. “I won. You lost. End of story.”

He didn’t seem fazed by your resistance. “Maybe. But I don’t think it’s over just yet. You see, I have another game in mind. One you might find… more interesting.”

You were about to shut the door, but then he grabbed hold of the side to stop you.

“Just wait a second,” he said, his strength much overpowering yours.

What the hell was this guy’s deal?

You frowned, the memory of your last meeting flashing through your mind. From the look on his face after you won the game, and the way he seemed so nonchalant about everything. But now... there was something in his eyes. Something darker. And it made your breath catch in your throat.

"How many times do I have to say it?I’m pretty sure I already finished it," you shot back, trying to sound as mean as possible to shoo him away, but you couldn’t silence the sound of your heart pounding loudly in your chest. "I won. You lost. End of story."

He didn’t seem fazed by your resistance. In fact, his smile only widened, an almost predatory glint in his eyes.

"Maybe. But I don’t think it’s over just yet. You see, I have another game in mind. One you might find… much more interesting."

Your breath hitched as he stepped closer. Too close. The air around you suddenly felt thick and heavy. Before you could react, he reached up, his fingers lightly brushing against your arm as he held the door open just a little wider, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Just wait a second,” he said in that low, smooth voice, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "This time, there’s no escape."

You swallowed hard, a mix of confusion and arousal swirling inside you. Why was he doing this? Why were you still standing there? Why was your body betraying you, craving something you couldn’t quite put into words?

You tried to back away, but he was already pressing himself into the doorway, the scent of his cologne filling your senses. He leaned in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. His hand reached up, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering a little too long.

“I told you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough now. “I don’t lose.”

Before you could say anything, he closed the distance completely and pressed his lips into yours. It was fierce, demanding, his hands on your waist pulling you closer, the pressure of his body sending shockwaves through you. You gasped into the kiss, feeling the heat intensify as he deepened it, his tongue sweeping into your mouth.

Your hands, on instinct, found their way to his chest, but he was already guiding you back into your apartment, the door falling closed behind him with a soft thud. You barely noticed it as your body reacted to him. Instinctively, your hands were pulling him closer, your legs weak with need.

He paused only for a moment, pulling back just enough to look at you. The lust in his eyes made your pulse race. “You wanted a challenge, right?” he said, his voice husky. “Let’s see how far you’re willing to go now.”

And then, with a swift motion, he pushed you back against the wall, and his hands started to explore your body, touching every part of you. You let out a breathless laugh, caught between the strange tension and the undeniable pull between you two. You felt the weight of him press against you, the tent unmistakable in his pants.

“I think you’ve already won,” you said, breathless, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Is that so?” he asked, his voice laced with amusement. He pulled back slightly, giving you a look that sent a jolt of desire straight to your core. “Then let’s see if you’re ready to finish this game.”

His lips gradually moved to your neck, kissing and biting softly as his hands slid beneath your clothes, feeling the smoothness of your skin. Every touch made you shiver, every kiss igniting a fire within you. You gasped as his hands worked their way down, finding the heat between your legs, making you ache for him even more.

Without another word, he slowly undid your clothing, his movements deliberate and controlled, yet full of hunger. His lips trailed down your body, each touch, each caress, sending you into a spiral. By the time his hands found their way to your most sensitive spots, you were already a mess, your body aching for more.

“Do you want this?” he asked, his voice dark and velvety, as he hovered above you, his fingers teasing just at the edge of what you needed. You nodded, too far gone to hold back any longer.

"Then let's finish what we started," he says.

The game is much simpler now. The only rule being… the first to cum loses.

#salesman x reader #squid game #squid game salesman #squid game fanfic #gong yoo x reader #squid game spoilers #salesman smut #the salesman smut

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ceilidho · 1 year ago

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prompt: construction worker ghost and his elementary school teacher neighbour who made the poor decision to start feeding him (nsfw, 2k) [based on this old ask] [on ao3 here]

They say not to feed wild animals.

It makes them grow soft, lazy. Alters their behaviour. Takes an animal previously capable of finding its own food dependent on humans for sustenance. Makes them lose their natural fear of humans and nearly always results in an increase in human-wildlife conflicts as they start to seek out people. It’s a known fact. You can’t go to a park without seeing it plastered on posters in the bathroom and on the sides of the vending machines under the gazebos where you purchase your post-hike iced tea and veggie roll to eat on a nearby bench.

You know this. So you really don’t know what possessed you to leave a cooler full of sandwiches on your neighbour’s doormat before turning in for the night.

He wakes up preternaturally early and leaves every morning around four-thirty or five o’clock on the dot. Sometimes in the fog of sleep, you wake to hear the door to the apartment beside yours crack open and slam shut, and then the sound of lumbering footsteps down the hall towards the staircase before that door opens and slams shut too.

He never comes home before four o’clock at the earliest. That’s around when you come home from work as well, meaning that you sometimes catch him at the door, him covered in grime and reeking of old sweat while you come flouncing down the hall in whatever colourful dress you’d donned that morning, inevitably paint-splattered by the end of the day. Always something appropriate to wear at an elementary school but colourful enough to keep the kids’ eyes and attention on you.

You’ve caught his name in half-whispered conversations with the property manager, but aside from that, all you know about Simon Riley is that he works in construction. He certainly looks the part: big, calloused hands with blunt, dirt-caked nails and cut up fingers, knuckles always swollen and thick. Body all strength and brawn. Hard hat tucked under his armpit and decorated with countless stickers from old job sites, the same way his forearm is covered in tattoos.

You’ve even passed by his current job site once or twice—some new condo complex going up by the canal that’s forced you and hundreds of other commuters to leave an extra thirty minutes early to account for the road closures. You pointedly don’t bring that up in conversation though. That would just be rude.

At least it would be something to talk about though.

It’s not like the two of you talk. You’re not close by any means. Though you moved in a few months ago, you haven’t had much luck mustering up the confidence to squeak out more than a hi to him in passing. When he grunts back something approximating a hello, it’s all you can do not to break your key in the lock when you hurry into your apartment and slam the door shut behind you, heart beating frantically in your chest.

It’s humiliating. You’re a grown woman and you’ve talked to plenty of men before. You’ve dated plenty of men before. Just because this one speaks in monosyllables and stares at you with an intensity that makes your stomach churn and your palms grow sweaty doesn’t change anything. Just because this one is built like a redwood with wrists thick enough that you’d need both hands to wrap around doesn’t make him any different than any other person.

And yet, when Simon asks you for your name on a rainy June afternoon after you’ve come in after him for a change only to find him sifting through letters at the mailbox, you garble out something that sounds nothing like your name before scurrying up the stairs to your flat.

It’s humiliating. It’s humid outside and your dress is sticking to all the wrong places (namely, your nipples and the inside of your thighs when the skirt swishes between your legs with each stride) and now you’ve made an ass of yourself in front of the only hot guy in your building. There are serial arsonists with more charm than you.

So maybe the sandwiches are an apology letter or an olive branch. Or maybe it just makes your heart race to think of Simon opening up the cooler and finding four wax paper-wrapped sandwiches tucked neatly over ice packs.

All you know is that when you step out of your apartment the next morning, the cooler is empty on your doormat, the lid propped open. He must have taken them with him.

You smile. A job well done. Apology served fresh, with cucumber slices in the middle.

The problem starts when you don’t leave him another cooler full of sandwiches on his doormat the next day.

You didn’t consider that he might think you’d make it a habit. Perhaps that’s partially on you for not leaving a note on the cooler the first time to explain that it was just a one-off; just a way to apologize for being less than chipper around him. But instead of shrugging it off, you come home after a long day to find him standing right outside your apartment, arms crossed over his chest, thick biceps straining against his sweat-stained shirt.

“Open the door,” Simon commands, nostrils flaring as he glares down at you. He jerks his head towards your door when you just frown, not following. “Been starving here waiting for you to show up.”

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. You’re at a loss for words, never mind that your whole job involves talking. He leaves you speechless though.

Simon doesn’t move when you step close enough to unlock the door. You try to keep your body angled away so as not to brush up against him, but it’s inevitable. He doesn’t move when the door opens either, forcing you to squeeze by him.

He goes straight to the kitchen and drags a chair out, letting it scrape across the floor like men always do before taking a seat. You follow after him nervously, apprehensive at having a man in your space. Not just a man, but Simon Riley. It feels sacrilege—not like he has no right being in your space, but you can’t imagine him here, sitting at your tiny dining room table like he comes over for dinner every Sunday.

When he catches you standing under the archway to the kitchen just staring at him, he barks, “Well?”

That has you scurrying over to the fridge to pull out the cold cuts and pickled red onions. There’s a loaf of bread already on the counter, the bag twisted and tucked underneath because you had to leave in a rush this morning. You don’t know half of what you pile on the sandwiches, but whatever you serve him must satisfy him because Simon digs in with gusto, finishing the plate off in only a few bites while you wash the cutlery in the sink. You watch him out of the corner of your eye the whole while.

He leaves not too long after that, only a light warning for you to not miss tomorrow’s lunch before heading back over to his own apartment. You don’t even get a word in edgewise.

It becomes something of a routine after that and not one you have any control over. Every night before bed, you leave him a cooler full of sandwiches and other things like cut up fruit or slices of cheese on his doormat, and every afternoon you rock up to him waiting on your doorstep, demanding to be let in.

He takes to giving you a wet kiss before he leaves, all tongue and his fingers curled around the nape of your neck, holding you in place. When you try to cover his mouth with your hand, he nips at your fingers until you move them and let him slip you some tongue.

The day you make him a casserole for supper, he bends you over the back of your couch and eats you out. Simon eats like a man starving, glutting himself on the wetness between your legs, licking even over the furl of your asshole and chuckling under his breath when you squeal and flail, your toes just brushing against the floor.

In the aftermath, you sit panting in his lap while he eats. He gets up only briefly to get the bowl of strawberries and cream you left chilling in the fridge before lifting you up and putting you right back in his lap. You stare bleary-eyed when he holds a finger covered in cream up to your lips.

“Clean me up, pet,” he says, then watches you with half-lidded eyes while you lick his finger clean.

He makes you suck his fingers too, to keep things even. He does it when you’re angled half off the bed, thick digits stuffed down your throat until your eyes leak big, fat tears that he licks away, hungry for those too. The man is always hungry, always keen to fill his belly.

The arrangement continues on long enough to become normal, even routine. Simon shows up at your door every day after work waiting to be fed, and then makes you come a couple times before he leaves, a little thank you to repay you for the food. He never really says all that much when he comes around, not a conversationalist of a man. His preference is to eat, fuck, and leave, which you’re happy to accommodate, still too tongue-tied yourself to broach a real conversation.

That’s all before he starts helping himself to your bed for a quick nap after a big supper. Then for naps that turn into a full night’s sleep, snoring like a chainsaw under the covers with you tucked under his arm, naked breasts pressed against his side, keeping you awake most of the night until you pass out somewhere around one A.M.

Just as you suspected, Simon gets up at around four or five to be at the jobsite on time, but at your place, he gets up a bit earlier to help himself to breakfast. He doesn't even bother waking you up, just turns you over onto your tummy and spreads your legs before sinking his dick into where you're still stretched out from the night before. If you wake up or squirm, he just leans down and murmurs, “S'alright, pet…just need a pick me up before work. Go back to sleep, you’re okay,” and ruts between your thighs until he comes inside you and leaves you all wet in bed with one last messy kiss to your temple.

The door slams shut on his way out.

Because you feed him, he keeps coming back. The workday passes in a blur: attendance, a spelling test, recess, maths in the afternoon, and then you’re driving home in the same daze that has you slamming on the brakes before rear ending an old woman who stopped two cars behind the truck at the redlight ahead.

You’re home earlier than him for a change, so you unlock the door quickly while there’s still a chance to avoid him. No such luck. When Simon turns up, he pounds on the door until you let him in. And you do.

It’s a wonder you haven’t come apart at the seams, horny and pent up after this morning. You were too sleepy to come after all, rode hard and put away wet. Still, you flit nervously around the apartment, looking everywhere but at him.

He always smells rich after working all day in the sun, like sweat and dirt. It's not a particularly nice smell, but it still kind of gets you going. He goes for a shower and then collapses on the couch after, beckoning you over to you crawl into his lap and grind yourself on his thigh because he knows of course. Simon can probably smell it on you, the ache. He shushes you when you whine about it, big hands fitting around your hips and pressing you down until your clit rubs deliciously against the muscle of his thigh and your head goes cloudy, cheek mushed against the pillow of his chest.

When you come, Simon tips your chin up with his knuckle and murmurs, “Knickers off, love. Haven’t got my fill.”

He feeds you your own slick from his fingers when he kneels on the floor in front of the couch, your legs draped over his shoulders. Your fingers scratch helplessly over shorn blond hair, buzzed almost to the scalp. It’s prickly under your fingertips.

Simon’s a messy eater. Your slick dribbles down his lips and glistens on his chin. It makes the blood roar under your skin, feverishly hot.

“Please, Simon,” you whine, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “It hurts.”

You feel his lips quirk up against the folds of your pussy, the flat of his tongue running up the seam and flicking over your clit. He chuckles when your hips jerk. “Greedy aren’t you, pet? Didn’t even say thank you for getting on my knees.”

“You didn’t make me come!”

His voice borders on mocking when he coos, “Poor little thing. It’s gonna be a lot longer ‘til she gets to come if you don’t say thank you.”

Your brain goes staticy, fingers twitching on his scalp. His words echo back in your head. It’s rubbish, is what it is. All this time and he’s never said thank you once for the countless meals you’ve fed him. Indignation bubbles up in you, rising to the surface like fat on the cream, and you raise a hand to rub the tears from your eyes, a harsh rebuke on the tip of your tongue.

The protest dies on your lips when he meets your gaze. It’s hungrier than anything you’ve ever seen. Whatever animal lives under his skin stares back at you with black eyes, drool leaking from its jowls. It’s mindless, intent only on slaking its hunger. Filling its empty belly. And it is not afraid of you anymore. It knows you’ll feed it until it’s full. It knows you won’t let it go hungry anymore.

So, always leery of the bigger animal in the room, you mumble out a chest-thick, “Thank you,” and shiver when he grins.

There’s a reason they tell you not to feed strays. They often come back for more.

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #ghost x reader #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley/reader

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gyuuberryy · 10 months ago

Text

prince charming's mismatch

pairing: prince!heeseung x princess!reader

synopsis: you and prince heeseung have been rivals for as long as you can remember. what began as childhood clashes has grown into a deep-seated animosity over the years. but when your sister runs away on her wedding day, you're forced to take her place and marry heeseung—the last person you ever wanted to call your husband.

now bound in an unwanted marriage, you’re faced with navigating the tension between your unresolved hatred and an unexpected attraction. as palace intrigue and looming threats surround you both, you must confront the truth of your feelings. will the bitterness between you tear you apart, or will it ignite something far more powerful?

genre: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, arranged marriage au

warnings: highly suggestive content!!! kissing, hee and reader are mean at first, insecurities, jealous!hee

note: i've been meaning to write this plot for an year now, im happy with how it turned out! e2l with hee is always soo fun to write. enjoyy

word count: 11.5k

royally yours masterlist | next: jay

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

the first time you met prince heeseung, it was at a grand summer garden party hosted by your parents in the palace’s sprawling grounds. you were barely six years old, and he wasn’t much older, yet even then, the air between you crackled with something akin to competition. your governess had dressed you in your finest lace frock, with your hair tied in perfect ribbons, but none of that mattered. you were too busy building a grand sandcastle near the fountain, your little fingers carefully patting the turrets into shape.

that was when heeseung appeared, his shadow falling over your castle like a storm cloud. he crouched beside you without so much as a polite greeting, his royal title apparently excusing his lack of manners. his eyes, sharp for a child, surveyed your handiwork critically.

“that’s not right,” he declared, reaching out to touch one of your towers. “the walls need to be thicker, or it’ll fall.”

you frowned, already bristling at the unsolicited advice. “it’s my castle. i know what i’m doing.”

he smirked, a small, superior thing that made your blood simmer even at that tender age. without asking, he began "fixing" it, his hands too rough as he demolished what you had so carefully crafted.

“stop!” you cried, shoving him back with all the strength your little body could muster. heeseung stumbled, landing awkwardly on the grass, but instead of being chastened, he merely laughed.

“see?” he said, gesturing at the collapsed sandcastle. “i told you it would fall.”

tears of frustration welled in your eyes as you glared at him. “you ruined it! i didn’t ask for your help!”

heeseung stood, dusting off his fine clothes, a boyish smirk still plastered on his face. “you should thank me. i was doing you a favour.”

from that day forward, any time your families met, it was as if an unspoken rule had been established—whenever you were in the same room, you and heeseung would find something to argue about. it didn’t matter if it was who deserved the biggest slice of cake or who could recite their latin conjugations faster; the two of you were constantly at odds.

as the years passed, your mutual disdain only deepened. by the time you were ten, heeseung had already earned a reputation as the golden boy of his kingdom, a future king who excelled in everything he touched. your own accomplishments were always impressive—your parents had ensured you were well-versed in languages, history, and the fine arts—but whenever heeseung was around, it felt as though all your achievements paled in comparison.

“did you hear?” one of your tutors asked one morning as you sat in the drawing room, diligently practising your embroidery. “prince heeseung has been awarded top marks in his studies again. he’s to receive a commendation from the royal academy.”

you didn’t look up, but your needle paused for the briefest of moments. “how wonderful for him,” you muttered, the words heavy with sarcasm.

that evening, at another royal banquet, you couldn’t help but bring up your own accomplishments, eager for even a crumb of recognition.

“i’ve been practising my archery,” you said proudly to the gathered guests, though your eyes couldn’t help but flick toward heeseung, who lounged nearby, looking as regal and aloof as ever. “i managed to hit the bullseye several times this week.”

heeseung glanced up lazily, catching your eye with that familiar, insufferable smirk. “impressive,” he said in a bored tone, “though archery isn’t quite the same as, say, fencing. that requires real skill.”

your fists clenched under the table, your pride wounded by his casual dismissal. but this was the way it always went. no matter what you did, heeseung always found a way to make it seem insignificant, as though he were the sun and you were merely a star dimmed by his brilliance.

by the time you were both teenagers, the animosity between you had grown more complicated, though no less intense. you found yourselves at the same royal gatherings, balls, and court functions, and each time, it was as if the entire room held its breath, waiting to see what you and heeseung would clash over next.

at one particularly grand ball, you had been feeling proud of your debut. you wore a gown of the finest silk, and you’d received more than a few admiring glances from the eligible noblemen in attendance. you were certain this was your night to shine—until heeseung approached.

“you look well enough,” he said, his voice smooth but with an edge that set your teeth on edge. “though i hope you don’t trip during the quadrille like last time.”

your cheeks flushed, remembering all too well the minor misstep you’d taken at a previous ball. “i won’t,” you snapped, glaring at him. “and even if i did, it’s better than fencing yourself into a corner like you did at the tournament last month.”

his smile faltered for just a second, but that was enough to make you feel victorious.

yet, despite the constant barbs, there was something else simmering beneath the surface now—a tension you refused to name. you hated the way your heart raced whenever heeseung was near, the way his presence seemed to fill every corner of a room. and, though you’d never admit it, you hated even more that part of you missed the old days when your squabbles were simple, childish things.

it all changed the day your sister’s engagement to heeseung was announced. the prince who had been your lifelong nemesis was now to become your sister’s husband, the future king of your kingdom. it was a match made for political alliance, but it felt like a betrayal. you had expected more from him—well, not more kindness, but certainly more rebellion. yet, heeseung accepted the engagement with the same cool composure he did everything else.

for the first time in years, he stopped seeking you out, stopped picking those fights you had come to expect. he no longer bothered with sharp remarks or smug smiles. instead, he kept his distance, as though you were beneath his notice.

you told yourself it didn’t matter. after all, what did you care if heeseung ignored you now? he was going to be your brother-in-law, and that was enough reason to keep things civil. and yet, a strange, hollow feeling settled in your chest whenever you saw him and your sister together. he was colder now, more mature, but somehow more distant than ever.

little did you know, your rivalry with prince heeseung was far from over. if anything, it was only just beginning.

the night your world fell apart, it started with a simple knock on your chamber door. the palace had been abuzz with preparations—florists arranging garlands, tailors hemming gowns, and courtiers whispering about the grand union that would strengthen two kingdoms. you had spent the evening rehearsing your duties as maid of honour, biting back any remnants of bitterness that still clung to your feelings about the match. it didn’t matter that you had spent your entire life despising heeseung; your sister loved him, or at least, she was supposed to.

you were preparing to retire, brushing your hair by the dim glow of candlelight, when your sister slipped into the room, her face pale and eyes wide with fear. you’d never seen her look so frantic. your heart sank before she even said a word.

“i’m not going to marry him,” she whispered, wringing her hands in the folds of her silk nightgown. her voice trembled, but it was steady enough for you to know she wasn’t joking.

your heart lurched. “what are you talking about? the wedding is tomorrow!”

her wide eyes darted to the door as if she feared someone might overhear. she leaned in closer, gripping your wrist with trembling fingers. “i can’t marry heeseung,” she said urgently. “i don’t love him. i’m leaving tonight.”

the words hit you like a physical blow. “you’re what?”

“i’m eloping,” she said, her voice firmer now, as if saying it out loud gave her courage. “with lucien.”

lucien. you barely knew the man, a minor noble from another court, but he had charmed your sister quickly. he was handsome and witty, but far beneath her station. you stared at her, disbelief mixing with fury.

“lucien? are you mad? you can’t just abandon your duty for—”

“for love?” she interrupted, her voice rising in defiance. “yes, i can. i won’t be trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who cares nothing for me.”

you swallowed hard, your mind racing. heeseung, distant and cold as he had been with you, had shown no signs of affection for your sister either, but this was bigger than personal feelings. the marriage was political, a union meant to secure alliances, peace, and power. your sister fleeing would bring nothing but chaos.

“you’ll ruin everything,” you whispered, your voice thick with the weight of the consequences. “our families, the kingdoms—this is bigger than you.”

her eyes softened with a mix of guilt and determination. “i know. but i can’t live my life for duty, not like this.” she stood, gathering a small satchel you hadn’t noticed before, already packed and ready for her escape.

“you won’t stop me, will you?” she asked, her gaze pleading.

you wanted to scream, to shake her out of this madness, but your throat tightened. she was your sister. you loved her. and you knew, deep down, that nothing you said would change her mind.

“i should,” you said, your voice quiet, brittle. “but no. i won’t.”

your sister smiled, a fragile, relieved thing, before pulling you into a tight embrace. the hug felt final, like the end of something neither of you could come back from. when she finally let go, you stood frozen in the middle of her room as she slipped out the window and into the night, her footsteps fading into the shadows.

the palace remained blissfully unaware of the catastrophe until morning, when your mother’s scream shattered the early dawn peace.

the palace was in chaos the next morning. servants rushed through the halls, panic etched on their faces as whispers spread like wildfire—the bride had run away. you stayed in your chambers as long as possible, trying to gather your thoughts, your emotions, trying to prepare for the inevitable fallout.

when the summons came from your father, it felt like a death knell. the walk to the throne room felt endless, each step heavier than the last. the moment you stepped through the grand doors, you saw heeseung standing beside your parents. his face was a mask of icy calm, but his eyes…his eyes were darker than you’d ever seen them, cold and unforgiving.

he didn’t even glance at you as your father spoke.

“your sister has disgraced this family,” your father’s voice boomed, his tone laced with anger and disappointment. “but the marriage cannot be abandoned. the alliance with heeseung’s kingdom is too important.”

you stood still, your stomach churning as you braced for what was coming.

“therefore,” your father continued, his gaze hard as stone, “you will take her place.”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. you? marry heeseung? no, it wasn’t possible. you had spent your entire life in a silent war with him. the idea of marrying the man who had been your nemesis since childhood was unthinkable.

your mother’s voice, soft but firm, broke the silence. “the arrangements have already been made. the wedding will proceed as planned. you will become heeseung’s bride.”

“no.” the word slipped from your lips before you could stop it, your heart racing. “i can’t.”

your father’s eyes narrowed, and your mother’s expression hardened with disappointment. “you will do your duty,” your father said coldly. “this is not up for discussion.”

duty. it always came down to that. your entire life, you had been prepared for moments like this, but not this moment. not like this.

finally, you turned to heeseung, desperate for any sign of protest, for him to say something—anything—that would stop this madness. but he was silent. his face remained expressionless, as though none of this affected him. he looked at you as if you were just a piece of the puzzle, another part of the kingdom’s grand design.

“is that all i am to you?” you asked, your voice shaking. “just a replacement? a stand-in for the bride who ran away?”

for the first time, heeseung’s gaze met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—something unreadable, buried deep beneath the coldness. but his words cut through you like ice.

“you’re a princess,” he said, his voice quiet but sharp. “your role is to serve your kingdom. that’s all that matters.”

a bitter laugh escaped your throat. “you’ve hated me for years, heeseung. and now you expect me to just—what? pretend none of that matters?”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond. instead, he turned away, his indifference stinging more than any of the insults you had traded over the years.

your father spoke again, his tone final. “the marriage will happen. prepare yourself.”

the grand hall was suffused with the glow of flickering candles and soft sunlight filtering through stained glass windows. the scent of fresh roses—your sister’s favourite, not yours—hung heavily in the air, mocking the gravity of the moment. you stood at the entrance of the hall, your hands clenched so tightly around the bouquet that your knuckles were white. the murmurs of the courtiers echoed around you, a constant hum of speculation and judgement. no matter how well you carried yourself today, the whispers wouldn’t stop.

the switch of the bride was the scandal of the century, and you were at the centre of it.

ahead of you, heeseung stood tall, his face as unreadable as stone. the same detachment was in his eyes, his expression cool and composed as if this marriage was merely another political manoeuvre for him, another step toward the throne. he didn’t look at you with warmth, or even a hint of care. to him, you weren’t his wife—you were the replacement for the woman who had run away.

you walked down the aisle, every step heavier than the last, the reality of your situation crushing you. heeseung’s gaze was steady as you approached, but it wasn’t the gaze of a man looking at his bride. it was a look of cold calculation, a man who had resigned himself to duty.

when you finally reached him, your heart thudding loudly in your chest, you barely registered the priest's words. the vows—sacred, binding—felt hollow, like a cruel twist of fate. how could you stand here, repeating the words meant for your sister? they weren't meant for you. you were never supposed to be the bride.

heeseung took your hand, and the warmth of his skin was a sharp contrast to the chill that ran down your spine. his grip was firm, not gentle, but not cruel either—just dutiful. he spoke his vows with a steady voice, each word sounding rehearsed, as though they meant nothing to him beyond their formality.

and then it was your turn. you hesitated, the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders, your pulse quickening. your voice trembled slightly as you repeated the vows, feeling the eyes of everyone in the hall on you—expecting you to fulfil your role, to be the perfect princess. you could barely choke out the words, but somehow, you managed. and with every word, you felt the invisible chains of your new life tightening around you.

when the priest finally pronounced you husband and wife, heeseung’s lips brushed yours in the briefest of kisses—so cold and devoid of feeling that it felt more like a business transaction than the union of two people. the cheers of the court erupted around you, but in that moment, the applause sounded like the closing of a cage. you were trapped, bound to him, to this life.

as you turned to leave the altar, heeseung offered his arm, the tension between you palpable. his eyes flickered to yours for a brief moment, but there was no warmth there. just that cold, resigned look you had grown accustomed to. you were both playing your roles, just as you had been trained to do your whole lives.

but this wasn’t a game. this was your future, and it felt like a noose tightening around your neck.

the wedding feast had been a blur—a cacophony of forced smiles, hollow congratulations, and polite toasts that masked the underlying tension. you had barely spoken a word to heeseung throughout the entire affair. he hadn’t made any attempt to speak to you either, remaining as distant and composed as ever.

now, as you stood alone in the chambers that were to be yours and heeseung’s, the reality of your new life settled heavily on your chest. the palace chambers were far too quiet, the air thick with the tension that had been building between you and heeseung for years. as you stood in the centre of the room, staring at the enormous bed draped in rich fabrics, it felt like the walls were closing in. the room was elegantly decorated—ornate tapestries hung on the walls, and the grand four-poster bed was fit for a queen. but none of it mattered. the splendour felt like a mockery of the situation you found yourself in. tonight, this room was not a sanctuary but a gilded cage.

your breath caught in your throat as the door creaked open. heeseung entered, his presence commanding even in the subdued candlelight. the tension between you was palpable, stretching like a thin, fragile thread that could snap at any moment. his gaze flicked toward you briefly, but he didn’t speak, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

heeseung moved with practised grace, his movements calm and deliberate. he began undoing the buttons on his ceremonial jacket, the fine fabric sliding off his shoulders and landing in a careless heap on the chair by the vanity. you stood frozen, unsure of what to say, what to do. this wasn’t how you had imagined a wedding night would feel—though you had never dreamed this night would be with heeseung, of all people.

his back was to you now, his broad shoulders tense, though he did nothing to betray any emotion. you could feel the distance between you both, even though he was just across the room. heeseung had always been composed, guarded, but tonight, his coldness cut even deeper than usual.

he finally broke the silence, his voice low but steady. “it’s late. you should rest.” there was no affection in his tone, just the same sense of duty that had hung over the entire day. you weren’t his bride by choice, and he wasn’t your husband by desire.

you bit back a bitter laugh. rest? as if you could simply close your eyes and pretend this was normal. pretend that this marriage was something other than a trap. “is that it, then?” you asked, your voice sharper than intended. “we go to bed and pretend everything is fine?”

heeseung turned to face you, his expression as unreadable as ever. he didn’t answer right away, as if weighing his response carefully. “what do you want me to say?” his tone was measured, but there was an edge to it, a hint of frustration that matched your own.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, your voice trembling with the weight of your emotions. “this wasn’t supposed to happen. i wasn’t supposed to marry you.”

something flickered in heeseung’s eyes, though it disappeared as quickly as it came. he regarded you for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before he spoke again. “do you think i wanted this?” his words were quiet but laced with a bitterness that surprised you. “i didn’t ask for this any more than you did.”

you swallowed, feeling a lump rise in your throat. you hadn’t expected this admission from him, hadn’t expected him to show any vulnerability. “then what are we supposed to do?” your voice was softer now, the anger ebbing away, replaced by uncertainty. “how are we supposed to live like this?”

heeseung sighed, running a hand through his hair, a rare moment of frustration breaking through his calm facade. “we do what’s expected of us,” he said, though there was a heaviness to his words, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you. “we fulfill our duties. that’s all we can do.”

“duties.” the word tasted bitter on your tongue. it had always come down to that, hadn’t it? duty to the crown, to the kingdom, to your family. and now, duty to heeseung.

the silence stretched on, thick and uncomfortable. heeseung turned away, moving toward the window where the heavy drapes framed the view of the darkened palace gardens. his silhouette was stark against the faint glow of moonlight, his posture stiff, almost defensive.

after a long moment, he spoke again, his voice softer this time. “i’ll sleep over there.” he gestured to the chaise near the window, a fine piece of furniture that now seemed woefully out of place in this awkward, tension-filled room. “you can have the bed.”

you blinked, surprised by his offer. it was the last thing you expected from him, but it was a relief nonetheless. “you don’t have to—”

“i’m not doing this for you,” he interrupted, his voice firm, but not unkind. “i just don’t want to make this any more difficult than it already is.”

with that, he moved toward the chaise, gathering a pillow and blanket from the wardrobe. his actions were efficient, almost mechanical, as if he had already resigned himself to this fate. he didn’t look at you as he arranged the blanket over the chaise.

you stood there, feeling a strange mix of emotions—relief, awkwardness, and something else, something heavier that you couldn’t quite place. this was your wedding night, but it was nothing like you had ever imagined. there was no closeness, no warmth—just two people bound together by obligation and circumstance.

finally, you moved toward the bed, the thick carpets muffling your steps. the soft fabric of your gown felt heavy as you climbed beneath the covers, though they provided no comfort. you lay there, staring up at the intricate canopy above, your mind racing. this bed, this room—none of it felt like yours.

heeseung settled on the chaise, his back to you, the distance between you both feeling vast despite the small room. the silence was oppressive, each second dragging on longer than the last. you wondered if he was as uneasy as you were, or if he had already steeled himself to this new reality.

for a long while, neither of you spoke, the only sound in the room the faint rustling of fabric as you shifted beneath the covers. the weight of the day, of the vows, of your new title, pressed down on you, making it hard to breathe.

finally, you couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “heeseung,” you whispered, unsure if you even wanted him to respond.

he didn’t turn, but his voice was low and steady when he answered. “what?”

you hesitated, searching for the right words. “do you think... do you think this will ever get easier?”

there was a long pause before he responded, his voice quiet, almost resigned. “i don’t know.”

and with that, the conversation ended. heeseung remained silent, his back still turned to you, and you knew there was nothing more to say. you turned onto your side, pulling the blankets tighter around you, though they offered little warmth. the room felt too big, too empty, despite his presence.

eventually, exhaustion crept in, dulling the sharp edges of your thoughts. but even as sleep began to claim you, a cold, sinking feeling settled in your chest. this was your life now—bound to a man you barely knew, a man who had been your enemy for years, and yet, somehow, your husband.

and as you drifted off into uneasy sleep, the last thought that crossed your mind was how strange it felt to be lying just feet away from heeseung, yet feeling as though he was a world away.

the morning after the wedding dawned cold and gray, mirroring the lingering tension between you and heeseung. you woke up in the large, empty bed, the space next to you untouched, a stark reminder of the distance that had been established on your wedding night. the air in the room felt thick, suffocating, as if the very walls were pressing in on you, reminding you of your new reality.

as you sat up, the unfamiliarity of your surroundings only worsened the tightness in your chest. this was your new life. not just this bed, but this room, this palace—heeseung’s palace—and you would share it with a man who barely spoke to you, who looked at you with that same cold distance he had always shown.

you dressed quickly, your movements mechanical, trying not to think too much. the maids moved around you silently, well-trained and efficient, but you could feel their eyes on you. it was impossible to escape the fact that everyone knew. the entire kingdom knew the story—the princess who had run away, and her sister forced to take her place. the whispers would never stop.

when you finally made your way downstairs to the grand dining room, heeseung was already seated at the long table, a plate of food in front of him. he didn’t look up when you entered, simply continued cutting into his meal with precise, practised movements. you hesitated for a moment, then took your seat across from him.

the silence was unbearable.

you picked at your food, barely tasting it, glancing at heeseung from time to time. his expression was as unreadable as ever, his attention focused on the papers beside his plate—likely matters of the kingdom that required his attention. he was already immersed in his duties, the weight of his impending kingship pressing down on him just as heavily as your new role as his wife weighed on you.

finally, you couldn’t stand it any longer. “do you plan to ignore me for the rest of our lives?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended.

heeseung didn’t look up immediately, taking his time to finish his bite and set down his utensils with deliberate care. when he finally met your gaze, his expression was cool, detached. “i’m not ignoring you.”

you scoffed, unable to hide your frustration. “you’ve barely spoken to me since the wedding.”

he raised an eyebrow, his tone as calm as ever. “what would you like me to say?”

the question took you off guard. you hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. you opened your mouth, then closed it again, unsure of how to respond. what did you want him to say? that he regretted everything as much as you did? that he hated this arrangement, too? or perhaps you wanted him to acknowledge the years of bitterness between you, to admit that this marriage was a farce.

instead, you said, “we’re married now, heeseung. we have to live together. we can’t keep pretending the other doesn’t exist.”

his jaw tightened ever so slightly, but his voice remained calm. “i’m aware of that.”

you waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. the silence stretched on once again, thicker than before, suffocating in its awkwardness. you pushed your plate away, no longer interested in eating. “fine,” you muttered under your breath, standing abruptly. “i suppose i’ll just get used to it, then.”

you turned to leave, but his voice stopped you. “you don’t have to like this any more than i do, but we have responsibilities now.”

you paused, your back to him, your hands clenched at your sides. “responsibilities,” you repeated, your voice barely above a whisper. it seemed like that was all your life had ever been reduced to—duty, obligation, and responsibilities.

without another word, you left the dining room, the heavy doors closing behind you with a soft thud. you could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on you even more as you walked through the halls of the palace, each step echoing in the vast emptiness. you weren’t just trapped in this marriage—you were trapped in this life.

days passed, and though you and heeseung were forced to share the same space, your interactions remained minimal, stilted. in the mornings, you would find him already at the breakfast table, poring over documents and barely acknowledging your presence. he would spend his days attending council meetings and handling matters of state, leaving you to navigate the palace on your own, feeling more like a guest in your own home than its mistress.

at night, he would retire to the chambers late, often when you were already lying in bed, pretending to sleep. he would quietly take his place on the chaise near the window, far enough away to avoid any awkwardness, but close enough that his presence was a constant reminder of the divide between you.

it was during these nights that the loneliness settled in most heavily. the silence of the room, broken only by the occasional rustling of fabric or the soft crackle of the fireplace, was suffocating. you had grown accustomed to sleeping alone, but now, knowing heeseung was just a few feet away, the distance between you felt almost unbearable. there was an unspoken understanding that neither of you wanted to bridge the gap.

one evening, after yet another day of awkward meals and tense silences, you found yourself in the library, one of the few places in the palace where you felt at peace. the vast room was filled with shelves upon shelves of books, their spines worn and familiar. you had always loved to read, finding solace in the stories and histories of others when your own life felt too overwhelming.

you were seated by the window, the late afternoon sun casting a soft glow over the pages of your book, when the door creaked open. you looked up, surprised to see heeseung standing in the doorway. he paused for a moment, as if uncertain whether to enter or leave, his eyes scanning the room before they settled on you.

“may i join you?” he asked, his voice unusually soft.

you blinked, caught off guard by his request. this was the first time he had sought you out since the wedding, and the suddenness of it left you momentarily speechless. you nodded, unsure of what else to do. “of course.”

heeseung crossed the room, moving with his usual grace, and took a seat in the armchair opposite you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the quiet of the library enveloping you both. he seemed content to sit in silence, his gaze wandering to the bookshelves that lined the walls.

finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “this is... one of the quieter rooms.”

you raised an eyebrow, a small, incredulous smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “it’s a library, heeseung. of course it’s quiet.”

to your surprise, he chuckled softly, though it was a dry, humourless sound. “fair enough.”

silence fell again, but this time it wasn’t as suffocating. there was something almost... peaceful about it, the weight of your shared presence not as unbearable as it had been before. you watched him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how tired he looked. the weight of his responsibilities was evident in the slight furrow of his brow, the way his shoulders sagged ever so slightly.

after a while, you set your book down on your lap, deciding to break the silence. “it must be difficult,” you said quietly. “taking on so much.”

heeseung didn’t answer right away, his gaze still focused on the shelves, but eventually, he nodded. “it is.”

you hesitated for a moment, then spoke again, softer this time. “you don’t have to carry it all alone, you know.”

he turned to look at you then, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something softer than the cold indifference you had grown accustomed to.

“and what would you suggest?” he asked, his voice quiet but not unkind.

“i don’t know,” you admitted. “but we’re in this together, whether we like it or not.”

heeseung’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he nodded, a small, almost imperceptible movement. it wasn’t much, but it was the first step—however small—toward something more than just forced cohabitation.

the shift in your relationship came faster than you expected. it started with a challenge—a reckless, unspoken dare that neither of you could resist.

it had been a clear, crisp day, the first after several weeks of rain. you were restless, tired of the palace walls and the constant burden of your new role. you had gone to the stables, hoping to take one of the horses out for a ride, needing to feel the wind in your hair and the ground beneath you. but when you arrived, heeseung was already there, adjusting the reins of his own horse.

you paused in the doorway, surprised to see him. “you ride?”

he glanced up, one eyebrow raised. “you sound surprised.”

“i am,” you admitted. “i’ve never seen you ride before.”

he chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with amusement. “there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

the challenge in his voice was unmistakable, and you couldn’t resist rising to it. “care to prove it?” you asked, moving toward your own horse.

heeseung’s smirk widened. “what do you have in mind?”

you mounted your horse swiftly, the thrill of the challenge already coursing through your veins. “a race.”

heeseung raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “you think you can beat me?”

“i know i can,” you shot back, turning your horse toward the open field beyond the stables.

without another word, you spurred your horse into motion, not waiting for his response. behind you, you heard heeseung’s laughter, low and rich, before the sound of hooves thundering against the ground told you he had accepted the challenge.

you raced through the fields, the wind whipping through your hair, the thrill of the chase making your heart race. heeseung was right behind you, and you could feel the tension building, the competitive edge between you sparking like fire. it was like being children again, challenging each other at every turn, pushing each other to the limit.

but this time, it was different. the stakes were higher, the tension thicker, and the way heeseung looked at you when he finally caught up to you sent a shiver down your spine.

when he finally pulled his horse beside yours, you were both breathless, your faces flushed with adrenaline. you glanced over at him, and the look in his eyes—intense, dark, heated—made your pulse quicken.

“not bad,” he said, his voice low, rough around the edges.

you smirked, trying to ignore the way your heart was pounding. “you almost kept up.”

heeseung leaned in just slightly, his gaze locking with yours. “almost?” he murmured, his voice sending a jolt through you.

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. the space between you was too close, the air charged with something you weren’t quite ready to name. his eyes lingered on your lips for just a moment too long, and you could feel the heat of his presence, the tension that had always existed between you now manifesting in a way that was far more dangerous.

before either of you could say anything, heeseung pulled back, his smirk returning as if nothing had happened. “we’ll call it a draw,” he said, though there was a teasing edge to his voice.

you let out a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding, shaking your head with a laugh. “you wish.”

but as you rode back to the palace, the tension between you remained, simmering beneath the surface. it was no longer the resentment of old enemies, but something far more complex, far more dangerous. and for the first time, you found yourself wondering what would happen if that tension ever boiled over.

later that night, the air was thick with the remnants of the day’s energy. you couldn’t sleep, your mind still racing from the ride and the way heeseung had looked at you—how close he had come, how your heart had nearly betrayed you in that moment of suspended anticipation.

you wandered the halls of the palace aimlessly, your footsteps soft against the marble floors. the palace at night was a different place, quiet and still, the shadows long and heavy. it felt like a place where secrets lingered in every corner, where the walls whispered of things that could never be said aloud.

as you passed by the study, you noticed the faint glow of light beneath the door. curiosity piqued, you pushed the door open just enough to peek inside. heeseung was there, seated at the desk, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. he was reading, his brow furrowed in concentration, his lips slightly parted as he focused on the page in front of him.

you hesitated, but before you could turn away, he looked up, catching sight of you. for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with unspoken words. then, without breaking eye contact, heeseung set the book aside.

“couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice low, intimate in the quiet of the room.

you shook your head, stepping into the room. “no. you?”

heeseung’s gaze flicked over you, his eyes lingering on you in a way that made your skin heat under his scrutiny. “i’ve been thinking,” he said, his tone soft but laced with that same dangerous tension that had been building all day.

“about what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you moved closer, drawn to him in a way you couldn’t quite explain.

heeseung’s eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. “about you,” he said quietly. “about us.”

the weight of his words settled in the space between you, thick and intoxicating. about you. about us. it echoed in your mind, stirring something deep within you that you had tried to ignore for far too long. you weren’t sure if it was the late hour, the dim candlelight, or the fact that you had been dancing around each other for weeks now, but something inside you snapped.

your breath hitched as you looked at him, his eyes dark and full of something you couldn’t quite name. but it was there—undeniable, pulsing in the space between you. and now that it had been spoken into existence, you couldn’t unsee it.

“what about us?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. it wasn’t just curiosity anymore. it was a challenge.

heeseung’s gaze flicked to your lips, and the tension in the room intensified, coiling tighter and tighter until it felt like the air itself might shatter from the pressure. he stood slowly, his movements deliberate, and took a step toward you, closing the already-small distance between you.

“there’s always been something between us,” he said, his voice low, rough. his eyes never left yours, burning with intensity. “even when we hated each other.”

your heart was pounding now, so loud you were sure he could hear it. you wanted to deny it, to tell him that he was wrong, that it had always been pure hatred. but that would’ve been a lie. you knew it as well as he did—whatever had always been there between you, it had never been simple.

“and what is it now?” you asked, forcing yourself to meet his gaze even though every instinct told you to look away. to run.

heeseung took another step closer, his hand reaching up slowly, as though giving you the chance to pull away. but you didn’t. you couldn’t. his fingers brushed against your cheek, the touch so light it sent a shiver down your spine. his hand lingered there, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw.

“maybe we’ve been fighting the wrong battle,” he murmured, his voice softer now, almost tender. the warmth of his breath ghosted over your skin, and you felt your pulse quicken.

your throat tightened. every word he said felt like a dangerous line, one that you were teetering on the edge of crossing. the tension between you had always been a fire—burning too hot, too fast. and now, it felt like it was about to consume you both.

heeseung’s thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and your breath caught in your throat. his touch was tentative, as though he wasn’t quite sure if this was real or if you would pull away at any moment.

but you didn’t.

instead, you took a step closer, closing the gap completely. the air between you was charged, thick with unspoken desire and the weight of all the years you had spent fighting against each other. your body was betraying you, leaning into him, drawn by a force you had denied for too long.

heeseung’s eyes darkened as he leaned in, his lips barely an inch from yours, the heat between you almost unbearable now. you could feel the tension in every muscle, the way his hand trembled slightly as it cupped your cheek, the way your own body was responding without your permission.

then, in a breathless moment that felt like it stretched on forever, he closed the distance.

his lips pressed against yours—soft at first, testing, as though he wasn’t sure you would let him. but the moment your lips met his, something ignited between you. the kiss deepened, filled with all the pent-up frustration and longing that had been building for so long. it was a clash of emotions—anger, desire, need—all colliding in that single moment.

you responded instantly, your hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. the kiss was rough, almost desperate, as though you were both trying to make up for years of missed chances in that single moment.

his hands slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you gasped against his lips at the feeling of his body pressed so close to yours. the intensity of it was overwhelming, but you didn’t want it to stop. you didn’t want to think. you just wanted to feel.

but then, as quickly as it started, heeseung pulled back, his breathing ragged, his forehead resting against yours. his hands still gripped your waist, holding you in place as though he couldn’t quite let go yet.

“this isn’t... what i expected,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. his breath was warm against your skin, and his eyes searched yours, as though he was looking for an answer in your gaze.

you swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing, trying to make sense of what had just happened. “what did you expect?” you asked softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair.

heeseung’s grip on your waist tightened for a moment, his eyes darkening once again. “i didn’t expect you to feel this way.” his voice was low, almost a growl, filled with the same intensity that had been building between you all night.

you opened your mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. you had no idea what to say, no idea how to explain the maelstrom of emotions swirling inside you. all you knew was that everything had changed in that kiss.

“i don’t know what i feel,” you admitted quietly, your voice barely audible in the heavy silence of the room.

heeseung’s lips twitched into a small, almost sad smile. “neither do i.” he stepped back, finally breaking the physical contact between you, and you immediately missed the warmth of his body against yours.

“but whatever this is... it’s dangerous,” he continued, his eyes locked on yours, as though warning you. “we’ve always been enemies. we don’t know how to be anything else.”

you felt a lump form in your throat at his words, because deep down, you knew he was right. but that didn’t stop the ache in your chest, the desire for something more—for the possibility of what could be.

“i don’t want to be your enemy anymore,” you said softly, the confession surprising even you.

heeseung’s eyes widened slightly at your words, his expression unreadable. for a moment, you thought he might say something—might admit that he didn’t want to be your enemy either. but then, he shook his head, the walls between you coming back up, brick by brick.

“this doesn’t change anything,” he said quietly, but the look in his eyes said otherwise.

and with that, he turned and left the room, leaving you standing there in the soft glow of candlelight, your heart pounding and your mind reeling from the kiss that had shifted the entire balance between you.

as the door closed softly behind him, you exhaled a shaky breath, your fingers brushing your lips where his had been moments before.

everything had changed.

the royal court was buzzing with tension, and for once, the tension wasn’t between you and heeseung. the kingdom was on edge, not from war or rebellion, but from something far more insidious—political manoeuvring. rival noble houses were plotting against heeseung’s rule, questioning his right to ascend to the throne, especially after the sudden marriage to you. the whispers had grown louder over the past few weeks, the courtiers’ gazes sharper, waiting for the first misstep.

you had known court life would be full of power plays and alliances, but this was different. it was personal. every snide comment, every hushed conversation behind closed doors, felt like an attack on your marriage, on your family’s legacy. and worst of all, it felt like an attack on you.

one afternoon, as you made your way through the palace corridors, you overheard a group of nobles—close to your family—voicing their displeasure over your sudden marriage to heeseung. it was the same old song—how your sister should have been the bride, how you were never meant for this role, how heeseung marrying you was a strategic disaster.

you felt your blood run cold, but you kept walking, your head held high. you had grown used to these remarks, but today, they stung deeper. not because they questioned your worth, but because they reflected the deep-seated insecurity you had always carried.

that night, you found yourself alone in the study, staring out the window at the darkening sky. the weight of the court’s judgement, the impossible standards, the constant comparisons to your sister—they were suffocating. and then there was heeseung, whose coldness had thawed just enough to show you glimpses of something deeper, something real. but he was still heeseung—your husband, your childhood rival, and now the man who held your future in his hands.

the door creaked open behind you, and you didn’t need to turn to know it was him. you had grown attuned to his presence, the way the air shifted whenever he entered a room.

“what’s wrong?” his voice was quieter than usual, but still carrying that edge of command. he always knew when something was off, as if he could sense the turmoil swirling inside you.

you didn’t answer immediately, your gaze fixed on the stars outside. “they’re saying we’re not suited for each other,” you murmured, finally turning to face him. “that i’m not fit to be queen. that you made a mistake.”

heeseung’s jaw clenched, a muscle ticking in his cheek. he stepped closer, his eyes narrowing in that familiar way, but this time, it wasn’t directed at you.

“let them talk,” he said flatly. “they’re just waiting for us to fail.”

“and what if they’re right?” the words slipped out before you could stop them, the fear and doubt bubbling to the surface. “i was never meant to marry you. this isn’t the life i was prepared for.”

heeseung stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, he closed the distance between you, his hands gripping your shoulders firmly, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“i didn’t choose you because you were an easy choice,” he said, his voice low but intense. “i chose you because you’re stronger than you realise.”

you blinked, taken aback by the conviction in his words. heeseung wasn’t one to offer praise lightly, and hearing it now, in this moment, felt more intimate than anything he had ever said to you before.

“there are plenty of people who want to see us fail,” he continued, his grip tightening slightly. “but they don’t matter. what matters is that we don’t give them the satisfaction. we fight together.”

the intensity in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine, and for the first time, you saw beyond the cold exterior he had always shown you. there was something deeper there, something raw and unspoken. a partnership.

but the closeness also brought something else—a heat that had always been there between you, simmering beneath the surface. his hands lingered on your shoulders, his thumbs brushing the bare skin just above your collarbone, and suddenly the room felt smaller, the air thicker.

“you think i’m strong?” you asked, your voice quieter now, tinged with something more vulnerable. something real.

heeseung’s gaze flicked down to your lips, just for a moment, before returning to your eyes. his voice was rough when he spoke, low and filled with an unspoken promise. “i’ve always known.”

the charged air between you was impossible to ignore now. his fingers slid from your shoulders to your arms, the touch sending a jolt of warmth through you. it wasn’t just the weight of responsibility pressing down on you—it was him, his closeness, the undeniable pull you had both been dancing around for weeks.

you could feel the tension in every inch of your body, your heart racing as heeseung’s hands rested on your waist, pulling you closer, but still leaving just enough space for doubt. he hesitated, as if waiting for you to push him away, to remind him of the enmity that had defined your relationship for so long.

but you didn’t. instead, you leaned into him, your hands tentatively reaching up to rest on his chest. the fabric of his shirt was soft under your fingers, but beneath it, you could feel the steady beat of his heart, as rapid as your own.

“maybe i’ve been wrong about you,” you whispered, your breath hitching as the tension between you reached a breaking point.

heeseung’s eyes darkened at your words, his lips hovering just inches from yours. “maybe you have,” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. but there was something softer there too, something almost tender.

before you could talk yourself out of it, you closed the distance between you and kissed him.

the kiss was like nothing you had ever experienced—fierce, desperate, and full of the years of unresolved tension between you. it was as if all the walls you had built around yourselves were crumbling in an instant, leaving nothing but the raw, undeniable attraction that had always simmered beneath the surface.

heeseung responded instantly, his hands tightening on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. his lips moved against yours with a hunger that matched your own, and you could feel the heat radiating off him, his body pressing against yours as if he couldn’t bear to let you go.

it was overwhelming, the intensity of the moment, the way your bodies seemed to fit perfectly together, the way every touch sent a shockwave of desire coursing through you. you had spent so long fighting him, fighting this, and now, as his hands slid up your back, holding you close, you wondered why you had ever resisted.

when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. heeseung’s grip on your waist didn’t loosen, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest, his heartbeat as wild as your own.

“we can’t keep pretending,” you whispered, your voice shaky, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

heeseung’s eyes met yours, the vulnerability and uncertainty in his gaze mirroring your own. “no, we can’t,” he agreed, his voice rough with emotion.

for a moment, the world hung in the balance. you had crossed a line, and there was no going back. everything between you had shifted, and the question now wasn’t whether you would move forward—it was how.

heeseung’s thumb brushed gently against your cheek, his touch so tender it nearly broke you. “we’re in this together,” he said softly, the weight of his words heavy with meaning.

this time, there was no need to say anything more. you both understood what had changed between you, even if neither of you was ready to fully admit it. and though the path ahead was uncertain, you knew one thing for sure: you weren’t facing it alone anymore.

weeks passed, and with each passing day, things between you and heeseung slowly shifted. the cold, sharp walls that had once kept you apart were crumbling, revealing a warmth and understanding that neither of you had anticipated. where there had once been biting words and icy glares, there was now laughter, quiet conversations, and small gestures of affection.

the palace felt different. it was lighter now, with the growing sense of partnership between you and heeseung. your bickering had been replaced with genuine care, and though the wounds of the past hadn't fully healed, you were both learning to forgive. but it wasn’t just the emotional connection that was shifting—there was something deeper brewing beneath the surface. unspoken feelings, simmering tension.

it wasn’t until a grand banquet in honour of a visiting prince from a neighbouring kingdom that these feelings came to a head. you stood at the centre of the ballroom, dressed in a gown that glimmered under the candlelight. it hugged your figure perfectly, catching the attention of more than just heeseung. the prince—prince seojun—had been particularly charming throughout the evening, his eyes lingering on you a little too long, his compliments a little too bold.

“you are by far the most captivating presence in this room, your highness,” seojun murmured, his voice low as he leaned in slightly, a smirk playing on his lips. “if i had known such beauty awaited me here, i would have visited sooner.”

you laughed politely, glancing over your shoulder, searching for heeseung in the crowd. he was across the room, deep in conversation with some nobles, but even from the distance, you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and intense.

seojun continued, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as he leaned closer. “perhaps we could steal a moment away from the crowd? i would love to know more about the woman behind such an enchanting smile.”

before you could respond, a sudden shift in the air caught your attention. heeseung appeared at your side, his posture tense, his expression a mix of barely contained irritation and something else—something more possessive.

“princess,” heeseung’s voice was smooth, but there was a dangerous edge to it. his hand slid around your waist, pulling you firmly against his side. the claim was unmistakable. “i believe your dance card is full for the evening.”

seojun’s smirk faltered slightly as he glanced between the two of you, sensing the tension. heeseung’s eyes never left the prince, cold and unyielding.

“of course,” seojun replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. “i wouldn’t dream of overstepping. after all,” his gaze flickered to you, then back to heeseung, “she’s your wife.”

the words hung in the air for a moment, charged with unspoken meaning. seojun bowed slightly, a smirk still playing on his lips, before taking his leave. but even as he walked away, you could feel the lingering weight of his gaze.

you turned to heeseung, about to make a light-hearted remark about the interaction, but the look on his face stopped you. his eyes were dark, his jaw clenched, and his grip on your waist was firm—almost possessive.

“did he touch you?” heeseung asked, his voice low and tight.

you raised an eyebrow, surprised by his tone. “barely,” you replied, trying to play it off with a soft laugh. “why? are you jealous?”

his eyes flickered with something dangerous as he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. “you’re my wife. i don’t like other men thinking they can take what’s mine.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. the possessiveness in his tone, the way his body pressed protectively against yours—it was unlike anything you had ever experienced with heeseung. you had always seen him as cold, distant, but this... this was different. there was fire in his eyes, and you could feel it burning between you, a tension that neither of you had acknowledged until now.

“and what if i enjoy a little attention now and then?” you teased, testing the boundaries, wanting to see how far he would go.

heeseung’s eyes darkened even more, and in one swift motion, he pulled you even closer, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he leaned in, his lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “i don’t care how many men look at you, but remember this—” his voice dropped, sending shivers down your spine, “you belong to me and i belong to you.”

a thrill ran through you at his words, and for a moment, you were speechless, your mind spinning from the intensity of his claim. the ballroom, the crowd, even prince seojun—all of it faded away as heeseung’s gaze held you captive. you could feel the heat of his body against yours, the possessiveness in his touch, and for the first time, you realised that this wasn’t just some marriage of convenience anymore.

heeseung cared—more than he was willing to admit.

your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your eyes searching his, trying to read the emotions flickering behind them. “and what about you, heeseung?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “do you want me to be yours?”

his eyes softened for just a moment, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he leaned in, his lips brushing lightly against your temple. “you already are,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “and i’m not letting you forget it.”

the banquet had left the air between you and heeseung charged with an intensity that neither of you could ignore. his possessiveness, the fierce look in his eyes when he claimed you as his wife in front of prince seojun, had stirred something inside you—something that had been simmering for far too long.

as the last of the guests departed and the palace quieted down for the night, the tension remained, lingering like an unspoken promise. heeseung walked beside you in silence as you both made your way through the dimly lit corridors toward your chambers. though no words passed between you, the air was thick with anticipation, the unspoken pull between you stronger than ever.

when you reached your shared chambers, heeseung opened the door for you, his gaze never leaving you as you stepped inside. you could feel his eyes on you, burning with a need that matched your own. the soft glow of the candlelight cast long shadows across the room, but all you could focus on was the man standing behind you, his presence overwhelming.

you moved toward the vanity, fingers trembling slightly as you began to remove your jewellery. you were acutely aware of heeseung standing behind you, the weight of his gaze almost tangible as he watched your every movement. his silence spoke volumes, filled with desire and unspoken emotions that neither of you had fully confronted until now.

the tension was unbearable. finally, unable to stand the silence any longer, you glanced at him through the reflection in the mirror, your voice soft but steady. “you’ve been quiet,” you murmured, meeting his intense gaze. “what’s on your mind?”

he didn’t answer immediately. instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to brush against the bare skin of your shoulder. the touch was light, tentative, but it sent a shiver down your spine. his fingers lingered, tracing the delicate curve of your shoulder before he leaned in, his breath warm against your neck.

“i didn’t like how he looked at you,” heeseung finally admitted, his voice low and rough with suppressed emotion. his eyes met yours in the mirror, dark with jealousy and something more—something deeper. “or the way he made you laugh.”

your heart raced at the possessiveness in his tone. you turned to face him, taking in the tension in his jaw, the way his eyes blazed with something primal. his emotions were raw, laid bare before you in a way that heeseung had never allowed himself to show before.

“it was harmless,” you replied, stepping closer to him, your voice softening. “but i can’t say i minded the way you stepped in.”

his gaze darkened, his hand moving to your waist, pulling you flush against him. you could feel the heat of his body seeping into yours, the hard lines of his frame pressing against your softness. his eyes locked onto yours, filled with unspoken desire, but also with something more—something tender.

“i’m not the kind of man who likes to share,” he said, his voice a low growl as he leaned in, his lips hovering just above yours. “especially not when it comes to you.”

your breath hitched at his words, your pulse quickening as the fire between you flared even hotter. you couldn’t deny the thrill that ran through you at his possessive tone, the way his hands gripped you as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

“and what are you going to do about it?” you whispered, your voice daring, testing the boundaries as your lips brushed his, teasingly close but not quite touching.

heeseung’s response was immediate. his lips crashed against yours, fierce and hungry, as if he had been holding back for far too long. the kiss was searing, filled with all the emotions you had both kept hidden. his hands roamed over your body, possessive yet tender, as though he was staking his claim but also worshipping every inch of you.

you responded just as fiercely, your hands tangling in his hair as you pulled him closer, needing to feel every part of him against you. the tension between you, the unspoken desire, it all poured out in that kiss, in the way his body pressed against yours with a need that matched your own.

heeseung’s hands slid down to your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he carried you toward the bed. the air between you was electric, charged with desire and the intensity of emotions that neither of you had allowed to surface until now. he laid you down gently, his eyes never leaving yours, his gaze dark and filled with a hunger that made your heart race.

for a moment, he paused, his fingers brushing over your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the intensity of what had just passed between you. his eyes softened, and for the first time, you saw the vulnerability behind them—the raw emotion that he had been hiding behind his cold exterior for so long.

“are you sure?” he asked, his voice husky but laced with care, as if he was giving you one last chance to pull away, to stop this before it went too far.

you gazed up at him, your heart swelling with the overwhelming emotions coursing through you. heeseung, the man you had once considered your rival, your enemy, was now looking at you with a tenderness that took your breath away. you reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb brushing softly over his cheek.

“i’m sure,” you whispered, pulling him down into another kiss, softer this time, but no less filled with the emotions swirling between you.

what followed was slow, deliberate, and filled with a tenderness that you had never expected from heeseung. his hands moved over your body with care, as though he was savouring every touch, every breath. the fierceness from earlier softened into something more intimate, more meaningful, as he explored you with reverence, his lips following the path of his hands.

your name fell from his lips like a prayer, whispered against your skin in the quiet moments between kisses. heeseung’s touch was both possessive and gentle, as though he was claiming you but also offering himself to you in return. the intensity of the moment was overwhelming, but it was the tenderness in his gaze, the softness of his touch, that made your heart ache with something deeper than mere desire.

and as the night stretched on, your bodies moving together in perfect harmony, you realised that this wasn’t just about passion—it was about the connection you had been fighting against for so long. the rivalry, the bickering, the walls you had both built between you—it all crumbled away, leaving only the raw truth of what you felt for one another.

when it was over, you lay beside each other, your breathing heavy, your bodies tangled in the sheets. the room was quiet now, the only sound was the soft rustle of the fabric and the faint crackle of the dying fire in the hearth.

heeseung turned to you, his hand reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. his eyes, once so cold and guarded, were warm now, filled with an emotion that made your heart skip a beat. he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you and holding you against his chest as though he couldn’t bear to let you go.

you rested your head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. it was comforting, grounding you in the quiet aftermath of everything that had just passed between you. his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, soothing and gentle, as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

neither of you spoke, but words weren’t necessary. the silence was filled with a sense of peace, of contentment that neither of you had known before. heeseung’s touch was soft now, filled with care as he held you close, his body warm and protective against yours.

and in that quiet, intimate moment, you realised something: this was more than just passion, more than just desire. it was something real, something lasting.

heeseung’s hand continued to trace gentle patterns on your back, his lips brushing your temple as he whispered softly, “are you alright?”

you smiled against his chest, your heart swelling with warmth at the tenderness in his voice. “more than alright,” you murmured, snuggling closer to him.

heeseung let out a soft sigh, his arms tightening around you as if he never wanted to let go. and as you drifted off to sleep in his arms, the weight of the past finally lifted, leaving only the warmth of the present and the promise of a future you were both ready to embrace.

the next morning, you woke to find heeseung already up, standing by the window of your shared chambers, his silhouette framed by the soft glow of the early morning light. he looked deep in thought, his expression pensive as he gazed out over the kingdom.

quietly, you approached him, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. he stiffened for a moment at the contact but quickly relaxed, his hands covering yours as he let out a soft sigh.

“you’re up early,” you murmured, resting your cheek against his back.

“i couldn’t sleep,” he replied, his voice thoughtful. “i was thinking about everything that’s changed.”

you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder. “a lot has changed, hasn’t it?”

heeseung turned in your arms, his expression soft as he looked down at you. “i never thought this would work,” he admitted, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “but i’m glad i was wrong.”

you gazed up at him, your heart swelling with warmth. the man standing before you was the same heeseung you had known all your life, but now, you saw him for who he truly was—not your enemy, not your rival, but your partner. your husband.

“i’m glad too,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. he leaned into your touch, his eyes closing for a moment, a small smile playing on his lips.

and in that moment, you knew that this was your new beginning. the past, with all its bitterness and tension, was behind you. what lay ahead was a future you hadn’t expected but one you were ready to embrace—together.

as heeseung pulled you into a gentle kiss, the warmth of the morning sun streaming through the window, you knew that this was the start of something beautiful. your marriage, once forged out of obligation and resentment, had grown into something real, something lasting.

and as you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, you realised that sometimes, the best love stories were the ones you never saw coming.

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

taglist: @punchbug9-blog @firstclassjaylee @capri-cuntz @addictedtohobi @jaysfavoritegirl

#ady 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲𝘀...👩🏻‍💻.ᐟ #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen oneshots #enhypen fics #enhypen x reader #heeseung #lee heeseung #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #heeseung fics #heeseung oneshots #kpop fics #enhypen royal au

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mariasont · 2 months ago

Text

ALLERGIES AND OTHER LIES - A.H

trying to downplay your illness at work becomes increasingly complicated, thanks to morgan's teasing and hotch's concern.

pairings: aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader warnings: illness (mild cold symptoms), implied age gap dynamics, dbf!hotch, chronic people pleasing, mentions of parental disapproval, overworking, power imbalance (mild, but like... still), caretaking, mentions of anxiety/imposter syndrome wc: 1.8k request: here!

In your household, illness had been less about care and more about damage control, specifically, making sure your father never noticed the slightest sniffle or shiver.

Showing weakness of any kind had been about as welcome as bringing home a bad grade (below A) or an unsuitable boyfriend (anyone whose parents weren’t well known in your parents’ circle of friends).

Your mother had a mantra of chin up, honey. So, in turn, you spent most of your childhood mastering silent coughs and hiding tissues like contraband. You become an expert, too, in using makeup as camouflage, plastering concealer beneath tired eyes and an irritated nose.

These were the skills you employed again today, transforming your reflection to something more presentable.

Or at least, you hoped.

One might reasonably expect your workplace, filled with empathetic experts who practically radiate concern and affection for you, to be the ideal environment to relax those defenses. Clearly, reason is not a reliable source.

Old habits die hard, or something like that.

You clear your throat again, trying to make it quieter this time as if to be a peace offering for your body, hoping it might abandon its melodrama and remember that once upon a blue moon, you had shared priorities.

Shared priorities like appearing professional, impressing Hotch, not dying of embarrassment in the middle of the office. At least, ideally not before Hotch realizes he’s secretly in love with you, but beggars can’t be choosers.

And to your credit, you know you’re perfectly functional. You're completely capable of performing basic duties. It's only a paperwork day, and all you need to accomplish is sitting upright for the next six hours without collapsing.

Piece of cake, really.

This holds true despite your head's best efforts to contract this narrative, floating dizzily atop your shoulders like an overinflated balloon, packed with cottony static.

It’s as if someone (you suspect Satan himself at this point, no lesser evil would be quite so cruel) is intent on squeezing, testing just how much strain your overstretched rubber can endure before ultimately popping.

But to deem this a real illness would be the sort of overstatement that would’ve set your mother’s lips into a tight, disapproving line.

No, this is just the polite-stranger-on-the-street level of cold, the type you acknowledge with that polite, no-teeth, slightly awkward smile (the one dads exchange at hardware stores), giving it just enough recognition so it doesn’t engage you further.

Though, this strategy of pointedly ignoring your symptoms seems to be failing, if your rapidly dwindling tissue supply is any indication. Most people would say it is. Spencer, for instance. Rossi. Emily. JJ. Morgan.

Especially Morgan.

You wonder whether anyone would care, or even notice, if you slipped out to restock. It’s tempting to steal someone else’s box outright. Desperate times, desperate measures, etc.

Your hand rises to settle against your cheek, fingers pressing and reshaping fever-warmed skin in a hopeful bid to pacify the throbbing discomfort that has nestled firmly behind your eyes.

“You doing okay over there?” JJ asks, fingers flying over her tablet screen without sparing you more than half a distracted glance. “Sounds like you’re fighting a losing battle over there.”

You force out a laugh, but it comes out strangled, undermining your performance before it even has a chance to succeed. Pathetic.

“Allergies,” you insist weakly.

This finally earns her full attention and a look she probably usually reserves for Henry and Michael.

“If you say so.”

You're still mentally fumbling for a better excuse when Hotch steps through the entrance of the bullpen.

Immediately, your spine goes rigid, snapping into proper alignment designed to fool him into believing you're the very picture of health. It's a level of optimistic delusion typically reserved for thinking you'll actually wake up early to run. Or for ill-advised crushes. (Not that the latter has any relevance to you whatsoever, of course.)

Feigning disinterest, you slide the sad, flattened tissue box toward the outermost corner of your desk, secretly hoping it might vanish into some blind spot and escape his notoriously observant gaze.

Unfortunately, Morgan doesn’t have blind spots. You can feel his curiosity practically burning through you without needing visual confirmation.

And when you finally cave and glance over, sure enough, he’s exactly as you feared — reclining with that self-assured smirk of this.

You shoot back an imploring, wordless appeal you hope is conveyed properly in the desperate look on your face — Derek if you have any compassion left in your soul, don’t embarrass me in full view of the human epitome of perfection who, by some cosmic injustice, also happens to sign my paychecks.

“Hey, Hotch, you might want to keep a safe distance. Somebody over here sounds ready to keel over.”

You stiffen in an instant, a flush saturating your skin in a wave of flaring skin. So, it's decided then, Morgan is either immune to the nuances of telepathy or human decency. Maybe both.

His comment lands with brutal accuracy to its intended target, Hotch's all-seeing attention, exactly where they're guaranteed to do the most harm.

Against all better judgment, you look toward your boss.

His expression is reliably neutral — an impenetrable facade he’s perfected over countless interrogations and internal crises. But you, in your infinite and perhaps slightly unhealthy fascination, have long since memorized the subtle dialects of his face. The language spoken by small lines that now deepening along his forehead.

Those shadowed creases betray worry, mild irritation, or an even more troubling amalgamation of both.

You shoot Morgan a pointed glare, but the strength of your conviction fizzles out fast, morphing unwillingly into something you’re sure resembles a wounded pout.

Predictably, his grin expands, and before you can conjure a sufficiently damning curse to smite him into oblivion, Hotch materializes beside your work space.

His eyes skim over your desk — the messy heap of tissues, the scattered remnants of cough drop wrappers, and the cluster of half empty tea cups.

“Something wrong?”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Hotch clarifies patiently. More than you deserve.

“Oh, right — no, I’m completely fine,” you babble quickly, fingers scrambling in vain to conceal the damning evidence. “I’m — this is nothing, really.”

His eyes narrow.

“How about you tell me the truth this time?”

“Seriously. I feel totally —” Your defense promptly collapses as you pivot hastily, barely managing to muffle a sneeze into the crook of your elbow. You sniffle sheepishly, eyes watering, and turn back to him. “— great,” you croak. “Fantastic, even.”

He offers his handkerchief without comment, and you accept it, fingertips hovering just shy of his, keeping distance the way you’d steer clear of a freshly painted wall (tempting, but dangerous). Because, frankly, you don’t trust your fever-addled nerves to cope gracefully with even a microscopic brush of his skin.

You look down at the cloth, starched and clean, just another perfect aspect of him. One more checkmark on an ever-expanding list.

He must have routines for everything — shirts arranged by hue and texture, socks rolled into disciplined bundles. In your mind's eye, you also see a perfectly aligned row of identical handkerchiefs stacked neatly in the top drawer.

You doubt he ever lets himself sprawl out on the sofa with takeout containers littered across the coffee table.

But then again, it’s equally hard to picture him performing mundane domestic things like folding fitted sheets. Maybe he hires someone specifically for that.

Maybe (and here your heart skips a beat), just maybe he could be persuaded to leave those sheets rumpled occasionally.

Possibly even by someone as hopeless as yourself.

You squeeze your eyes shut, but it’s too late. The images are planted firmly, sending out stubborn roots to your already overstimulated imagination.

“I’ll wash it,” you mumble hastily, realizing you've been staring wordlessly at him for an inappropriate amount of time. “Sorry. I mean, thank you. And I’ll wash it.”

“I’ve got more.” He watches you for another second. “Do you need to go home?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m good. Really.”

You’re not exactly sure why the words come out so defensive, like admitting you actually might need rest would irrevocably confirm some inadequacy you’ve tried to conceal.

Realistically, you understand he’s simply offering grace, giving you an escape hatch if your pride allows you to take it. You know that. Emotionally, however, your heart has a habit of misinterpreting tenderness, of hearing concern and translating it into criticism.

“I was afraid you’d say that.” He turns, steps back just enough to gesture with a tilt of his head. “Come with me.”

You blink slowly, mind briefly stalling in a fog of congestion and confusion, unsure of what exactly you're agreeing to.

But then you're following him. No questions asked. No explanation needed, destination a secondary detail at best, because you're familiar with the fact that your behavior, apparently, tends to regress to that of a loyal golden retriever when he's around (which doesn't paint you in a particularly flattering light).

He walks. You heel. Once again, pathetic.

It’s only when his hand touches the doorknob to his office, that realization crystallizes into a cold dread.

This, then, is a conversation. And not the easy, casual kind either. It’s one of those conversations, the sort he delivers in velvet tones that mask disappointment beneath layers of practiced compassion. Objectively ten times worse than yelling.

Not that you've personally ever been subjected to Hotch's raised voice. You've watched it happen sparingly, set aside for suspects — and to the one unfortunate officer whose conversational style with you could charitably be called outdated.

For a reckless second, you find yourself imagining what it might feel like to bear the brunt of such restrained anger. Your thighs clench involuntarily.

You make a vow to steer clear of that mental avenue from now on.

“I know I probably seem irresponsible,” you rush out, even as he pushes the door open. “I wasn’t trying to be. It’s just been a long week, and I didn’t think — well, I thought, but clearly not enough, and I wasn’t trying to hide anything —”

You freeze, words hanging unfinished in the air, eyes fixed as he lowers himself to one knee and opens a cabinet. He pulls out a tightly folded blanket accompanied by a pillow still wrapped in crinkling plastic.

“If you’re not going home,” he says, not unkind, just definitive, “then you’re going to sleep.”

“But I —”

“Morgan will cover your responsibilities.”

“That’s not —”

“— fair to him?” he finishes your exact thought, his back already turned as he adjusts the blinds, shutting out distractions along with daylight. “Maybe not. But he’ll be fine. I’m not convinced you will.”

You draw in a breath, ready to say something (though what exactly you're not sure) to prove you’re not completely powerless here, but his eyes cut past you to the couch. And that’s it. The conversation ends before it begins.

You drop to the cushions, limbs too tired to pretend at defiance, and he, unbothered, resumes gathering his files and paperwork.

“I’ll be in the conference room,” he says. “You’re staying here and resting. Two hours minimum. If I see you at your desk before then, I’ll walk you out myself.”

“Yes, sir.” The sarcasm’s there, but it limps, undersold by a renewed stabbing at your temple.

He’s almost through the door before he hesitates, looking back. “Come get me if you need anything.”

It’s softer than the rest. You tuck that away carefully, right alongside the headache.

You made it precisely an hour and forty-seven minutes. You rounded up. You told yourself it was close enough to two to count. You did the math. He undoubtedly would too.

So later, passing Hotch in the hallway, you braced yourself, but he said nothing. Just offered another one of those indecipherable looks that could equally be subtle approval, polite disappointment, or simply proof he had a running tally in his head confirming you cracked right on schedule.

You assume it’s that last one.

When you get back to your desk, there’s a bright yellow sticky note patiently waiting for you.

Hotch didn’t sign it, but he didn’t have to. The handwriting is barely legible, a clear indicator. Doctors everywhere would be proud.

You’ve learned to decode his scrawl purely out of survival, especially when it comes to finding your name hidden somewhere in the mess he leaves on paperwork. It usually takes two tries, a careful squint, and occasionally rotating the page at odd angles before you can definitely confirm that yes, that enigmatic scribble is indeed meant to be you.

You smile to yourself, slipping the words into your drawer, stashing it away like a lucky charm or a secret love letter, safely hidden from prying eyes.

There’s something comforting in the thought that maybe, if you follow Hotch’s instructions well enough, he’ll write another one. Lucky you.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanded! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

#🌺 maria writes #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner #hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner hurt/comfort #aaron hotchner flangst #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner oneshot #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner x sweetheart!reader #aaron hotchner x sweetheart reader #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds x reader #aaron hotchner x you

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reidmarieprentiss · 9 months ago

Note

Could you perhaps write something? It’s the readers birthday and Reid waits all day to see if she brings it up, but they never do. So he shows up at her apartment with a gift for her and tells her he’ll always remember her birthday, even if she doesn’t tell anyone when it is. And then a little smut occurs. 😱

Birthday Surprise

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: smut (18+), fluff

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, forgotten birthday

Word count: 7.9k

a/n: this is such a great idea i'm so sorry it took me forever to get around to writing it !! it's probably way smuttier than you thought lolol i was in a smut slump but we're back !

main masterlist

Additional warnings: oral (fem receiving) protected PinV

The day unfolds like any other, with the usual rush of paperwork, coffee runs, and the occasional moment of laughter echoing through the bullpen. You stay focused on your work, avoiding any unnecessary interactions that might draw attention to yourself. After all, it’s your birthday, but you’ve chosen to keep that to yourself. It feels strange, withholding such personal information, but in a high-stakes environment like this, there’s a part of you that prefers to blend into the background. Birthdays aren't meant to be a spectacle here.

You glance around the room, noticing the typical energy coursing through the space, unaware that a pair of eyes have been subtly watching you all morning. Spencer Reid, as meticulous with people as he is with facts, has always been someone who notices the little things others tend to miss. Today, it’s your silence, the absence of a celebratory card, or a slice of cake that catches his attention. He’s well aware of what today means, not because you told him, but because he knows. Just like he knows the birthdays of every other team member, except yours is different—yours matters more to him.

Spencer taps his pen against his notebook, his gaze drifting toward you. He debates internally whether to say anything, to let you know he’s aware. He’s read enough about social norms to understand that birthdays often come with expectations—balloons, cake, a few awkwardly sung lines of "Happy Birthday"—but that’s not your style. He’s noticed how you avoid the spotlight, how you prefer quiet moments over public celebrations. Still, he wonders if there’s something you’re hoping for today.

Penelope, typically the beacon of all things celebratory, hasn’t said anything either. But Spencer figures you’ve kept it quiet on purpose. He knows Penelope would have plastered the office with decorations had she been aware, and since the office remains as normal as ever, Spencer figures you’re not in the mood for that kind of attention.

He watches you, waiting for a sign—a smile, a quick glance his way, anything that might suggest you’d appreciate a private acknowledgment. When nothing comes, he respects your decision, but there’s a gnawing feeling inside him. Birthdays are supposed to be special, and even though you’ve chosen not to celebrate, he can’t just let it pass without doing something. Not for you.

The day comes to an end, and not a single word has been spoken about your birthday. You’ve kept it quiet, of course, but still, the silence lingers a bit more than you expected. Not from anyone else, and not from you. Spencer has watched the day unfold in his quiet, observant way, and though he knows you’re not one for grand gestures, he can’t let this pass unnoticed.

After leaving the office, Spencer’s mind is already set on what he needs to do. He stops by your favorite restaurant, carefully picking up dinner. You never told him your favorite spot, but he’s always been the kind of person who pays attention to the little things—especially when it comes to you. He takes pride in knowing these details, even if he’s never made a show of it.

From there, he heads to a local bakery, the door chiming just as the frustrated baker is about to close. Spencer, out of breath and apologetic, manages to convince the baker to stay open just long enough to get a small cake with your name written on it. The generous tip helps, but more than anything, it’s the desperation in Spencer’s voice that softens the baker’s resolve.

Now, standing outside your front door with his arms full—dinner in one hand, cake in the other—he uses his elbow to press the doorbell, feeling a flicker of nervousness that’s unusual for him. He never shows up unannounced like this, but he knows this is different. This matters.

Inside, you’re curled up on the couch, completely absorbed in the book your parents sent you as a gift. It’s one you’ve been dying to read for months, and it’s been the perfect way to end your quiet day. The unexpected ring of the doorbell pulls you from your peaceful moment, your brow furrowing slightly as you set the book down.

You tiptoe toward the door, glancing out the sheer blinds to see who it could possibly be at this hour. When you spot Spencer standing there, your heart skips a beat. You quickly open the door, a confused grin tugging at your lips.

"Reid?" you ask, your voice light but puzzled. "What are you doing here?"

He shifts awkwardly, his arms still burdened with dinner and the cake, and there’s a sheepishness in his expression that’s both endearing and unexpected.

"Happy birthday," he says, though it comes out more like a question, his uncertainty evident.

Your heart swells at the sight of him, the surprise of his gesture hitting you all at once. You glance at the dinner in one hand, the cake in the other, and something warm blooms in your chest.

"Thank you," you say, your voice soft as you open the door wider. "Come in, please."

Spencer followed you into the kitchen, his eyes subtly taking in the details of your small, cozy home. It occurred to you that this was the first time he had ever been inside, and that realization only added to the strange, fluttery feeling that had been building inside you since he showed up at your door.

He set the bags down on the counter, the quiet clinking of takeout containers filling the brief silence between you.

“How, um... how did you know it was my birthday?” you asked softly, a hint of shyness in your voice.

Spencer didn’t look up immediately, making himself busy with the food, carefully unpacking it as though it were an everyday task. “I would never forget your birthday, Y/N,” he replied, his voice so matter-of-fact yet warm.

His words struck something deep inside you, and your heart swelled all over again, the warmth spreading through your chest and into your limbs. “Reid... that's so sweet,” you murmured, barely able to contain the emotion in your voice.

He smiled over his shoulder at you, that soft, almost boyish grin that made everything feel lighter. “I hope this is okay,” he said, turning around to show you what he had brought. “I guessed you’d like this.”

You blinked, staring at the familiar containers in his hands, and your breath caught in your throat. It wasn’t just any takeout—it was your favorite order from your absolute favorite restaurant. Your mind struggled to process how he could have known, and your body felt like it was on the verge of exploding with a tidal wave of affection and gratitude.

“H–how?” you stammered, unable to get out anything more coherent as your emotions threatened to overwhelm you.

Spencer shrugged in that sweet, almost bashful way he did sometimes, his eyes meeting yours as he simply said, “I pay attention.”

Those three words hit you harder than anything else he could’ve said. It wasn’t just the dinner, or the cake, or even the fact that he’d remembered your birthday without you saying a word—it was that he saw you, truly noticed you, in ways you didn’t think anyone ever did.

Without thinking, you stepped closer, your eyes soft and full of everything you couldn’t put into words. “Reid, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you whispered, but there was no mistaking the happiness in your tone.

He smiled gently, placing the food down on the counter. “I know,” he said, his voice soft, “but I wanted to.”

And just like that, your quiet birthday became something more than you ever could have expected—because of him.

As the two of you settled into an easy rhythm of conversation over dinner, it felt surprisingly natural—despite the unexpectedness of the evening. You sat across from each other at your small kitchen table, the soft clinking of forks against takeout containers punctuating the space between your words. Spencer, usually so reserved and careful, seemed more relaxed, as if the intimacy of the moment had broken down some of his usual barriers.

“You know,” Spencer began between bites, “this restaurant has one of the highest customer satisfaction ratings in the area. I didn’t just pick it at random—I wanted to make sure it was perfect.” He looked up at you, his eyes bright with sincerity.

You smiled, taking in how thoughtful he had been without even realizing how much it meant to you. "I can’t believe you went to so much trouble for this. I really don’t expect anything big for my birthday."

Spencer shrugged, his expression so genuine it made your heart ache just a little. "Well, it’s not just any day. It’s your day. And you deserve to feel special."

His words landed gently, but with a depth that made your pulse quicken. You had always seen Spencer as more than a colleague, but you’d never really considered him in a romantic light. The way he was speaking tonight, though, made you notice things about him you hadn’t before.

“You’re really thoughtful, Reid,” you said, picking at your food, your voice soft. “I don’t think I’ve ever had someone remember the little things like you do.”

He glanced at you with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up slightly. “I like to notice the important things. People tend to overlook those details, but they matter.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you suddenly realized how much attention he must’ve been paying all this time. Spencer was always observant—he was a profiler, after all—but this was different. He was talking about you, not in a way that made you feel studied, but in a way that made you feel seen.

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it like that,” you replied, your voice light, though your heart felt anything but. “Most people don’t pay that much attention.”

Spencer looked at you intently then, his gaze soft but unwavering. “It’s hard not to pay attention to you.”

The statement was simple, but the way he said it felt like something more. You felt your cheeks warm, caught off guard by the realization that Spencer Reid might see you in a way you hadn’t seen yourself.

“Reid, I—” you started, but he interrupted, not even realizing the shift in the conversation.

“And you’re always so organized with your case files,” he continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “I appreciate that about you. You make my job easier, and honestly, it’s hard not to enjoy working with you.”

You laughed softly, feeling flustered but trying to keep it light. “You make me sound like I’m perfect or something.”

He tilted his head, a thoughtful look crossing his face. “I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. I’ve always thought you were... well, pretty amazing.”

“I... I didn’t know you felt that way,” you admitted quietly, playing with your fork to avoid looking directly at him.

Spencer, seemingly oblivious to the weight of his own words, shrugged again. “I'm not always good at saying what I’m thinking, but you’ve always stood out to me. I guess it’s just… obvious to me.”

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, and for the first time, you found yourself really considering Spencer Reid in a different light. Sure, he was brilliant, kind, and more attractive than you’d ever let yourself dwell on—but you had never imagined he might see you that way.

You felt... average. Just you. How could someone like Spencer, with his genius mind and thoughtful nature, possibly see you as anything more than a friend or colleague?

As you looked across the table at him, his expression soft and open, you realized that maybe—just maybe—you had been wrong about where you stood with him.

After the plates were cleared, you and Spencer sat side by side, laughing as you decided to abandon any pretense of formality and dig into the cake with forks. It was just the two of you, after all, and the evening had become too comfortable for anything else. Every bite seemed to add to the warmth between you, and even though neither of you had touched a drop of alcohol, it felt like you were both intoxicated—drunk on the unexpected affection and connection between you.

You noticed Spencer watching you with an intensity that was both thrilling and unsettling. His gaze felt heavier than usual, more present, more... intentional. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a little self-conscious under his watchful eyes. “What?” you asked, your voice light but breathless as your lips curled into a small, uncertain smile.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, a sound so gentle it sent warmth coursing through you. He shifted closer, his hand lifting, and before you could process what was happening, his palm was cupping the side of your face. His thumb brushed across your lips tenderly, lingering there.

“You have...” he murmured, eyes never leaving yours, “some frosting.”

His touch was electric, sending a shiver through you, though you were frozen in place. Your lips parted slightly in surprise, but you couldn’t move. Spencer's thumb continued to gently trace the curve of your bottom lip, the moment stretching between you, thick with something you hadn’t realized was there until now.

He leaned in a little closer, his breath brushing your skin as he whispered, “Y/N… I’m going to kiss you. Is that okay?”

His words, soft and tentative, sent your pulse racing, and you barely registered the nod you gave in response. But that was all he needed. Spencer's gaze flicked down to your lips, and he closed the remaining distance slowly, as if giving you every chance to stop him, though you knew you wouldn’t.

His lips met yours gently, a hesitant kiss that was soft, warm, and everything you hadn’t realized you’d been craving. The world seemed to fall away for a moment, leaving just the two of you, locked in something fragile and sweet.

Spencer’s hand stayed cradling your face as he deepened the kiss just slightly, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that made your heart ache. When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his forehead rested gently against yours, and his eyes were still closed as if he were savoring the moment.

“Was that okay?” he asked quietly, his voice thick with emotion, still holding onto the last traces of your kiss.

You let out a shaky breath, your hands instinctively finding their way to his chest. “Mhm, very okay,” you whispered, smiling softly as your heart raced in your chest.

Spencer opened his eyes slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. The room felt heavier with meaning now, but it was the kind of weight you welcomed, a sense that things had shifted between you in the best possible way.

“Can I do it again?” Spencer asked, his voice playful, his lips pulling into a silly grin that made your heart flip.

You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness, your cheeks warming as you nodded once more. This time, though, you didn’t wait for him to make the first move. You leaned up toward him, your hands sliding from his chest to the back of his neck, your fingers gently threading through the soft strands of his hair.

Spencer’s hands moved from where they had been resting on your face, sliding down to your waist as he pulled you in closer, your bodies now pressed together with a new, delicious kind of tension. He let out a soft, happy hum, the sound vibrating through you, making you feel like your entire body was alight with warmth.

When you felt his tongue gently part your lips, exploring your mouth with such tender care, you couldn’t help the soft, sweet moan that escaped you. The sound seemed to stir something in Spencer, and you felt his fingers tighten on your waist just as a low, deep groan rumbled from his chest.

Encouraged by his reaction, you tangled your fingers further into his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. The world outside this moment seemed to fade even more, leaving just the feeling of Spencer against you, the intoxicating heat between your bodies, and the soft sounds of contentment that passed between you both.

Each kiss was deeper than the last, each touch more deliberate, as if you were both slowly learning a new language made of gentle caresses and lingering glances. Spencer’s lips were soft and insistent against yours, but always so tender, as if he was savoring each moment, never wanting to rush. The feeling of his body pressed so intimately against yours, his hands gripping your waist like he never wanted to let go, made your pulse race.

Spencer pulled back ever so slowly, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You let out a soft whine, your body instinctively leaning forward, both at the loss of his lips and the delicious pull of his teeth. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath, the air between you thick with unspoken feelings.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he murmured, his voice soft and almost breathless, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Your heart skipped at his words, and you tilted your head slightly, curiosity getting the better of you. "How long?" you asked, your voice just as quiet, as if speaking too loudly might break the fragile intimacy between you.

Spencer laughed, the sound low and almost bashful. "Two years and three months," he said with a soft chuckle, his breath tickling your skin.

You paused for a moment, realizing how specific that time frame was. Then it hit you. "That's... that's when I started at the BAU," you said slowly, your mind racing to piece it together.

He nodded, his forehead still resting gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between. "Since the first day I saw you, I knew you were special."

His words hung in the air, and something inside you shifted. You could feel the weight of his confession settle in your chest, and it only made the moment feel more intense, more real. Spencer had been feeling this way for so long, waiting patiently, watching from the sidelines, all without you ever knowing.

That’s when you made your decision.

"Take me to the bedroom, Reid," you said, your voice steady but filled with anticipation.

Spencer pulled back instantly, his eyes wide in surprise, his expression almost comically stunned. "What?"

You held his gaze, your hand gently brushing his cheek as you repeated, more softly this time, "The bedroom, please?" You threw in your best puppy dog eyes, knowing it would be hard for him to say no.

For a moment, Spencer was frozen, his mind clearly racing to catch up with the reality of what was happening. "Okay—yeah, yeah," he stammered, still in shock but unable to hide the excitement building in his voice.

He stood back quickly, offering his hand to you with a mix of eagerness and hesitation. You took it, letting him pull you gently from the kitchen, the warmth of his palm against yours sparking something deep inside you. As he led you down the hallway toward the bedroom, your heart raced, the anticipation growing with every step.

As soon as the bedroom door closed behind you, your hands were already tugging at Spencer’s sweater vest, pulling it over his head with eager fingers. His usually neat hair was left a little wild and messy, and you couldn't help but giggle softly at the sight. He grinned back at you, shaking his head like a dog trying to shake off water, making you laugh even harder.

"You're ridiculous," you teased, but your words were laced with affection.

Spencer just smiled wider, his eyes filled with mischief and desire. Without missing a beat, his hands found the hem of your shirt, slowly lifting it up as you raised your arms in surrender, allowing him to undress you with deliberate care. The fabric slipped over your head, and as soon as it was discarded to the floor, you could feel his gaze roaming over your body.

His eyes lingered on your chest, clearly noticing the absence of a bra, and the way his breath caught sent a shiver through you. There was something so intense, so reverent in the way he looked at you that it made your skin tingle. His hands found their way to your breasts, his touch gentle yet filled with hunger, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening.

Without another word, Spencer dipped his head back down, capturing your lips in another kiss that left you breathless. This time, it was deeper, more urgent, as if all the emotions he'd been holding back for years were pouring into this moment. His thumbs rubbed at your nipples as he kissed you, and you could feel his heart beating wildly against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own as you whined softly into his mouth.

Your hands found their way to his hair again, tangling in the soft strands as you pressed your body closer to his, craving more of him, more of the way his lips moved against yours, more of the way his hands explored you.

The moment you felt the unmistakable press of Spencer’s arousal against you, your instincts took over. Your hands trailed down, quickly working at the waistband of his pants, eager to feel more of him. Spencer’s fingers left your body only long enough to undo the buttons of his shirt, your breaths becoming heavier as the distance between you both shrank even more.

Soon, he was down to just his briefs, his skin warm against yours, and for a second, you thought he was about to pull you into another kiss. But instead, he surprised you by crouching down in front of you, his hands resting on your hips. You looked down at him with curiosity and amusement, tilting your head.

“What are you doing down there?” you asked, laughing softly, though your heart was racing.

Spencer looked up at you, and the look in his eyes sent a rush of warmth through your body. There was something almost reverent about the way he gazed at you, like you were the most precious thing he'd ever laid eyes on. “I have wanted this for so, so long,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to savor every little bit of you.”

His words made you flush with heat, the intensity of his desire crashing over you like a wave. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and before you could say anything in response, Spencer's hands were moving again, removing the last pieces of your clothing as he kissed the newly exposed skin.

And then, you were standing completely bare before him, your most intimate parts now level with his face. The vulnerability of the moment, combined with the raw hunger in Spencer’s eyes, made you feel dizzy, but you couldn’t look away.

It seemed like this was exactly what he had wanted all along. Without hesitation, he leaned in, his breath hot against your skin before his tongue traced a sure stripe through your slick folds. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure up your spine, your knees almost buckling from the sheer intensity of it.

A gasp escaped your lips as Spencer continued, his mouth working with a determination that made it clear this was something he had imagined countless times before. His hands gripped your thighs, steadying you as he continued his ministrations, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes designed to unravel you from the inside out.

You couldn’t stop the moan that escaped your lips, your fingers tangling in his hair once again as he savored you, just like he said he would.

"You taste better than I imagined," Spencer murmured between breaths, his voice thick with desire before he dove back in, his mouth moving over every inch of you, leaving no part untouched. His tongue was thorough, his lips relentless, and each movement made it harder for you to hold on to any coherent thoughts.

Your grip on his hair tightened as a desperate whimper escaped your lips. "You—ungh—you imagined this?" you managed to gasp out between moans, your voice shaky and breathless.

Spencer hummed against you in response, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. He didn’t stop, didn’t even slow down, his mouth latching onto your clit with more intensity, suctioning his lips tightly before shaking his head back and forth, creating a sensation so intense it made you scream out, your body trembling with the force of it.

The sound that left you was raw, completely involuntary, as waves of pleasure rolled through you, Spencer's hands gripping your thighs tighter to hold you steady as you lost yourself in the moment. He was relentless, devouring you with an eagerness that matched his earlier words. It was clear he had thought about this—dreamed about this—and now, with you here in front of him, he wasn’t going to waste a single second.

"Reid..." you moaned, your voice breaking as your entire body responded to his touch, your legs threatening to give out beneath you. Each movement of his tongue, each gentle bite or hum, pushed you closer and closer to the edge, and all you could do was hold on tight, letting him take you wherever he wanted you to go.

But then, just as you were teetering on the edge, Spencer pulled back, leaving you breathless and aching for more. The sudden absence of his touch made your body tremble, a desperate whine escaping your lips. When you looked down, confused and still dazed with pleasure, you noticed the almost stern look in his eyes, his lips glistening as he gazed up at you.

"Spencer," he said, his voice low, full of intent.

Your brow furrowed slightly, your mind hazy from the high you had been riding. "What?" you managed to ask, your voice breathless and needy.

His eyes softened, but his expression remained firm. "Call me Spencer," he repeated, his tone a mixture of command and affection, as if this small detail mattered more than anything in that moment.

Before you could fully process it, he leaned back in, parting you gently with his thumbs to give himself even more access. The feeling was overwhelming, your body trembling as he resumed his ministrations with renewed intensity, his tongue and mouth working in tandem, more precise and focused than before.

The need in you swelled again, even stronger than before, and this time, you couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. "Spencer," you gasped, his name escaping your lips like a prayer, your body arching into him as he pushed you further and further toward the edge.

Hearing his name on your lips seemed to spur him on, his movements growing even more deliberate as he devoured you with every ounce of the hunger he had been holding back. You were completely at his mercy, unable to think, unable to do anything but feel as he brought you closer and closer to the peak of pleasure, his name falling from your lips again and again.

Spencer could sense how close you were, your breath hitching and your body trembling beneath his touch. He doubled his efforts, his tongue moving with precision and urgency, his fingers pressing against your thighs to keep you steady. The need to see you completely unravel, to give you that release, spurred him on as he focused entirely on you.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, and then, finally, the tension that had been building in your core snapped. You tilted your head back, your body arching as the overwhelming pleasure took over. With a loud, uncontrolled moan, your hands found Spencer’s hair, gripping it tightly, tugging hard as you released, your body shuddering and your mind reeling from the intensity of it all.

Spencer didn’t stop, his mouth never leaving you as he worked you through your climax, swallowing everything you offered him. The feel of your fingers gripping his hair, the way your body shook as you released in his mouth—it was everything he’d dreamed of, and more. Only when your body began to calm, your breath evening out, did he slowly pull back, his lips brushing against your skin one last time, savoring the moment.

He looked up at you, his eyes dark and full of satisfaction as you slowly came back to reality. You were still breathless, your body weak from the intensity of your orgasm, but the way Spencer looked at you, filled with awe and admiration, made you feel like you were floating.

"That," he murmured softly, "was everything."

“Uh huh,” you mumbled, still floating in the afterglow, your head in the clouds, your body humming with the remnants of pleasure. Spencer slowly rose from his knees, his hands gently skimming your skin as he stood to his full height, a soft, amused smile playing on his lips as he looked down at you.

“You with me, beautiful?” he asked, his voice full of warmth and amusement as he stroked your hair, fingers threading through the strands tenderly.

You blinked up at him, your eyes still hazy with satisfaction, but your smile was soft and content. “I’m with you,” you replied, voice breathy but sincere, your whole body feeling like it was made of light.

Spencer chuckled, the sound affectionate and full of something deeper. “Good, good,” he murmured, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation. “Do you want to keep going?”

A slow smile spread across your lips, and the way you said, “Please, Spencer,” made his heart race with excitement and affection.

Spencer grinned, the playful glint in his eyes returning as he gently guided you down onto the pillows, his hands firm but tender. He leaned over you, his fingers brushing your cheek as he whispered, “Anything for the birthday girl.”

With that, Spencer lowered himself over you, his body pressing against yours with a sweet, delicious heat. You could feel the warmth of him, the anticipation growing as his lips found yours once again, slow and lingering, savoring every second. His hands explored your body as though he wanted to memorize every curve, every inch of your skin, and the way he touched you made your heart race all over again.

This wasn’t just about physical pleasure anymore—it was about something deeper, something that had been quietly building between you both for much longer than either of you had realized.

"Can you..." you started, but then hesitated, suddenly feeling a wave of shyness crash over you. This was Reid, after all, your colleague and friend, someone you'd see at work tomorrow. The reality of that hit you, and it made your heart race for an entirely different reason now.

Spencer, noticing the shift in your demeanor, raised an eyebrow, his voice soft and reassuring. "Can I what, darling?" he asked, a small, amused smile on his lips as he looked down at you.

You shook your head, trying to brush it off, but Spencer’s expression quickly shifted to concern. His hands, which had been tracing gentle patterns on your skin, paused, and his voice became softer, more serious. "Y/N... are you okay?"

You let out a quiet sigh, nodding, but there was still a lingering tension in your chest. "Just... is this going to be weird tomorrow?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy of the moment, the emotions wrapped up in everything that had just happened—it suddenly felt fragile when faced with the idea of seeing him at the office the next day, going back to the usual routine like nothing had changed.

Spencer's face softened even more, and he tilted his head, his eyes searching yours. "Weird?" he repeated, his voice thoughtful, as if he was carefully considering your words. He shifted slightly, his hand coming up to gently stroke your cheek. "No, Y/N, this doesn’t have to be weird."

You blinked up at him, your heart settling slightly at his calm demeanor. He continued, his voice gentle but certain. "We can take it one day at a time, okay? But if you're worried about work, nothing between us will change unless you want it to. I care about you too much to let this ruin anything.”

"If anything, this makes everything better," Spencer continued softly, his eyes full of sincerity as his hand stayed gently on your cheek. "I’ve wanted to be close to you for so long. I wouldn’t do anything to mess that up or make you feel uncomfortable. We can handle this however you want—slow, steady, or even just keeping it between us for now."

His words soothed the unease that had started to form, the tenderness in his tone making it clear that he wasn’t rushing anything, wasn’t trying to push for something more than what you were ready for. Spencer, as always, was careful, deliberate, and understanding. The way he looked at you, the way he touched you, made you feel safe, even in this new, uncertain territory.

You took a deep breath, feeling some of the weight lift from your chest. "I just… I don’t want this to change things in a bad way," you admitted, your fingers lightly brushing over his arm as he hovered over you, your bodies still close but the air between you calmer now.

Spencer shook his head, his smile warm and full of affection. "It won’t. I promise. I’ll still be me, you’ll still be you. And we’ll figure out whatever this is together, one step at a time. You don’t have to worry about work or anything else right now. Just... be here with me tonight."

You felt a sense of relief wash over you, his words grounding you in the moment. The fear of what tomorrow might bring began to fade as you looked up at him, trusting that Spencer, with all his care and thoughtfulness, would never let this turn into something that would hurt either of you.

"Okay," you whispered, offering him a small smile. "I’m here with you."

Spencer’s face lit up with a soft, almost shy grin as he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, his hands once again finding their way to your waist, holding you close as if reassuring you through his touch.

“Good,” he murmured against your lips, his breath warm and comforting. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

With that, the tension between you melted away, leaving only the quiet intimacy of the moment. Spencer guided you back onto the pillows, his movements slow and deliberate as he kissed you again, this time with more ease and tenderness, making it clear that whatever happened next would be on your terms, whenever you were ready.

Spencer groaned deeply into your mouth as you pushed his briefs down, your hand wrapping around him, stroking him with just enough pressure to make his breath hitch. You guided him into position, your need for him clear in the way your body responded. His lips never left yours, but his breath grew more ragged as the tension between you mounted.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, his lips brushing against yours, his voice thick with restraint.

You whimpered in response, the feeling of him grinding against you, the tip of his cock hitting your clit, making it impossible to think of anything else. “Please, Spencer,” you begged, your voice trembling with need. “I want you so badly. Please.”

He let out a strained groan, his breath coming in quick, shallow bursts as your words washed over him. "Okay, okay," he whispered, trying to soothe you even though he was losing his own control. "Shh, you never have to beg me for anything, ever."

Your body writhed beneath him, desperate for more, for him, and you shifted your hips instinctively, trying to coax him to push inside. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, and your need for him was palpable in every shaky breath you took.

Spencer, however, managed to hold onto a sliver of resolve, even as it wore thin. "Y/N, beautiful," he said, his voice rough, "we need to use a condom."

"Top drawer," you gasped, your words nearly a plea as your body moved beneath him, craving the release only he could give you. "Hurry!"

With a nod, Spencer fumbled toward the bedside table, pulling the drawer open with shaky hands. He found the box quickly, tearing it open with urgency. Your eyes stayed locked on him, watching every movement, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your skin burning with need.

He returned to you swiftly, sliding the condom on with practiced care, though his hands were trembling. The moment he was ready, he positioned himself above you again, his eyes filled with both desire and affection as he leaned down to kiss you, this time slower, savoring the feel of your lips against his.

"I'm here," he whispered, his voice softer now, filled with reassurance as he finally pressed forward, slowly pushing inside of you, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure crashing through both of you.

Your head fell back against the pillows, a loud, satisfied moan escaping your lips as he filled you completely, your body welcoming him in a way that felt natural, perfect. Spencer groaned, his breath hitching as he felt your tight walls constrict even further around him.

"Y/N, darling, relax, please," Spencer panted, his voice laced with both urgency and concern as he struggled to hold himself back, his body tense with restraint. He could feel your tightness, the way you clenched around him, and it was driving him wild, making it hard to stay in control.

You whimpered, your body still adjusting to the sensation. "You're just—ah!" Your voice broke into a loud gasp as he finally pushed all the way inside, filling you completely. The stretch was intense, overwhelming in the best way. "You're so big... why didn't you tell me you were so big?"

Spencer let out a tense chuckle, clearly amused by your reaction despite his own effort to keep himself in check. "I, uh... didn't think it was that big," he managed to get out, his breath shaky as he looked down at you, his forehead damp with sweat from the strain of holding himself back.

“You’re a fucking liar,” you laughed breathlessly through your whimpers and whines, your body trembling with both pleasure and amusement.

His chuckle, though filled with affection, was also tight with restraint, and you could feel the tension in his body as he tried to keep from moving too quickly. "Just... breathe," he murmured, his voice gentler now as he leaned down to kiss your forehead, trying to calm both you and himself. "I'll give you as much time as you need. I don't want to hurt you."

You nodded, taking deep breaths as your body slowly adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. Spencer’s hands stayed gentle, stroking your sides and thighs as he gave you time to acclimate, though you could feel him trembling with the effort of holding back.

After a moment, you shifted your hips, testing the sensation, and the movement elicited a low groan from Spencer, his self-control wavering. "Okay..." you whispered, your voice soft but filled with need. "I’m ready."

Spencer’s breath hitched, his eyes darkening with desire as he slowly began to move. His pace was careful at first, each thrust deliberate as he let your body adjust to his size, but the tension between you built quickly, and soon, the rhythm grew more urgent, more desperate.

Each movement sent sparks of pleasure through you, the sensation of him filling you so completely making you dizzy with desire. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the way he moved so perfectly in sync with you, as if you were made for each other.

Spencer groaned deeply, his forehead pressing against yours again as his movements grew more intense. "You feel so good," he murmured, his voice strained as he fought to hold himself back just a little longer, wanting to make this last as long as possible for both of you.

"Spencer!" you cried out, your nails digging into his back as your body trembled beneath him, the pleasure overwhelming you.

"Yeah, baby?" he panted, his voice rough and breathless as his hips slapped against yours in a steady, rhythmic motion. "Tell me what you need."

"You! More! Please!" Your voice was a desperate plea, every inch of your body burning with want.

"Fuck," he breathed, his control slipping as he sped up, his thrusts becoming more intense. His hand snaked between your bodies, fingers finding your clit as he began to rub you in time with his movements. The sensation made you cry out again, the combination of his fingers and his body sending you spiraling toward the edge.

“I’m—I’m gonna come,” you whined, your body trembling as you clenched tightly around Spencer, the sensation pushing you toward the brink.

“Y/N!” he gasped, his voice strained as he tried to hold on. “Calm down, baby, you’re going to push me out.”

But you were too far gone to hear him, lost in the overwhelming pleasure that was building inside you. Your whimpers grew louder, your body thrashing uncontrollably as Spencer’s fingers moved faster, working in perfect rhythm with your body's need.

Suddenly, it hit you all at once, the most intense release you’d ever experienced. You let out a violent scream, your entire body shaking as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, something deeper and more powerful than anything you'd ever felt before.

Your walls clenched so tightly that you did, in fact, push Spencer out, and you gushed all over him, your body overwhelmed by the force of your orgasm. Spencer let out a low groan at the sensation, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and arousal as he watched you come undone in front of him, watched your release coat his stomach and thighs.

“Did you just... squirt?” Spencer asked, his voice full of pure awe as he looked down at you, his eyes wide with amazement.

You were a panting mess on the bed, completely spent from the intensity of what had just happened. “That, or I just peed on you,” you mumbled, half-joking but still trying to make sense of the overwhelming sensation you had just felt.

Spencer laughed, shaking his head as he dipped down to kiss you, his lips soft against yours. “You are so sexy, Y/N,” he whispered, his voice full of affection and admiration.

You kissed him back tiredly, your body too exhausted to do much more, but the desire to give him what he needed still lingered. "Want you to come too," you whined softly, your words almost pleading.

“Okay, okay,” Spencer soothed, his breath hitching as he positioned himself once more, slowly pushing back inside you. The sensation made your body jolt, and you cried out, your back arching from the overstimulation. It was too much and yet not enough, the oversensitivity sending sharp pulses of pleasure through you.

“Are you okay, darling?” Spencer asked, his voice breathless as he fought to hold himself back, concerned about your comfort.

You nodded quickly, though your body was trembling beneath him. “Nuh huh,” you whimpered, your voice shaky as you gripped him tightly, pulling him closer. “I’m okay, I want this. Please,” you urged, your body still sensitive but craving the closeness, needing to feel him chase his own release.

Spencer groaned at your words, his resolve crumbling as he began to move again, thrusting into you with an increasing pace. His body was tense, his breath ragged as he neared the edge, each movement sending both of you into a dizzying spiral of pleasure.

You clung to him as he chased his release, your breaths mingling, your bodies connected in a way that felt intimate and overwhelming all at once. And when Spencer finally let go, his body shuddering as he found his own climax, you held him close as he groaned and whispered your name.

After Spencer had taken care of both of you, gently cleaning you up and even changing the sheets that had been soaked in your release, the two of you finally settled into bed, wrapped up in each other's arms. His body was warm against yours, his breath steady as he held you close. Everything felt so perfect, so right in that moment, like the world had shrunk to just the two of you in that cozy little space.

You nuzzled into Spencer's chest, feeling his heartbeat under your lips as you placed a soft kiss there. "I want things to be different," you mumbled, your voice quiet and filled with a softness that made his heart swell.

Spencer looked down at you, his hand stroking your hair gently. "Yeah?" he asked, the happiness in his voice evident. "Different how?"

You shifted slightly, still cuddled close, your lips brushing over his skin. "I want everyone to know," you murmured, your voice more certain this time.

Spencer chuckled softly, though he held you tighter, a smile spreading across his face. "Know what exactly?" he asked, teasing slightly, though he had a feeling he knew where this was going.

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes with a sweet, serious look. "That you're my boyfriend," you said, your voice full of affection, but also with a sense of determination.

Spencer’s heart fluttered at your words, and he couldn’t help but break into a grin. He’d never thought he’d hear you say something so simple yet so powerful. "Boyfriend, huh?" he teased softly, though his own voice was thick with emotion. He pulled you closer, resting his forehead against yours. "I think I’d like that," he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words settle over you like a blanket. "Good," you replied, kissing him softly. "Because I want everyone to know how lucky I am."

Spencer let out a soft laugh, his thumb gently tracing the outline of your face. "I think I’m the lucky one, Y/N," he murmured, his voice filled with nothing but pure, overwhelming happiness. And in that moment, with the two of you wrapped up in each other, everything felt like it was exactly as it should be.

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esotericbluntbaby · 4 months ago

Text

tendencies

hamzah the fantastic x reader

description: hamzah, having a match on valentines day, gets caught up in his own world without his girlfriend. after missing the date he was supposed to go on with you after his match, he picks you up in the darkness of the night. the lingering angst and anger builds up into a plethora of tension; more specifically, a more erotic, steaming tension.

mentions: ANGST! obvi, arguments, build up of tension between you and him, both of you have your toxic traits that really shine through, nsfw!, impact play..?, size kink..?, masochist! reader, boxer! hamzah, hurt/comfort, happy ending because sadly i dont think i could ever give u guys a bad ending

PLS DONT KILL ME AGAIN I HAD TO STUDY FOR A CALC QUIZ

you were soaking wet, and not in the good way.

hamzah was supposed to be at the purring cat hours ago, leading to your valentines day spent skimming over the laminated menus and sipping on a martini that couldn't get you drunk even if you tried. the warm oranges and reds in the room's lighting and ambiance mimicked the anger you felt rising up inside of you. the lighting, obviously intended to create a romantic atmosphere for all the happy couples on the day of love, taunted you like it was a witch holding out lollipops to children.

now, if some external circumstance did happen, you weren't the type to get riled up or anything; you were a decently reasonable person who was always wiling to hear him out. however, there were multiple blue bubbles on your phone from texting him about his whereabouts and a diminishing amount of his texts responding; in fact, there was really no response at all. you valued the communication and comprehension that was, normally, found in your relationship. however, there was a complete lack of on the day that it mattered the most. you were simply a pawn in his game; you didn't know how much longer you could keep getting moved to different areas of his board without knowing when this game would be over.

it was now so far into the night that the waiters exchanged glances of pity at one another, ending up with your meal comped and a complementary lava cake in front of you. you realized you had said that he was running late for the past two hours. gazing at the melting ice cream placed on top of the moist delicacy in front of you, it mocked you with a certain hunger that you didn't know how to explain. simply gazing at it made you remember how it was supposed to be him that you were dining with.

it was supposed to be him who was holding open the door for you, not some random couple who booked the same reservation time as you. it was supposed to be him who was grabbing your hand from across the table as you both marveled at the complexity of the menu, not you simply ordering a martini to sip on while you waited for him to show up. it was supposed to be him who paid for dinner, not the employees who gave you pity smiles and reassuring gestures of, "i'm sure he'll be here soon."

a scowl of disdain ended up plastered on your features like a mural to an empty wall. furrowed eyebrows, pursed lips, and resentful eyes made its way to your facial expression, which you understood was what caused all the waiters to comp your meal; not out of gratuity, but out of sorrow and compassion. you also understood that the waiters shouldn't have had to comp your meal, if your boyfriend was simply there.

he finally arrived in the lounge as they were about to close at around 11 o'clock at night; you had been waiting there for about three hours. bruises riddled his face, a more prominent one forming on the bridge of his nose. you were too upset to care. not one single text, nor one call, and instead, a pity meal given by those around you. a cyclone had formed, rushing winds and emotions being swirled around the two of you regarding the tension within the air between you. there was not a single word spoken, yet an understanding that you were both going to leave.

as you walked to the parking lot, he attempted to put his arm around your shoulder as if nothing happened; as if he didn't leave you to fend for yourself on the one day that you shouldn't have had to. so, you threw his arm off you, causing an audacious scoff coming from his mouth. the car ride was silent after that.

opening the door, your heels slammed on the floor with a slight stomp echoing with every step. you unlocked the door for yourself, closing it behind you with a loud bang of intensity radiating off of your emotions. you were incredibly pissed and you wanted him to know that.

the next day, you still avoided hamzah like he had the plague and was going to spread it to you with every word spoken. you slept on opposite sides of the bed, an invisible barrier being set between the both of you. you ate breakfast together in silence, only after he decided to sit with you on the island. you sat on opposite ends of the couch as you continued the series you started together before he decided to be a complete jackass, only after he joined you on the couch.

it was only throughout the series that he realized he fucked up incredibly and you realized that it's been almost a full day without a single apology. so, he shifted uncomfortable in his seat, sighing heavily as his eyes made it to you.

hamzah could lie and say that he absolutely hated that you were mad at him with no amount of leniency regarding your behavior; he could lie and say that the anger and passion in your face didn't turn him on. he knew it was bad, however, it was like something primal awakened in him. he didn't like you mad, obviously; more importantly, he didn't want you to leave him. however, hamzah believed that you were incredibly hot with that certain scowl on your face. he was at an ultimatum; keep you upset and angry at him so he could admire you even more than he already does, or apologize so that he could stop being a complete asshole.

he chose the latter, attempting to ease his way into an apology.

"i lost yesterday."

you were quick with a rebuttal, "serves you right."

"i didn't show up because i was with some friends," he awkwardly rubbed his neck, "they offered me a drink and i stayed at their house for a little."

"that's so, so great, hamzah. what do you want, a fucking medal? a medal that says 'best boyfriend ever?'" you laughed sarcastically.

"i'm trying to apologize-"

"and i'm yet to hear the word 'sorry' exit your mouth."

his voice raised out of frustration, "because you aren't letting me fucking speak!"

"great, that's just- that's fucking great. not only do you ditch me on fucking valentines day, but now you're damn near cussing me out and yelling at me."

"oh my fucking god- i'm sorry, okay?"

"so sincere!" you exclaimed in sarcasm as you stood up from the couch, "that was the best apology ever! the only apology to ever fucking exist, actually! you might as well be a world-renowned fucking apologist, hamzah!"

you made your way to the kitchen, pouring grapes into a bowl for you to munch on as your boyfriend tried, and failed, to apologize. he followed you, still frustrated from your well-deserved attitude.

"look, i get it- i should've been there yesterday."

"they comped my fucking meal- do you know how bad they felt for me to the point where my meal was free?" you yelled, "3 hours- 3 fucking hours, jackass! i was there for 3 hours just sipping on straight vodka wondering where my fucking boyfriend was! now i'm finding out that he was with his friends instead of his girlfriend because- actually, there is no because. you're just an asshole for leaving me there like that.

he attempted to diffuse your anger by putting his hand on your shoulder, "hey-"

"not only that, but you lost your fucking match yesterday too. you fucked up with your girlfriend and also lost your damn match. how do you fuck up twice?"

you realized that was uncalled for the second it left your mouth. the expression in his face was no longer frustrated; this was pure, undeniable anger. he got closer to you, causing your eyes to look upwards towards him; the height difference caused the intimidation to rise between the both of you. yet, you weren't going to back down. he was the one who messed things up between you and, while you probably shouldn't have brought up his match, he did deserve it. there was a moment of silence between the two of you with your eye contact making all the conversation needed for a couple of seconds.

he stared at you with testing eyes, "what'd you just say?"

you made a noise between a laugh and a scoff, "i said that you fucked up twice."

his hand made its way to your neck, softly slamming you into the wall behind you. your hands made its way to grab at the hand choking you by the neck; not trying to take it off of you, but simply holding it in place. you took a sharp inhale as a smirk landed on your face, taunting him the way that the loneliness in that restaurant taunted you.

"enough with the fucking attitude."

"or what?"

he realized that you were enjoying the show that he was playing for you; he was simply a puppet in your theater. this was amusing to you; his hand around your neck was the piece de resistance of this play. you wanted to know what would happen next; in fact, you were hungry for the climax.

he laughed angrily, "oh, i get it."

"what do you get?" you acted clueless.

"you wanted this."

you scoffed, "don't get too caught up in your ego."

"what? you want me to apologize, baby? you want me to make it up to you?" his hand on your neck became tighter.

you gasped, "frankly, i don't give a shit about what you do."

suddenly, a sting emerged onto your cheek. hamzah slapped you with his hand, as he choked you with his other. your head was turned to the side, until the hand he slapped you with made it back to your face. he turned you so that you were now looking at him with your head towards his own. he gently caressed the area with the burning sensation. even in his rough moments, you're still his princess.

"you got a fuck ton of attitude for someone whose neck is in my hand," he got closer to your ear and began to speak quieter, "you're so fucking tiny, you know that? compared to me, you're so small. your neck fits in one of my hands- both of your hands fit in one of my hands. i could ruin you if i wanted to."

"except you won't."

he laughed once again, "you sure about that?"

"i'd like to see you try-"

and with that sentence, hamzah's lips were rammed into yours. this kiss was full of hunger and remorse. the two of you couldn't get enough of how the kiss was altered by how angry and sexually pent up the both of you were. the dinner yesterday was undoubtably going to end up in drunk and high sex, but this is different. this was sober and needy. this was feverish and hazy. this was better.

he manhandled you, carrying you as you straddled his waist with your thighs. laying you down on the bed, he began to take off the entirety of your clothes in swift and rough movements. getting to your underwear, he physically ripped it off of you with how rough he was being.

"hamzah!"

"i'll buy you three new ones."

he was left in his underwear by the time that his sentence was finished. taking off his boxers, his body moved on top of you in missionary and he aligned himself with the wetness of the area between your legs. he didn't give you much time to adjust as he slammed into you over and over again. he was never rough like this before. moans and your names were exclaimed from both of your sides; you were always a noise girl, so you finished quite quickly. embarrassingly quickly.

you expected hamzah to stop as he normally does; whenever you finish first, you normally let him finish by sucking him off or using your hands. however, his pace didn't stop; in fact, it quickened with the speed of a metronome on its highest setting.

he was overstimulating you, causing your hands to move on their own. you attempted to push him away, being met with being choked by him and slapped once more.

"h-hamzah-"

"you fucking asked for this."

though to an outsiders point of view, this was odd; to you, this was heaven without the process of dying. you previously asked hamzah to be more aggressive during sex; he knew that you were a masochist, yet he was always too scared to hurt you because he simply isn't that kind of guy. the realization of why he was being so rough was sweet. it was obvious to you that he felt bad for leaving you on valentines, and this was his unofficial way of apologizing. by making you feel the best you've ever felt, it made you more incentivized to forgive him for his mistakes.

he finished shortly after you, pulling out and laying down on top of you. the covers were over the both of you as you both laid there: sweaty, out of breath, and fucked out.

"did- did i do okay?" he asked, his anger and frustration now being masked with shyness and timidity.

"you did great, baby."

"i'm sorry. i didn't mean to leave you yesterday- i was just upset and i didn't want you to see me like that, especially not in public. i should've texted or just toughened up."

"hamzah, just talk to me. i would've understood."

"but it was valentines day-"

"yea, it was, but i would've been fine just being with you. we didn't have to go out or anything."

"i was being a dick. you don't deserve that. i'm sorry, pretty."

you kissed him with a kiss that foiled the previous one, one that was more gentle, "it's okay. you can make it up to me another time."

he kissed you on the cheek, gazing at you from below, "be my valentine on unofficial valentines day tomorrow?"

"of course."

authors note!

guys i am SORRY i lied to u like terribly horribly sorry but happy late valentines day U WERE ALL MY VALENTINES SO NONE OF U WERE ALONE ON VALENTINES BECAUSE I WAS HERE ok i love u guys bye

#hamzah fic #hamzah imagines #hamzah x reader #hamzahthefantastic #slushy noobz #hamzah fluff #hamzah x y/n #hamzah angst #hamzah smut #hamzahthefantasticxreader

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mx-pastelwriting · 7 months ago

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DA HC - Celebrating Your Anniversary

Dragon Age x GN! Reader

Summary: How they would celebrate your anniversary.

Warnings/Tags: Established Relationship, Fluff, Anniversary, Kissing, Dates, Fancy Dinners, Camping

Characters: Solas, Varric Tethras, Cullen Rutherford, Iron Bull, Thom Ranier (Blackwall), Lucanis Dellamorte, Emmrich Volkarin, Lace Harding

- Didn't proofread much. I just slammed them into three grammar checkers, so have fun!

Solas

- Solas would remember your anniversary, but even if he didn't, you wouldn't know, as he makes every day with you feel as if it were your anniversary. Being his, finally his, he makes sure you know he has only eyes for you. Making sure you feel that he is yours, you are his.

- Yearly anniversaries, but monthly anniversaries, are not off the table. Taking the yearly dates more seriously, with monthly being a day of finding little surprises in places that are common to you. Leaving your favorite things in those spots, seeing as his face is plastered with a huge smile once you bring the gifts to his attention when finding them.

- The yearly anniversaries would be him worshiping you like a god, more than usual, of course. Almost refuses to have you lift a finger as he fills the day with surprises. Waking to the room being filled with glowing magic, spelling out your name and words of love, with the afternoon being filled with scenic views with shows of ancient elven magic. Ending the day with dinner and a slow dance, holding your body close, warming more than your cheeks, before playing a few songs that he composed on the piano, inspired heavily by his love for you.

- Never will he miss your anniversary but has a chance of forgetting it. In his mind, doing things with a bit of extra love to make it up to you out of guilt does things with extra love and care. Though with enough time or love, you could get the confession of his slip of the mind, knowing he couldn't lie when it comes to you.

- Making the days of your anniversary feel like they last forever; once Solas starts, he can't bear to stop loving your smile. Swearing the smile you wear once that date comes around is different, as much as you plead for him to let you spoil him back. Even when giving in to your pleas, he always finds a way to spoil you right back just to see that smile.

Setting down a plate of Orlesian frilly cakes in front of Solas, making him look up from his notes with pointed ears twitching. Greeted lovingly by a pair of violet eyes, seeing as Solas's eyes crease from the smile that stretched across his lips.

With a swift action, his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you in. Body pressed against his chest, thanking you with kisses that tickled your skin, making you squirm in his hold. Stopping the attack, watching him pull something from under his notes, Solas's eyes watched closely as your face lit up at his gift. Soaking in the smile that lined your lips, hoping it would last forever.

Varric Tethras

- Most of the time he would remember it's your anniversary, joking about it in bed, cuddled up warmly if he had remembered what day it was. Dances around the answer if he had forgotten, but eventually, you'd get it out of him that he did forget with a reminder it was only morning, and he has the whole day to make you forget he ever did.

- Celebrate your yearly and monthly anniversaries, though monthly ones are more spotty in celebration. Knowing if he remembers those when finding papers around the place that tell short stories of all the times he found himself falling in love with you all over again.

- Yearly anniversaries would be Varric trying his best to be the perfect man, with halfway through the day he gives up going back to being the man you love instead of an overly romantic guy that takes you to fancy restaurants. When all you want is to just be with him drinking and have Varric chew off your ear with stories that you’ve heard millions of times, but you’d never tell him that.

- Has missed your anniversary at least once since you've been together. A day filled with apologies and his mood being a bit down, trying his best to make it up to you. Gifting you things over the day. Little things that he says remind him of you, giving you a first read of your favorite book series of his, and rare home-cooked dinners.

- Varric is always sweet on you, even after your anniversary. The tender moments don't stop, though the moments are now filled with more jokes than before he loves you just as much as he does during your anniversary, now with more jokes filling those moments.

Watching Varric adoring every smile and face scrunch he pulled while telling you a story he's told you a hundred times, never telling him that fact, though, taking it as an opportunity to just watch him.

Soaking in his mere existence, every smile, frown, and furrow of his brow. Every move makes your mind melt as you're reminded why you feel head over heels for the man. That is until he catches you staring, breaking your longing stare with a charming kiss on the cheek.

Cullen Rutherford

- Very spotty when it comes to remembering it's your anniversary, but you give him grace, as most of the time he has a lot on his plate. Reminding him gently every morning on that date it's your anniversary, with a quick curse to himself, he tries to play it off just to panic for the rest of the morning trying to think and plan something for that day.

- Cause of his busy schedule, he prefers to celebrate yearly, but if he's reminded, a gift might end up on your desk or nightstand. Even with the yearly dates, he still has to do some work but tries to plan around it days before if he remembers days before.

- Once Cullen's done with work, he asks shyly for you to dress nicely; that is unless you have something for him once he comes out of his office. Then he stays in the whole night. But if you don't, he takes you away riding on a horse with the sunset in the background, just to arrive at the most breathtaking place. Having packed wine and cheese, wanting to share the sunset with you, telling you of how it reminded him of you and the first night he held you close.

- Having missed your anniversary from being on the battlefield commanding an army or locked away in his office, stumped with letters to write. Walking into the office to find him stressed or just passed out on the desk, ink staining his face when you wake him. Dragging him to bed, letting the commander get some sleep before spoiling him as you remind him what day it is, queuing the flood of apologies.

- The celebration of your anniversary would only last a day and a half, with Cullen being busy and all; he still tries to make up for the lost time from work. Stealing kisses from you the next day, along with leaving little letters or gifts he tucked away in your pockets early in the morning, to then get all shy when you mention them.

Walking into Cullen's office, seeing as he was noise-deep into writing a letter, someone who was not you having the note he had written to you in hand.

Spooking the commander as you sat atop the desk corner, meeting his amber eyes, watch and the rush of surprise disappear before softening at the sight of you—that is until he sees that piece of paper in your hand. Cullen's cheeks flash red as he looks off to the side, laughing nervously, having written the letter in a moment of passion. Needing a few glasses of drinks to get those words out of him without him stuttering and getting all blushy.

Iron Bull

- Qunari don't have anniversaries, so he would remember, as he doesn't practice or have a deep grasp on the celebration. Only having you to learn about it and to even start celebrating it. Even after that, he tries to remember wanting to see you smile.

- Would start either monthly or yearly depending on your preference, but monthlies are a good start, letting him have practice on what to do and what not to do and say. Gets the hang of the physical part of surprising, not so much on the gift-giving, bringing you parts of a dragon or even the whole thing to display somewhere, swearing to yourself if he didn't have horns, he'd be a cat.

- For the first few anniversaries, you would be planning until one day, months before the date, he asked to plan that year. Holding out hope, it wasn't a day of fighting wild beasts he thought were cool, but he surprised you with a night filled with breathtaking views only seen at night and creatures that light up in the darkness of the night. Ending the event at his favorite place to cool off, a hidden-away spring where bugs and creatures glowed around, thriving alongside your love for the bull.

- Misses your anniversary in the start, giving the hunk of a man some grace as this is new to him, coming from a culture that they don't even know who they are related to. Gently reminding the man he would be apologetic, of course, then for the rest of the day, having asked Krem what to do, he tells Bull to make it up to you. Surprising you with flowers and some gifts, with a shower of kisses and charming compliments to resolve everything.

- Learns from you how long the celebration lasts; whether for a day or a week, he goes along with you, not minding even if you want the whole year to feel like it's your anniversary. Over time, he'll read you; every morning when you wake up with a certain smile on your face, he'd know it's another day of celebration, also knowing he'd have to get up soon to make you breakfast in bed only to eat most of it once cuddled back up with you in bed.

Smiling as you watch, Bull sticks another spoonful of breakfast that he made for you that morning into his mouth, then chews happily before continuing with his stories of the time his crew killed a beast.

Hand resting atop your hand as the hunk of a bull sat in your shared bed next to you, not minding at all as he ate from the plate that was meant for you. Loving how he enjoys the days of your anniversary, but for you, it's days of adoring him as he makes the cutest person of himself without even knowing it.

Thom Ranier (Blackwall)

- Would remember it every year. Starting from the night before, being extra gushy and lovey-dovey, holding you close in bed as you both fall asleep. When waking on the day, he pulls out all the stops, making every anniversary a memorable one.

- Celebration only yearly; as much as the man loves you, he feels like monthly anniversaries are too childish. Also, monthly anniversaries made him feel as if the relationship wouldn't last long, needing to celebrate yearly to feel that your relationship would last for the years to come.

- Lets you sleep in, cuddling you before getting up to make breakfast, then bringing it to you in bed before setting up the horses to take you both to a place only he knew. Being in a different place every anniversary, never having seen him with it through the year, filled with entries of times you took his breath away. Always surprises you with a diary he kept for that year. Never having seen him with it through the year, filled with entries of times you took his breath away. It was a hefty book.

- Never misses your anniversary, always wanting to be by your side, always finding moments to write down in his anniversary diary. Being content in his mind, there would never be a possibility for him to miss that date.

- As long as he can pull surprises out of his pocket. Having planned the days out months in advance, making sure every day had a new surprise or special moment to be made into a memory.

Thom's warm hand cupped your cheek as he gazed into your eyes, lips inches from each other yearning to meet. Minutes before, having given you his forest memories of you—how the sun rested warmly on your skin, the way your eyes glow in the ray of the light.

Being only a small exert from the diary, having to close it at his request. Wanting you to read it later, needing this memory to be real instead of written down in a book for later.

Lucanis Dellamorte

- Always remembering it's your anniversary, holding them close to his heart as it's the first time he gets to share that special celebration with anyone. Refusing to fuck it up in any way and also having Spite to remind him every hour as the date nears.

- Early in the relationship, he celebrates your anniversary every month; if it weren't for not wanting to come off too much, he would celebrate every week or day. Really overworks himself wanting to show you every bit of love he has for you on those days. Even if you ask him to relax, a gift would do the same good; he'd never stop going all out for your yearly.

- Taking up a lot of contracts in advance, saving up for your yearly anniversary, taking you away on vacation to anywhere you wanted to go—even if it's just only the two of you for miles, he makes it happen. Working overtime to plan what fun things to do, where to buy your favorite things, and what gifts to get you, with Spite pitching in with a yell of what he wanted to get you.

- Heart drops into his stomach if he missed your anniversary; even with your reassurance that it was okay, it's not to him. Devastated at the thought of having missed the one special day he gets to celebrate the love he had for you in full, for the first person he'd ever been in a relationship with. Finally talking him down, telling the distressed man you would be happy even if he gave you a flower from the garden outside; all you want on that day is him; nothing else matters.

- For what he has planned, he makes sure the celebration lasts for days; even when running out of ideas on the tenth day, Spite is there, giving him more. The two are a menace when putting their heads together. Starting out romantic after the date, then turning into passion, and lastly, hunger.

Heat prickles through your cheeks as Lucanis's lips soften against yours. Minutes ago, admiring the view of the city lights, then feeling a warm hand planted underneath your shin, you were gently guided right into Lucanis's lips.

Accepting the smooth action, kissing him back, feeling through the kiss as he smiled before moving once again. The same hand trailing up, cupping your cheek with lips rough with passion. Doing the same hands combing through his hair as you dive into his kiss, swearing you could hear Spite faintly.

Emmrich Volkarin

- Definitely remembers it, your anniversary, you being the dearest thing to his heart; that date means so much to him, he could never forget it. Planning months in advance, even asking Manfred his opinion from time to time on decisions, wanting every detail of the date to be to die for.

- Would be open to a monthly celebration but has a bit more taste for a yearly anniversary, being able to make everything feel more extraordinary. Worries that the monthly anniversary would dull his yearly surprises. However, if you insisted, he would agree to only having every two- to four-month anniversary, as the man can only pull so many unique date and gift ideas out of him.

- For your yearly, he would take you to see the most extraordinary places in all the world, guiding you in waking the life around the environment, watching everything light up and dance around you both. Speaking of dancing, this man would invite you to dance, head against his shoulder as you danced with the glowing creatures and magic whispering loving whispers into your ear before pulling out the dinner he packed for the picnic you were to have there.

- Rare that he would ever miss your anniversary from forgetfulness, it would be the reason cause of work. Not teaching, but if the Necropolis needed him, he would have to go with a storage promise to make it up to you when he gets back. Making it up to you with days off of teaching and other work, leaving you two just to be together.

- The planned celebration would last no more than a week; by the end of the fourth day, he would be exhausted, leaving you to have a turn to spoil him. Loving every minute of you spoiling him, being the one to now be gifted his favorite things and have surprise meals with his favorite desserts, all for him to enjoy, definitely healing his inner child.

Watching adoringly as Emmrich took a bite of the dessert you made just for him, even when he asked many times if you wanted a bite, you declined every time. Wanting him to have it all to himself, knowing he'd have the biggest smile after.

Chatting your ear off as he did so on many things, watching his lips move with a smile that gets bigger and bigger with every bite. Taking notice with one of his bites as a bit of it stuck to his lip before he could wipe it away, you took the opportunity to wipe it away with your thumb. Stunning Emmrich, watching as you lick it off your thumb. Locking eyes with him, seeing red flashes across his cheeks, before you lean over the table kissing him.

Lace Harding

- Lace can be a bit forgetful, but that's one of the things you love about her. So focused on one thing, not even time mattered—a magical experience when it's with you. Looking into your eyes, amazed every time. If it weren't for the mornings of eyegazing, adoring her amazement at your existence, she would have remembered it was your anniversary.

- Love to celebrate both monthly and yearly anniversaries, though the monthly celebrations would be more a day of never leaving the bedroom. Spending most of the day in each other's arms, soaking up each other's warmth before getting up to make dinner together, only to barely get anything done, not being able to let each other go. Ultimately ending the night at one of your comfort restaurants before getting home and back into bed in her arms.

- Yearly anniversaries would be a camping trip; even if it wasn't your thing, she'd smooth-talk you into it. Lace loves seeing you all sweaty and covered in dirt; she thinks it's hot, so this is more of a gift to herself than to you. Never tell you where she's taking you, even covering your eyes when you get halfway there. Only to show you the more breathtaking view before telling you that's your view for the next few days.

- Finally, when reminding her what the date was, watching as her face drops with a red flush spreading across her whole face. The first words out of her mouth would be a curse before the flood of apologies started. Even with all the reassurance in the world, the only thing that would stop her would be a kiss, feeling as all of her worries melt away. Breaking the kiss, the next words out of her mouth are her swearing she's still going to make it up to you.

- The camping trip would last for five days at most. Having only brought food for the first three days, knowing she'd be busy in your arms, then the last days she'd hunt and gather for the both of you. Telling you she never wants it to end, but when it does, she does love the view of you when hiking back home.

Limbs tangled with each other, lips close to raw, minutes ago, breaking the hungered kiss with the breathtaking view in the background.

The fire had died out hours ago, making you rely on Lace for warmth. Happily doing so with open arms, only to attack you with a shower of kisses. Almost sad you have to go back, away from the night sky, brought out Lace's eyes that adored you greatly.

Hello, I hope you enjoyed if there is any grammar mistakes or misspellings sorry about that feel free to let me know in the comments, have a great day/afternoon/night!

♥ mx-pastelwriting does not consent to their fanfiction being copied, copied & credited, translated, used in videos and/or audios, screenshotted, used in AI.

Fanfiction is protected under copyright law when plagiarism is involved. If you plagiarize my work, either a piece or whole in any language, I will take legal action. Inspiration or the same idea does NOT apply to this, only word-for-word plagiarism in any language.

Taglist: @blue124th @n0v4hertz @call-me-a-fool @hellok1ttycake @covertleathers @doombellow @teleanna

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bbokicidal · 10 months ago

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"You're So Much Alike." - [B.C.]

Summary: Where you meet his mother for the first time and capture a picture that you will treasure for years to come.

Warnings: None, just a lotta fluff.

Notes: Based on the photo above where Chris recreated his childhood picture w/ his mom.

"When was this?" Your eyes turn to your boyfriend beside you and his head tips in your direction, eyes following only a moment later. A bright smile is plastered on his face as he was previously having a conversation with his mom to the opposite side of himself.

His teeth grit as his lips pull apart in a quiet hiss of thought. "Ah... Mm." His lips press together, brows furrowing as he looks at the picture. "Think I was.. four? Three? Three or four." He nods curtly, eyes drawing up to where you stare at him. ".... What?"

Your smile grows the longer you peer up at him. He doesn't seem to realize how absolutely adorable the photo currently in your hand is. "Nothing. I just love you."

Chan's eyes wander over your own before he giggles, his hand falling to rest on your knee. "I love you too, sweetheart."

"Oh, I was so young here." His mother reaches for the photo, gently taking it from your hand to look down at it. The look on her face seems to say without words that it brings back wonderful memories she couldn't ever forget.

"Please," You murmur, catching her attention with a soft smile. "You look the exact same, Mrs. Bang."

It was kind of his mother to offer to show you baby photos of him. You hadn't necessarily expected it during your first meeting with her, but she seemed more than excited to show you the silly pictures of Chan in the bath, or pictures of him covered in birthday cake when he was two years old. He'd gotten a bit embarrassed at the bath pictures, begging his mother not to show them to you before she countered back with; "What? She's seen it all before anyway!"

And you couldn't argue with that, laughing along as you squeeze his hand in your own. "I mean, she isn't wrong."

You felt incredibly lucky to be able to tag along on this opportunity - visiting Australia with Chan for the first time. The majority of the day is spent relaxing at his family home and getting to know his family; Unfortunately Lucas and Hannah are with their friends, which you can't fault them for, but you get to spend the day with his parents. And Berry, of course.

Their pup seems to take a love to you, following you around instead of sticking to Chan. She sits at your feet while you lean against the kitchen counter and watch his father cook lunch for the group of you; And she treads only a foot or two behind you as you move to dance with Chan's mother in the dining room to the soft music that plays through the house. The room is filled with laughter and the soft banter she exchanges with you on how she may have to steal you from her son with just how charming you are.

Lunch is quiet and soothing, bodies filled with warm home cooked food and Chan's mother asking just how the two of you met - where you saw yourself in ten years, what kind of career you were interested in, and how you felt about her son. Typical first meeting types of questions - But, she seems happy with all of your answers and while you aren't looking, shares an exchanged glance with her son that is telling him to marry you.

It ends as you excuse yourself from the table and move to help Chan at the sink, washing the dishes from preparing the meal and drying them off as he handed them to you. He smiles at you helping him out, about to tell you to go shoo so he can take care of it himself and let you relax. His eyes wander in your direction as you suddenly ask if his father needs another wife - widening in surprise and whispering a soft, "Excuse me?" in shock.

"What? He's literally you but a little older!"

"Are you tryna marry my dad right now--"

His father excuses himself from the home about an hour later, something work related beckoning him away. His mother suggests a walk around the park Chan use to run about in when he was little and you eagerly agree, wanting to see more of the local scenery. It's pleasant, a breeze wafting through your hair and brushing over your shoulders as you go. Berry's leash is held careful but firm in your palm and she treads nearby, tail wagging in excitement at just being out.

Without being fully aware of it, you'd fallen behind the mother-and-son duo after being caught up in admiring the nature around you. As your eyes draw back to the pair ahead, you stop walking and Berry takes a few more steps before halting as well. She turns to look up at you in curiosity and when you crouch down, she comes closer to rub her nose against your arm. Hand digging in your pocket, you pull out your phone and let the pair continue walking without disturbing them. Lifting your phone to snap a photo, the picture on your screen looks lovingly familiar to one you had seen earlier.

Chan seemed extremely grateful when you showed him the picture later on - and his mother even more so that evening. His father peeked over her shoulder before gently giving the woman a shake of admiration, hugging her around the waist shortly after. "Jessica, you don't look a day over thirty." And she laughs, swatting at his arm.

Your eyes dart to Chan's and he blinks, meeting your gaze a moment later. Your eyes narrow. "Why am I just now finding out that your mom's name is Jessica?"

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagine #bangchan x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagine #bangchan imagine

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amyzworldds · 3 months ago

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hii !! it's my birthday right now (april 12) and i'm carving some angst rn heheheh i was thinking about YN birthday, instead of them hanging out together, celebrating her birthday. they forgot her birthday but YN thought they were pranking her and planning to make a surprise birthday party for her, they ACTUALLY forgot her birthday. she waited for a week for them to say a happy birthday to her (she was willing to accept belated happy birthday from them) but none of them did, and became colder to her. YN got sulky and angry so she drank and drank until she became drunk, and got home on 10 pm, which is past their curfew. she got caught and got scolded by seungcheol, who was waiting at the front door looking angry. well, she was drunk and was not on her right mind, unconsciously said some things she's been keeping to her self.

Title: Forgotten Birthday

Masterlist

When Y/N, wakes up excited for her 25th birthday, she anticipates the usual chaos and love from her bandmates. But as the days unfold with packed schedules and unexpected silence, she grapples with emotions that test their decade-long bond, leading to a heartfelt journey of connection and understanding. Pairing: Seventeen x 14th reader Genre: Fluff, Angst

Y/N woke up bright and early, the crisp April air filling her with a familiar buzz of excitement. Today was special—April 12, her birthday. She stretched happily as she stepped out of her room in the dorm, a wide grin plastered on her face. Birthdays were always a big deal for her, and being part of Seventeen made them even more unforgettable. She glanced around, expecting the usual chaos of the boys bombarding her with "Happy Birthday!" the moment she appeared, like they always did at the start of April to tease her. But today? Nothing. Just a few sleepy glances from the members sprawled across the living room.

Hoshi was slouched on the couch, rubbing his eyes. Mingyu was half-asleep over a bowl of cereal, and Seungcheol gave her a lazy nod before scrolling through his phone. Y/N smirked knowingly. Oh, they’re playing it cool again, huh? she thought. The boys were notorious for their birthday pranks, and she was certain they were up to something.

“Morning, guys!” she chirped, bouncing into the kitchen.

“Mmm,” Jeonghan mumbled, sipping his coffee. “Morning, Y/N.”

That was it? No cheeky grin, no nudge-nudge-wink-wink? Y/N’s smirk widened. Nice try, boys. She grabbed a glass of juice, humming to herself as she leaned against the counter, watching them drag themselves around like zombies. They’d had a brutal schedule last night—a fan event that ran way past midnight—and it showed. Dark circles, messy hair, and barely any words exchanged. Still, Y/N wasn’t buying the act. They were definitely planning something.

In the van to their next schedule, Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement. “So,” she started, leaning forward, “April’s a pretty big month, right? Lots of… plans?” She wiggled her eyebrows, glancing at Dino, who was squished next to her.

He yawned. “Uh, yeah, I guess. Concerts, comebacks… the usual.”

“Anything else?” she pressed, her tone playful.

Woozi, eyes closed and head against the window, muttered, “Y/N, can we talk about this later? I’m dying here.”

“Yeah, some of us need sleep,” Vernon added, pulling his hoodie over his face.

Y/N leaned back, crossing her arms with a smug grin. Oh, they’re good. She could picture it already—the moment they’d “surprise” her, probably bursting into the practice room with a cake or ambushing her at the dorm later. Last year, they’d ignored her all day only to barge into her room at midnight with a massive cake, balloons, and a pile of gifts, laughing as she pretended to be shocked. The year before that, they’d pulled an even wilder stunt, acting mad at her for “being late” to a meeting (which was fake), only for her to end up teary-eyed before they revealed the prank with confetti and hugs. This year, she was ready for whatever they had up their sleeves.

The day was a whirlwind—back-to-back rehearsals, a radio show, and a photoshoot that left everyone wiped out. Every time Y/N dropped a hint about April or birthdays, the boys brushed it off. “We know, Y/N,” Seungkwan said at one point, sounding exasperated. “But can we just… rest for five minutes?”

“Okay, okay,” she replied, her smirk never fading. They’re so obvious. By evening, as they piled back into the van, Y/N was practically vibrating with anticipation. Any minute now, they’d pull the big reveal. She could feel it

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

The first week of April flew by in a blur of schedules, and now, with only four days left until her 25th birthday on April 12, Y/N was practically glowing. She’d stopped dropping hints or teasing the boys about it—she didn’t want to ruin their carefully crafted “surprise.” But that didn’t stop her from grinning ear to ear, shooting knowing glances at her bandmates whenever they caught her eye. They’re probably finalizing the big plan right now, she thought, barely containing her excitement. Seventeen’s pranks were legendary, and her 25th birthday felt like it was going to be their grandest scheme yet.

Their days were packed to the brim—dance practices, interviews, and late-night recordings that left everyone drained. Y/N was just as exhausted as the boys, her muscles aching and eyes heavy, but the thought of her upcoming birthday kept her buzzing. She’d catch herself humming in the van or bouncing her leg during breaks, unable to shake the anticipation.

In the dorm one morning, Y/N plopped onto the couch next to Mingyu, who was scrolling through his phone, looking half-dead. “Morning, Gyu oppa! Big day ahead, huh?” she said, her grin wide and teasing.

He barely glanced up. “If by ‘big’ you mean exhausting, then yeah. I’m already tired.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve got that spark in you somewhere!” Y/N nudged him, her eyes glinting. He’s totally playing it cool.

Across the room, Seungcheol was shoving toast in his mouth while checking their schedule. “Y/N, save the energy. We’ve got back-to-back shoots today.”

“I’m ready, leader-nim!” she chirped, leaning back with a smirk. “April’s got me in a great mood.”

Jeonghan, lounging on a beanbag with a face mask on, cracked one eye open. “You’re way too cheerful for 7 am What’s with you?”

“Nothing, nothing,” she sang, winking at him. “Just… feeling good about this month.” Oh, you’re not fooling me, Yoon Jeonghan.

In the van to their first schedule, Y/N sat squished between Dino and Woozi, her grin still plastered on. “So, guys, four days until… you know, a really cool date in April. Any thoughts?” she asked, barely hiding her glee.

Dino yawned, his head lolling onto her shoulder. “Four days until I hopefully get some sleep. That’s my thought.”

Woozi didn’t even open his eyes, earbuds in. “Y/N, please. I’m begging you. Let me nap.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be quiet,” she said, holding up her hands but still smiling. Nap all you want, Jihoon. I know you’re scheming.

At the dance studio later, the group was drenched in sweat, running through their choreography for the nth time. Y/N spun past Hoshi, who was barking instructions like a drill sergeant. “Y/N, sharper on that turn!” he called.

“Got it, boss!” she replied, flashing him a grin. “Gotta look good for… you know, special occasions.”

He raised an eyebrow, wiping his forehead. “Special occasions? Like not collapsing after this set?”

“Sure, something like that!” she laughed, twirling away. Keep pretending, Soonyoung.

During a quick water break, Seungkwan plopped down next to her, fanning himself. “Why are you so smiley today? It’s freaking me out.”

“Can’t a girl just be happy?” Y/N shot back, nudging him. “April’s my favorite month, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” he muttered, gulping water. “But you’re, like, extra happy. It’s suspicious.”

“Suspicious? Me?” She gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to her chest. “I’m just living my best life, Kwannie.”

Vernon, overhearing, snorted from a few feet away. “Living your best life while we’re all dying? Respect.”

“Thank you, Hansol,” she said, bowing with a flourish. “I take my job as the group’s sunshine very seriously.”

By the time they wrapped their last schedule—a late-night radio show—Y/N’s energy was finally starting to wane. She slumped into the van, her head resting against the window. Still, her lips curved into a small smile as she thought about her birthday. Four more days, and they’ll pull out all the stops. Cakes, balloons, maybe even a goofy handmade card from DK.

Joshua, sitting beside her, noticed her expression. “You’re still smiling? After today’s chaos?”

“Always,” she murmured, eyes half-closed. “Got a lot to look forward to, Shua oppa.”

“You’re unstoppable,” he said with a soft laugh, shaking his head. “Just don’t burn out before we do.”

“No promises,” she teased, her voice fading as she drifted into a light doze, her mind still buzzing with visions of the birthday surprise she was sure was coming.

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

The morning of April 12 arrived, and Y/N woke with a flutter in her chest. Her 25th birthday. A milestone. The dorm was eerily silent, not a single sound stirring the air—no clatter of pans, no muffled laughter, no whispered plotting behind closed doors. She sat up in bed, her lips curving into a hopeful smile. Okay, maybe later, she thought, brushing off the quiet. They’re probably saving it for after today’s schedule. Seventeen loved their dramatic reveals, and Y/N was certain they’d outdo themselves this time. She could already picture the chaos—cake smeared on her face, balloons everywhere, Mingyu tripping over a gift box in his excitement.

She bounded out of her room, her energy dialed to eleven despite the packed day ahead. In the living room, a few of the boys were slumped on the couch, scrolling through their phones or sipping coffee, their faces drawn with exhaustion. Y/N didn’t let it faze her. She was practically vibrating, her grin wide as she leaned over the back of the couch where Hoshi and Seungkwan sat.

“Morning, guys! Feeling good today?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “Like, really good?”

Hoshi barely looked up, his voice flat. “It’s just another day, Y/N. Chill.”

Her smile faltered for a split second, but she rallied, laughing it off. “Oh, come on, it’s a great day! Perfect for, you know, big moments!”

Seungkwan sighed, rubbing his temples. “Can you not be so loud? We’re all beat from yesterday.”

Y/N’s heart gave a tiny lurch, but she kept her grin plastered on, leaning closer. Classic prank mode. “Okay, okay, I’ll keep it low-key. But you guys are hyped for today, right?”

Across the room, Woozi shot her a glance, his expression blank. “Hyped? Y/N, we’ve got a million things to do. Can you just… focus?”

The words stung, sharper than she expected, but she swallowed the hurt, her smile unwavering. They’re just tired. It’s fine. They’re setting me up. She bounced into the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water, humming to herself to drown out the unease creeping in. It’s my 25th birthday. They wouldn’t forget.

The day’s schedule was relentless—rehearsals, a live stream, and a fan sign event that stretched into the evening. Y/N stayed her bubbly self, teasing the boys between takes, dropping playful hints about “special days” and “reasons to celebrate.” But each time, she was met with shrugs, eye rolls, or curt replies.

During a break at the studio, she sidled up to Dino, who was stretching nearby. “Hey, Chan, bet you’re planning something fun for later, huh?” she said, nudging him with a grin.

He frowned, wiping sweat off his brow. “Planning? Y/N, I’m just trying to survive this choreography. Give it a rest.”

Her laugh came out a little too loud, a little too forced. “Right, right, survive first, party later. Got it!”

But as the day wore on, the silence around her birthday grew heavier, like a weight pressing on her chest. No sneaky glances between the boys, no hushed giggles, no poorly hidden gift bags. Just exhaustion and indifference. By the time they dragged themselves back to the dorm late that night, Y/N’s hope was fraying, but she clung to it like a lifeline. Maybe now. Maybe they’re waiting to surprise me.

In the living room, she flopped onto the couch, still buzzing with forced energy. “Wow, what a day, huh? Perfect way to cap off… you know, something special?” she said, looking around at the boys, her voice bright but brittle.

Mingyu, kicking off his shoes, didn’t even glance her way. “Y/N, can you stop with the vague hints? It’s annoying.”

Her breath caught, the words slicing deeper than they should’ve. She opened her mouth to laugh it off, but Jeonghan cut in, his tone sharp as he headed for his room. “Seriously, we’re all tired. Not everything’s about you.”

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Y/N’s smile froze, her heart plummeting. She looked to Seungcheol, hoping for a softening glance, a hint that this was all part of the act, but he just shook his head, muttering, “Let’s just get some sleep,” before walking away.

One by one, the boys disappeared to their rooms, the sound of closing doors echoing in her ears. She sat there, alone in the dimly lit living room, her hands trembling in her lap. The silence was deafening now, no balloons, no cake, no laughter to break it. Just her, and the sinking realization that maybe, just maybe, they’d forgotten.

Her chest ached, hot tears pricking at her eyes, but she forced them back, her lips twitching into a shaky smile. No, it’s fine. It’s part of the plan. They’re messing with me. She thought of last year’s midnight surprise, of the year before when they’d turned her tears into laughter with a single confetti pop. They wouldn’t forget. Not my 25th.

She stood, her legs heavy, and shuffled to her room. Closing the door, she leaned against it, her smile faltering as the hurt clawed its way up her throat. Maybe tomorrow, she told herself, her voice barely a whisper. Maybe they’re planning something big, and this is just… the buildup. She climbed into bed, curling up under the covers, her heart bruised but stubborn. Y/N believed—no, she had to believe—it was all part of their plan.

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

April 13 dawned with a gray sky, the air heavy with the promise of another chaotic day. Y/N woke with a flicker of hope still burning in her chest, though it was weaker now, fragile like a candle in a storm. Maybe today, she thought, brushing her hair back and forcing a smile in the mirror. Maybe they’re waiting for the perfect moment. Yesterday’s silence had stung, but she’d convinced herself it was still part of Seventeen’s elaborate prank. They were masters at dragging out the suspense—she’d seen it before. Surely, her 25th birthday, a decade with these boys, wasn’t something they’d just… forget.

The dorm was a whirlwind of activity as the members rushed to get ready for another packed schedule—filming, interviews, and a late-night rehearsal. Y/N moved through the chaos, her smile bright but brittle, watching for any sign, any flicker of mischief in their eyes. She didn’t mention her birthday, didn’t dare disrupt whatever plan they might be hiding. She teased them lightly, keeping her tone playful, waiting for the moment they’d crack and the surprise would spill out.

“Big day today, huh, Cheollie oppa?” she said, leaning against the kitchen counter as Seungcheol stuffed a protein bar in his mouth.

“Big? That’s one way to put it,” he muttered, barely looking up from his phone. “We’re gonna be dead by tonight.”

Her smile wavered, but she pressed on, turning to Joshua, who was tying his shoes nearby. “Bet you’re excited for something today, right, Shua oppa?”

He shrugged, distracted. “Excited to maybe grab a coffee later, if we get a break. You good?”

“Never better!” she chirped, her voice a touch too high. They’re just tired. It’s fine. She clung to that thought as they piled into the van, her eyes scanning each member for a telltale smirk or a poorly hidden grin. But there was nothing—just exhaustion etched into their faces, their heads leaning against windows or buried in their phones.

The day was a blur of motion, one schedule bleeding into the next. Y/N threw herself into every task, laughing with fans during the signing event, nailing her choreography in rehearsal, all while keeping one ear open for a whispered “happy birthday” or a sudden burst of confetti. But the hours ticked by, and the silence grew louder, heavier, until it felt like a weight pressing on her ribs. No balloons. No cake. No knowing glances. Just another day to the boys, while to her, it was everything.

By the time they stumbled back to the dorm well past midnight, Y/N’s hope was fraying at the edges. Three days had passed since her birthday—three days of waiting, of smiling through the ache, of telling herself they wouldn’t forget. She lingered in the living room as the boys shuffled in, her heart still clinging to the idea of a late surprise. Maybe they’d been too busy yesterday, too swamped to pull it off. Maybe now, in the quiet of the dorm, they’d finally reveal the prank.

“Long day, huh?” she said softly, perched on the arm of the couch, looking at Vernon as he tossed his jacket onto a chair.

“Brutal,” he groaned, rubbing his neck. “I’m crashing. Night, Y/N.”

Her throat tightened. “Night,” she managed, her smile slipping as he disappeared down the hall. One by one, the others followed—muttered goodnights, tired waves, and the sound of doors clicking shut. No one paused, no one lingered, no one gave her that spark of recognition she’d been waiting for.

Alone in the living room, the silence was suffocating. Y/N’s mind raced, her thoughts spiraling. Do they actually forget? The idea felt impossible, unthinkable. They’d been together for a decade—thirteen boys who knew her better than anyone, who’d celebrated every milestone with her, who’d turned her birthdays into memories she’d cherish forever. She could understand one or two of them slipping up, maybe distracted by the chaos of their lives. But all thirteen? Acting like her 25th birthday was just another day? The hurt bloomed sharp and raw, slicing through the hope she’d held onto so tightly.

She wandered to her room, her steps slow, her chest heavy. Closing the door, she sank onto her bed, the silence wrapping around her like a cold embrace. Her smile finally crumbled, and hot tears spilled down her cheeks, quiet at first, then shuddering sobs she muffled into her pillow. How could they forget? she thought, her heart twisting. We’re a family. They’re my brothers. They wouldn’t just… forget. The memories of past birthdays—cakes smashed in her face, DK’s off-key serenades, Seungkwan’s dramatic gift reveals—felt like cruel ghosts now, taunting her with what this year lacked.

She curled up, wiping her eyes, her breath hitching. Maybe they’re still planning something. Maybe it’s bigger than I think. Even now, three days late, she couldn’t let go of the belief that they’d come through. They had to. They were Seventeen, her thirteen pillars, her home. She clung to that thought, fragile as it was, and whispered to herself in the dark, “They will not forget.” But the tears kept falling, and the doubt crept deeper, leaving her to wonder if this time, they really had.

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

Five days had passed since Y/N’s 25th birthday, and the silence from the boys was deafening. Not a single “happy birthday,” not a glance of guilt, not even a question about why she’d gone quiet. Y/N’s heart sank deeper with each day, the hurt festering into something raw and unbearable. She was sure now—they’d forgotten. Completely. The thirteen boys she called family, who she’d poured her soul into for a decade, had let her milestone birthday slip by like it was nothing.

It felt so unfair. Every year, Y/N was the first to greet each member on their birthday, no matter how grueling their schedule. She’d stay up late crafting heartfelt letters, scraping together her allowance for thoughtful gifts, planning surprises that made them laugh or tear up. For Seungkwan’s last birthday, she’d barely slept, decorating the dorm at 4 a.m. For Dino’s, she’d written a letter so long it took her hours, her hand cramping. But her birthday? Nothing. Not one of them had noticed her forced smiles, her quiet stares, her heart breaking in the spaces between their indifference.

The day ended like all the others—chaotic, exhausting, and empty of any acknowledgment. Back at the dorm, the boys trudged to their rooms without a word, doors slamming shut like nails in a coffin. Y/N stood in the living room, alone, her chest tight with resentment. Fine, she thought, her jaw clenching. If they don’t care, I’ll celebrate myself. It was five days late, but she wasn’t going to let her 25th birthday pass without something, even if it meant doing it alone.

She stormed to her room, ripping open her closet. Her fingers landed on a tight, shimmering party dress—bold, defiant, perfect. I’m going out, she decided, slipping it on, her reflection in the mirror fierce despite the ache in her eyes. They had no schedules tomorrow, so why not? She’d drown the hurt in music and alcohol, let the club’s chaos swallow her pain. No one would stop her—not that they’d even notice she was gone.

At the club, the bass pounded through her bones, and Y/N threw herself into it. The bartender, who’d seen her and the boys there before, recognized her instantly and kept the drinks coming—cocktails, shots, anything she wanted. She drank heavily, the burn of liquor dulling the sharpness in her chest. She danced, swaying under the flashing lights, losing herself in the crowd. For a while, it worked. She felt alive, untouchable, the hurt buried under layers of alcohol and rhythm.

But the drinks piled up, and soon her head was pounding, her vision blurring. She stumbled on the dance floor, giggling at nothing, her movements sloppy. The bartender watched with growing concern—she was far gone, her words slurring, her eyes unfocused. They tried talking to her, but she just laughed, waving them off. She’s too drunk, they thought, glancing at her phone on the counter. They didn’t know the dorm’s address, so they scrolled through her contacts, landing on Seungcheol’s name. He’s the leader, right?

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

Seungcheol was deep in sleep, the kind that felt like sinking into a void after weeks of exhaustion. His phone buzzed relentlessly, dragging him awake. He squinted at the screen—3 a.m., Y/N’s name flashing. Annoyance flared immediately. What the hell does she want now? He answered, ready to snap, but the voice wasn’t hers. It was a bartender, shouting over blaring music and chatter.

“Hey, this is the club on 5th. Y/N’s here, and she’s wasted—like, can’t even talk straight wasted. Keeps dancing, but we’re worried. Someone might recognize her, and she’s alone. Can you come get her?”

Seungcheol’s groan was guttural, his temper spiking. “Yeah, fine. I’m coming.” He ended the call, fury bubbling up. Why the hell would Y/N pull this now? Doesn’t she know we’re all barely functioning? He yanked on a hoodie, his mind racing with irritation. She was out causing a scene, risking their reputation, when they were all drowning in fatigue.

He stormed into Joshua’s room, flicking on the light. “Get up. Y/N’s drunk at some club, and we gotta go get her.”

Joshua blinked, confused but already moving. “What? Why’s she out there alone?”

“No idea, but I’m pissed,” Seungcheol snapped, then barged into Jeonghan’s room. “Jeonghan, up. Y/N’s causing trouble. Club. Now.”

Jeonghan groaned, rolling out of bed with a scowl. “Are you kidding me? What’s her deal?”

The three of them piled into a car, the drive tense and silent, each stewing in their own annoyance. At the club, the music hit them like a wall, the crowd a blur of bodies. They spotted Y/N instantly—swaying wildly on the dance floor, her tight dress catching every light, her face flushed and eyes glassy. She was a mess, and the sight only fueled their frustration.

Seungcheol pushed through the crowd, dropping his jacket over her shoulders. “Y/N, let’s go. Now.”

She laughed, shoving him away, her voice slurred. “Nooo, I’m having fun! Leave me alone!”

Joshua tried next, his tone gentle but firm. “Come on, Y/N, it’s late. You’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

She swatted at him, stumbling. “I don’t need you! I’m fine!”

Jeonghan’s patience, usually endless, was fraying. He stepped closer, his jaw tight. “Y/N, stop it. You’re making a scene. Let’s go.”

She pushed him too, her movements clumsy but defiant. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

Seungcheol’s temper snapped. He scooped her up in one motion, ignoring her protests, her fists weakly hitting his back. “Enough. We’re leaving.” Jeonghan and Joshua flanked him, draping their jackets over her to shield her from prying eyes, their faces set in grim irritation. She was wearing that damn dress, and they weren’t about to let anyone snap a photo that could haunt them later.

Back at the dorm, they dropped her onto the couch, her body slumping as she mumbled incoherently. The noise had woken the others, and soon the living room was crowded with sleepy, annoyed faces—Jun rubbing his eyes, Mingyu frowning, Wonwoo looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Seungcheol stood over her, hands on his hips, his voice sharp.

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? Going out alone, getting trashed like that? What if someone recognized you? You know how much trouble that could’ve caused?”

Jeonghan crossed his arms, his usual calm replaced by a scowl. “We’re exhausted, Y/N. We don’t have time to babysit you when you pull stunts like this.”

Joshua, softer but still firm, chimed in. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Why didn’t you just stay here?”

The others piled on, their voices overlapping, each one laced with frustration. “Do you know how hard we’re working right now?” Mingyu snapped. “And you go make things worse?”

“What even got into you?” Seungkwan added, shaking his head. “We’d all have to clean up your mess if this got out.”

Y/N stirred, her head lolling as she let out a bitter, drunken chuckle. She pushed herself up, swaying, her eyes blazing through the haze of alcohol. She pointed a shaky finger at them, tears streaming down her face as her voice cracked with raw hurt.

“You… you… all of you!” she slurred, her gaze sweeping the room. “You forgot my 25th birthday! Five days ago! Not one of you said a word! Not one of you asked why I’m quiet, why I’m like this!” She stumbled, catching herself on the couch, her sobs breaking free. “I’m always there for you! Every birthday, every single one, I’m up at midnight, writing letters, getting gifts, making you feel special! Even when I’m dead tired! But you… you thirteen… you just forgot me!”

Her voice rose, trembling with pain. “A decade together, and you didn’t even notice! You just cared about sleep, about schedules, about everything but me!” She collapsed back onto the couch, her body giving out, tears pouring as she mumbled, “My 25th… and you didn’t care…” Her words faded into soft, broken sobs, her head dropping as she passed out, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

The room froze, the air thick with a silence that crushed them all. Seungcheol’s anger drained away, replaced by a sickening realization. Joshua’s eyes widened, his hand covering his mouth. Jeonghan stared at the floor, his jaw tight. One by one, they pieced it together—April 12, six days ago. Y/N’s birthday. The day they’d been too tired to notice, too buried in their own exhaustion to remember.

Minghao whispered, “Oh no… we forgot.”

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, his voice small. “How did we… all of us?”

Woozi’s face was pale, his usual stoicism gone. “She loves birthdays. She always makes ours huge. And we…”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, guilt settling like lead in his chest. They’d fucked up—badly. They knew how much Y/N poured into their birthdays, how she lit up at celebrations, how she made every moment count. And they’d let hers pass without a single thought.

Jeonghan moved first, kneeling beside her, gently brushing her hair back. “We need to get her to bed,” he said quietly, his voice heavy. Seungcheol nodded, lifting her carefully, her body limp in his arms. They carried her to her room, tucking her in as her tears dried on her face, her breathing uneven even in sleep.

Back in the living room, the silence lingered, each member lost in their own guilt. “How do we fix this?” Joshua asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We can’t undo it,” Woozi said, his tone flat but pained. “But we have to do something. She deserves that much.”

They sat there, thirteen brothers who’d failed their sister, knowing they’d broken something precious—and unsure if they could ever make it right.

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The next morning, Y/N woke to a pounding headache and a heart that felt like it had been trampled. Her room was dim, the curtains still drawn, and the events of last night crashed over her like a wave. She remembered everything—her drunken outburst, the tears, the way she’d pointed at each of them, spilling her hurt. And their faces. Not concern, not guilt, but irritation, exhaustion, annoyance. The memory burned, twisting the knife deeper. She lay there, her makeup smudged and streaked, still in the tight party dress that now felt like a costume for a night she wished she could erase.

She dragged herself to the mirror, wincing at her reflection—mascara tracks down her cheeks, lipstick smeared, hair a tangled mess. Pathetic, she thought, her throat tightening. A shower was the only thing that made sense. She stood under the hot water, letting it wash away the makeup, the sweat, the lingering scent of alcohol, but it couldn’t touch the ache in her chest. She felt hollow, betrayed by the thirteen people she’d trusted most. They hadn’t cared about her last night—not really. All they’d worried about was the group’s reputation, the headlines that could’ve followed if someone had recognized her. “What if someone saw you?” Seungcheol’s voice echoed in her mind. “We’re tired, Y/N.” Not once had they asked if she was okay.

Back in her room, she pulled on an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, her stomach growling but her pride too bruised to face the kitchen. She was hungry, but the thought of seeing them, of pretending everything was fine, made her sick. She curled up on her bed, staring at the wall, the hurt festering into anger. A decade together, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. I’ve given them everything—every birthday, every late night, every moment I had. And they couldn’t even remember mine. The unfairness of it choked her, and she buried her face in her pillow, willing herself not to cry again. But the tears came anyway, silent and bitter.

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Meanwhile, the dorm was stirring with a different kind of energy. Jun, Minghao, and Wonwoo were the first awake, gathered in the kitchen, their voices low as they replayed last night. Y/N’s words hung heavy in the air, each one a dagger they couldn’t dodge. “You forgot my 25th birthday… not one of you asked why I’m quiet…” The guilt was suffocating, and the sight of her closed door down the hall felt like a silent accusation.

“How did we let this happen?” Jun asked, his voice quiet, his hands fidgeting with a coffee mug. “All thirteen of us. Not one of us remembered.”

Minghao sighed, leaning against the counter, his usual calm frayed. “She’s always the one who makes our birthdays special. The letters, the gifts… and we couldn’t even give her a damn ‘happy birthday.’”

Wonwoo stared at the floor, his jaw tight. “She was crying last night. Drunk, sure, but those weren’t just drunk tears. We hurt her. Badly.”

The others trickled in, each face etched with the same shame. Seungcheol rubbed his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept. Jeonghan sat at the table, unusually silent. Even Hoshi, always the spark of energy, was subdued, his shoulders slumped. They all glanced at Y/N’s door, the weight of their failure settling deeper.

“We can’t undo it,” Seungcheol said finally, his voice rough. “Her birthday’s gone. But we have to do something. We owe her that.”

Minghao nodded, grabbing his jacket. “Jun and I will get a cake. Something she’d love—chocolate, with those little sprinkles she always picks off and eats last.”

“I’ll handle food,” Mingyu said, already pulling out his phone to order her favorites—fried chicken, tteokbokki, that spicy ramen she could never resist. “We’ll cook, too. Make it a spread.”

“Gifts,” Joshua added, glancing around. “We’ll each get her something. Doesn’t have to be big, just… personal. Something that shows we know her.”

They split up, a quiet determination driving them. They knew it wouldn’t erase the hurt, wouldn’t change the fact that they’d fucked up in a way that cut deep. But they had to try. Y/N wasn’t just a member—she was their sister, their heart, and they’d let her down.

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Hours later, the dorm was transformed. The living room was filled with the smell of food, a chocolate cake with sprinkles sitting proudly on the table, balloons tied to the chairs despite the late celebration. Gifts were piled in a corner—small boxes, handwritten notes, things they’d scrambled to find that screamed Y/N. A playlist of her favorite songs played softly, curated by Woozi, who’d spent an hour agonizing over the order.

But Y/N’s door stayed closed. The boys exchanged glances, the silence heavy. Finally, Seungcheol approached, knocking gently. “Y/N? Can you come out? We… we need to talk.”

No response. He knocked again, his voice softer. “Please, Y/N. Just… give us a chance.”

Inside, Y/N sat up, her heart pounding. She wanted to stay hidden, to nurse her anger, but something in his tone—raw, almost broken—pulled at her. She wiped her eyes, steeling herself, and opened the door. The sight hit her like a punch: the boys standing in a loose circle, the cake, the food, the gifts. Her breath caught, but she crossed her arms, her face guarded.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice flat, though it wavered at the edges.

Seungcheol stepped forward, his eyes searching hers. “We fucked up, Y/N. We forgot your birthday—your 25th. There’s no excuse for that.”

Jeonghan joined him, his usual smirk gone, replaced by raw sincerity. “You’ve always been there for us, every single time. Your letters, your gifts, the way you make us feel like we’re the only ones who matter. And we… we let you down.”

Her lips trembled, but she held her ground, the hurt still raw. “Five days,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Six now. Not one of you noticed. Not one of you asked why I was quiet, why I was… breaking.”

Mingyu’s voice broke as he spoke, his eyes glassy. “We were so caught up in ourselves, in being tired, that we didn’t see you. And last night… we weren’t worried about you, not like we should’ve been. We were assholes, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

The tears she’d fought all day spilled over, hot and unstoppable. “I tried so hard to believe you didn’t forget,” she choked out, her voice shaking. “I kept smiling, waiting for the surprise, telling myself you were planning something. But you didn’t. You just… forgot. After ten years, how could you all forget?”

Hoshi stepped closer, his own eyes red. “We don’t deserve your forgiveness, not after this. But you’re our family, Y/N. We love you. We were stupid, blind, but we love you.”

She sobbed, her knees buckling, and Joshua caught her, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll spend every day making this up to you,” he murmured, his voice thick. “We promise.”

One by one, they joined, surrounding her in a group embrace, their apologies overlapping—Seungkwan’s shaky “I should’ve known”, Dino’s quiet “You deserve better”, Woozi’s hoarse “I’ll never let this happen again”. Y/N cried into their arms, the hurt pouring out, but their warmth, their voices, started to stitch something back together. It wasn’t fixed—not yet—but it was a start.

They pulled back, guiding her to the table. Minghao lit the candles on the cake, his smile soft. “It’s late, but… happy birthday, Y/N.”

She stared at the flickering flames, her heart a mess of pain and tentative hope. She blew them out, her wish simple: Let us heal. The boys cheered, but it was gentle, their eyes still heavy with guilt. They ate, laughed, handed her gifts—a bracelet from Vernon, a journal from Wonwoo, a goofy plushie from DK that made her smile through tears. Each note, each gesture, was a step toward reconciliation, a promise to never let her feel invisible again.

As the night wound down, Y/N looked at them, her family, and felt the first flicker of forgiveness. It would take time, but they were hers, and she was theirs. And that, at least, was worth fighting for.

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an: Hi Anon, sorry this is late, but belated happy birthday to you! I hope you'll have a great year!🎂🎉🫶🏻

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