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authorhjk1 · 2 months ago

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IU caught for a crime, reluctantly fucked & bukkake by the cops while handcuffed at the station and walk through paparazzi drenched in cum after her release

May 16, 2025

(IU) word count: 3664 words

"Wake up."

Jieun stirs awake as an unfamiliar voice reaches her ears. It takes her a moment to gain full consciousness. She's trying to remember where she is, because whatever she's lying on, it's definitely not her bed.

Her eyes slowly start to open, but the bright light from the ceiling forces them shut again. It takes Jieun a second try, but now she can see most of her environment. Her eyes grow wide when she sees someone standing only a couple of meters away. And it seems he and Jieun are separated by metal bars. She's definitely not at home.

"Where am I?"

The sleepiness now quickly leaves her mind, but when she tries to lift her head, an excruciating pain threatens to burst her scull. Jieun groans and she can barely think straight. What the hell happened last night?

"At the police station."

She hears a key opening a lock. The metal bars in front of the man start to move.

"Get up."

Usually Jieun would be upset with someone being so rude with her. But realization hits her like a truck. What did she do to wake up in a police station? She can't remember what happened last night. Nothing at all. Her head hurts so bad as she tries to slowly get up. Did she drink too much last night? But why would she be here then?

Jieun stumbles to her feet and the man has to grab her arm to stop her from falling.

"Follow me."

The walk through the police station feels like a dream to her. Eventually, the two of them reach an interrogation room.

Jieun sits down on the first chair she sees, her head still spinning. She feels the man grab both her arms and a moment later she hears the click of handcuffs. She looks down on herself in disbelief.

"What? What is this for?"

She's still fighting through the fog of sleepiness and hangover as the man sits down on the other side of the table.

"I'm detective Lee. And you're Lee Jieun. Is that correct?"

Jieun nods, still waiting for an answer to her question.

"Last night you got arrested for public indecency."

"Public what?"

Jieun furrows her eyebrows.

"Indecency?"

"Yes. The official report says that you undressed at a restaurant and started to dance naked on a table."

Jieun's cheeks heat up in embarrassment. That couldn't be her, right? Why would she do something like that? She was drunk before, but she never got naked in public or anything.

When IU looks down on herself she realises she isn't wearing her dress from last night either. Just a red turtle neck that is way too big for her. She can tell she's wearing panties, but otherwise she is naked underneath. No bra, no pants, nothing.

"A-And what am I supposed to do now?"

She watches detective Lee lean back in his chair. His eyes seem wander across her body, until he finally answers.

"Well, your case will be brought before a judge and he or she will determine your sentence."

"O-Okay. And what kind of sentence could that be?"

"A huge fine. Or...up to one year in jail."

Jieun feels like her heart skips a beat. Jail? For something she doesn't even remember? For something like being naked in public? Her career and her life flashes past in front of her eyes. That would be the end of her.

"N-No! I can't go to jail!"

Her voice rises as she starts to panic.

"It's okay, it's okay."

The detective rests a hand on hers to calm her down.

"There is an alternative."

Jieun almost sighs in relief, thinking she can avoid such a sentence. But the detective's smirk quickly destroys her hopes.

"What-What kind of alternative?"

She asks hesitantly, although she isn't sure if she even wants to hear it. She glances at the man's hand on hers, which is now gently caressing her skin.

"You do me a favor and I let you go. No evidence, no trial, no sentence."

Goosebumps form on IU's skin as she thinks about it for a second. She definitely understood that he's expecting a favor in a sexual sense. But is it worth it? Is it worth her career, her freedom? Maybe...

Her thoughts run wild as she tries to choose. Of course she doesn't want to do anything sexual with a random guy. But then again, she can't go to jail. It would ruin her career and her life. Maybe he isn't even asking for much? Maybe just a handjob or something?

"W-What kind of favor?"

Her voice is weak as shame rushes through her body. The detective's smile grows wider.

"Oh fuck. You have such a nice pussy."

The man behind Jieun groans in pleasure. She's bent over the desk, her hands still in handcuffs while she's getting fucked from behind.

"You're so tight and warm. Just amazing."

She doesn't even know the man's name, but he's buried deep inside her pussy. Detective Lee left a while ago after using Jieun's mouth and pussy himself. After him a couple of more guys came in one after the other and left. If she counted correctly, this guy is currently the sixth man who is taking her pussy today. The sixth stranger. A police officer she has never seen before.

"Fuck, I bet you love getting fucked by one cock after another, don't you?"

He's definitely the most vocal out of all the guys so far, but Jieun doesn't mind. As degrading as it is, his voice at least covers her pathetic moans. And it's not wrong what he's saying. She's embarrassed to admit this to herself, but Jieun is starting to get into this.

She feels his cock thrusting in and out of her, his hips snapping against her ass while he holds onto both her shoulders to pull her back against him. She can tell he's close by the way his cock is pulsating inside her pussy. For a moment, Jieun is afraid he might cum inside her unprotected cunt. But it seems like all the guys seem to have talked to each other. Like the other police officers before him, he pulls out of her and walks around the table. With his hand in her hair, he forces Jieun's face closer to his cock. She watches him stroke his cock a couple of times as his groans grow louder.

"You're such a slut. Using your body to get out of jail."

Then he finally cums all over Jieun's face, adding to the loads that are already sticking to her skin. She can't help but let out a moan of pleasure as she feels his hot cum paint her face. She has her eyes closed to make sure that nothing gets into them. But when she opens them again, she hears the click of the door. The man who just came on her face already left.

Barely a minute later, the door opens again. Jieun turns around, hoping to see detective Lee. Is she finally done? Is she free to go now?

To her dismay, it's not him. Another man in uniform steps into the room while already taking care of his belt. Her eyes follow him as he walks closer. Standing right in front of her, he takes out his cock and starts to stroke it.

"You look so sexy with cum on your face."

He almost laughs as he takes her chin in one hand and guides her mouth towards his cock.

"Wouldn't mind watching you perform on TV like this."

Even more embarrassment rushes through Jieun's system as his cock parts her lips. It's degrading enough to have all these officers cum on her face. She can't even imagine what it must feel like to perform on a music show with her face covered like this. Everyone would think she's a slut.

Jieun continues to imagine herself dancing with cum on her face as the man starts to fuck her mouth. His hands on either side of her head keep it in place while he thrusts in and out of her. She feels his tip brush against the back of her mouth with every other stroke and soon Jieun is starting to gasp for air. With detective Lee it was more like a blowjob than full on fucking her face. But now the man in front of her uses her mouth like a toy. Soon, he seems to have become fully hard, which makes it even harder to take all of him in. His cock is now making her struggle as her jaw starts to hurt due to being forced open like this.

"What a mouth. No wonder you're a singer."

He groans, one of his hands moving to grab a fistful of her hair. She feels him starting to loose control. His rhythm breaks and his deep powerful thrusts turn into quick, shallow pumps. But before he cums down her troat, he retreats, stepping back until his tip is only barely resting on her lower lip.

"If your pussy is only half as good as your mouth..."

He doesn't finish the sentence, too captivated by the sight of his cock finally falling out of her mouth. It's fully covered in Jieun's saliva, her spit glistening in the bright light. She glances down at it, the feeling of his length still lingers in her mouth.

"You like to get fucked that bad, huh?"

Jieun hesitates, but then nods quickly. She has to admit this to herself. As degrading and shameful it is, it's hot to have her holes used by one man after another. The fact that they're are all police men only heightens her arousal. She can feel herself getting into it. She can feel her pussy getting wet in anticipation as she watches him walking around the table. Still bent over, she loses sight of him once he stands behind her. She's holding her breath now, waiting for what is about to come.

To Jieun's surprise it's not his cock, but a hard slap on her right ass cheek. She yelps in surprise and shock. The slap makes her cheek sting. Another one to her left cheek. She gasps, the split second of pain leaving her breathless. Then she feels his cock rubbing against her wet folds. She catches herself slightly backing up. Her own arousal continues to rise. And when he finally thrusts inside of her for the first time, Jieun feels like she just crossed a new threshold. Most of the shame and embarrassment leave her as she takes his pounding. Instead of just being silently and passively bent over the table, she now lets out a needy

"Oh my god."

as she pushes back against him. Her small body starts to move in the same rhythm as his own, enabling him to penetrate her pussy even further.

"Fuck, you're such a tight little slut, aren't you?"

Another slap to her cheeks makes Jieun gasp before she can answer.

"Yes, sir."

A mewl escapes her lips after she says those two words. The thought of submitting to his authority as a police man has her dripping. Instead of spreading her legs wide, he is holding them together, which makes his cock feel even bigger inside of her. Jieun's thighs rub together as well, adding even more pleasure to her system.

"It's so good."

Another moan escapes her lips and the man behind her reaches forward to grab a fistful of her hair once more. Her loose bun is a complete mess by now, but she doesn't care at all. The most important thing right now is his cock. She lets out moan after moan as he continues to fuck her. Jieun is starting to ask for more, while the man behind her starts to get rougher with her. His hand is tightly holding onto her hips, while the other now reaches for her peach colored panties, which are lying next to her on the table.

"Open wide, little slut."

Jieun obeys his order, without thinking. He stuffs her panties into her mouth and then holds onto her bun once more.

"Fuck, you look even better with your mouth full."

He gives her ass a couple of slaps again, which makes Jieun moan into her panties. She can taste a little bit of herself, while he continues to thrust in and out of her pussy. The peach colored cloth is partially dangling out of her mouth and swinging to the rhythm of her getting fucked. She feels him trying to get even deeper and deeper inside of her, trying to make her pussy take all of his cock. In the process he's pushing her further onto the table, until she's almost lying on it.

"I don't think I can stop fucking this tight little cunt of yours."

He groans as he picks up her left leg and puts it on the table as well.

"Oh god!"

Jieun shouts through her panties as he now pushes deeper into her than ever before. His entire cock is now properly buried inside of her. He starts to slap her cheeks again too, making them sting. The mixture of pleasure and pain soon prove to be too much for her. Jieun's small body starts to shake and jerk on top of the table. She never expected to ever cum from being fucked by strangers. But here she is now. Jieun is climaxing on the table in the interrogation room as one of the police men makes her take his cock as deep as possible. Her moans and whines are mostly muffled by her panties, but they're still clearly audible.

"You love cuming on my dick, don't you?"

The man behind her groans. Jieun's pussy tightly squeezing his dick steers him towards his own orgasm as well. He fucks her even harder once he notices he can't hold on for much longer. His hands use her small ass cheeks as handles as he drives his cock into her cunt again and again.

Jieun expects him to pull out when she feels him pulsating inside of her. But instead, he buries himself as deep as possible inside her throbbing pussy. A gasp of surprise barely makes it past her panties as she feels him filling her pussy to the brim with his cum.

"Good girl."

He leans over her as he makes sure that her walls drain every last drop of his cum.

"You're a great cum dump."

He kisses her sweaty neck. Jieun feels him pulling out of her. Slowly his cock drags along her slick walls. Once she's empty again, she feels some of his cum escape her pussy and run down her legs. He gives her ass a final smack and then gets dressed and leaves her lying on the table.

Jieun tries to catch her breath. She is spread out on the cold surface, the bunched up turtleneck just barely covering her ass. The man's cum is leaking onto the table, while she just waits for the next person to claim her pussy. She hears the door open again and feels her body react to the sound with silent anticipation. When the next person stands in front of her, she finally manages to look up.

"Detective Lee."

She tries to say, but Jieun's mouth is still stuffed with her panties.

He enjoys the view of her lying on the table, totally spent, before he finally says something.

"I've got some good news and some bad news."

Jieun glances down at his crotch when she notices him gently cupping his cock through his pants.

"The good news is that the deadline of your release papers is over soon, so we have to let you go in around 20 minutes."

Now he undoes his belt, while he continues to talk. His eyes glued to her slightly pink ass cheeks.

"The bad news is, there are around 10 more officers outside, waiting for their turn."

Jieun takes a couple of moments to take the hint. She understands what he is insinuating.

"What-"

She tries to speak, but her panties keep her quiet.

"Let's hurry up a little."

Detective Lee's last words had a bit more volume to them and are followed by several pairs of footsteps.

Jieun swallows heavily as she feels several men entering the room at once. She can still only see the detective, but she knows that everyone is looking at her. For a second, the room is completely silent. Then everyone begins to get rid of their pants.

Five minutes later, Jieun feels like the world is spinning out of control. She's now lying on her back still on the table. Someone is holding onto her thighs while he's pounding deep into her cum filled pussy. She feels two men sharing her mouth, not caring if she's constantly gagging and choking. Her hands are still cuffed together, but her arms are reaching upwards. Two men are kneeling on the table, one on either side. They're basically fucking her hands, while Jieun does her best to stroke their cocks. Five more men are currently standing in the background, all touching themselves to the sight of Jieun getting used in any way possible.

She doesn't even notice that her panties have gone missing, because the cocks in her mouth still stop her from talking. Or breathing for that matter. The man thrusting into her pussy is digging his fingernails into her thighs, making her squirm on the flat surface. A couple of thrusts later, he's replaced by the next guy. The new man inside of her places a finger on her clit and starts to rub it in the rhythm of his thrusts.

Jieun becomes a broken, filthy mess in record time. Her eyes are barely open as the pleasure that flows through her system overwhelms her. The men using her hands have to hold her arms up, because her muscles are already sore.

For a second, she gets a breath of fresh air, before another pair of police men stuff her mouth with their cocks. Jieun can't tell how long it has been since detective Lee came in. Five minutes? 10 minutes? She's sure that she can't take it for much longer. Her pussy starts to feel sore as well after being fucked by almost a dozen different men in one day.

Jieun suddenly flinches when she feels someone reach underneath her turtleneck. His fingers pinch her nipples, sending even more pain into her body. She can't tell who it is though. Her entire body becomes their personal sex toy.

"Time is up."

A sigh of relief leaves Jieun's body as she hears detective Lee's voice. She knows she was close to loosing her mind. Although, a small part of her is disappointed that it's over now. She feels one man after another letting go of her body.

"Get up."

A pair of hands lift her tired body off the table. Jieun finds herself kneeling on the floor as she opens her eyes fully again. She realizes she's surrounded by the ten men who used her body mere seconds ago. And it quickly dawns on her what's going to happen next. All of them are stroking their cocks while looking down on her. And Jieun has just enough time to close her eyes again as the first load already hits her face. She can't tell who it was, or where it came from. But the stranger's sticky cum warms the skin on her face. The next load mostly hits her forehead. The next officer aims at her closed eyes. Jieun feels his heavy load weigh down on her eyelids.

She takes the other eight loads of cum as well, silently kneeling inside the ring of ten police officers. She eventually hears them all walk out of the room again. Except for detective Lee.

"Get up. Your manager is waiting outside."

She scrambles to her feet, her eyes slowly start to open, but the weight of several loads of cum forces them shut again. It takes Jieun a second try, but now she can see most of her environment.

"Your dress."

He hands her the dress she must've worn last night and motions for her to walk out of the interrogation room. She's only wearing the oversized turtleneck, which she only realizes when she's standing in the front door of the precinct.

"Wait, my panties..."

Detective Lee just laughs and gives her a gentle nudge. Jieun stumbles outside the building, her tired body barely keeping her standing. Then suddenly she goes blind as cameras start to flash. Raw horror creeps up her spine as Jieun is standing in front of the precinct, face covered in cum, only wearing an oversized turtleneck, her elegant dress bunched up into a lump of white cloth in her arms while reporters take picture after picture.

She tried to get out of jail and to protect her career. But here she is now, knowing that she's ruined. In more ways than one. With shaking legs and head hanging low, Jieun makes her way towards her manager's car. She can't even feel shame anymore. It's all about her career being over. Probably.

She opens the door of the car and quickly gets inside. When she turns to her manager, wanting to ask for something to clean her face with, she sees him staring at her. Her gaze moves lower. Her breath hitches when she sees that his cock is out and he is slowly stroking it.

"Just once, please? I always wanted to know how it'd feel like to-"

He doesn't even get to finish the sentence. Jieun can still hear the shutter of the cameras and the chatter of the reporters outside of the car as she leans over and wraps her lips around her manager's cock. Her career is ruined anyway. Might as well have some fun while she watches it all collapse.

----------------

Happy IU day everyone!

I hope you guys enjoy this small fic. Thanks for waiting so patiently for me.

Stay healthy!

#ask #anon #kpop #kpop smut #kpop girls #kpop gg #iu soloist #iu smut #iu #jieun smut #lee jieun #jieun

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importantpuppystarfish · 3 months ago

Text

How the King fucked his servant ;)

Male reader or Y/N x IU (Lee Jieun)

!you as the King of Goryeo dynasty and IU as regular servant/dishwasher/slave.

Kinks: Rough fucking, pussy eating, pissing, squirting, begging to stop, armpit licks, lots of mouthful kissing

This happens to be around the ancient times. It’s the Goryeo dynasty, a time of lavish palaces, temples, and strict traditions in Gaegyeong, the bustling capital. You, Y/n, are the King.. You're tall, muscular, young ruler with a chiseled jaw. As a king, you're loved by the people, but let’s be real: you’re also a horny dude who enjoys the perks of being King. Your word is absolute, but traditions are strict—marrying a lowly servant girl like Lee Jieun? No way, Jose. The nobles would lose their minds. Still, that doesn’t stop you from eyeing the cute girls who clean your palace.

Lee Jieun, or IU as the other servant girls call her, is a young, probably teenage, 5’2” pixie of a girl—skinny, pale as porcelain, with a cute face that could melt hearts. Her big, dark eyes and pouty lips make her stand out, even in her plain, slightly tattered hanbok. She’s one of the many girls who scrub floors, wash dishes, and cook for the royal household. Jieun’s life is tough—hauling buckets, sweating over fires, and dodging the wrath of grumpy supervisors. But she’s got a feisty spark, and lately, she’s been catching your attention. You’ve heard the other servant girls gossip about “IU” and her clumsy moments, so her name’s already stuck in your head.

It’s a sweltering summer day in the palace. You’re lounging in the open courtyard, shirtless as usual. You’re sipping rice wine from a glass, watching the girl servants bustle around. Jieun’s there, carrying a tray of dishes to the kitchen with a lot of glasses. She’s sweating as fuck, her hanbok sticking to her tiny frame, and you can’t help but notice the way she smells—salty, musky, delicious. Your nose twitches. Damn, you love that sweaty scent. It’s like catnip to you.

Jieun’s distracted, sneaking glances at your ripped torso. Oh gods, she thinks, the King’s chest is like a damn sculpture. Is he trying to kill me? Her cheeks flush, and her pussy tingles just a bit—shit, she’s horny. She’s never been this close to you before, and your half-naked vibe is messing with her head. She trips over a stone, and CRASH! The tray slips, and a glass shatters on the ground, right near your feet.

The other servants gasp. Jieun freezes, dropping to her knees. “Your Majesty! I’m so sorry!” she squeaks, her voice shaky but sweet. That voice—fuck, it’s like honey to your ears.

You stand up, towering over her tiny frame. “Clumsy, aren’t you, Jieun?” you say, smirking. Your eyes lock with hers, and for a second, it’s electric. She’s trembling, but her gaze flicks to your abs, then back up. Is she checking me out? you think, your dick twitching under your robe.

“I-I didn’t mean to, Your Majesty,” she stammers, bowing low. “I’ll clean it up!”

You crouch down, close enough to catch another whiff of her sweaty scent. “Look at me,” you say, voice low. She lifts her head, her cute face all red. Your eyes burn into hers, and she bites her lip.

“Be careful next time, Jieun,” you say, standing up. “I like my glasses… and my girls, unbroken.” You wink, and her jaw drops. Did the King just flirt? She scrambles to clean the shards, her heart pounding. You walk away, already thinking about her cute face and that smell. She’s trouble, and you like it.

It’s been a few days since the glass incident, and Jieun’s been on your radar. You catch glimpses of her scrubbing floors or carrying laundry, always stealing looks at her tiny, sweaty body. She’s been careful, but today, she fucks up big time.

You’re in the throne hall, shirtless again, sprawled on your throne like a goddamn lion. Your mother suddenly storms in, her face is damn red with anger. She’s clutching a broken piece of jade—a priceless hairpin, a family heirloom from your grandmother.

“Y/n!” she snaps, waving the shattered jade. “That clumsy servant girl broke my hairpin! My hairpin! Do you know how precious this was?”

You sit up, frowning. “Which girl?”

“Lee Jieun, that little klutz!” your mother huffs. “She was dusting my chambers and knocked it off the table. I want her punished! Death or jail, Y/n—she’s useless!”

Your cock stirs at the mention of Jieun’s name. Oh, fuck yeah, my clumsy cutie. But you keep a straight face. “Mother, calm down,” you say, leaning back. “Death? For a hairpin? That’s a bit much.”

“A bit much?!” your mother shrieks. “This is an heirloom! Tradition demands respect!”

“Alright, alright,” you say, raising a hand. “I’ll handle it. Where’s Jieun now?”

“In the courtyard, sniveling,” your mother says, crossing her arms. “Do something, Y/n. Don’t be soft.”

You grin. “Oh, I’ll punish her, Mother. Don’t worry.” Punish her real good, you think, your dick already half-hard at the thought of Jieun’s sweaty little body squirming under you.

You head to the courtyard, where Jieun’s kneeling by a pile of laundry, her head bowed. She’s shaking, her pale skin flushed from crying. The other servants are whispering, keeping their distance. You tower over her, your shadow swallowing her tiny frame.

“Jieun,” you say, voice deep and teasing. “You’ve been naughty, haven’t you?”

She looks up, her big eyes wet with tears. “Your Majesty, I-I’m so sorry!” she says, her voice that sweet, sexy pitch you love. “I was dusting, and the hairpin fell. I didn’t mean to break it!”

You crouch down, getting a hit of her scent. Fuck, she smells like heaven. “That was my mother's hairpin,” you say, pretending to be mad. “You know what happens to clumsy girls, don’t you?”

Jieun’s lip trembles. “P-Prison? Or… worse?” Oh gods, I’m dead, she thinks. But why’s he looking at me like that? Like he wants to eat me? Her pussy twitches.

You smirk, leaning closer. “Death’s too boring,” you say, your voice dripping with mischief. “I’ve got a better idea. You’re gonna make this up to me… personally.”

Her eyes widen. “P-Personally? Your Majesty, I’m just a servant! I can’t—”

You grin, your cock already hard under your loose silk pants. “Oh, you can, Jieun,” you say, stepping closer. You’re towering over her short frame, your muscular, shirtless chest gleaming in the dim lantern light. You lean down, your face inches from hers, your breath hot on her cute little lips.

IU's heart pounds so loud she thinks you can hear it. Oh gods, he’s so close! Is he gonna kiss me? His lips look so… big. But I’m just a servant—this is wrong! She’s nervous as hell, her pussy tingling despite herself. Jieun panics in her head.

You don’t wait for her to say shit. You grab her tiny face with one hand, your fingers rough on her soft, pale cheeks, and crash your lips onto hers. She gasps, her hands pushing weakly at your chest, but you’re too fucking strong—your tall, muscular body doesn’t even budge. You force your tongue into her mouth, tasting her—her lips are fresh but there’s a raw, dirty edge to her, probably from slaving away all day. Her saliva mixes with yours, wet and messy, and you groan into her mouth. Fuck, she tastes like heaven and sin.

Jieun squirms, her tiny body trying to pull back, but your grip’s like iron. “Mmph—Your Majesty!” she mumbles against your lips, her voice muffled. Her hands push harder, but it’s like a kitten fighting a tiger. Slowly, her resistance fades—she can’t help it. Your tongue’s too good, swirling with hers, and the kiss turns into a dirty, passionate French kiss. Saliva drips down her chin, and she’s panting, her body betraying her as her pussy gets wetter. Oh no, this is so wrong… I can’t stop myself, Jieun thinks, her mind spinning.

You pull back for a second, a string of spit connecting your lips to hers. “Fuck, Jieun, your mouth’s so damn tasty,” you growl, licking your lips. “All sweaty and dirty—just how I like it.” You smirk, your voice dripping with lust. “Bet your pussy’s even better.”

Her eyes go wide, her face redder than the maroon on her hanbok. “Y-Your Majesty, please!” she squeaks, her voice that sweet, sexy pitch you love. “This isn��t right—I’m just a—”

“Shut up,” you snap, grabbing the collar of her yellow hanbok. “You broke my mother’s shit, Jieun. Now you’re mine to break.” With one rough tug, you rip the fabric open, the black polka dots tearing apart to reveal her pale, skinny little body. Her small tits are bare underneath—no fancy undergarments for a servant girl. She gasps, her hands flying to cover herself, but you grab her wrists and pin them above her head, your big hand easily holding both of hers.

“Nooo! Please, Your Majesty!” Jieun cries, her voice trembling as she tries to twist away. Her long green skirt still clings to her hips, but her top’s in shreds, hanging off her shoulders. She’s scared, her heart racing, but deep down, her body’s betraying her again—her nipples are hard, and her pussy’s throbbing. He’s so rough—I’m terrified! IU's thoughts are a chaotic mess.

You laugh, low and dirty, your free hand yanking at her skirt. “Look at you, squirming like a little slut,” you say, your voice thick with lust. “You’re scared, huh? But I bet your cunt’s dripping for me already.” You tear the green skirt off, the fabric ripping loudly, leaving her completely naked on the mat. Her pale skin glows in the lantern light, her tiny body trembling under your gaze. You can smell her even more now—sweaty, musky, fucking delicious. Your cock’s rock-hard, straining against your pants.

Jieun’s shaking, tears in her eyes, but her pussy’s glistening, and you can see it. “Please… I’m sorry,” she whispers, her voice breaking. But her body’s telling a different story, and you’re too horny to care about her pleas.

You smirk, eyeing a low wooden bed nearby, covered with a silk blanket. “Time to play, my little slave,” you growl, stepping closer. You bend down and grab her tiny ass with both hands, your big fingers digging into her soft, sweaty cheeks. “Fuck, your ass is so small,” you laugh, squeezing hard. “Barely a handful!”

Jieun gasps, her body jolting. “Y-Your Majesty, please don't touch me like that!” she whimpers, her voice shaky. She tries to squirm away, but your grip’s too strong.

You don’t care about her protests. You slide your hands up her skinny frame, groping her small tits—barely a handful, just like her ass. “Look at these tiny fucking tits,” you say, chuckling as you squeeze them hard, your thumbs brushing her hard nipples. “Like little peaches, but I bet they taste better.” Her pale skin flushes under your rough touch, her sweat making her body slick.

Jieun bites her lip, tears welling in her eyes. “Stop… please sir!,” she whispers, her voice breaking. She feels violated, her mind screaming to escape, but your strength pins her in place. He’s too big—I can’t fight him.

You laugh, loving how helpless she looks. “You’re my little slave snack, Jieun,” you say, your voice low and dirty. “I’m gonna eat you up.” You scoop her up like she weighs nothing—your strong arms lifting her 5’2” frame easily—and toss her onto the nearby bed. She lands on the silk blanket with a soft thud, her sweaty body bouncing slightly, her dark hair spilling around her.

“No—!” Jieun cries, trying to crawl away, but you’re on her in a second, pinning her down with your weight. You grab her face again, your fingers digging into her cheeks, and slam your lips onto hers. It’s rough, messy, your tongue forcing its way into her mouth. “Mmph!” she moans, her hands weakly pushing at your chest. You again taste her lips, her saliva, eating her mouth like she’s a fucking meal—wet, sloppy, and desperate.

“I’m gonna taste every fucking inch of you,” you growl against her lips, biting her bottom lip hard enough to make her yelp.

You ignore her, too lost in her taste. You move down, kissing and licking her belly, your tongue tracing her skin. “So fucking tasty,” you mutter, your hands gripping her skinny thighs to keep her still. You move back up to her neck, sucking hard, leaving red marks, then kiss her hands, tasting the salt on her fingers. Finally, you go back to her lips, kissing her again, your tongue deep in her mouth, eating her up like she’s your last meal.

Jieun’s moaning softly, her body reacting even though her mind’s begging for it to stop. “Ngh… ahh,” she gasps, her cheeks wet with tears. I can’t stop moaning—it feels good, but I hate it! I just want this to end, she thinks, her tiny body trembling under you. Jieun’s thoughts are overwhelmed with discomfort.

You pull back, grinning down at her, your lips shiny with her sweat and spit. “You’re my little slave feast, Jieun,” you say, your voice thick with lust. “And I’m just getting started.”

Her moans are mixed with soft sobs, and you’re fucking loving it—her discomfort just makes you hornier. You grab her skinny arms, pinning them above her head with one hand, exposing her clean, nearly hairless armpits. There’s just a faint hint of stubble, barely noticeable, and the skin’s glistening with sweat, her “armpit waters” dripping down her side. The musky, salty scent hits you hard, and your cock throbs in your pants. Fuck, that’s my jam.

“Look at these pretty little armpits,” you growl, your voice low and dirty. “All sweaty and ripe for me.” You dive in, pressing your face and tongue into her right armpit, your tongue lapping up her sweat like it’s fucking nectar. It’s slick and warm, her “armpit juices” coating your tongue—salty, tangy, with that raw, unwashed edge that drives you wild. You groan loudly, slurping and eating it up, your lips smacking as you eat her armpit like a starving man. “Fuck, Jieun, your pit sweat tastes so damn good,” you mutter, your tongue digging into every crevice, licking up every drop of her armpit waters.

IU is squirming hard now, her tiny body thrashing under you. “Please, stop—it’s dirty! I haven't clean it!” This is so disgusting! I hate this—his tongue, ugh, it’s so gross! she thinks, her mind reeling with revulsion. Her body’s still slick with sweat, but she’s not turned on anymore—just scared and ashamed of herself that she doesn't bath regularly although the king is licking off her armpirs.

You laugh against her armpit, the sound muffled as you keep licking, your tongue swirling over her clean skin, savoring the faint prick of her tiny stubble. “Dirty? That’s why I love it, my little slave,” you say, pulling back just to dive into her other armpit. You lick harder, slurping up her sweat, your lips sucking on her skin like it’s a fucking delicacy. “Your armpit waters are my dessert,” you groan, your free hand sliding down her trembling body to her virgin pussy.

You don’t waste time—you shove two fingers into her tight, untouched cunt, rough and deep, stretching her open. Her pussy’s a little wet from before, but now it’s just her body’s natural reaction—she’s not into this at all. “Ahhh! Your Majesty, it hurts!” Jieun screams, her voice raw as she sobs, her legs kicking weakly. Her pussy clenches around your fingers, so tight it’s almost painful for her, and you can feel her walls stretching, her virginity starting to give way under your rough touch.

“Fuck, your cunt’s so tight,” you growl, fingering her harder, your fingers pumping in and out with no mercy. Her pussy lips part slightly, her virgin hole opening up bit by bit as you force your way deeper. “Gonna loosen you up real good, Jieun.” You keep licking her armpit, your tongue lapping up the last of her sweat, your lips smacking loudly as you eat her armpit while your fingers fuck her pussy raw.

Jieun’s crying harder now, her sobs shaking her tiny frame. “Your Majesty, please… stop!” she begs, her voice hoarse. She’s fighting as much as she can, her arms pulling against your grip, her legs trying to close, but she’s too weak. Her pussy’s burning from your rough fingers, and her armpits feel raw from your licking—she’s never felt so violated.

You pull your face from her armpit, your lips shiny with her sweat, and grin down at her. “Cry all you want bitch,” you say, your fingers still pumping into her tight pussy. “I’m just getting started with you.”

You pull your fingers out of her tight cunt, her juices coating them, and smirk down at her. “Time to eat that sweet little pussy, my dirty slave,” you growl, grabbing her skinny thighs and spreading them wide. Her pussy’s pink and puffy.. Its raw and fucking perfect.

You dive in like a starving beast, your mouth latching onto her cunt with no warning. “Fuck, your pussy’s dripping for me,” you mutter against her folds, your tongue lapping up her juices like it’s a goddamn feast. You’re rough as hell, sucking hard on her clit, your lips smacking loudly as you eat her out. Her pussy juices are tangy and slick, coating your tongue, and you groan, slurping them up, your face buried deep between her thighs. “So fucking tasty, you little slut,” you say, biting her pussy lips lightly, making her scream.

Jieun’s crying harder, her hands clawing at the silk blanket. “Your Majesty, nooo! Ujmmmmhmmm ahh!” she sobs, her voice raw and desperate. She tries to close her legs, but it ain't possible, your whole head and face is between them and keeps them spread... Your fingers digging into her thighs hard enough to leave bruises.

Due to IU has never felt such satisfaction that her most sensitive part, vagina being eaten, Her pussy clenches, her stomach tightens, and suddenly—oh no!—she loses it. She pisses over.

Without warning, Jieun squirts hard, her juices gushing out, mixed with a hot stream of piss, right onto your face. “Ahhh!” she screams, her body convulsing as she soaks you, the liquid splashing over your mouth and chin. She’s horrified, her eyes wide with panic. I—I peed on the King! I’m dead! she thinks, her sobs turning into panicked gasps. Jieun’s thoughts are pure terror.

You pull back for a second, her squirt and piss dripping down your face, but you fucking love it. Your kink’s in overdrive, and the tangy, salty mix of her fluids is like a drug. You open your mouth, drinking it all down, gulping her squirt and piss like it’s fine wine. “Fuck yes, you dirty little bitch,” you groan, licking your lips. “You taste so fucking good—piss and all.” You laugh, wiping your chin with the back of your hand, your eyes glinting with something darker.

Jieun’s shaking, tears streaming down her face. “I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty! I didn’t mean to!” she cries, her voice trembling. He’s going to kill me…

You stand up, towering over her, your face wet with her fluids. You take this as an advantage to do more stuff now. “Didn’t mean to?” you snarl, your voice low and dangerous. “You pissed on your King, you filthy slave. You think that’s okay?” You grab her by the hair, yanking her up to her knees on the bed. “Time to teach you a fucking lesson.”

“No, please—!” Jieun begs, but you don’t listen. You shove her down onto her stomach, her tiny ass sticking up, and bring your hand down hard on her pale cheeks. SMACK! The sound echoes in the room, and she screams, her body jolting. “Ahh! Your Majesty, I’m sorry!” she sobs, her ass turning red from the first hit.

“You’re gonna learn, you little cunt,” you growl, spanking her again—SMACK!—harder this time, your big hand leaving a bright red mark on her skinny ass. “Pissing on me like a fucking animal? You’re gonna pay.” You hit her again and again, SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!, her ass cheeks jiggling with each brutal slap, turning bright red and raw. You don’t stop there—you slap her back, her thighs, even her small tits when you flip her over, your hand raining down on her sweaty, trembling body.

Her body’s covered in red marks, her ass and thighs burning from your spanking.

Your cock’s rock-hard, straining against your silk pants, and you’re ready to take this punishment to the next level. Now, you grab her by the hair and yank her up to her knees again.

Jieun’s trembling, her sobs choking her as she looks up at you with terrified eyes.

You pull them down, letting your long, thick, strong-as-fuck dick spring free—big, veiny, and throbbing with need. It’s massive compared to her tiny frame, and her eyes widen in horror. “Open your fucking mouth, Jieun,” you command, your voice low and dangerous. “You’re gonna take my cock down your throat like the dirty slut you are.”

Jieun shakes her head weakly, her hands clutching the silk blanket. “No… please, I can’t— Its too big..” she starts, but you don’t give her a choice. You tighten your grip on her hair, pulling hard enough to make her yelp, and force her mouth open with your other hand, shoving your thumb into her jaw to pry it wide. “I said open,” you growl, and before she can protest, you shove your massive dick into her mouth, pushing it deep in one rough thrust.

“Grrkk!” Jieun gags hard, her throat convulsing as your cock fills her mouth completely, the head hitting the back of her throat. Her tiny hands push at your thighs, trying to pull away, but you’re too strong. You pull her hair tighter, using it like a leash, and start facefucking her with brutal force, thrusting your hips hard. Your dick goes deeper with each thrust, forcing its way down her throat, stretching her to her limit. “Fuck, your throat’s so tight,” you groan, your voice thick with lust. “Take it, you little bitch.”

Jieun’s struggling to breathe, her gags loud and wet—glurk, glurk, glurk!—as saliva and pre-cum drip down her chin, soaking her chest. Her eyes turn red, tears streaming down her face as she chokes on your cock, her throat burning with every thrust. She can’t get enough air, her chest heaving desperately, but you don’t stop. “Your Majesty… mmph… please!” she tries to mumble around your dick, but it’s just garbled noise. I can’t breathe—he’s killing me! My throat… it hurts so much! she thinks, her mind spinning with panic.

You don’t care—you’re lost in the pleasure, your cock slamming into her throat over and over, the wet, sloppy sounds filling the room. Her gagging just makes it better, the vibrations sending shocks through your dick. But her throat’s taking real damage now. the repeated, forceful thrusting is causing trauma to her pharynx and larynx which are the delicate tissues in her throat.. Her gag reflex, triggered repeatedly, is overworking her throat muscles, leading to strain.

“Fuck, I’m gonna ruin this throat,” you growl, thrusting even deeper, your balls slapping against her chin. You can feel her throat spasming around your cock, her gags getting weaker as she starts to lose the fight. Her face is a mess—red eyes, tear-streaked cheeks, spit and pre-cum dripping everywhere. You pull her hair harder, forcing her to take every inch, your dick buried so deep she can’t even scream anymore—just choked, desperate gasps.

You take it even further, wanting to push her small mouth to its breaking point. You pull out just long enough to smear your cock across her face, slapping her cheeks with it—slap, slap!—leaving wet streaks of spit and pre-cum on her skin. “Look at you, all messy and fucked up,” you laugh, then force your dick back into her mouth, this time tilting her head back so you can thrust straight down her throat. You hold her there, your cock buried to the hilt, cutting off her air completely. “Choke on it, bitch,” you growl, watching her eyes roll back as she gags and sputters, her face turning red from lack of oxygen.

IU's body jerks, her hands slapping weakly at your legs, her muffled screams vibrating around your dick. Her throat’s taking more damage now—the constant thrusting and lack of air are causing swelling in her pharynx, and the microtears in her throat lining are worsening, leading to more inflammation. Her vocal cords are strained to the point of potential temporary damage, which could leave her voice raspy or even silent for days. Her jaw’s aching, the muscles overworked from being forced open so wide for so long.

You finally pull out after what feels like forever, letting her collapse onto the bed, gasping and coughing, her chest heaving as she tries to breathe. Her small mouth is a wreck—lips swollen and throat raw and damaged, spit and pre-cum dripping everywhere.

As Jieun lies on the bed, her tiny body being completely broken through the tiredness of deepthroat, you stand over her, your muscular, shirtless body towering, your massive cock still hard and dripping with her spit. You’re not done with her—not by a long shot.

“Time to fuck that virgin pussy, my little slave,” you growl, grabbing her skinny legs and spreading them wide. Her pussy’s pink and puffy from your earlier eating, glistening with her juices, but she’s too broken to feel anything but fear now. You position yourself between her thighs, your cock hovering over her untouched cunt, and smirk. “This is gonna hurt, IU. But you deserve it.”

You don’t give a fuck about her pleas. You line your thick, veiny cock up with her tight pussy and thrust in hard, forcing your way into her virgin hole in one brutal motion. Her pussy’s so tight it resists you, but you push through, tearing her hymen with a sickening pop. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight!” you groan, your cock stretching her walls as you bury yourself deep inside her, your balls slapping against her ass.

“AAAAAA!” Jieun screams, her voice piercing the room, the loudest she’s ever screamed. Her tiny body arches off the bed, her hands clawing at the silk blanket as pain rips through her. Her pussy burns like it’s on fire, the stretch unbearable as your massive dick forces her open. “AAAAAA! OHHWWW MAJESTY AHAHHS!” she shrieks, her voice raw and desperate, tears pouring down her face.

You don’t stop—you start fucking her hard, your hips slamming into her with no mercy, each thrust rougher than the last. “Take it, you little slut,” you growl, grabbing her skinny hips to hold her in place as you pound her pussy. Her tight walls grip your cock like a vice, “Fuck, your virgin cunt feels so good,” you say, your voice thick with lust. You thrust deeper, your cock hitting her cervix, making her scream even louder.

“AAAAAA! YOUR MAJESTY, PLEASE!!” Jieun wails, her screams echoing in the room, her small body shaking with every brutal thrust. Her pussy’s being stretched beyond its limit, the pain searing through her, and she can’t do anything but scream and cry. Her hands grip the blanket so hard her knuckles turn white, her face contorted in agony.

You keep fucking her relentlessly, your cock slamming into her over and over, her screams just fueling your lust. Its her punishment which is way better for her than what your mother ordered you to.

As you continue, IU sobs into the blanket, her tiny ass trembling as you force her into a doggy-style position, her knees barely holding her up. “No… please… it hurts…” she whimpers, her voice breaking, but you ignore her. You slap her ass again—SMACK!—harder this time, leaving a fresh red handprint, then grab her hips and slam your cock back into her pussy from behind, thrusting even deeper than before. “AAAAAA!” she screams, her voice piercing, her body jolting forward with the force of your thrust.

“Fuck, your cunt’s still so tight,” you groan, pounding her relentlessly, your hips slapping against her sore ass with every brutal thrust. “You’re my little virgin whore, Jieun—gonna fuck you ‘til you break.” You spank her again—SMACK! SMACK!—each hit making her scream louder, her ass turning bright red and raw. You pull her hair again, yanking her head back so hard her neck strains, and lean down to growl in her ear. “Scream all you want my servant. No one’s gonna save you.”

You keep fucking her, not noticing—or caring—that she’s on the edge. “Take it, you fucking slut,” you growl, thrusting harder, your cock slamming into her limp body.

“You’re my little cumdump, Jieun,” you snarl, your voice thick with lust. “Gonna fill this filthy cunt with my seed—make you mine forever.” You grab her skinny hips, pulling her onto your cock as you fuck her harder, your balls tightening as you feel your climax building.

“Fuck… here it comes, you worthless whore,” you groan, thrusting as deep as you can, your cock buried to the hilt inside her ruined pussy. You cum hard, your orgasm hitting you like a wave, and you unleash a massive load deep inside her. Thick ropes of cum shoot into her womb, one after another, your cock pulsing as you empty yourself into her. It’s a huge amount, more than her tiny body can handle—your cum fills her pussy, some of it leaking out around your cock, mixing with her blood and juices, dripping onto the silk blanket.

Finally, with one last scream of—Ahhhhh!—as IU receives the cum, her body goes slack, her eyes closing as she passes out, her tiny frame unable to handle any more. Her head lolls to the side, her breathing shallow, her body a broken mess beneath you.

#Iu smut #girl group smut #kpop gg smut #twice smut #kpop girl smut #ive smut #Somi smut #wonyoung smut

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misotsukiiyeooo · 11 months ago

Text

"Just one more?" Part 3

Pairing:Husband!Father CSC x F! Mother!Reader

A/N: I'M BACKKK!!! After the polled votes came in I immediately started to write lmao! This one will also be a bit longer since it's the last one...or is it? jkkk unless...Enjoy!

Genre: Fluff (Hint of crack)

Word count: 16.6k (Not proofread sry)

Synopsis: After Seungcheol finds out you're pregnant, again, the whole experience has been, tender, lovely, and well....shocking

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

3 Months Later

Everything with Seungcheol has been so perfect. Well, this is your fourth kid but that's what made the experience even better.

He already knew how to help you with your cravings and everything.

Telling the rest of his members was also fun. Of course, Soonyoung, Seokmin, and Joshua ran up to hug you first.

And telling your children was also exciting with Seojun, your oldest son hugging you while Jieun, your second child blabbers on how she's going to dress up the baby. Your youngest, Dohyun just smiles handing you a toy to play with him.

Today, You and Seungcheol are so excited because you can finally find out the sex of your child.

"Babe, we're going to be late!" He's rushing you, clearly he's more excited than you are.

"I'm coming hold on!" You grab your sweater and wave goodbye to your kids and thank Seungkwan once again for watching them.

Seungcheol holds your hand as you walk down the stairs. "I'm only three months, Cheol..." He still treats you as if you were going into labor this instant.

"I know....but we still need to be careful" You look at him while he continues to talk nonsense.

Entering the car, he closes your door; going to the driver's side.

"What do you think the gender is?" You ask him, curiously. "Hm, probably another boy. But whatever the gender is, I'll love them either way." He looks at you fondly.

"You're so cheesy! But I think it'll be a girl because we just had a boy and it seems like a pattern." Seungcheol thinks about it, nodding. "You're probably right, but there's only one way to right out." He starts the car.

As you enter the hospital, you are greeted with warm smiles. "Hi, I had an appointment for an ultrasound today." The nice lady behind the desk looks at you. "Oh yes, Choi Y/n was it? Please fill out these papers and bring them back to me."

She hands you some medical papers and you take them, walking to a seat where Seungcheol's already at.

After filling out the papers you hand them to the lady to take your seat again but before you even sit back down, your nurse calls you in.

"Choi Y/n?" She calls out. "Yes?" You both lock eyes, smiling. "Follow me right this way."

You hold Seungcheol's hand, excited and nervous to find out the sex.

You are seated in the reclined seat while Seungcheol stands beside you. "So you're finally three months! You're here to find out the sex, right?" You nod.

The nurse puts the cold gel on your belly causing you to twitch. You look at the screen above which shows the ultrasound.

"Seems like your baby's doing well." She continues to look at the screen. Her eyes widen, causing you to get scared.

"Is something wrong?" You and Seungcheol both look at her. "I'm afraid I'm not able to say anything. Only the doctor could, and she shall be here shortly." She exits.

You feel anxious, many negative thoughts running through your mind. 'Is the baby sick?' 'Is the baby alright?'. Taking you out of your thoughts, you feel Seugcheol grip your hand.

"Everything's going to be okay, alright?" Just the right words you wanted to hear.

A few seconds later, the doctor enters. "Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Choi. Is everything alright? I just received some information from the nurse who was here, and I want to check it out for myself."

"If you don't mind me asking, what's wrong?" Seungcheol asked, looking quite nervous himself.

The doctor now looks at the screen. "There seems to be two babies in here."

"What!?" You and Seungcheol both say in unison.

"How's that possible? When I came here two weeks ago they said they only saw one?" You're utterly confused.

"You are quite early in your pregnancy so mistakes like this can occur, especially with the babies hiding and such. But yes, look here," She points to the screen. "There's two babies in here, congratulations. You're having twins!"

You're both left shocked, mouths gaped. "I'm not mad...however I'm just in shock." You let out, not knowing whether to be excited or in tears.

"What are their genders?" Seungcheol pitches in. "I'm sorry I almost forgot to even tell you. This one's a girl and the other's a boy." The doctor points at the screen, identifying each baby.

"A boy and a girl?!?" You still can't believe this.

"Yes but if you'll excuse me, I have another patient that needs to be checked. If there are any more questions, you can ask anytime, take care and remember not to stress too much." The doctor exits and you sigh, now facing Seungcheol.

"You did say you wanted another baby" He smiles. "Yeah, but I didn't expect to have babies!" You both look at each other, breaking the silence with laughter.

"I'm a bit scared though...we have to get two of everything and more stress, more waking up at night, more everything! And no wonder I'm so huge at only three months!!" Seungcheol wants to let out maybe even the tiniest bit of laughter but knowing how hormonal you are, he could never do such a thing.

"It's going to be alright baby, you need to remember; that I'm also here. I would never let you do this alone." He holds your hands.

"Hm...You're right, I'm sorry but still, these are two babies!" You let out. "I can't even imagine the boy's faces when I tell them," Seungcheol said.

Arriving home you see Seungkwan and the kids playing together. "You sure you don't want to have your own kids?" You rest your hand on your hip, smiling at him.

"No, most definitely not. I'm good as a fun uncle, not a father." He lets out a chuckle causing you to also laugh.

"Well, I have some news...we're having twins!!" His face has shock written all over it.

"Twins? Twins!!" Seungkwan rushes over to you, hugging you tightly. "Kwan...the twins, remember?"

He made an 'o' shape with his mouth and then let go, apologizing.

"When are you going to tell the rest of the boys?" Seungkwan asks. "Maybe tomorrow? I can't wait to see their faces!"

Seungcheol comes back from the kid's room after putting them to bed while you are talking with Seungkwan. "Well as much as I love to stay and talk with you, I have to get home. Practice is pretty early for us." He looks over at Seungcheol.

"Right, get home safe Seungkwan." Seungcheol waves as you walk Seungkwan out.

After saying your goodbyes' he left; leaving you and Seungcheol alone. "I still can't believe everything that's happened today..." You hug Seungcheol who already has his arms open for you.

"I know, I'm even more excited now that I know it's twins," he says as he kisses your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips causing you to giggle.

"Should we get ready for bed? You also have a long day tomorrow you know." You said earning a pout from him. "But I wanted to spend my day with you and the kids tomorrow..."

Smiling at his cuteness, you play with his hair, "How about we visit you during practice? We do have to tell the boys about the twins."

"I do like the sound of that." Seungcheol kisses you once again before you head off to bed.

Next Day

You wake up to an empty bed. However, you do see a post-it note on the side dresser.

'Good morning my beautiful wife, I made breakfast for you and the kids ;)'. Smiling at the note, you get off of bed and freshen up for the day until your kids wake up.

As soon as you got out of the bathroom Dohyun, your three-year-old was walking up to you. Slowly but surely.

"Mama, where dada go? I went to room but no one there" He has his hands in a shrugging position while shaking his head. 'Aw this cutie' You thought.

Taking him into your arms and pampering him with kisses you, finally answer. "I'm sorry Dohyun, dada went to work. Do you want to go surprise him later?"

He doesn't let even a second go by before yelling out excitedly, even waking up the rest of the kids. "Dohyun...you woke me up..." Jieun walks out rubbing her eyes while Seojun's just a couple steps behind her.

"I'm sorry kids, but Dad made you guys breakfast! So after eating, we can get dressed to see him at work."

They both look at each other, then you. "Does that mean we can see our uncles too!!" They say in unison happily.

"Yes, you can but, not if you don't eat breakfast." Seojun and Jieun race to the table to eat the food Seungcheol made in no time.

After driving to get some food, you finally make it to Seungcheol's workplace.

You enter the elevator with the kids. "Mommy, I'm so excited to see Uncle Gyu!" Jieun jumps excitedly.

"Hm, and why is that?" You ask. "Because he's so tall and I can pretend like I'm flying!" She puts one arm up as if she were.

"Well, it's a good thing we're here now." You all exit the elevator and they're already used to the place; running to the practice room before you can even get there.

As you approach, all you can hear are indistinct screams of joy.

Entering the practice room you see all the boys surrounding your kids. Seungcheol notices you immediately and grabs the food out of your hands.

"Babe...why didn't you tell me you were downstairs? I could've helped you with the food." He pouts.

"It's okay, Cheol. It wasn't that heavy." Seungcheol still takes the bags.

"Y/n!!" Mingyu runs to hug you but slows down; eyeing you. "Wow..." You laugh at his face.

"I know, right?" You affirm, moving toward him to offer a reassuring hug because he was too hesitant to do so himself.

"Uncle Gyu! Carry me, carry me!!" Jieun wastes no time asking for what she wanted this whole time.

"Ms.Jieun, please keep all arms and legs in the vehicle at all times." Mingyu bends down so Jieun can go on his back. "Prepare for take off!!" As he runs around the practice room with Jieun, you take the opportunity to head towards everyone else.

"Hey guys!" They all look at you, waving, smiling, and coming up to hug you.

"Thanks Y/n for the food!" Soonyoung thanks you while taking another spoonful. "You're welcome!"

Dohyun walks to Wonwoo- calmly sitting on his lap, you've always noticed Wonwoo was his favorite uncle. Probably because they're both calm people.

And Seojun simply talks with his favorite uncle, Seokmin. He knows how crazy Seokmin is; however, he just finds him enduring.

You sit with everyone, patiently waiting to drop the news. "When are you going to tell them?" Seungkwan whispers next to you. You hit him for whispering too loud, "I'll tell them now..."

You eye Seungcheol, signaling to him that you are ready to tell them. "So guys...I actually have some news." They look at you confused on whether it's good or not.

"Is something wrong?" Jeonghan asks. "Well, no. It's just shocking."

"Tell us, tell us!" Chan grows impatient.

"So, I went to my ultrasound yesterday, and turns out...I'm having twins!!" You finally let out.

Many expressions were shown but you can tell they were all happy; just shown in...different ways.

Mingyu, Soonyoung, and Seokmin literally jump like animals.

Minghao, Jihoon, Wonwoo, and Vernon congratulate you with the biggest smiles.

Junhui and Chan both sit down in shock.

And lastly, Jeonghan and Joshua run up to hug you, again.

"I'm so happy for you!!" Joshua tells you. "Oh my gosh! We can make them just like me and Seokmin!" Everyone pauses; looking at a happy Soonyoung.

"Or maybe not." He shuts up completely as we all laugh.

The rest of the day was spent with the kids playing with their uncles while you talked it up with the ones who weren't occupied.

6 Months Later

Everything has been going well with you carrying twins and all.

Your best friend, Seungkwan threw you a baby shower with the help of your parents.

Your kids felt the twins kick, and Seungcheol almost cried.

Seungcheol even decorated a whole room for the twins. And now you're 9 months pregnant and shopping at the mall.

"That dress in that store looks cute! Let's go Cheollie." You hold your back as you walk into the store.

Grabbing the dress in your size, you head to the changing room, Seungcheol steps behind you.

You managed to successfully put on the cozy dress but taking it off was a hassle. "Cheol? I need help."

He comes into the changing room worried. "What happened?" He asks.

"Nothing too serious I just need help taking off my dress." He lets out a sigh of relief and helps you.

As he lifts up the dress a bit you pause.

"Cheol..stop."

He looks at you puzzled, but lets go.

"Either I just peed my pants or I think my water just broke..." Eyes widening he panics. "Your water broke?!?"

You simply nod, panicking yourself. Out of all places, your water broke before; it's never been at a mall.

You knew you were going to give birth at any point just not right now!

"We-we have to go!" You groan at the contractions. You both try to walk out of the store but get stopped by security.

"Ma'am you can't leave without purchasing the dress." He puts an arm out.

"Add it to my tab, I'll call this place later. It's an emergency." Seungcheol holds you by the waist attempting to calm you before you yell at this man. But the guy once again has his arm out.

"That's what they all say. I'm afraid I can't let you leave without paying."

That's it

"My water just broke and it just so happens to be I was trying on this dress! So if you don't want two fucking babies coming out of me in this store I suggest you listen to my husband and let us fucking go!!" The security's eyes widen, looking you up and down and gulping.

"Well, I'm sorry for not reading the room. Please, go on and give birth to your twins.." He finally moves his hand and you and Seungcheol rush out of the place.

Entering the car, your screams only get louder and louder. "We're almost there, Baby. Almost there.." Seungcheol holds your thigh while driving as fast yet safely as possible.

You make it to the hospital and Seungcheol does the talking for you. "My wife is going into labor." He attempts to stay as calm as possible.

"Come right this way." A nurse brings you to a room while you're very much in pain.

Multiple nurses enter now as your contractions are getting close. "Ms. Choi, breathe, just breathe."

Did she really just tell me that?

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?!?" You counter back. Seungcheol smiles at the lady apologizing for you.

The pain was unbearable, those twins were really doing a number on you.

A doctor finally walks in, "Hello, your contractions are pretty close I see, I'm going to need you to push."

Push!?! Can't she see I can barely even breathe?!?

Seungcheol holds your hand as you are preparing to push.

"And 1, 2, 3, push!" Said the doctor. Only screams were heard; everything felt hazy you didn't know if you could even do it.

"You got this, Babe. Just keep pushing." He never once left your side as you continued to push.

"Just one more Ms.Choi-There we go. A beautiful boy!" The sound of the newborn baby crying calmed you in a way that brought you back to your senses.

The nurses took that baby to clean him while you still felt in pain. "One more Ms.Choi, you got this come on."

"I-I I can't. I can't do it" You felt exhausted, this was serious pain.

"Y/n, look at me- Look at me. You need to push; I know you're tired but there's still our daughter in there waiting to be brought into this world. So push!! I'm right here for you." Seungcheol's words help you realize, you have to keep going.

For the sake of your daughter.

You push as hard as you can, taking breaks, tears leaving your eyes, and even sweat dripping from your forehead.

But that didn't stop you from completing your mission.

And with the last push, your daughter was finally out. "Congratulations Ms. Choi, you did well."

You drop your head on the pillow, and tears of happiness and pain keep escaping your eyes. "You did it Y/n...it's all okay now." Seungcheol kisses your forehead and those are the last words you hear before falling into deep sleep.

After some time, you blink your eyes open only for them to be set on Seungcheol holding two babies in his hand. Tears of joy leaving his own eyes.

"Oh look, mommy's up! let's go say hi." He walks up to you so you can see your children.

"They look perfect, right?" He said as you can't even keep your eyes off them.

"I know, they must've gotten that from me." You chuckle at your newly found confidence. "I think they did." He adds on giggling himself.

"What should we name them?"Seungcheol asks you. "Hm..I don't know yet..."

"How about I name one and you name the other?" He proposes. "But they should rhyme, no?" You ask. "If you want them too."

"Well then, what if...she's Jisu and...he's Jiho?" You pitch in, pointing at each kid, waiting for his response.

He nods, "I think it's perfect. Jisu sounds cute like her and Jiho sounds manly like this handsome boy here." He kisses they're cheeks.

"Jisu and Jiho it is."

Reqs are open!!

This adorable divider is by @dollywons !!

Taglist!!

@jjunie-0 @minminghao @honglynights @allieyaaa @bath1lda @black-swan-blog27

399 notes · View notes

w1w2 · 2 months ago

Text

The Slowest Heartbeat

Part 2 - Warming You Up

Kim Taeyeon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 12k

Synopsis: When a scandal threatens to shake SM’s foundations, they call in the one person who’s never failed to make problems disappear. This young, impossibly composed woman holds more power than anyone else in the room.

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

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Rain tapped against the windows like a warning.

On the thirty fifth floor of SM Entertainment’s headquarters, the sky pressed heavy against the glass. Seoul was a blur of wet streets and honking traffic below, but in the boardroom, the real storm was happening in silence. An almost reverent kind of dread had settled over the table.

The executives barely spoke above a whisper now. Phones buzzed constantly, lighting up with notifications they didn’t want to read. Someone’s coffee sat untouched, going cold beside a trembling hand. The room, with all its sleek chrome fixtures and clean white light, suddenly felt like a box with no air.

On the wall sized screen, the livestream played without sound, but no one needed audio to understand.

Jieun.

Her face filled the frame, bare, no makeup, eyes swollen from crying but steady. This wasn’t some spur of the moment outburst, it was premeditated, precise. She had waited years to speak like this. And now, nothing could stop her.

“They silenced me,” the captions read. “They buried it all, but not anymore.”

She spoke of trainees blacklisted for speaking out, of favorites who were shielded while others were discarded, of contracts rewritten behind closed doors, of managers who shouted in soundproof rooms. Of one particular incident, years ago, that no one in this room dared to name. A minor, a cover up. The story they had all promised would stay dead.

But it was back, and this time? It had receipts.

She showed emails, recordings, and screenshots. The evidence ticked onscreen like a countdown.

A vice president in a pinstriped suit stood with his arms crossed too tightly. “She’s been collecting this for years, she waited for the exact moment we couldn’t contain it.”

Another man, the legal advisor, muttered under his breath, “She’s got enough to light the place on fire. No way she’s bluffing.”

The PR director hadn’t moved in ten minutes. Her fingers clenched around her tablet, knuckles white. The headlines rotated in grim succession.

Former SM Idol Exposes Years of Abuse.

Corporate Giant Faces Reckoning.

Kpop’s Star Pulls Back the Curtain.

“It’s global,” she whispered. “It hit CNN five minutes ago. Japan, the US, Brazil, everyone’s picking it up.”

The silence afterward was worse than yelling because there was no plan, no crisis memo could fix this. They were standing at the edge of a cliff and the ground had already crumbled beneath them.

And then, Mr. Jung moved.

He rose from his seat slowly, adjusting the cuff of his shirt with the kind of calm that made the others uneasy. His face was unreadable, composed in that way powerful people mastered, detached, efficient, inhumanly still.

Without a word, he stepped out of the boardroom.

He walked past the assistants, the managers, the panic. Down a short hall to his office, where the lights were dim and the air felt thicker, quieter.

He locked the door behind him.

At his desk, he picked up the phone. Not his personal one, but the second device he kept in the locked drawer. No contacts, no ID, just a black screen, a secure line, and the kind of number you only call when there’s no other option.

He pressed it.

One ring. Two.

Then a voice answered, soft and low.

“We need help,” Mr. Jung said. “The kind only she can provide.”

A pause. Nothing but the faint sound of breathing.

Then the voice replied, barely above a whisper. “Miss Lee will take care of it.”

The line went dead.

Jung set the phone down, slowly, carefully, and for the first time that morning, his hands were shaking.

By afternoon, the chaos had hollowed into something quieter, heavier. The boardroom no longer buzzed with frantic energy but sat in a dense, waiting stillness, the kind that preceded a reckoning. The lights had been dimmed, screens were muted, the livestream was gone, replaced by a digital map of headlines spiraling across the globe like a virus too fast to contain.

Most of the building had been cleared by now.

Orders from above. Staff escorted out with vague apologies and stiff smiles, interns told to work from home, security stationed like statues at the elevators. Only the idols and the highest ranking executives remained, and even the latter had lost the armor of confidence that came with title and tenure. They sat in silence, shifting uncomfortably in their leather chairs, glancing once in a while toward the door as if that alone might speed up time.

Even Mr. Jung, who rarely betrayed emotion, now looked older somehow. His shoulders had dropped, his jaw had set.

At exactly 2:03 p.m., the elevator chimed. The sound echoed far too loud in the quiet, a sharp, sterile note that made several heads turn at once.

And then she stepped in.

She entered the boardroom with a presence that felt less like arrival and more like an eclipse.

Quiet, total, inevitable.

She was tall, not dramatically so, but with a posture so exact it seemed carved, as if no part of her body had ever slouched. Her suit was black and tailored to perfection, the fabric matte and sleek, accentuating the sharp lines of her figure like a shadow given form. No jewelry adorned her hands or ears. No badge, no title, nothing to announce who she was or why she belonged.

And yet, not a single person asked.

Behind her walked a single assistant, a young man dressed in similar monochrome. Silent, alert, eyes scanning the room as if memorizing it for someone far more important. He carried nothing, he spoke even less.

The woman did not greet anyone, she didn’t offer handshakes or pleasantries, and she didn’t sit, though a chair had clearly been pulled out at the head of the table, waiting for her. She remained standing, her heels silent on the stone tile, hands gloved in black leather as she leaned slightly forward to scan the documents that had been carefully laid out for review.

Her eyes moved quickly, too quickly.

One of the board members, a woman with a twenty-year career and the resume to command entire departments, opened her mouth to offer a summary, but was immediately silenced by a glance from Mr. Jung.

They watched as the stranger read the reports. Her gaze was swift, precise, moving from one page to the next as if she had already known their contents and was simply confirming what she’d suspected all along. When she finally spoke, her voice was low and clear, with no strain, no emotion, and no desire to perform.

“You’ve let the fire burn too long.”

The room froze. The assistant behind her didn’t even blink.

She straightened, not a single wrinkle in her suit, and allowed her gaze to travel over the men and women in the room. The kind of look that weighed rather than measured, that judged.

“Containment is still possible,” she continued. “But only if you follow every instruction, there is no room for error now. Do you understand?”

Nobody nodded, nobody spoke.

The silence was answer enough.

She turned then, just slightly, directing a low comment toward the man behind her. Her assistant, who stepped forward with silent efficiency to begin distributing sealed envelopes to the table.

The only words he spoke came gently, like a reflex.

“Yes, Miss Lee.”

And that name, just two syllables, hit the air like a stone dropped in still water. A single ripple, and then a flood.

The room inhaled.

They all knew the name, of course. Everyone at this level did. “Miss Lee” was more myth than person, a figure whispered about in investor circles and high level acquisitions. There were no photos, no records, just rumors. That she represented a family with too much power to trace, that she advised more than one global empire, that she never appeared unless something was truly at risk.

No one knew exactly who Miss Lee was.

But now, standing before them, it didn’t matter. She was here and no one, dared question her authority.

The meeting lounge on the thirty third floor wasn’t meant to be cozy, but it was quiet, and that was enough for Taeyeon. Especially after yesterday’s spectacle.

She sat curled into the corner of a leather armchair, legs crossed, a paper cup of coffee cooling in her hand. Outside the panoramic windows, Seoul stretched beneath a bruised sky, thunder cracked somewhere distant, rolling along the skyline like a slow breath.

She checked her phone again. Still nothing.

Her meeting with the A&R director had been pushed back without explanation, and now she’d been told the CEO himself would be joining. Something about “restructuring priorities.” Vague corporate language that usually meant trouble was blooming higher up the chain.

Taeyeon didn’t care for boardroom politics, but she could feel the tension in the walls.

People moved differently today. Quieter, faster, the kind of shift that wasn’t broadcasted, but leaked through closed doors and lowered voices.

Down the corridor, the main boardroom doors were sealed shut. A pair of men in black suits stood just outside, security, though they didn’t wear badges or earpieces like the usual guards. No one lingered near them, no one even looked directly at them.

Taeyeon sipped her coffee and tried to focus on her notes for the meeting. But the stillness outside that room kept pulling her attention. It was like waiting at the edge of a storm you weren’t sure you were invited to.

And then, without warning, the elevator at the far end of the corridor chimed.

Taeyeon didn’t mean to look up, but something shifted, and her eyes followed it on instinct.

The figure moved past the glass wall like a shadow. Tall, sharp in black, each step exact. Her posture was impossibly straight, as if balance itself bent around her. She didn’t slow, didn’t glance sideways.

It wasn’t theatrics, it was worse.

Quiet control, presence without announcement.

The kind of woman who didn’t need to be introduced because the air had already made the introductions for her.

Taeyeon’s fingers tightened on her cup. She didn’t catch the woman’s face, just the briefest edge of it, pale against the corridor’s light.

Behind her came the same assistant. Black suit, unsmiling, alert.

The boardroom doors opened without anyone knocking. A man inside, one of the top executives, stepped back quickly. And for a moment, just a second, Taeyeon saw something rare flicker across his face.

Fear.

The woman walked in without a word, and the doors closed behind her with a soft thud.

Taeyeon blinked. The air around her felt heavier, she couldn’t explain it, not exactly, but something had shifted on a level deeper than logistics or scheduling. Even down the hall, she could feel it, like the floor itself had stiffened beneath her shoes.

A manager passed by then, holding the laptop too tightly, muttering to the man beside him in a voice not meant for eavesdropping.

“She’s the advisor. From above.”

Taeyeon straightened. “Who is she?” she asked, not sharply, just curious. Her tone casual enough to pass.

The man paused mid step, eyebrows lifting in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected her to speak at all.

“They say she works with the Lee family,” he said, lowering his voice. “Some kind of strategic asset. No title, no socials. She doesn’t do calls, she appears when she wants to or when things are burning.”

Taeyeon tilted her head. “Miss Lee?”

“That’s what they call her, but no one really knows her name. Hell, we’re not even supposed to know she exists.”

Taeyeon smiled politely, but something cold tugged at her spine.

She turned her gaze back toward the boardroom. Closed door, silence pressing against them like a held breath.

“Never heard of her,” she said.

The man gave a short laugh, already walking away. “That’s the point.”

Minutes later the boardroom doors opened with a sound too soft to match the weight they carried, and for a moment, the hallway itself seemed to hold its breath.

Taeyeon glanced up, not because she expected anything in particular, but because the air had shifted, almost imperceptibly, the way it does when a storm skirts the edge of a quiet sky.

She saw a woman step out.

Her assistant followed at a respectful distance, silent and watchful.They moved without pause, without any acknowledgment of the small group of assistants and managers now scattering ahead of them like leaves blown out of formation. There was no rush in her steps, but every inch of her projected purpose, as though she already knew the shape of every hallway, the ending of every sentence, the problem long before it had ever been named.

And then, just as she passed the lounge, her eyes lifted, and her gaze met Taeyeon’s.

Only for a second. A single, unbroken moment.

But something passed between them in that glance, something quiet and invisible, like the subtle shift of weight before a dancer’s first step, or the exact second a match sparks before it catches fire.

Taeyeon wasn’t sure what she’d expected, perhaps someone older, someone lined by years of strategy and corporate maneuvering. But the woman looked younger than her, mid to late twenties, maybe. Youthful, yes, but not in a way that invited approach. Her stillness had nothing to do with shyness, nor did her silence suggest distance. It was control, absolute and unshakable, the kind that either comes from extraordinary discipline or something far older than discipline itself.

There was no smile, no nod of recognition, no attempt at casual politeness. Just eyes that saw everything and gave back nothing.

Taeyeon found herself holding her breath without realizing it.

And then, just as suddenly, the woman turned her head, gaze cutting away like the closing of a book. She resumed walking, her heels barely making a sound on the polished floor, vanishing around the corner without a word, leaving nothing behind except a strange hollowness in the space she’d just occupied.

Taeyeon blinked.

The hum of voices resumed down the corridor, but something in her chest hadn’t settled.

The meeting started late, nearly half an hour, as if the building itself needed time to exhale after whatever had just happened.

Taeyeon sat at the long walnut conference table with two A&R leads and a senior producer, the usual energy oddly dulled. Paperwork was passed around, polite apologies mumbled. Someone offered her coffee she didn’t need.

She nodded, smiled and pretended to listen. But her mind hadn’t followed her into the room, it remained in the hallway, suspended in that strange quiet after the boardroom doors had opened, replaying the image again and again. Black suit, unreadable face, that stillness like a blade laid flat on velvet.

She couldn’t focus, couldn’t bring herself to care about the single release calendar or the budget breakdown they were reviewing. The numbers blurred, the voices flattened.

Who was she?

Not just some advisor, no one looked at an ordinary strategist like that. Executives had stood straighter in her presence, like schoolboys hoping not to be called on. Even the CEO, calm, calculating Jung, hadn’t spoken a word in her direction, he’d just followed.

And then there were her eyes.

Not cold exactly, but old. A kind of depth Taeyeon couldn’t define, like staring into something that had watched kingdoms fall and hadn’t flinched once.

But she’d looked at her.

Not past her, not through her.

At her.

Like she was already part of some equation Taeyeon didn’t know existed yet.

She glanced down at her open notebook, the page still mostly blank despite twenty minutes of talking. No song ideas, no project notes, no questions. Only one thing, written in the center in small, slanted handwriting she didn’t remember making.

Miss Lee.

The name felt heavier than it looked on paper.

She closed the notebook quietly and nodded at something she hadn’t actually heard, giving the illusion of participation, but inside, she was already somewhere else.

By the end of the first week, the firestorm had dulled. Not extinguished, just controlled. Statements had been issued, platforms scrubbed, deals rebalanced. But the tension hadn’t left, it had only gone quiet, and quiet meant planning.

The meeting room on one of the top floors of SM Entertainment had turned into a war room. The large rectangular table was lined with department heads, creative directors, logistics coordinators, and now, for the first time, both Taeyeon and Y/N.

The Girls' Generation comeback had been greenlit less than forty-eight hours ago, and already the company’s corridors buzzed with nervous energy. The deal to reunite all eight members had required days of legal acrobatics, especially with Tiffany, Sunny, Sooyoung, and Seohyun now attached to different agencies. But the opportunity was too valuable to pass up.

Nostalgia had power, iconic legacy had weight.

And right now? SM needed both.

Taeyeon sat near the center, back straight, eyes alert. She wasn’t there as just an artist. Today, she was part strategist, part guardian. Girls’ Generation wasn’t just a name to her, it was history, friendship, blood and sweat pressed into a decade of stages and stadiums.

She had heard whispers that Miss Lee would be attending, but it still caught her off guard when the woman walked in without preamble, without announcement. Just the soft press of black leather shoes on tile, her assistant trailing behind with a tablet and a file so thick it looked military.

Y/N didn’t sit immediately. She moved around the table once, scanning faces and documents like she already knew the answers and was merely checking for sloppiness. Her eyes didn’t linger on Taeyeon, but they didn’t avoid her either. There was no flicker of recognition, just that cool, steady calm she carried like armor.

When Y/N finally spoke, it was with the precision of someone used to being obeyed.

"The tour needs to be global, not regional. Stadium ready, if we're staging a resurrection, we stage it in full daylight. Tokyo Dome, Singapore Indoor, O2 Arena, SoFi Stadium. We believe you can sell them out."

A murmur moved through the room, one of the coordinators started to object, citing costs, schedules, logistics.

Y/N cut through it.

"SM will handle it, logistics are irrelevant if demand is engineered correctly. Nostalgia is predictable. We create scarcity, we drive hysteria and then we manage it."

It was all delivered without passion, without even raising her voice. And yet, no one interrupted her.

Taeyeon watched carefully, trying to fit the presence in front of her with the fragments she’d picked up, the silent advisor, the unnamed strategist. She looked young, but her posture, her words, her tempo, they all spoke of something older, colder.

When the team shifted focus to creative concepting, Taeyeon finally spoke. "We don’t want to feel manufactured, we’re not a novelty act. If this is going to work, the comeback has to reflect who we are now, not just who we were."

Y/N didn’t smile, she didn’t agree. But she didn’t dismiss the comment either. She turned slightly, considering Taeyeon not as an idol but as an equation.

"Then we build around evolution, not repetition. Eight identities, one mythology, the brand isn’t the past, it’s the transformation." Her reply was soft.

It wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t cold. It was just precise.

Taeyeon nodded once, even though part of her still bristled at the idea of someone who didn’t know their story being given the power to shape it. But something about Y/N made it hard to push back fully, there was a gravity there, a sharpness she couldn’t look away from.

By the end of the meeting, schedules had been drawn, launch phases laid out, and roles assigned. Y/N remained a constant, never loud, never rushed, but always watching, always absorbing. And Taeyeon felt something she hadn’t expected to feel.

Intrigue.

Not attraction, not yet, but interest.

Like standing too close to something dangerous, and realizing, against all logic, you want to know what happens if you don’t step away.

A few days passed, but the pace didn’t slow. If anything, it accelerated.

The rumors had gone out, cryptic enough to ignite speculation, clean enough to avoid backlash. Headlines shifted, the scandal faded into page two and Girls’ Generation was trending.

Another meeting was called, this time a smaller room, tighter circle. Just the core team now, creative, marketing, production.

And her.

The private meeting room sat tucked at the far end of SM Entertainment’s executive wing, small and windowed, its walls padded in sleek, soundproofed suede. Outside, the sun had begun to sink behind the skyline, casting long shadows across the marble floor of the corridor. Inside, the lights were dimmed to a soft, amber hue, making the room feel more like a discreet negotiation chamber than a space for creative planning.

A pot of untouched tea rested in the center of the polished table, its steam long gone. The room was too quiet, too sterile, for casual conversation, and that seemed to suit one of its occupants just fine.

Taeyeon sat near the end of the table, legs crossed, posture relaxed but eyes sharp. Across from her, Y/N stood beside the screen, navigating slides with the same precision she brought to everything else. She moved like she had all the time in the world, and none of it to waste.

“Revenue projections are aggressive, but achievable with staggered rollout,” Y/N said, barely glancing at her notes. “If we time the digital drop with the Tokyo teaser campaign, engagement could double within the first forty-eight hours.”

Her voice was low and even, clipped yet elegant. Every word was measured, weighted, no flourish. Just fact.

Y/N turned toward Taeyeon with the faintest tilt of her head. “Feedback?”

Taeyeon raised a brow. “Are you asking what we think or just checking off a box that says you did?”

Y/N’s face didn’t flicker. “I don’t ask questions I don’t want answers to.”

Taeyeon paused, watching her. “You don’t smile much.”

There, barely perceptible, but there. A pause, a subtle, almost mechanical shift in Y/N’s stillness.

“This isn’t a social call,” she replied, voice cool. “We’re not here to be friends.”

Taeyeon leaned back, arms folded. Her tone, when she spoke, was calm but pointed. “If you’re steering our comeback, you might want to understand what the music means to us, what it means to the people waiting. This isn’t just strategy, it’s personal.”

Y/N held her gaze for a long moment. Something sharpened in her eyes, but it wasn’t disapproval, it was attention. She blinked once, slow and deliberate.

“I’ve listened to the back catalog,” she said. “The sound evolved, the brand didn’t. That’s rare.”

Taeyeon blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected that, not insight, not admiration.

“Most groups lose their identity trying to chase relevance,” Y/N added. “You didn’t, you carried it forward. That matters, even if it complicates things.”

Taeyeon’s lips quirked slightly, not quite a smile, but enough. “That’s the first human thing you’ve said since we walked in.”

Y/N turned off the display. She didn’t reply, but the air in the room shifted, less tense, more watchful. Not warmer, no, just aware.

“You care about the legacy,” she said finally. “So do I. Just from a different angle.”

Neither of them spoke for a while. The quiet between them was no longer stiff, but measured, like they were both listening now.

A soft knock came at the door. Y/N’s assistant stepped in just far enough to announce the next meeting, she nodded and gathered the folder in front of her.

But before she left, she passed by Taeyeon’s chair, paused just briefly enough to leave an impression, and said without turning, “Next time, bring a better argument, not a smile.”

Then she was gone.

Taeyeon sat alone, staring at the closed door. Her fingers tapped lightly on the table, the rhythm unthinking.

She didn’t know whether she’d just been dismissed or invited.

The hour was late enough that the building had exhaled most of its daily tension. Elevators sat idle, desks were abandoned, lights on the executive floors had gone dark, save for a few emergency strips glowing along the baseboards. But one wing still hummed softly, far from the corporate hush of the upper levels, deep in the artistic heart of SM.

It was quiet in the recording corridor, not silent. The kind of quiet that held intention, not absence. Behind a thick pane of glass, the main studio pulsed with low, steady rhythm, just the instrumental line looping over and over while Taeyeon stood at the mic, hoodie sleeves rolled halfway up her arms, one foot lightly tapping to keep time.

Y/N stood behind the observation glass. She hadn’t intended to, her visit to this wing was meant to be brief, an anonymous check, a glance at progress logs and engineer notes. But then she heard a voice, familiar but stripped bare, and instead of turning away, she stopped.

And watched.

Taeyeon’s voice wasn’t flawless in this moment. That’s not what caught her, there were moments of strain, clipped endings, a faltering breath she clearly didn’t like. But she wasn’t trying to impress anyone, she wasn’t “performing” in the glittering, polished sense of the word. She was working, crafting, breaking something open just to rebuild it cleaner, sharper and truer.

Y/N didn’t move. Her hands stayed buried in the pockets of her jacket, her posture relaxed but alert. Her eyes followed every subtle shift, how Taeyeon leaned slightly into the mic during certain lines, how her fingers gestured unconsciously as she searched for a note’s shape.

Inside the booth, Taeyeon paused.

She pulled one side of her headphones loose, exhaled sharply, and rubbed the back of her neck, and then, maybe because she felt it or maybe just on instinct, she turned her head.

Their eyes met through the glass.

It wasn’t dramatic, no gasp, no startled flinch, just a long, level look, two women seeing each other across the silent divide. Taeyeon didn’t offer a nod, or even a smirk. She held the gaze for a second that stretched too long to be casual, then she turned back to the mic and adjusted her stance like nothing had happened.

Y/N didn’t smile either, but something in her face, tight, composed, softened by a degree so small only someone watching closely would notice. She stayed another minute, maybe two. Enough to hear Taeyeon sing again, enough to realize that the choices this woman made inside a song said more than any of her polished interviews or press smiles ever could.

There was instinct here, and discipline. But also loneliness, not the kind born of isolation, but of being understood only in fragments, by fans who saw her light, by colleagues who saw her value, but rarely by someone who actually listened.

Y/N understood that feeling.

More than she cared to admit.

She left without a word, footsteps soundless, disappearing into the cool, clean silence of the hallway like a shadow receding from a flame. She didn’t comment to her assistant, she didn’t file a report.

But for the first time, she thought of Taeyeon not as a piece of strategy or a variable in crisis management, but as a presence, a force that didn’t need to raise its voice to be heard.

And something inside her, something long buried under centuries of precision and distance, stirred.

Just slightly.

The parking garage was nearly silent at this hour, emptied of its usual bustle, stripped down to cool concrete, white lights, and the distant hum of generators buried in the bones of the building. The air was colder here, still tinged with the faint scent of oil and rain brought in on tires from the outside world.

Taeyeon walked slowly, her steps echoing. She wasn’t in a rush to go home, not tonight. Something about the day had stayed with her, something unshakable.

She reached her car but didn’t get in. Just stood for a moment, fingers resting lightly on the handle, her eyes drifting toward the elevator across the lot. The hum of its machinery broke the silence, a soft mechanical groan as it descended from the executive floors above. Her eyes lingered on the closed doors, though she couldn’t have explained why.

Then it opened.

Y/N stepped out.

There was a stillness about her, not the stiff kind, but something deep and rooted. She didn’t move like someone who was observed, she moved like someone who chose when and how she would be seen. Tonight, she wore long black wool over a slate grey turtleneck, her hair loose around her shoulders, her face unreadable.

She was mid sentence with her assistant, voice low and precise, until she looked up and saw Taeyeon.

She didn’t stop, but she paused. A subtle shift in posture, a near imperceptible change in the tempo of her steps. Her gaze touched Taeyeon, just briefly, before flicking away like it didn’t matter, except it did. The assistant caught the cue instantly, falling behind and disappearing with practiced silence, as if this was how it always went.

Taeyeon stood her ground. Her hand fell away from the car door, her body angling slightly toward the woman now walking parallel to her. Not toward her, not away. Just adjacent, as though orbiting the same center without knowing who pulled who.

They didn’t speak at first.

Just footsteps echoing between them, a narrowing space filled with something too quiet to be tension and too alive to be indifference.

It was Y/N who finally stopped one car over. A modest, black luxury sedan, not flashy, not ostentatious, just clean and precise like everything else about her.

“I didn’t expect to see anyone else this late,” she said, not exactly breaking the silence, but easing it open.

“I never leave early,” Taeyeon replied, her voice softer than in the meeting rooms, stripped of performance.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to hers again, just a moment, and lingered.

“What keeps you here?” she asked.

Taeyeon hesitated, but only slightly. “Same thing that brings me in early. Music. It doesn’t exactly punch out at five.”

Y/N’s mouth lifted, just the barest curve, not a full smile, but the trace of one. It made something inside Taeyeon stop and recalibrate. For weeks now, she’d been trying to decipher this woman through glances and rumors, and now here she was, real, close, and ever so slightly cracked open.

“You care about the work,” Y/N said. Not a question, a statement.

Taeyeon gave a small, quiet laugh, her breath fogging slightly in the cold air. “That’s the nice way to put it. Obsessive would be more accurate.”

Y/N’s eyes stayed on her. “Obsession can be a strength, it builds things most people are too lazy to imagine.”

“Is that why you’re here?” Taeyeon asked, not bothering to dress the question up. “Building something?”

Another pause.

“Sometimes,” Y/N said, her voice low. “Sometimes I just keep the ruins from collapsing.”

There was something in her tone, too measured to be bitterness, too flat to be pride. It was the voice of someone who had lived through the collapse enough times to recognize the shape of it before it started.

Taeyeon tilted her head slightly, watching her. “That’s a lot to carry.”

Y/N didn’t respond. But she didn’t deflect either. Instead, for the first time, she looked at Taeyeon not as an artist or an asset, but as someone who might understand.

“You're not what I expected,” she said, after a beat.

Taeyeon blinked. “And what did you expect?”

Y/N gave a faint shrug. “More polish, less substance.”

It wasn’t a compliment, not exactly, but it landed like one.

“I surprise people all the time,” Taeyeon murmured. “They forget I’m not here just to smile and sing.”

Y/N nodded slowly, her gaze intense but not unkind. “I didn’t forget.”

And there it was again. The moment where nothing was said, but something shifted, as if some thread between them pulled tight, not enough to break, but enough to notice. The kind of awareness you don’t talk about yet, because naming it would make it real too fast.

Taeyeon stepped back toward her car. “Goodnight,” she said, tone casual, but her eyes didn’t lie.

Y/N didn’t answer right away. But just before turning away, she offered something unexpected, something simple and unguarded.

A smile.

Small, real, almost shy, except Y/N didn’t do shy. Which made it all the more arresting.

“Goodnight Taeyeon.”

And that was the second time she said her name.

It could’ve ended there, a simple goodbye, a name spoken like a promise. But some moments don’t fade, the echo.

And four days later, it echoed still, beneath the beat of a track looping in high volume, under the breathless push of choreography that wouldn’t quite click.

The floor of Studio 3 was slick with effort, scuffed soles, condensation on mirrors, and the residue of an afternoon stretching too long into early evening. The overhead lights hummed with that sterile brightness only found in rehearsal rooms, casting sharp reflections across eight bodies trying, again and again, to land in sync.

Girls’ Generation, reunited after a few years for a full comeback, weren’t rookies not by a long shot. But tonight, it didn’t feel like muscle memory was doing its job. The moves were all there, technically correct, sharp where needed, fluid in places, but the feeling? Off, like a heartbeat out of rhythm.

They were dancing as ghosts of themselves, not as the force they had once been.

Taeyeon wiped sweat from her brow with the hem of her shirt and took a step back. She could feel it, not just the ache in her legs, but the dissonance in the room, the way smiles had become thin, the way laughter had been replaced with silence. Everyone was trying to hold it together, and everyone knew it wasn’t quite working.

Hyoyeon was frowning at the monitor, arms crossed. “We’re off by just a hair,” she said, her voice sharp with frustration. “But it makes the whole thing feel stiff, mechanical.”

Yuri was kneeling by the speaker, hitting replay with short, clipped motions. “It’s the bridge. That pivot after the half count, it’s not breathing right.”

Seohyun sat on the floor tying her laces tighter than necessary, as if control over her shoes could somehow translate into control over the rhythm. Yoona was massaging her neck, brows pulled in a tight knot of exhaustion. Everyone else stretched, paced, or stared at their own reflections like they might find the answer hidden in the glass.

It wasn’t that the choreography was bad, it was ambitious, layered with intention, meant to signal that this wasn’t a nostalgia tour, but a rebirth. But the execution hadn’t caught up to the concept, not yet.

And then the door opened.

It didn’t slam or creak, it wasn’t loud, but the shift in the room was instant, like air pressure changing before a storm.

Taeyeon glanced toward the entry without meaning to.

Y/N stepped inside with the quiet of someone used to commanding attention without raising their voice, she didn’t carry anything, she wore no credentials. Just a black blazer, loosely tailored, over gray trousers and a pale silk blouse with a neckline that didn’t quite distract, but didn’t try to disappear either.

Behind her, two junior staff members entered and immediately faded into the background, a third, a choreographer’s assistant, hovered awkwardly with a tablet in hand.

Taeyeon felt the energy of the room tighten around her like invisible thread being pulled.

Y/N stood still for a moment, just watching. Her gaze didn’t dart, it glided, like she was collecting data in real time, dissecting the mood, the footwork, the beat, the microexpressions of eight women who had been icons before some of the current staff had graduated high school.

The music played again. Y/N didn’t interrupt.

When it ended, she moved closer to the screen, lifted the tablet from the assistant without a word, and scrubbed backward through the video.

“This section,” she said, voice calm, almost detached, as she pointed to a moment in the second chorus, “Is where the momentum breaks, it’s too angular for what the sound is doing. The instrumental curves upward, but you’re slicing through it, you’re forcing clarity when it needs ambiguity.”

Hyoyeon blinked. “That’s exactly what I said.”

Y/N didn’t smile, but her tone softened. “Then you were ahead of the room.”

She turned the tablet toward the group, tapped the screen once to highlight Taeyeon’s placement during the bridge.

“This pivot,” she said, tilting the device slightly, “if you shift your weight half a beat sooner and round the shoulder, the visual will echo the vocal phrasing. It won’t feel choreographed, it’ll feel inevitable.”

It was surgical, not unkind, just direct.

Taeyeon stepped closer. Not because she wanted to challenge her, but because something in her body moved before her mind decided to.

“Are you a choreographer now?” she asked, not hostile, just curious.

Y/N’s eyes flicked to hers. “No. But I understand shape, sound, and how memory forms when the two align.”

There was something in the way she said it, not defensive, not arrogant. Just matter of fact, like she wasn’t trying to prove she belonged here. She knew she did.

The choreographer nodded, quietly. So did Yuri.

Y/N handed back the tablet without ceremony and stepped away, as if she’d never planned to stay long.

But just before she turned to leave, her gaze caught Taeyeon’s again. A flicker, a pause, an unspoken pull that neither of them named.

In that one, still moment, Taeyeon felt something stretch and then tighten inside her chest. She didn't know what it was. Recognition? No, not quite. But something adjacent to it, as if a door had cracked open, not loudly, not wide, just enough for light to slip through.

Then Y/N turned and walked out, her silhouette swallowed again by the hallway.

The girls ran the routine again ten minutes later.

And this time, the bridge, Taeyeon’s bridge, didn’t just land.

It breathed.

They wrapped rehearsal an hour later, sweaty and spent, but lighter somehow. The choreography had found its rhythm, or maybe Taeyeon had. She didn’t linger that night, just a quiet goodbye, a hot shower, and silence.

The next day moved like static, meetings, fittings, noise, but the moment stayed with her, tucked under the noise like a secret.

And when the main corridors of SM Entertainment were long empty, hollow with the kind of silence that only came after too much noise. Most of the lights had dimmed to energy saving mode, casting faint reflections against the glass and steel. But deep within the recording wing, buried behind soundproof doors and layers of technical equipment, one room remained awake.

Inside, Taeyeon sat with her legs tucked up in the chair, face dimly lit by the LED panels of the mixing board. A half empty cup of tea had long gone cold on the armrest, forgotten. Her eyes were closed, but her mind was alive, tracking every beat, every chord progression, every breath in the track playing on loop. It wasn’t the group song this time. This was hers, just hers, a solo track still in development, still raw.

She had listened to it so many times that the edges had started to blur. It wasn’t that anything was wrong—not in a technical sense. But it was missing something she couldn’t name. It didn’t breathe right. It didn’t move the way her heart did when she thought about her fans, about the stage, about the kind of truth she wanted to put into every note.

It should’ve been enough, it wasn’t.

The track played again.

And again.

Still not it.

She leaned forward, elbows on the soundboard, forehead resting on the back of one hand. She wasn’t tired, not really, just tangled. The kind of creative knot that didn’t untie easily, the kind that could drown a person if they stayed in the silence too long.

The studio door opened, quietly, without flourish, but her senses caught it before her ears did.

She turned slightly, expecting a staff member, maybe a tech with another round of takes or someone telling her to go home. But it wasn’t that.

It was Y/N.

No blazer this time, no assistant at her back. Just a soft, almost soundless presence, dark blouse, slacks, hair pulled back, eyes alert but unreadable. She closed the door behind her, but didn’t say anything.

Taeyeon blinked. “Didn’t think you’d be the drop by type.”

“I’m not,” Y/N replied. Her voice was calm, lower than usual. “But I heard something looping from the hallway. Figured it wasn’t just background noise.”

Taeyeon hesitated, then shrugged. “It’s just a song, one of mine.”

Y/N nodded once, stepped closer, not invasive, not cautious either. Just measured. She glanced toward the screen, letting the track play through one full loop again before speaking.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, which surprised Taeyeon. “But it’s holding back.”

Taeyeon sat up straighter, eyes narrowing a little, not offended, just intrigued. “What do you mean?”

“The second pre-chorus,” Y/N said, crossing her arms. “You lift the vocal, build to a release. But the instrumentation doesn’t rise with you, it stays grounded. There’s a tension in the contrast, but instead of resolving it, you let it slip away. It should be one more beat of silence, just a moment, to create ache before the chorus lands.”

Taeyeon stared at her. “That’s what I’ve been feeling, but I couldn’t figure out why.”

Y/N didn’t gloat, didn’t even acknowledge the agreement. She just stepped forward and pointed at the waveform on screen.

“This space right here, let it breathe. Don’t race the feeling, let the ache land before you soothe it.”

It was an exact analysis, not just right in theory, but felt right. Taeyeon wasn’t easily impressed. But this? This was something else.

“Where did you learn to hear music like that?” she asked, genuinely curious now.

“I’ve been around long enough,” Y/N replied, her gaze drifting back to the monitor. “Longer than most.”

Something about the way she said it made Taeyeon pause.

She studied Y/N in the glow of the soft light. Her face looked young, too young for the weight in her voice. And yet there was something in her posture, in the way she listened, that felt ancient, like she didn’t just understand music, she remembered it.

“Are you always like this?” Taeyeon asked quietly.

“Like what?”

“This sharp, observing. Always on.”

Y/N’s expression shifted, barely. A soft crease at the corner of her mouth, not a smile. But maybe the idea of one.

“It’s how I stay useful.”

Taeyeon looked down at her hands, absently spinning her ring. “Music’s not useful to me. It’s survival, I’ve been doing this most of my life, but it never gets easier to explain.”

“You don’t have to,” Y/N said. “Not here.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, not awkward, not even quiet, not with the soft thrum of the track looping again.

It was Y/N who stood first, pulling back from the soundboard. “You’ll get it, the song, you always do.”

Taeyeon turned her head, watching her move toward the door. “You sure?”

“I don’t say things unless I’m sure,” Y/N replied over her shoulder.

Then, just as she reached the threshold, she hesitated.

Glanced back.

“Try adding the cello,” she said. “One line, low register. It’ll carry the breath you’re missing.”

And then she was gone.

Taeyeon sat there for a long time after, the song still playing. Her hand moved to the mixing dial. She opened a new track layer, searched the library, found a cello sample, slow and warm and she placed it just beneath the pre-chorus.

Hit play.

And there it was.

The ache.

She didn’t leave the studio until well past midnight, but when she finally stepped into the cold air outside, something in her had settled. Not solved, not soothed, just aligned.

In the days that followed, the work moved faster. Concepts locked, edits approved, the team had found its rhythm again and so had she.

Two weeks later, the spotlight shifted.

Not to the stage, but to the past.

The gallery was quiet in the way only powerful spaces could be, designed silence, with warm lights washing the white walls in gold. Rows of framed memories stretched through the room, curated with ruthless precision. The evolution of an empire in photographs, costume pieces, vinyl pressings, candid rehearsal stills, and carefully preserved debut stage sets.

It wasn’t for the public yet. That would come tomorrow.

Tonight was different.

This night belonged to SM’s innermost circle, the artists who shaped it and the people who ran it. Staff entered through a separate entrance. No influencers, no press inside, just idols and executives and the kind of power that didn’t post selfies.

Taeyeon had walked the press line outside, smiling briefly for the cameras, dressed in understated black, her hair pinned in a soft wave. Inside, it felt like walking through time. Her own face stared back at her from the walls, grainy footage of early rehearsals, snapshots of their first dazed wins, the group crowded into vans, bright eyed and exhausted.

A cocktail was offered, but she barely sipped it.

She was studying a vintage stage outfit, one she hadn’t seen in years, when a quiet presence shifted beside her. She didn’t have to turn to know.

Y/N.

No greetings, just there, beside her, looking at the same piece of history. The silence stretched long enough to feel deliberate.

“You wore this, didn’t you,” Y/N said, not asked.

Taeyeon looked over. “Yeah. Inkigayo, summer. We could barely breathe in those.”

Y/N didn’t smile, not exactly, but something in her expression eased. “They stitched them overnight. The seamstress was going through a divorce, she added a hand-beaded detail to distract herself. Only a few people noticed.”

Taeyeon blinked. “How do you even know that?”

Y/N’s gaze remained steady on the costume. “I remember the moment.”

“But you weren’t,” Taeyeon stopped. “You weren’t working here back then.”

“I wasn’t,” Y/N agreed. “But I’ve been around.”

They wandered further, Y/N didn’t lead, but she moved with strange assurance, like the gallery was familiar, like she’d walked it before.

They paused at a black and white photo from the company’s earliest days, three men at a cluttered desk, stacks of demo tapes around them, the logo barely recognizable.

Taeyeon folded her arms. “They built all this from a basement.”

Y/N tilted her head. “It wasn’t the basement, it was the third floor. The wallpaper was peeling, and they kept losing power during playback. The first artist signed that week couldn’t hit her high notes because the A/C kept cutting out.”

Taeyeon turned to her, frowning. “You say that like you were there.”

“I read a lot,” Y/N replied easily.

“Did you read what color the wallpaper was?”

Y/N didn’t answer, but her mouth lifted at the corner.

There was something surreal about walking through decades of history with someone who hadn’t lived it but seemed to carry the shape of it inside her. Not in fragments, not in fan facts or archived interviews, but with a kind of lived in quiet that suggested memory.

It should’ve been unnerving. Instead, it pulled Taeyeon in.

They paused before a final installation. A slow rolling projection of every SM debut, playing on a loop across the gallery wall.

Lights dimmed slightly, music fading under the hush of conversation elsewhere.

“Does it ever feel strange,” Y/N said softly, “To be part of something that started before you and will likely outlast you?”

Taeyeon considered. “Sometimes, but I don’t think about that when I’m singing or dancing. It’s just the moment. The now.”

Y/N turned her head then, studied her face in profile. “That’s the part I envy.”

There it was again, that flicker, the faint crack in the armor.

Taeyeon didn’t press, just let the silence settle again between them. They stood there, the legacy of a company wrapped around them like a second skin. Not speaking, not smiling. But something, slow and unmistakable, was shifting between them.

Not just curiosity.

Recognition.

Eventually, they parted, no words, no promises. Just a glance that held a little longer than it should have.

The night went on, and the days that followed moved with that same quiet tension, like something unspoken threading itself tighter between them.

The main floors of SM Entertainment had emptied out hours ago, and what remained now was a skeleton crew of night shift staff and a few scattered lights that stayed on out of habit more than necessity.

Taeyeon’s sneakers echoed softly against the polished floor as she exited the rehearsal wing, a towel slung over her shoulder, the hum of adrenaline from practice still in her bloodstream. Her muscles were tired in that satisfying way, the way that meant she’d worked through something. Not just steps, but something that had been sitting under her skin.

As she made her way down to the underground parking garage, a breeze of cooler air greeted her. She dug for her keys without looking, her thoughts already drifting ahead to the shower waiting at home, until her gaze flicked up, half automatic, and landed on a car parked a few spots away.

Y/N’s.

The matte black luxury coupe sat in reserved space, sleek and untouched, its presence as deliberate and composed as the woman who drove it.

Taeyeon slowed.

She stood still for a moment, keys clutched in her hand, brow furrowing just slightly. It wasn’t odd for Y/N to work late, people whispered about how she never seemed to stop, but something tugged at Taeyeon now, an impulse more instinct than plan.

She turned back toward the building.

Up the elevator, past the darkened meeting rooms and locked executive offices. The lights on the CEO floor were dimmed, casting long shadows across glass walls and stone floors. Every step felt strangely loud, this place always felt too clean after hours, like it was holding its breath.

When she reached the corner office, not marked with a nameplate, Taeyeon paused. The door was ajar.

She knocked lightly on the glass and peeked in. “Working late?”

Y/N didn’t startle, she never did, but there was a flicker of genuine surprise in her eyes as she looked up. She sat behind her desk, sleeves rolled to the elbows, a few open folders spread neatly in front of her.

“Just tying up some loose ends,” she said, voice low but not unfriendly.

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.”

Taeyeon stepped inside, letting the door ease shut behind her. “Care for a tea break?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, almost amused. “At this hour?”

“Why not? There’s that little café two blocks over. They’re still open.”

There was a beat, a pause stretched too long for something as simple as tea. Y/N’s gaze held hers, steady, assessing. She glanced briefly toward the window, where the city lights blinked cold and bright against the dark.

“It’s not a good idea,” she said, quietly. “Dispatch never sleeps.”

Taeyeon let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle. “Fair. I keep forgetting I can’t be a person after nine p.m.”

Y/N’s mouth twitched, just slightly, not quite a smile, but almost.

“Then let’s have tea here,” Taeyeon added. “You’ve probably got some stashed away, right? Knowing you, it’s probably aged and imported from a mountain somewhere.”

That earned the smallest huff of amusement. “Stay here. I’ll get it.”

She disappeared briefly into the adjoining side room, part pantry, part private retreat and returned with a cast iron teapot, two porcelain cups, and a tin that looked too old to have a brand label. The scent hit first, something herbal and deep, almost smoky.

“I was joking about the mountain,” Taeyeon said, grinning as Y/N poured.

“I wasn’t.”

They settled on the couch near the windows, not too close, not too far. The kind of careful distance where something could happen, or not.

Taeyeon sipped. The tea was hot, smooth, and unexpectedly grounding.

“I thought you didn’t drink caffeine late,” Y/N said.

“I don’t,” Taeyeon replied. “But I figured if I’m going to stay up thinking, I might as well enjoy it.”

Y/N tilted her head, studying her. “Are you always this direct?”

“Only when I’m tired or when I want something.”

“And what do you want?”

Taeyeon didn’t flinch. “To get to know you.”

Y/N looked down at her tea.

There was silence for a moment. Not awkward, just full.

“I’m not very good at that,” Y/N said finally, softly.

Taeyeon’s voice lowered too. “I’m not asking for everything. Just a little, let me in.”

Y/N’s hand lingered on her cup, fingers unmoving. “You really want to know the kind of person who chooses an office over sleep?”

Taeyeon gave her a look, gentle, dry, but pointed. “You think I’m normal?”

That made Y/N laugh, just under her breath.

Taeyeon leaned back, watching her, the city lights catching in her hair. “You don’t have to keep performing all the time. Not with me.”

Y/N’s gaze flicked up, sharp and unreadable. “And what makes you think I’m performing?”

Taeyeon didn’t smile. “Because you haven’t once called me ‘unnie’ even though I’m older.”

Silence again. Then, very slightly, Y/N smirked.

“I think we can stay on a name basis,” she said, voice wry.

“You have no respect for your elders,” Taeyeon teased, then took another sip of tea.

But the atmosphere had shifted, softened, like something had clicked between them, quiet and unseen, but definite.

Outside the windows, Seoul kept shining, indifferent. Inside, the tea cooled slowly, forgotten on the table.

It started as something unspoken.

After that first night, tea shared between desk and window, half truths and lingering glances, a quiet rhythm settled between them.

Taeyeon started stopping by more often. Never planned, never announced, just small, quiet visits after rehearsals, when most of the building had emptied and the only sound on the executive floor was the hum of vending machines and distant elevators.

Sometimes she brought snacks.Tangerines, a bottle of barley tea, once even a paper cup of sweet potato latte she insisted Y/N needed to try. Other times, she came empty handed, just herself and that persistent calm curiosity that always lingered in her eyes.

Y/N never told her to stop.

She didn’t speak much at first, always looking like she was mid-thought when Taeyeon arrived, a pen resting between her fingers, half turned in her chair like she’d forgotten how long she'd been working.

But she always made tea.

And after the fifth visit, she started setting out a second cup before Taeyeon even said hello.

Their conversations weren’t loud or fast, they weren’t the kind that filled silences, they let the silences stay. Instead, they talked about music, about the strain of always needing to be seen, about how Y/N preferred the quiet because noise made it harder to think.

Taeyeon listened.

And Y/N watched, cautiously at first, then with something warmer. She noticed the way Taeyeon fidgeted with the sleeve of her hoodie when she was thinking, or how her voice softened every time she mentioned Zero, like the little dog was the only creature in the world she didn’t have to perform for.

Taeyeon, in turn, noticed how Y/N sometimes lost her place mid sentence, like she was too used to keeping her thoughts inside. How she always hesitated just a second before opening up, as if every answer came with an invisible cost.

But slowly, the walls started thinning.

One evening, after a long rehearsal and a brutal meeting, Taeyeon sank into the familiar couch with a sigh and leaned her head back.

“I’m starting to think you might be the only person in this building who actually listens.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow over her teacup. “That’s a dangerous thing to say to someone with this much power.”

Taeyeon grinned. “And yet I keep coming back.”

Y/N didn't reply, but her lips curved, faint, reluctant, the kind of smile that looked like it hadn’t been used in years.

It was two nights after that when Taeyeon finally said it.

The tea had already been poured, they were sitting closer than usual, something about the chill in the room pulling them toward the couch cushions like gravity.

The conversation had meandered, from the latest recording session to why people lie when they say they don’t care what others think. And then, casually, as if she’d just thought of it.

“You should come over sometime,” Taeyeon said, swirling her tea, her voice light. “I make a decent kimchi stew.”

Y/N looked at her.

It was that unreadable expression Taeyeon was starting to learn, the one where Y/N was taking in every word, every meaning beneath it, and running them through whatever inner algorithm she used to measure risk.

“It's just dinner,” Taeyeon added, softer now, a hint of a smile ghosting across her lips. “I don’t bite.”

Silence stretched.

“Are you always like this?” Y/N asked.

“Like what?”

“Persistent.”

Taeyeon shrugged, casual. “Only when something matters.”

That made Y/N look away, she took another sip of her tea, let the warmth sit on her tongue longer than usual.

Then, without looking back at Taeyeon, she said quietly.

“Text me the date and the address.”

And just like that, the air shifted again, not dramatically, not like a door flinging open. Just a quiet hinge, turning.

A few days passed, just enough to let the idea settle, to let intent become action.

Then came the text, short, precise. Just a date and address.

The elevator doors opened with a soft chime, spilling warm hallway light over the polished floor outside Taeyeon’s apartment. Y/N hesitated for a moment before stepping out. She wasn’t used to places like this, places that felt lived in, not curated. Real.

When Taeyeon opened the door, barefoot in a loose sweatshirt and hair pulled back messily, it struck Y/N that she looked not like an idol, but like a person. The kind of person who knew where her soy sauce was without looking and didn’t mind if her dog tracked a bit of fur across the rug.

“Come in,” Taeyeon said, stepping aside.

Y/N entered cautiously, as if unsure whether she was allowed to exhale inside. The apartment was warm in more ways than one. Soft lighting glowed from lamps instead of overhead fixtures, and the walls were scattered with framed photos, some candid, some stylized, none of them for display, a scarf hung haphazardly over the back of a chair, and there was a dent in the couch cushion from where someone actually sat.

She hadn’t even taken off her coat before Zero trotted toward her, tail wagging like a small motor.

The dog stopped a few feet away, sniffed once, then closed the distance with enthusiasm. Y/N froze. Animals rarely approached her so openly, they usually hesitated, caught in some instinctive awareness that she didn’t quite belong.

But Zero practically demanded affection, nudging his fluffy head against her knee.

“He likes you,” Taeyeon said from the kitchen, the faintest thread of surprise in her voice.

Y/N slowly crouched, brushing her fingers through the dog’s coat, his fur was warm, soft, his breathing relaxed.

“He’s friendly,” she murmured, as if still trying to process it. Her tone was gentle, almost reverent.

“Usually takes him a few meetings,” Taeyeon added, stirring something on the stove. “I guess he’s a good judge of character.”

Y/N glanced up, the corner of her mouth twitching into what might have been the beginning of a smile, but it was gone as fast as it appeared.

She stood, hands folding back into her coat pockets, eyes scanning the room again like she was reading something in it that only she could see.

Taeyeon motioned toward the couch. “You can sit, you know. I promise it won’t bite.”

Y/N gave a short nod and walked over, sitting carefully on the edge of the cushion, posture upright like she was waiting for an interview to begin.

“You’re really not used to this, are you?” Taeyeon asked, half amused.

Y/N turned her head slightly. “Used to what?”

Taeyeon’s gaze softened. “Being invited in.”

There was a pause, Y/N didn’t answer, she didn’t argue either.

The dining table was small, round, nestled by a window that looked out onto the quiet Seoul skyline. It was a view worth lingering over, dusky blues bleeding into warm yellows from the surrounding apartments, but Y/N barely glanced at it. Her attention was divided between the bowl of stew in front of her and the woman who had made it.

Taeyeon sat across from her, hair tucked behind one ear, sleeves rolled up, chopsticks in hand. She was relaxed in a way that was almost disarming, comfortable in her space, in her body, in the silence between them. Her presence filled the room with something gentle, something domestic, something Y/N didn’t know how to process.

Steam rose from the bowls, curling like invisible fingers. The scent was rich, fermented spice, slow simmered garlic, a hint of sesame oil. Y/N could tell from the balance of aroma alone that Taeyeon had done this often.

Y/N picked up her spoon, stirred, slowly. Then set it back down again. She reached for the chopsticks instead, turning over a piece of tofu with practiced politeness, as if considering it. Eventually, she brought a small bite to her mouth, chewed once, twice, then reached for her water.

The taste was fine, or should be. But she barely swallowed. Her body resisted it, not out of revulsion, but because it simply didn’t need it.

Taeyeon watched her with a sideways glance, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“You eat like someone who’s suspicious of kindness,” she said lightly.

Y/N paused, then set her chopsticks down, folding her hands in her lap.

“I’m not used to being cooked for,” she said, voice even. Not cold, just true.

Taeyeon smiled, leaning back a little in her chair.

“Have you ever even watched Netflix on a couch that didn’t cost more than a car?”

Y/N blinked at the sudden turn, startled for a second, then let out a quiet, almost reluctant chuckle. The sound was real, warm, but tentative. Like a note played too softly on purpose.

“Not recently,” she murmured.

Taeyeon’s grin widened slightly. “You say that like you used to.”

Y/N tilted her head. “Maybe I did.”

Silence again. Not awkward, just thick with something unspoken. Y/N glanced down at her untouched stew and nudged the bowl a fraction to the side, a habitual gesture of someone creating space without appearing to.

Taeyeon didn’t comment, but she noticed. Her expression shifted slightly, less teasing, more curious.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she said, voice low.

“You didn’t,” Y/N replied immediately, too quickly. “I just… this isn’t my usual setting.”

“What is your usual setting?”

Y/N opened her mouth, then closed it. A heartbeat passed, then another.

She looked up, eyes sharper now, more guarded.

“Structured, predictable.”

Taeyeon’s smile faded into something smaller, more sincere.

“Well,” she said softly, “this is neither of those.”

“No,” Y/N agreed. Her gaze held Taeyeon’s for a moment longer than necessary. “It’s not.”

And yet she didn’t leave.

Dinner ended quietly, neither of them mentioned the mostly untouched stew, and Taeyeon didn’t ask questions Y/N wasn’t ready to answer. Instead, she stood, collected their bowls, and returned with two mugs of tea, jasmine for Y/N, ginseng for herself.

“No sugar, right?” she asked as she passed the warm ceramic into Y/N’s hands.

Y/N nodded. “Right.”

They drifted into the living room, the couch was wide and welcoming, a soft neutral tone with mismatched throw pillows that didn’t try too hard to match the aesthetic, comfort over perfection. Y/N hesitated for a breath, then sat on the far side, her mug balanced delicately in her hands like a prop she wasn’t quite sure how to use.

Zero padded in moments later and, to Taeyeon’s clear surprise, leapt up beside Y/N without hesitation. The little dog gave a single snuffle, circled once, and settled in the space between them with his head resting neatly on Y/N’s lap.

She froze.

Taeyeon grinned, sinking into her side of the couch. “He usually needs a few dates before that level of commitment.”

Y/N glanced down at Zero. Slowly, almost shyly, she rested one hand on his soft fur. Her fingers curled gently. He didn’t stir, just gave a small huff and burrowed closer.

“I guess he’s not as guarded,” she said, lips twitching with something that might’ve been a smile.

Taeyeon watched her for a long beat. Something had shifted, subtly, but unmistakably. The stiff line of Y/N’s shoulders had lowered, her jaw wasn’t clenched. Even the way she held the mug had changed, no longer with calculated grace, but simply for warmth.

Taeyeon turned on the TV, not bothering to ask what Y/N wanted to watch. It didn’t matter, she picked something light, something that wouldn’t demand too much of them.

But within minutes, neither of them was following the plot.

The movie flickered on, all color and noise, but the silence between them was louder, fuller. Their mugs sat cooling on the coffee table. Zero had completely claimed Y/N’s lap now, his body rising and falling with slow, contented breaths. Y/N remained mostly still, one hand resting absentmindedly on the dog’s back, her eyes trained on the screen, but unfocused.

Taeyeon shifted slightly. Her thigh brushed against Y/N’s.

Then, without meaning to, their hands met.

It wasn’t deliberate. Just a slight shift, a readjustment of posture, a stretch of fingers that met resistance and warmth.

Y/N’s reaction was instant.

She flinched, sharp and involuntary, like the touch had burned her. Her hand recoiled just slightly, not far, not rude, but enough for the space between them to feel colder.

Taeyeon didn’t look at her, didn’t apologize. She just stayed still, her expression neutral but her eyes distant, blinking at the screen like she’d suddenly remembered she was supposed to be watching it.

And then, minutes later, so soft it almost didn’t register, Taeyeon leaned sideways, head tilting gently until it rested against Y/N’s shoulder.

It wasn’t a calculated move, not a tease, it was exhaustion and trust wrapped in one simple gesture. The weight of her head was warm, familiar, heavier than it should’ve been.

Y/N froze again.

Her breath caught somewhere high in her throat. Her body was still as stone, but inside? Chaos. She didn’t know how to process softness, didn’t know how to carry someone else’s trust without breaking it.

Taeyeon breathed out, slow and even, clearly slipping toward sleep.

Y/N closed her eyes.

For a moment, just a moment, she allowed it.

The room was quiet except for the hum of the television and Zero’s tiny snores. And in that stillness, Y/N let herself feel it. Closeness, warmth, longing, the ache of possibility.

But the moment didn’t last.

Taeyeon shifted slightly against her, murmured something half formed, and stirred. Her head lifted groggily from Y/N’s shoulder.

And that was all it took.

Y/N stood suddenly, careful not to wake the dog.

“I should go,” she said quickly, reaching for her coat before Taeyeon could fully register what was happening.

Taeyeon blinked, disoriented, watching her move as if a thread had been cut. She looked up, confusion flickering in her eyes. "Did I do something wrong?"

Y/N shook her head, avoiding eye contact. "No, it's not you. I just need to go."

And then she was gone.

Taeyeon sat in the silence she left behind, one hand reaching to where warmth still lingered beside her.

The door had closed, but the echo of her absence didn’t fade easily. Taeyeon didn’t text or call, she waited.

Days passed. Not many, but enough for the air between them to shift.

Now, the city had moved on. And so had the work, but some silences didn’t feel like endings, just pauses, waiting to be broken.

Evening had settled over Seoul, and with it came a hush that blanketed the upper floors of the SM building in quiet. Most of the lights were off now, casting long shadows through the glass walls and polished floors. But one office, one particular corner suite, still glowed warmly from within.

Y/N’s office had become a strange kind of haven, not by design, not officially but over time, it simply became.

There was no formality left when Taeyeon walked in. No knocking, no preamble, just a soft greeting and the sound of the door clicking shut behind her. On the low marble table sat two teacups, always matching, always prepared in quiet anticipation.

Taeyeon sat cross legged on the velvet loveseat beneath the tall windows, a knit sweater draped around her shoulders, her fingers wrapped around the warm ceramic mug. She took a sip, exhaled.

“It’s like your tea always tastes the same,” she mused.

Y/N, seated on the armchair across from her, arched her brow. “That’s not a complaint, is it?”

Taeyeon smiled. “No. It’s comforting.”

A beat passed. No rush, no need to fill the quiet.

Then Taeyeon pulled out her phone and tilted it toward Y/N. A piano interface filled the screen.

“I downloaded this stupid app,” she said, chuckling under her breath. “I miss real pianos. You know? Not the rehearsal room kind, the ones in studios that are so perfect they feel dead. I want the ones that creak a little when you press the keys too hard, the ones that fight back.”

Y/N watched her for a moment, then gently placed her teacup down on its saucer with a soft clink.

“I have one.”

Taeyeon blinked. “You have a piano?”

“A Bösendorfer. 1884, if I remember right. Restored just enough to keep it alive, still has its character, still breathes like it remembers who’s played it.”

There was something in the way she said it, soft, almost reverent. Like the piano wasn’t an instrument but an old friend. Her voice dipped slightly, the warmth of the tea and the music casting a hush over her tone.

Taeyeon gave a quiet laugh, tilting her head. “Of course yours would remember its past lives.”

Y/N allowed a small, knowing smile to cross her face. “Memory isn’t just for people.”

Something flickered behind her eyes, too quick to catch. Taeyeon didn’t push, she just held the moment with a gentle curiosity, the weight between them shifting.

Then, like she wasn’t offering anything unusual, Y/N added, “If you’d like, you can come play it one day.”

Taeyeon’s eyes met hers.

There it was again, that quiet hum underneath their conversations, a thread they kept brushing against without naming. This wasn’t just tea anymore, these weren’t just words.

The invitation wasn’t grand, it wasn’t even deliberate.

But it was a door opening.

Taeyeon leaned back, thumb brushing idly around the rim of her cup.

“I’d like that,” she said, softly. “I’d really like that.”

The silence that followed was still not awkward, not expectant but charged. And neither of them did anything to break it.

#kpop imagines #girl group imagines #gg x reader #kpop x reader #girls generation x reader #kim taeyeon x reader #taeyeon x fem!reader #snsd taeyeon #snsd x reader #taeyeon x reader

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v-eee · 4 months ago

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── jungkook x you

scenario: you and Jungkook used to be best friend until new female staff came into his workplace, Jieun. He has introduced you to her. Jungkook starts getting busy with his work and often cancel the usual food hunting night with you because he needs to work overtime with Jieun. You know Jieun doesn't like you because she has come to your cafe a few times and told you to stop texting Jungkook during his work hour. when you told him about that, he didn't believe you. Starting that day your friendship is not like it used to be.

(xii- ending)

Being in a relationship with Jungkook was... different.

Not in a bad way. Just... different.

Before, he was already clingy—showing up at your café after work and driving hours just to see you without a second thought.

But now?

Now, he had boyfriend privileges, and he was using every single one of them.

Like right now, for example.

You were trying to get out of bed, but Jungkook—who had somehow turned into a human octopus in his sleep—was making it impossible.

His arms were locked around your waist, his face buried against your neck, and every time you tried to move, he just tightened his hold like some kind of needy koala. You turn your body to face him.

"Jungkook," you whispered, poking his forehead. "Let go, I need to get up."

A low, raspy groan came from his throat as he nuzzled closer. "Mm-mm. No."

You sighed. "I have work."

"Call in sick," he murmured, lips brushing your forehead.

You shivered. "Jungkook."

His hold tightened. "Y/N," he whined back, mimicking your tone. "Just five more minutes."

"You said that ten minutes ago."

"Exactly. Five more."

You sighed, already knowing how this would end. There was no reasoning with morning Jungkook.

Before dating, he still knows to put some space with you. But now? Now, it was forehead kisses while you worked, back hugs when you made coffee, and shamelessly pouting whenever you paid more attention to customers than to him.

And the biggest difference?

Jungkook used to sleep in a separate room.

Not anymore.

At first, he tried to be sneaky about it.

The first time he “accidentally” fell asleep in your bed, you kicked him out immediately, heart pounding. The thought of sleeping beside him was too much.

The second time? Same thing. Kicked him out.

The third time? You started getting suspicious.

"Jungkook, you have your own room," you had pointed out one night when you woke up to find him curled up beside you like he belonged there.

Jungkook, half-asleep and shameless, just mumbled, "Yeah, but your bed smells nicer."

You threw a pillow at him.

But no matter how many times you kicked him out, he kept coming back. Like a stubborn cat that refused to acknowledge personal space.

Until finally, one night, you just… gave up.

"Fine," you muttered when he crawled into your bed yet again. "But if you hog the blankets, I swear—"

Jungkook grinned, immediately wrapping his arms around you. "No promises, sweetheart."

And now? It was just a thing.

If Jungkook stayed over, he was sleeping in your bed. No discussion. No arguments. Just Jungkook slipping under the covers like it was his bed too.

Like last night.

You had tried to sleep, but Jungkook—being the absolute menace that he was—kept tracing lazy circles on your arm, pressing sleepy kisses against your shoulder.

"Jungkook," you mumbled, half-asleep. "Go to sleep."

"I'm not tired," he whispered.

You sighed. "Then pretend to be."

Jungkook chuckled, his breath warm against your skin. "Can’t help it. You’re too distracting."

You groaned, reaching for the pillow. "One more word, and I’m kicking you out."

Jungkook just laughed, pulling you closer instead until your face was pressed against his chest.

Yeah.

Being in a relationship with Jungkook was definitely different.

But honestly?

You loved it.

"Hey," Jungkook mumbled suddenly, breaking you out of your thoughts.

You glanced up. "What?"

Still half-asleep, he blinked at you. Then, without warning, he cupped your chin and tilted your face up, bringing you just inches from his.

Your breath hitched.

"Jungkook—"

He smirked. "You looked like you were thinking too hard."

"I was just—"

"You were thinking about me, weren’t you?" he teased, his voice lower now.

Your face heated up. "I—no—I'm thinking about work."

Jungkook hummed, unconvinced. "Liar."

Then, before you could react, he held your face gently and just looked at you.

Soft.

Serious.

Like you were something he still couldn’t believe was real.

Your heart skipped. "…What?"

He exhaled, thumb brushing over your cheek.

"I love you."

Silence.

He had said it before—a lot. But every time he said I love you, it always felt like the first time.

You felt your pulse everywhere.

“…You do?” you teased, smiling slightly.

Jungkook scoffed. "Are you seriously asking me that? Do you even realize how gone I am for you?"

You swallowed, your heart pounding.

And then, without hesitation, you whispered, "I love you too."

Then, just to tease him, you leaned in and kissed his lips before pulling back.

Jungkook stilled.

For a split second, he just stared at you. Then, suddenly, his sleepy eyes widened and a slow, lazy grin spread across his face.

"Oh," he said, voice still raspy from sleep. "You’re playing dirty now, huh?"

Before you could answer, he leaned in and captured your lips again—deeper this time. His hand slid to your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

Not teasing.

Not playful.

Just warm, slow, and intoxicating.

A small, muffled sound escaped you as Jun’s fingers tightened around your hips, his body pressing you into the mattress.

When he finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, his breath slightly uneven. "Say it again," he murmured.

You bit your lip, suddenly shy. "I love you."

Jungkook groaned dramatically, flipping you onto your back as he hovered over you. "Ugh. That’s it. You’re stuck with me forever now."

You laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "Oh no. What a tragedy."

Jungkook smirked, kissing your nose. "Too late to back out now, sweetheart."

And honestly?

You didn’t want to.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #scenario #jungkook scenario #fanfic

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kpop-ruins-our-lives · 2 months ago

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Bet - Choi Hyunwook scenario (Requested, smut, angst) Part 1

@speedywizardland said: A story with Choi hyun wook x reader Whit smut (if you comfortable with that) A/N: Hi, hello there! I was so overflown with ideas that I had to make this into 2 part or 3 part series... I hope you enjoy and don't mind there being more parts to this hehe :) <3 PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 Members: Choi Hyunwook x Reader Genre: Smut, angst Warnings: mature language, fighting, smutty moments (fingering, boob play, sexual content, Intense make out sesh), all the names for people in this story are made up! Word count: 3794 (I'm so sorry......) Summary: Choi Hyunwook was a so called "bad boy" in school, has his group of friends and always makes trouble. Even though you didn't know him personally, you just want a minute to feel, to take this man and infact you did get lucky.

The elite students walk with confidence, their futures already mapped out by wealthy parents and prestigious connections. The troublemakers thrive in the shadows, slipping through the cracks of authority, their names passed around in hushed tones. And then there are the observers—the ones who watch, who listen, who know everything without being noticed.

The hallways of your high school always hum with whispered gossip, the classrooms are battlegrounds of unspoken rivalries, and the teachers have long since given up trying to control the chaos.

Choi Hyunwook exists at the center of it all. His presence is magnetic, impossible to ignore. He moves through the school like a storm—unpredictable, untouchable, leaving destruction in his wake. His fights are legendary, his words sharp enough to cut, and his smirk is a challenge to anyone foolish enough to test him. He isn't alone in all this chaos. He has his two friends always by his side.

Minho is the quiet, steady friend in the group. He rarely says much, but when things get heated, you can count on him to be there. He doesn’t rush in with wild moves—instead, he stays cool and makes calculated decisions. His calm nature acts as a counterbalance to the chaos, and without saying a word, he shows just how reliable and protective he is. Then, there is Taewoo, the spontaneous, energetic one. He’s the guy who cracks jokes even in the middle of a scuffle, and his enthusiasm can be contagious.

It’s almost impossible not to be drawn to Choi Hyunwook. Despite his reputation for trouble, there’s an excitement in his unpredictability that mirrors your own secret desire for freedom. Every whispered story, every rebellious act, reinforces that inexplicable connection. You know he’s dangerous, that his world is one of constant turmoil and defiance. And yet, that very danger is what draws you in—a forbidden allure that makes your pulse quicken and your mind wander to thoughts of holding him close, of discovering the fragile soul hidden behind the infamous bad-boy façade.

---

While Jieun and you both nibble on your lunch, Jieun’s eyes flick from the boisterous group to your table, her expression turning into one of quiet annoyance. Unlike the school’s notorious bad boys, she doesn’t understand the fascination with all that noise and chaos.

"God, he is so fucking annoying..." Your best friend, Jieun took a deep breath.

"Who?- Hyunwook?" you proceed to look at her then at Hyunwook who was sitting down eating his lunch with his friends.

"Yes, but I'm going to add his friends too. Like why do you have to act all "bad boy" and shit all the time... Do they not get bored of it?" she spoke.

You find your gaze drifting over to Hyunwook and his friends. They are in their element: relaxed, confident, and utterly in control of their own little world.

Amidst this familiar rhythm of teasing and laughter, Hyunwook’s gaze wanders across the room and catches you. In that split second, the clamor around you seems to fade as Hyunwook’s cool, unyielding stare locks onto yours. In his mind, you’re simply another girl among many who think they can unravel the enigma of his notorious charm. That inner thought that this was merely a game, a temporary amusement to occupy a spare moment reminded him why he kept his distance when it came to real feelings. In his eyes, engaging with you was as simple as playing his part in a well-rehearsed act; a game where he could flirt, charm, and then retreat into the shadows of his calculated existence. And as you met his gaze, the silent conversation of attraction and indifference continued a dangerous dance where, to him, every glance was just another move, and every interested look another piece to be used in his perpetual game.

A faint, almost imperceptible smirk plays on his lips, a mixture of amusement and confidence. At that moment, his friends catch the exchange. There’s an unspoken understanding among them: your lingering look isn’t the first, and by the glances exchanged, it’s certainly not the last. Their reaction is light-hearted but laced with the same cocky assurance that defines their reputation. They lean back in their seats, still laughing.

You lower your gaze, Hyunwook's eyes observe you for a few more seconds before looking away.

---

Minho, Taewoo, and Hyunwook walked down the street after school.

"I have an idea for a bet." Taewoo smiled wide, his eyes directly looking at Hyunwook.

Minho took a deep breath knowing that the "idea" was probably something involving other people and their feelings.

"That quiet girl Y/N. I bet you to make her fall in love with you, if you win then you get that crown of being a charmer, the best one, BUT if you lose you have to pay us lunch every day for 7 days straight!"

"Yah Taewoo, why such childish ideas? It's not fun to play with the feelings of other people." Minho stopped walking just staring at him. Hyunwook was suprised by the offensive response.

"Minho- Since when do you care about other people's feelings?" Taewoo spreads his hands

"I'll do it." Hyunwook’s response is as cool and detached as always. He gives a barely perceptible smirk—an ironic acknowledgment of the challenge—and casually agrees, convinced it’s all just another way to show off his irresistible allure.

"Hyunwook that is the most stupid bet I've heard. SO fucking stupid." Minho said with a serious tone.

"Jesus Christ, acting like fucking kids... The pride-" Minho kept on walking talking to himself. The rest of the boys knew he would brag on about that mostly till the bet wasn't over, but they were used to him being the way he was.

---

The next morning you woke up earlier, like every day just to write in your journal. As you scribble in gentle, heartfelt lines, you're filled with a calm hope—a simple ritual that always sets the tone for what’s to come. Soon after, you got dressed up, ready to leave. Jieun got ready. The two of you shared a dorm, which was fun.

The two of you share smiles and light conversations as you walk to school.

You’re walking down the hallway, minding your own business, when suddenly a sharp shoulder check. Hyunwook strides past you without a glance, his presence overwhelming, his indifference absolute. Your books nearly slip from your grasp, and for a second, you expect him to turn around, maybe mutter a half-hearted apology.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he keeps walking, hands shoved into his pockets, posture relaxed as if nothing happened. His friends barely acknowledge the moment, laughing at some inside joke, their voices carrying down the corridor.

You stand there, stunned, watching his retreating figure.

And yet, despite the irritation bubbling in your chest, you can’t ignore the way your pulse quickens.

You tell yourself it’s just frustration that the heat rising to your cheeks is nothing more than annoyance. But deep down, there’s something else. Something unsettling. Something that makes you wonder if he did it on purpose.

After a few classes, you met up with Jieun and told her about the "hallway situation" between Hyunwook and you.

"Y/N. It's on purpose. BUT only because he's a dick." Jieun grabbed you by the arms, staring down your soul.

"Please don't think anything of it." she added and you nodded your head. Jieun smiled took your hand in hers and led you towards the cafeteria to eat something.

Lunch is loud, chaotic, and filled with the usual chatter. You sit with Jieun, who’s ranting about something trivial, but your attention keeps drifting to him. Hyunwook and his crew sit a few tables away, laughing, eating, completely at ease in their own world.

Then, as if sensing your gaze, he looks up.

It’s not a soft, curious glance—it’s sharp, knowing, almost amused. His lips curl into the faintest smirk, and for a second, it feels like he’s daring you to keep looking. His friends notice too, exchanging glances, their expressions laced with cocky amusement.

Jieun scoffs beside you. “Seriously? What’s so special about them?”

You quickly look away, heat rising to your cheeks. But Hyunwook? He leans back in his chair, still watching, still smirking—like he knows exactly what he’s doing.

And the worst part? It's working.

It’s after the last class, and the hallway is quieter than usual. Everyone already rushed home. You stayed behind finishing some schoolwork before leaving too.

You walk down the hallway towards your locker, leaving the books and supplies you don't need anymore when suddenly you feel a presence behind you.

You turn, and there he is.

Hyunwook leans against the lockers beside yours, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you with that same cool indifference. Then, as you fumble with your books, he lets out a low chuckle.

“You always staring at me for a reason?”

Your breath catches. His tone is teasing, but there’s something else beneath it—something calculated. He’s testing you, waiting to see how you’ll react.

You want to say something sharp, something dismissive, but the words don’t come. Instead, you feel the weight of his gaze pressing into you, making it impossible to think straight.

Before you can respond, he pushes off the lockers and walks away, leaving you standing there, heart pounding, mind racing.

---

All these encounters with Hyunwook left you questioning everything. You felt confused, not knowing why yesterday he wasn't speaking to you, or ever did and now is fully paying attention towards you.

Jieun told you about a party that Taewoo was throwing this Saturday. You actually wanted to go and have fun. You love going out in general, whether that be a party or going to a club, karaoke room, or anything- you love it.

---

A soft golden light spills through the window as you both get ready. Jieun, ever the practical one but with a sparkle of excitement in her eyes, chats animatedly while applying just a touch of makeup. You choose your outfit for the party. Makeup and hair was already in place.

Pushing open the door to Taewoo’s home, you are swept into a warm and eclectic atmosphere. The living room is transformed into a riot of laughter and music, where clusters of friends mingle under soft ambient lighting. A myriad of conversations float through the air, punctuated by bursts of infectious, carefree laughter. Friends greet each other with ease, and the unchecked energy of the space invites you to surrender, if just for tonight, to the spontaneous magic of the evening.

At the party, the atmosphere hums with a vibrant mix of neon lights, pulsing music, and the low murmur of conversations. The living room is awash with shifting colors, and every corner feels charged with youthful energy. In the midst of it all, Hyunwook stands by the kitchen island. Though he’s had a few drinks, his posture remains impeccable, each movement measured to exude that signature cool detachment. His dark eyes are sharpened by the dim glow of multicolored lights, and despite the warm flush that hints at his inebriated state, he clings stubbornly to his notorious cool vibe.

Across the room, your gaze wanders, and in a heartbeat, you catch him looking back. At that moment, it’s as if the chaos of the party recedes into a blur. For Hyunwook, that glance is merely another move in his unending game—a fleeting spark of challenge mixed with a dash of amusement. His lips twitch into a barely noticeable smirk, betraying the playful glint in his eyes as he acknowledges your stare. Even with the slight looseness in his demeanor from the drinks, every detail remains meticulously calculated. He tilts his head just so, as if daring you silently: “Is that your curiosity, or merely a passing glance?”

For you, the encounter is electric. Your heart flutters unpredictably—a cocktail of irritation at his habitual indifference and an undeniable, burning attraction that flares like wildfire inside you. Normally calm and straightforward, with a quiet vulnerability that you wear like a secret, you find your mind racing. In that suspended moment, as the bass of the music pulses around you both, the silence seems to grow thicker. Hyunwook’s gaze lingers a fraction too long, his expression a mix of nonchalant amusement and something else he refuses to name.

Later in the night, the party's energy simmered into an intimate glow as the crowd ebbed and flowed. In a moment of unexpected isolation beside a shadowed corner of the lounge area, Hyunwook stepped closer. The space between you shrank until you could feel his cool breath against your ear. Without breaking the intense gaze that tethered you both, he leaned in so close that you were forced to confront the raw magnetism in his eyes. Then, in a tone that was both teasing and chillingly impersonal, he murmured, "I wonder if you’re really immune to all this, or if you just hide behind your innocence."

His dark eyes glimmered with mischievous defiance as he regarded you, the words lingering in the space between you two. For a heartbeat, the noisy party receded into an intimate silence where every heartbeat and exhaled breath seemed magnified.

Your eyes widened in shock, caught off-guard by his boldness. The intensity of his gaze left you momentarily speechless—a mix of nervous excitement and utter bewilderment flooding through you.

Just as you began to process his words, a rough hand clapped down on his shoulder. Hyunwook’s gaze faltered for only a split second as his friends—Minho with a sly grin and Taewoo beaming with boisterous energy—shouted over the music.

“Come on, man, beer pong doesn’t wait!”

Their laughter and jovial shouts cut sharply through the intimate tension that had built between you.

Reluctantly, Hyunwook tore his attention away from you. He offered one last, lingering look towards you.

As he disappeared into the bustling crowd, you were left standing with a racing heart, conflicted and intrigued, the echo of his teasing words mingling with the vibrant chaos of the night.

Into the night, the boys played beer pong with lots of people around the table just watching them.

After the beer pong game winds down, the party pulses with renewed energy, freshly loosened inhibitions mixing with raucous laughter and the bass of loud, upbeat music. Taewoo, ever the instigator and pulse of the evening, clambers up onto a low table with a playful flourish. His eyes dart around the room, and with a wide, mischievous grin, he grabs the attention of the gathering crowd.

"Alright, everyone!" he bellows, his voice rising above the chatter. "Who’s ready for a classic challenge? Who wants to play 7 Minutes in Heaven?"

“Here’s how it goes: I’ve got a hat here with everyone’s name on a little card. I’ll draw two names, and that pair gets to step into the ‘heaven’—our little private booth—for seven minutes of… well, you decide what to do with the time.” Taewoo’s eyes flicked mischievously over the crowd

“Whether it’s secrets, laughs, or even a little dare, you fulfill your time in the dark corner and then come back to show us what a little closeness can spark.” he added.

A murmur of excitement ran through the room as everyone eyed the hat and exchanged daring glances.

Taewoo reached into the hat with a flourish. The suspense built as he drew two cards, his eyes widening ever so slightly before he announced, “Our first person is... Hyunwook!" Taewoo smiled and took another paper out

"And the person going with him is... Y/N." his eyes scan the room to find you standing in the back of the crowd. His smile widens.

Hyunwook, already flushed from a few drinks yet maintaining that renowned coolness, lifted his gaze. His eyes met yours—a spark of cocky amusement mingled with an unreadable challenge. You felt a sudden, disorienting mix of nerves and anticipation as the reality of the draw sunk in.

Before you could fully process it, Taewoo shouted good-naturedly, “Come on, you two—7 minutes awaits in the closet!”

"You going?" Hyunwook stood by your side sharing eye contact.

"Y-yeah.." you spoke.

Hyunwook and you were gently ushered away from the pulsating crowd, leaving behind a room filled with curious whispers and expectant laughter.

Stepping into the cramped closet, the raucous party sounds quickly faded into a whisper behind the closed door. The space was small and dimly lit by a single weak bulb swinging overhead. In that sudden isolation, every heartbeat seemed amplified, and the charged air between you both became almost tangible.

Your palms grew slightly damp as you tried to steady your racing thoughts. His eyes, dark and intensely focused on you, held a challenge and a tenderness you hadn’t expected. Hyunwook moved closer with a deliberate slowness that contradicted his usual confident, almost rehearsed nature.

“Relax,” he murmured with a teasing tone, his voice low and unexpectedly gentle. His hand traced the lines of your face. He felt how nervous you were, and heard your quick breath.

With a deliberate, almost teasing slowness, his fingertips brush lightly along your wrist—as if testing whether your skin will respond to his touch. The contact is brief but electrifying; your pulse quickens, and a quiet shiver of anticipation runs through you.

You offer a small, challenging smile.

“Always so subtle,” you tease back in a hushed tone, your voice mingling curiosity with a trace of defiance. His lips quirk into that signature smirk—a blend of cool assurance and hidden playfulness—and he responds, “Maybe subtlety has its own charm,” his voice low enough to seem meant only for your ears.

He leaned in close, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours, and pressed his lips against yours. Soon after the kiss turned into making out.

Your breathing was erratic and shallow like you couldn’t catch your breath.

“Do I make you nervous, maybe?” he said tilting his head, giving you a long peck on your lips.

“No.” you stuttered out.

His hand runs slowly down your body, cold fingertips touching your warm skin of your thigh.

“You’re lying.” He said with his hands now pulling up on your ass under your skirt.

He began to kiss your neck. You couldn't take it anymore. A rush of confidence, lust, and desire washed over you. You reach between you two and pull Hyunwook's shirt over his head. You run your hands down his body, to his pants. Hyunwook pulled away, taking your top and bra off, exposing your breasts. He started working his hand around your breast, kissing your neck. Your nipples hardened. A small moan escapes your lips. Leaning a little closer you started to rub his cock through his pants.

You could feel his warm breath against your skin as he kissed your collarbone, then your breast.

Your moaning gave him the confidence. Hyunwook reached under your skirt, under your waistband. He started with a light rub over your pussy lips, still playing with your breasts and nipples with his other hand. After a while, he separated your pussy lips and found your clit. His middle and ring finger found their way into your pussy, caressing your inner walls. He started slow and began to get faster and faster. You didn't even realize you were moving your body to the rhythm of his fingers. You felt like he could read your body, know exactly how your body would react to each movement in ways you couldn't even know. You were now moaning so loud, that you had forgotten there were people in the next room. You kept expecting to peak, but you just kept climbing higher. Hyunwook's hand reached your mouth, covering it. Keeping you quiet.

"Hyunwook- Fuck- I need you now" you spoke, Hyunwook kissed you hard, his hands making you turn around quickly. Your hands are placed on the wall.

In a second he pulled his pants and boxers down. Quickly his hands pulled your panties down. Your ass naturally pointing out, your legs parted more wanting him, eager to feel him.

Hyunwook placed his cock at your warm entrance. He pushed inside, letting out a groan. His hands grabbed your waist and pulled you back even more. Your eyes close shut, and you bite your lip. He felt so good inside you.

"Oh fuck..." Hyunwook said

Hyunwook fucked you hard and fast. Your head felt like it was floating above the clouds. He stretched you out with each trust. He pressed down with his fingers splayed against your skin, thrusting into you deeper so you could really feel every long, delectable inch of him within you, and the added pressure made your head spin and your walls clamp down on him.

“Oh, fuck–” you moaned wantonly.

“Shit– I’m close, I’m so close–”

Beyond your moans of encouragement, there wasn’t much else you could say. Hyunwook took your motivating sounds in stride though, keeping one hand clamped around your neck securely as the other held onto your waist, pulling you close.

Holding your hips downward in place as your walls clenched and shuddered around Hyunwook’s cock. Your breaths became short, pitchy gasps as you recovered, your body thoroughly exhausted. You turned around towards Hyunwook, he was already getting ready, putting his clothes back on. You did the same not knowing how to feel in this exact moment.

You could hear Taewoo's voice shouting that the 7 minutes were over.

Hyunwook opened the door of the closet, just leaving without saying a word to you.

After leaving the closet, you stepped back into the noisy party with a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The memory of Hyunwook’s cool touch, a kiss, and feeling him inside you left you feeling both excited and confused—almost as if nothing truly happened, yet everything felt shifted. Every time you caught his eye in the crowd, there was a flicker of that intense moment, but his usual cool, distant manner.

Questions swirl in your thoughts: How did everything escalate so fast? Was that passionate closeness genuine, or just another game to him? You can’t predict what comes next for either of you. The future feels like an empty canvas, and you’re not sure if it’s meant to be painted with more shared sparks, or if this was just a brief, solitary flash in an otherwise predictable pattern.

For Hyunwook, the party resumes as if nothing changed. But later, in the quiet of his own home, he can’t seem to shake the memory of your kiss and touch—an unexpected intrusion into his well-guarded world. While you remain uncertain, your heart heavy with the conflicting sensations of desire and detachment, he wrestles with an unfamiliar longing that quietly grows each time he thinks back.

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