#lee Chaeyoung smut

[jupiterpilgrim]

Beneath the Quirky Petals

Lee Chaeyoung x male reader

word count: 13K

You're at home, sinking into the leather couch while your brain is still trying to detach from the numbers, charts, and spreadsheets that the finance department throws at you like a machine gun loaded with pure bureaucracy.

A toast to surviving another week.

You pop open a beer can with the most satisfying sound you've heard all day. Friday night. No charts. No reports. No one-

The doorbell rings.

You freeze, the beer halfway to your lips. Who the hell shows up at your house on a Friday night? The delivery guy already came by, and your Chinese food is in the kitchen.

Maybe it's a neighbor?

Curious, but low on patience, you open the door. And that's when reality seems to collapse, because what you see doesn't make any sense. It's Lee Chaeyoung, popularly known as the weird girl from the finance department. And she's standing right there in front of you, holding a ridiculously colorful bouquet of flowers and a... box of chocolates?

"Surprise!" she exclaims, a big smile on her face.

Your brain blue-screens.

Surprise? That's the word she chose? Because you can think of several others: confusion, fear, panic - all of which seem way more appropriate. But you keep your composure, at least on the surface.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, trying not to sound like a malfunctioning robot. It's 8 PM on a Friday, and this is definitely not on your schedule.

She smiles again, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I came to confess my feelings!"

Ah, of course, she came to confess her feelings.

Because that's totally what you do to a coworker you've barely exchanged more than "good morning" or discusses work formalities. You feel your mouth open and close, desperately trying to summon words that make sense.

You fail miserably.

She doesn’t wait for rational responses. She simply walks in, as if your house is hers, handing you the bouquet of flowers and the box of chocolates like she’s offering you a promotion to Love of My Life™.

You look at the flowers, then at the chocolates, then at her. “What’s all this?” The question slips out before you can filter it.

“It’s for you, of course!” she says with a creepy sweetness. “Do you like it?”

“Err, sure…” you reply, with a smile more fake than your boss’s expense reports. You set everything down on a table, your hand discreetly reaching for your phone in your pocket. “Loved it…”

As she continues to ramble on about how you two have so much to talk about, you open one of the chat groups (the one reserved only for questionable banter) with the most evil creatures you know - your coworkers.

Your fingers fly across the keyboard:

"HELP!! LEE CHAEYOUNG IS AT MY HOUSE WITH FLOWERS AND CHOCOLATE!!!! SOS!!"

“I already know everything,” she says, grinning from ear to ear.

You freeze. You think your ears must be playing tricks on you. "Know everything about what?"

She giggles, the lightest, most annoyingly satisfied laugh you've ever heard. "You don’t have to hide anymore, silly, the feeling is mutual."

Right.

This.

Is.

Happening.

You force a smile that probably looks more like a grimace and try again, like you're talking to a very confused child. "I don’t know what you’re talking about, Chaeyoung."

She raises an eyebrow, as if you're the weird one here. "The guys in the department told me everything. I know you’re in love with me."

And at that exact moment, your phone vibrates with the fury of a thousand demons. You glance at the group chat. Messages are pouring in, a flurry of "lol" and laughing emojis. And that's when the truth stabs into your brain like a dagger: they set you up.

The bastards planned this.

“Who told you that?” Your voice comes out hoarse, like you've swallowed a cactus.

“Hmm, pretty much everyone in the finance department, and a few people from HR.”

You gulp. And that’s the closest you’ve ever come to a heart attack.

Chaeyoung tilts her head, her eyes sparkling with unshakable sweetness. “I... didn't expect you of all people to fall for me.” She says this with a tone of shyness that’s supposed to melt hearts. But yours, right now, is pounding so hard it feels like it might break through your chest and run for the door.

You’re about to say something - anything to get out of this mess - when she continues. “I guess now I can be honest and say I haven’t been able to take my eyes off you since I joined the company.” She brushes her hair aside, clearly rehearsing what’s coming next. “You were one of the few people who tried to help me fit in. I’m really grateful for that.”

That last part hits you like a metal bar to the face. Because, yeah, you helped her out. But only because... well, it’s what you do. You were kind to her like you would’ve been to any other lost newbie in the corporate jungle. But now that you think about it, you realize the only person she's remotely close to at the company is you.

And, worth noting, looking at Chaeyoung now, outside of work, she seems… different. Even… put together. And pretty. Not the same clumsy Chaeyoung you bump into at the printer every day.

"Hmm... Want a beer?" you ask, because when your brain’s about to explode, your body decides beer is the solution to absolutely everything.

“Oh, sure, I love beer,” she replies, sitting down on the couch and placing her little purse on the coffee table.

You head to the kitchen, still dazed. You grab another beer. The sound of the can opening feels like a muffled cry for help. When you return to the living room, there she is, sitting peacefully, looking around. “Your place is really nice,” she comments. “So neat. I figured it would be, it matches your personality.”

You hand her the beer and sit down, wishing the couch would swallow you whole. Maybe, if you sit still enough, the universe will decide none of this is happening, and you’ll be back to a Friday night of just beer and silence. But no. Chaeyoung is there, on your couch, and she brought you a bouquet of flowers that you have no idea what to do with (do you need to water those?).

“So…” you try to start, but your mind is emptier than a ghost town. "What exactly do you think we’re talking about here?"

She smiles, that shy smile that makes you want to look anywhere but at her face. "I already said. The guys in the finance department told me you're in love with me."

You feel sweat trickle down the back of your neck, but you keep smiling. It’s the smile of a man walking straight toward a cliff, knowing it’s there. "Oh, they said that, did they?"

"Yeah," she nods eagerly. "It wasn’t just one person, practically all your friends confirmed it. They said you were just too shy to confess."

Shy.

The word floats through your mind like a bad joke.

"Look," you say, choosing your words like you're defusing a bomb, "this seems like a huge misunderstanding."

She blushes, her cheeks turning pink as if just talking about feelings is enough to trigger a nervous breakdown. "I... I know it seems strange. I mean, I never expected you to fall for me." She looks down, nervously fiddling with her hair. "You're the type of guy that all the girls in the department notice, you know? I thought... why me?"

“Why you?” you repeat, stunned. She’s talking like you’re some kind of soap opera heartthrob, when in reality most of your days are spent trying to figure out whether it’s time to replace the printer or if it’s just out of toner.

She smiles again, a small, shy smile, almost as if she’s apologizing for existing. "It’s just... I’m not like the other girls in the office, right? Saerom is so confident. And Jisun, she’s always so put together, knows how to talk to everyone. I'm not like that."

You don’t disagree.

Because, well, she is weird. But, for some reason, that weirdness now feels a lot less annoying than it does at the office. Maybe it’s the fact that, outside the corporate setting, she actually made an effort. Her hair is down, styled, without the usual scrunchies. The dress is simple, but... it works.

“I never thought someone like you…” she continues, clearly uncomfortable, “could like someone like me."

You almost laugh, because the irony of all this is that you’re not in love. But now, suddenly, the idea of someone like you falling for her doesn’t seem as absurd as it did twenty minutes ago.

She actually seems like a pretty dateable girl at this point.

“Chaeyoung,” you begin, and it comes out softer than you expected. "I’m just a regular guy. I’m not exactly the Prince Charming they’ve made me out to be."

"I know, but… you were the only one who was kind to me from the start. You always helped me with the reports, even when I didn’t know what I was doing. And I… well, I like you too."

And that’s when you feel a slight tightening in your chest. Because, unlike everything else, this feels genuine. It’s not your coworkers' prank, not the misunderstanding about you being in love. It’s Chaeyoung, the girl everyone calls weird, admitting she likes you. And somehow, that makes you want to rethink your whole life. You never participated in the jokes about her, and when they threw the ball your way, you just stayed silent. But you also never cared enough to do anything about it. In a way, you were complicit, and now, for some reason, it’s making you feel bad.

“I’m still so impressed with your house. It’s exactly how I imagined it would be, you know? Neat, elegant. It suits you.”

“Suits me?” You chuckle, because the idea that your house suits you means you must be the most generic person in the world.

“Yes!” she replies, excited. “You’re always so organized at work, always knowing what to do. I kind of… admire that… in a man.”

Now you’re treading dangerous ground, and you internally question if maybe you’ve been a bit too nice.

As she looks at you with those big, hopeful eyes, you realize you’re back at square one. What do you say now? How do you break the fantasy she’s built without breaking her along with it? A headache starts to form, not one that builds slowly, but one that hits you like a megaphone blast. You’re trying to pretend nothing’s out of control.

But it is.

“How did you get my address, Chaeyoung?” you ask, trying to sound calm.

“Oh, it was your friend, the one with the loud laugh,” she answers innocently.

Of course. Him. The idiot with the laugh that sounds like a train on fire. Internally, you promise that, at the next happy hour, you’re going to strangle him with a phone charger cable.

You take a deep breath, trying to choose your words very, very carefully. “Look, Chaeyoung... I think there’s been a big misunderstanding here-”

“It’s okay! You don’t have to run from what you’re feeling.”

You blink a few times, trying to process what she just said. “I… what?”

She looks even more excited now, like she’s at an amusement park and you’re the main attraction. “I’m so happy about all of this. It’s a little embarrassing to say out loud, but you’re going to be my first boyfriend!”

That catches you off guard in a way even the cruelest budget spreadsheets couldn’t. “First?” you repeat, the word coming out more like a confused echo.

She nods, looking a bit shy now. “Yeah... I’ve never dated before. Guys never paid attention to me, you know? From high school till now.” She looks away, sadness creeping into her voice like a shadow.

Damn. That hits you hard. A part of you feels a pang in your chest. You try to be kind – as always.

“Hey, Chae, you look... really nice today.”

Her face lights up, practically filling the room with her smile. “Really? You like it? And my dress, do you like it too?!” She stands up from the couch and does an awkward little twirl, like she’s showing off a wedding gown.

“Yeah, yeah,” you reply, not thinking much. “It’s lovely.”

She stares at you, her eyes shining like two stars about to collide. “I know you've probably heard this a lot, but you're so beautiful. The most handsome man in the office!”

You swallow hard again, feeling your throat dry as a desert. “I… Look, I’m not sure what to do… I didn’t have plans for tonight.”

“This is perfect! Just being with you is enough.”

Now, the desperation starts crawling down your spine, spiraling. You’re in a pit, and the more you move, the deeper you sink. The phone in your pocket keeps vibrating with your friends laughing virtually.

How do you get out of this?

“Are you really staying here?” you ask, awkwardly, unsure if you even want the answer.

She smiles, content. “Of course! We’re getting to know each other better now, aren’t we? That’s important for... our future together.”

Suddenly, she lifts her nose and sniffs the air like a puppy smelling steak. “What’s that? It smells so good.”

You feel your last thread of hope shatter. “Oh, that’s... Chinese food. I was thinking of eating it later.”

Her eyes light up again. “I love Chinese food!”

You look at the floor, the flowers, anything but her, and finally surrender to the tide that’s drowning you. “Err, wanna… share?”

She smiles, genuinely happy, as if this is the night of her dreams.

And you, well, you’re going to need more beer.

As you drag yourself to the kitchen, you feel the weight of the situation piling on your back. The microwave beeps, and all you can think is how it’s mirroring your brain: spinning in circles, overheating, and on the verge of exploding. Suddenly, Chaeyoung’s voice cuts through the silence from the living room, terribly cheerful, of course:

“I remember my first week at the company! Gosh, I was so lost, but you were amazing. Remember? When I stood by the coffee machine, trying to figure it out? And then you showed me the right button! It was so obvious after you explained it! You’re so good with that kind of thing.”

You’re tapping your chopsticks on the counter while glancing at your phone, checking the friends - or traitors - group. It’s chaos. A sea of messages. “HAHAHA dude, you’re FUCKED,” “new couple in the department?” and the inevitable flood of “congrats!” You type quickly: "THIS WILL HAVE REVENGE!!"

Chaeyoung continues, her voice full of admiration. “And that day when you helped me set up the emails, remember? I was SO confused with the passwords, and you explained it so patiently. You have this way of speaking that… it’s so calming, you know? Like you have everything under control all the time. It’s adorable.”

Adorable. That word echoes in your mind as you pretend to focus on the chow mein, trying to ignore the fact that your friends are turning the group chat into a stand-up comedy show at your expense. The phone buzzes again. “GO GET LUCKY, CHOSEN ONE” flashes on the screen, and you sigh, tapping your chopsticks on the kitchen counter. “All of you, DIE!”

“Oh, and I’ll never forget when you helped me with that mess at the copier!” Chaeyoung now seems to be narrating the greatest hits of your life, as if every moment was a milestone of heroic kindness. “You just pressed a few buttons, and suddenly the machine stopped choking on the paper. I was so impressed! And that serious look you had, like you knew exactly what you were doing… it’s so… cute!”

Cute. Of course.

Now, besides being the victim of a coldly calculated prank, you’re cute. While the rice continues to warm up, you open your phone again. Your friends are losing their minds laughing. “She’s already at your place, bro, it’s happening!” “Go for it with the weird girl!!” and “Is her dress sexy? Lol”. Your fingers fly across the keyboard: Seriously, FUCK YOU ALL!!!

Chaeyoung is still in the living room, completely oblivious to the mental storm you’re going through. “You’re always so… grounded, you know? Even when we’re in the middle of crazy deadlines, you never seem stressed. I find that amazing. Sometimes I watch you at your desk, the way you press the keys on your keyboard, so focused... It’s like you have a superpower!” She laughs at herself, that light, childish laugh that makes you feel like you’re in a rom-com scene – one you never wanted to be in.

You open the microwave, steam rising in slow waves. “You know, Chaeyoung? I just… do what everyone does at work. There’s nothing special about it,” you shout from the kitchen, trying to bring some reality to the conversation.

“Oh, but you are special!” Her voice returns with renewed enthusiasm, as if she’d been waiting for that cue. “Most people don’t even notice, but I see how much you care about the details. Like when you organize your desk! I love how your papers are always stacked neatly, the post-its all lined up. And that basic black mousepad? It’s so you.”

You rub your face, trying to process how your life came to this: your silent obsession with organization becoming the object of romantic fascination. All you wanted was to eat Chinese food in peace and maybe watch something mindless on TV.

The phone buzzes again, and you glance quickly. A meme of a wedding ring with the caption “Tonight’s the night.” You grit your teeth, but before you can respond, Chaeyoung appears in the kitchen doorway, smiling.

“Did you know you’re the only one who always says good morning to everyone when you come into the office?” She walks closer, holding a pillow like it’s some emotional prop. “I noticed that since day one. It’s the kind of thing that makes a big difference, you know? Little gestures like that… they mean a lot to me.”

“Yeah… I just try to be polite.”

She smiles as if it’s the greatest declaration of love ever made. You head back to the living room, placing the food on the coffee table, seeing no other way out, and murmur a final silent prayer: that fate, karma, or whoever is in charge might have mercy on your soul.

—

Somehow, you’re now sitting in your armchair, watching Babe on streaming. You’re not entirely sure how you got here. One minute, you were sharing Chinese food with a slightly unhinged coworker, and the next, she was excitedly explaining how this was her absolute favorite movie ever.

And, of course, Babe is now playing on your TV, while Chaeyoung sits on your couch, completely at home, narrating the movie as if you were blind and deaf.

"This part is so cute!" she exclaims as Babe tries to herd the sheep. "Look how determined he is! I love how he never gives up, you know? He reminds me of myself!"

You barely had time to grab a second beer before realizing, yeah, this is your night now: you, Chaeyoung, Babe, and the creeping feeling that reality is unraveling around you. With each new scene, she adds commentary, providing deep analysis of the pig’s nearly tragic determination.

"I related so much to Babe because he’s small and out of place, you know? Kind of like me at the company. No one expected anything from me. But I also want to herd my sheep someday!"

You blink slowly. "Uh… yeah, I can see the comparison."

"Right?" She’s thrilled, completely absorbed in the movie and her esoteric life metaphors. The movie plays on, and you try to focus on the pig, hoping he'll herd some clarity into your own situation.

Then, without warning, she gives you that look again - the dangerous one you don’t dare hold for too long. "Hey, why are you sitting over there in the armchair? Come sit on the couch."

You freeze for a second. The armchair, now that you think about it, feels like your last bastion of emotional safety. The couch is the battlefield, and she’s calling you to the front lines. "Oh, no, I’m fine here," you reply, trying to be polite but sounding like someone who just saw a ghost.

"Seriously? Come on, the couch is way comfier. It’ll be fun, we can watch together!"

The word together echoes in your mind like the sound of a giant hammer about to fall. You pretend to think about it for a moment, as if you still had a choice. "Alright, sure," you finally say, getting up with all the enthusiasm of someone walking to the electric chair.

You sit on the farthest corner of the couch, as far from her as you can without being rude. Okay, you think, this isn’t so bad. But then, little by little, she starts edging closer. First, she leans slightly toward the middle. Then, without ceremony, she practically leaps from one cushion to the next.

The proximity is becoming undeniable. You can almost feel the warmth of her beside you. And, of course, she keeps narrating the movie as if nothing else in the world mattered but Babe and his adventures.

"This is the part where Maa dies mutilated by dogs! I always cry here," she says with a sad expression.

Meanwhile, you feel a tear forming inside - not for the Maa, but for the situation that spiraled out of control long ago.

She glances at you, and you try to focus on the movie, but now it’s impossible to ignore how close she is. Until, suddenly, she leans her head on your shoulder. Gently at first, testing your reaction. And you, with the grace of a wooden post, sit there frozen, trying not to look like a department store mannequin.

"This is so nice, isn’t it?" she murmurs, her eyes still on the screen, but her voice soft, almost too sweet.

"Yeah… the pig. It’s… cool." You can’t even form coherent sentences anymore, feeling like the trap has fully closed around you. She’s there, nestled against you, and you’re more trapped than ever in this bizarre night.

Hours pass, and the movie finally ends with Babe herding his sheep like an unlikely hero. Chaeyoung jumps up from the couch, clapping her hands like she’s in a theater. Her eyes are shining, completely caught up in the emotion of the moment.

"Bravo! Best movie ever!" she exclaims, grinning from ear to ear. You, sitting on the couch, can’t help but chuckle. She really is a character.

Who claps while watching a streaming movie at home?

She turns to you, full of expectation. "So? What did you think? Isn’t it just wonderful?"

You allow yourself to relax a little, shrugging playfully. "It’s a fun movie, for sure… But, so, what are we watching tomorrow? Garfield?"

You threw the comment out there with a hint of sarcasm, certain she’d catch the joke. But, as with everything tonight, Chaeyoung takes it the wrong way.

"Garfield?! I love Garfield!" she exclaims with an enthusiasm you’d never associate with a conversation about Garfield. "We’re totally watching that tomorrow! I knew we had so much in common!" Before you can even open your mouth to clarify, she’s already hugging you with such excitement that you almost trip. "We were made for each other!" she murmurs, her face pressed against your chest.

And there you are, being squeezed by someone’s unshakeable devotion, who clearly didn’t catch the joke. Worse, you are starting to feel unwell. Not for the hug - though that’s plenty awkward - but because, well, you don’t want to hurt her. Chaeyoung may be odd, but she doesn’t deserve to have her heart shattered over a cruel prank by your coworkers.

You clear your throat, uncomfortable. "So, Chaeyoung… it’s getting kinda late, right? Maybe you should… head home."

She releases the hug, stepping back a little, looking genuinely sad. "Wow, you’re right. I didn’t even notice how late it was," she says, biting her lip, clearly regretful about leaving.

You mutter something almost inaudible, like, "Me neither..." which, let’s be honest, could be interpreted in several ways. Before things can get any more awkward, you grab your phone and call her an Uber. While you wait in a slightly tense silence, Chaeyoung picks up the box of chocolates and offers you one.

"This one’s special. Try it," she says, smiling.

You take it, because, well, what else can you do at this point? You bite into the chocolate, and to your surprise: it’s incredible! The dark chocolate and creamy filling are like a gourmet explosion in your mouth.

"This is delicious!" you admit, genuinely impressed.

Chaeyoung’s eyes light up even more. "I made it myself!"

You really didn’t expect that. "Really? Wow, it’s perfect."

She beams, clearly flattered, and suddenly seems even prouder. "Now that we’re together, you’re going to have these every day! I’ll make you sweets all the time.”

You swallow hard, not because of the chocolate, but because, honestly, you didn't expect this level of commitment in any relationship, let alone one that started with a huge misunderstanding.

But before you can respond, the Uber driver honks outside.

Chaeyoung stands up, grabbing her bag and getting ready to leave, but suddenly stops at the door and turns to you with an almost childlike expression of expectation. "Wait, aren’t you going to kiss me?"

You're standing there, in your living room, and the world seems to have frozen at the exact moment Chaeyoung says something you never thought you'd hear.

The air gets heavy, as if someone suddenly turned off gravity. You look at her, blinking, almost waiting for it to be a joke, but the gleam in her eyes... that gleam of absolute expectation... suggests it’s not. What do you do now? Jumping out the window doesn’t seem practical, and no convincing excuse comes to mind, leaving you with only one option:

"Ah... yeah, sure..." you begin, but the words betray you. Your brain is already short-circuiting. You think about saying it's not a good idea, that this is all a mistake, that maybe she should think a bit more before asking questions that make you want to vanish. But before anything sensible comes out of your mouth, you sigh and slowly approach Chaeyoung. The sparkle in her eyes grows brighter, almost as if it's about to explode from sheer excitement. Your feet feel like they weigh a ton, and your mind is screaming a chorus of don’t do this, while your body, for some unfathomable reason, propels you forward.

You lean in, and for a second of pure eternity, you’re both just inches apart. Chaeyoung is still looking at you like she's waiting for you to recite some kind of vow. There’s no escaping this now.

Then, before your mind can stop you, you kiss her.

At first, it’s like kissing a wax statue. She’s completely still, tense, as if she doesn’t quite know what to do with her own lips. And for a terrible moment, you think you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. But then, slowly, she begins to relax. You feel her body soften, and the kiss, which initially felt so mechanical, starts turning into something… different.

Her hand unexpectedly rises to touch your arm, and you feel the warmth of her touch seep through your skin like static electricity. Without even realizing it, your own hand has slid to her waist, gently pulling her closer. Her perfume - a mix of something sweet and floral, maybe jasmine, maybe some kind of unknown magic - floods your senses, and for a moment, as absurd as it seems, the outside world completely disappears.

Chaeyoung is the first to pull away, her eyes still wide, as if she’s just reached nirvana. "That... that was amazing!" she says breathlessly, her voice full of awe.

You swallow. "Yeah... it was..." You try to find words, but your mind is still in a total void.

She smiles, so sweetly it’s almost disconcerting. "Did you know that was my first kiss?"

You freeze, the words first kiss echoing in your head like someone rang a giant bell beside you.

First kiss.

You just gave her her first kiss. And now, guilt starts flooding you. Because whatever this is, whatever is happening between you two, it definitely shouldn’t have gone this far.

And yet, here you are, with Chaeyoung still smiling, radiant like a ray of sunshine.

Before you can think of anything to say, the Uber’s horn blares outside again.

"Oh! The Uber!" she says, hurrying to the door, but before she leaves, she turns one last time with that spark in her eyes that makes you want to run to the other side of town. "I’ll come earlier tomorrow, okay? That way we can spend more time together! Thanks for the unforgettable night!"

And without waiting for a reply, she disappears through the door, leaving you standing there in the living room, trying to understand what on earth just happened.

—

You wake up Saturday to your phone vibrating on the nightstand. Still groggy, you glance at the screen. 6 new messages. All from Chaeyoung.

[08:22]

"Good morning! 🌞"

[08:23]

"Last night was magical... I can still feel your touch on my lips 💞"

[08:23]

"I can’t wait to see Garfield tonight!"

[08:24]

"Are you up yet? :)"

[08:40]

"Look at my scrambled eggs! 🍳"

(accompanied by a pic of... scrambled eggs, naturally).

[08:55]

"And my cat, Lily, is waiting to get to know you better! 🐱"

(a pic of her cat, apparently with no clue of what’s going on).

You sigh, rubbing your eyes to wake up fully. The day has barely started and Chaeyoung is already in fifth gear, ready to drag you along. But before you can come up with a response, your work group chat starts blowing up too. And now, less tired, you realize that it wasn't a good idea to tell the embarrassing details.

Strictly Serious and Professional Coworkers Group:

"GOOD MORNING LADIES!

Oh, especially to our Brad Pitt haha"

"By the way, how was the kiss? 😘"

"Does she already call you 'baby'??"

"I can't believe that even Chaeyoung is dating and I'm not 😂😂"

"Admit it, you’re in love!"

"Never thought I’d be excited for Monday"

You roll your eyes at the group messages, cursing your fate. "I need help, you guys took this way too far!" you type quickly.

“LOL chill, man, you’re in a rom-com!”

“Have you picked the wedding venue yet?”

“We helped you find the love of your life and this is how you thank us???”

“Hey, but seriously, take care of her, she seems really into you”

“Good luck, you’re gonna need it!”

“Is Garfield gonna be the best man?”

You put your phone down for a moment, hoping breakfast will bring some clarity. But the battle is only beginning. Chaeyoung keeps filling your inbox with updates about her morning, pictures of her next steps, and even a video of Lily scratching the couch.

Finally, you reply: "That’s nice, Chaeyoung. Have a great day!" She responds with a heart emoji.

The rest of the day passes agonizingly. Every half hour, a new message arrives. Pictures of her at the mall. Pictures of her eating ice cream. Pictures of Lily. She’s basically creating a diary just for you. You respond sporadically, with generic replies like "Cool" or "Cute cat," but without much enthusiasm. All in a desperate attempt not to encourage her even more.

Then, at 5:45 PM, you receive the most dreaded message: "I’ll be there at 7:00!!! :)"

You knew this moment was coming. You spent the whole day trying to come up with an excuse, and nothing brilliant struck your mind until this critical moment. But finally, you have an idea. The old, never-fail excuse: you’re going to say you’re sick.

"Ah, Chae… I think tonight’s going to be tricky. I’m not feeling well. I’ve got a fever and a headache"

You even add a sick emoji.

Who wouldn’t believe that?

Her reply comes almost instantly. "OMG!! What happened? Are you okay? Do you need me to bring medicine?"

"No need, I’ve already taken some. I just need to rest. We'll watch Garfield another day, I promise," you respond quickly, already feeling the vibe of a peaceful weekend.

"Aww, that’s a shame… I was so excited... :( Get better soon, sweetie 🥺"

You let out a long sigh of relief, finally thinking you're free, at least for a while. Silence falls like a comforting blanket over your house.

Peace at last.

Hours pass. You’re sitting on the couch, content, with a pizza, a cold beer, and a documentary about the Vietnam War on TV. Everything is as it should be, the natural order of things restored. Until… the doorbell rings.

You pause with the pizza halfway to your mouth.

"It can’t be her. I said I was sick."

Convinced it must be just a neighbor, you open the door with the skepticism of someone who’s seen too much of life.

But no, it’s not the neighbor.

It’s Chaeyoung.

And she’s holding a huge bag, with that cheerful smile like she’s been hired to keep you company in a cold medicine commercial.

"Surprise!" she says, walking through the door as if she already had a key. "I came to take care of you!"

Your mind freezes. For a second, you wonder if you’ve slipped into a parallel reality where "I’m sick" translates to "please come over and take care of me like I’ve broken both legs." She opens the bag and starts pulling out medicine, tissues, and even a thermos.

"I brought tea, meds, and I even made some soup!" She says it with the enthusiasm of someone who thinks they’re saving the day.

"Chaeyoung... you didn’t have to come..." you begin, trying to hide the confusion and panic already bubbling up inside you.

"Of course I did! What kind of girlfriend would I be if I didn’t take care of my baby?"

“Girlfriend?!”

Your brain almost short-circuits at that word.

"Yes! We’re in love with each other, we’re basically dating. You just need to make it official. And couples take care of each other!" She’s already taking off her coat and heading to the kitchen with the ease of someone in a '90s sitcom. "Don’t worry, I’ll handle everything. You just need to relax."

You’re left standing there in the living room, paralyzed. All you wanted was a quiet Saturday. Now, you're engulfed in the smell of soup and the absurd idea that you have a girlfriend who thinks Garfield and cold remedies are the foundation of a relationship.

She comes back with a steaming bowl of soup, handing it to you with a smile. "Here, love. This will make you feel better in no time!"

"Just… put the soup anywhere. I, uh, need to go to the bathroom real quick," you say, abruptly leaving the room.

You lock yourself in the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your pocket like a man on the edge of a breakdown. As the world outside gets increasingly... Chaeyoung, you open your friends' group chat, furiously typing:

"You're all dead. Every one of you!"

The reply comes in seconds, like hyenas circling a carcass.

"HAHAHAHA dude, you still haven't told her??"

"Seriously, someone help me. This girl’s completely in love, and it's getting out of hand. I can’t just tell her it was a prank, she'll be crushed"

"Imagine her face when she finds out, it’ll be like when Babe realizes he's NOT a herding dog"

"For the love of God, is anyone going to help me?"

A notification appears: Saerom was added to the group.

Great, Miss Nosy has entered the chat.

"I just found out what you guys did. You’re all jerks. Honestly, this prank went way too far!!"

You breathe a sigh of relief. An ally.

She continues:

"Don’t tell her it was a joke, or she’ll never step foot in the office again. You need to be more... gentle"

"Gentle? How am I supposed to be gentle?"

"Just make something up about being scarred by a past relationship, something unresolved. Say you like her but you're not ready"

"Past relationship? All my relationships were healthy... as much as they could be"

"Then use your imagination, genius. Lie and say it was traumatic. You need to talk to her before this gets out of control"

You thank her, knowing it’s going to be a disaster. But at least it’s a plan.

—

She takes another bite of your pizza, chewing absentmindedly while you take another spoonful of soup. The soup, to your surprise, isn’t bad. It's actually good, which only makes the situation more depressing. As you eat, your attention shifts to Chaeyoung, who’s happily nibbling the last slice of your pizza. You feel a pang of sadness and resignation; life really isn’t fair, but at least the soup is decent.

And then, out of nowhere, Chaeyoung starts talking about the past. Of course, she starts talking about the past, because what else did you need right now, besides a dive into emotional tragedies?

"You know," she says with a long sigh, as if recalling an old wound, "I was never one of those popular girls. Not in high school, not in college. I was always... invisible. Like, the kind of girl who’s in the group, but no one knows her name."

She leans in a little closer, her wide, bright eyes locked on you. "When I was in high school, there was a party that all the girls in my class were invited to. Me? Not even a mention. Not even an invitation. And the boys? They didn’t even know I existed. They were all more interested in the girls who wore lip gloss and knew how to walk in heels. I just... I just wanted someone, anyone, to notice me, you know?"

You feel the soup thickening in your mouth. "Yeah, I... I know what you mean." Of course, you know. Who doesn't? You’ve met plenty of girls like that, from middle school to high school.

But you also know that none of this is about you, so you swallow her sadness along with the soup.

"Then, in college, I thought things would change. I even made an effort, you know? I started dressing up more. I wore contacts instead of glasses. I tried to seem more... approachable? But guess what? Nothing changed." She shrugs, like she’s used to it, but you see a flash of pain in her smile. "I tried so hard to be nice to people, to be the perfect friend, the hardworking student... And I always ended up being the one who got forgotten when they made lunch plans after class. The other girls would get together to take cute pictures with their boyfriends, and me? Well, I took selfies with my cat."

You give a smile, and this time it’s not forced. There’s something genuine about the way she talks, a kind of sweet sincerity, even if a bit overdone. "Lily?"

She smiles. "Lily! Yeah. She’s the only one who’s been there for me, you know? Always listening, always understanding... She never judged me. And now, baby," - because of course, she keeps calling you that - "now I have you. And I never thought this would happen. I guess it was worth waiting all this time."

There’s something touching about all of this. What starts as a slight discomfort slowly turns into self-reflection. You always thought these stories were, deep down, about other people. But as she talks, you realize that maybe you understand exactly how she feels: that invisibility, the sense that the world keeps spinning without even noticing your presence.

And, before you know it, you start sharing a bit of your own past. Not the big details, but enough to fill the conversation. You talk about how quiet you were in school, how you had friends but were never the center of attention. "I was more the guy who stayed in the library while everyone else was playing basketball," you say.

She looks at you, almost shocked. "Really? You seem so... popular now. I mean, you talk to everyone at the office. People always listen to what you say."

You smile with a hint of irony. "I guess I learned to adapt."

"That’s amazing." Her eyes shine again, this time with genuine admiration. "I was never good at that. Adapting, I mean. That’s why it was so hard when I started at work... If you hadn’t been so kind to me at the beginning, I don’t even know how I would’ve managed."

And then, in a flash of courage you can’t quite understand, you let out a compliment. "You’re more adaptable than you think, Chae. And honestly, you look... really pretty today."

The smile she gives you could light up a stadium. "You really think so?”

"Yeah," you say, trying to keep your tone light, not wanting to put too much weight on the compliment, but already feeling the growing responsibility behind every word. "The makeup, the way you styled your hair. Everything."

She looks so radiant that you almost regret saying it. Almost. "Wow, you're the best! Seriously! I never thought a guy like you would even notice me. I know, for you, it must be normal to be... amazing." She looks down, her cheeks turning pink. "But for me, all of this is so new. It's like, all of a sudden, I’ve found... the perfect person."

Oh no.

The perfect person.

That phrase hits you like an invisible anvil.

Desperately searching for a way out, you look away. "Well, sometimes I think... a young bird shouldn't be trapped in a cage." You start rambling, hoping the metaphor will get through to her, but she just blinks, confused. "You know," you continue, already sweating internally, "birds should fly free, explore the world."

She nods, smiling. "Oh, yes, I totally agree! I think cages are cruel. I would never keep a bird trapped. They need to be free." And there goes your metaphor. You try to force a laugh, but it sounds like the creak of an old, rusty door. "Everyone should realize that, it's so obvious." Chaeyoung smiles, fully absorbed in her own romantic vision of things. "Like I was saying, I’ve found my person. And now, with you, I feel like I can finally be myself."

“Err, excuse me for a second,” you say, standing up from the couch, “I need to go to the bathroom.”

The tiled walls around you feel like the only safe place in the house. A precious moment to breathe, and of course, update the group:

"Dude, this is harder than I thought. She's opening up about her whole life and... God, it feels impossible to escape without breaking her"

The group chat starts popping off like popcorn in hot oil.

"Man, for the love of God, just tell her you have a traumatic past. Like, 'Oh, my heart's been broken and I'm not ready for this"

Naturally, someone else chimes in.

"Seriously, that excuse ALWAYS works. Girls don’t question it, they just give you that ‘aww, poor thing’ look, and you’re good"

"I'm scared she’s going to start crying. I can't handle girls crying"

You can almost hear the collective sigh of frustration from the other side of the screen.

"Crying? That's the least you're gonna have to deal with if you keep dragging this out. Seriously, if you were more direct, she’d be out of there by now"

"YOU’RE the ones who put this ridiculous idea in her head! It’s not like I asked for this mess"

"Yeah, but you’re the one letting it go on this long. We picked you as the target because you’re all mature and polite; we thought you could handle it"

"Dude, man up. What’s a few tears? You’ll survive. She’ll survive"

"Survive? I’m the only one here who had to hear about how her cat is the only being who’s ever loved her unconditionally since college! What do you want me to do? Crush her dreams with a sledgehammer?"

"Yes. That’s exactly what we want"

You’re about to type another angry response when Saerom steps in with a message.

"Guys, seriously, the problem is he's a coward. He’s afraid of a cute girl who just wants love. You're dragging this out unnecessarily. I'd say you’re even enjoying having a girl at your feet..."

Oh, Saerom, this is the same Saerom who was doubled over laughing at lunch yesterday when Chaeyoung smiled every time she looked at you. You take a deep breath before typing.

"Excuse me, WHO set this up in the first place? I know it wasn't me. And don’t pretend to be all sensible now, Saerom, I remember you making jokes about Chaeyoung when she first joined the company. Just a reminder: this fucking prank was NOT MY IDEA"

Saerom replies:

"And who’s feeding her delusion, pretending everything’s fine?

Exactly, YOU"

You lean against the sink, letting out a heavy sigh. This conversation is going nowhere. You didn’t ask for this, didn’t ask to be dragged into the emotional life of someone as intense and awkward as Chaeyoung. But here you are, suffering because you’re too nice, while your so-called friends are more interested in watching you struggle.

The mental alarm bell of "just end this already" rings in your head, but like a soldier without ammunition, you find yourself fighting through a minefield of hopes and expectations.

The truth is, as you type, you already know you won’t be able to be direct. Not with Chaeyoung, not with that strange mix of awkward sweetness and infectious enthusiasm she brings.

You don’t want to be the villain in her story.

"Fine, I’ll do something about it. But if she starts crying, that’s on you guys. You’ll all pay"

Taking a deep breath, you leave the bathroom, ready to put the plan in motion. But when you return to the living room, there's no sign of Chaeyoung. The TV is still on, some random show playing, but she... is gone.

"Chae?" you call, wandering through the house.

Nothing.

Then, you find her in the music room, admiring your vinyl collection. She’s standing in front of the shelves, her fingers gently brushing over the album covers.

"You have an amazing collection!" she exclaims, spinning on her heels to face you, her eyes full of admiration. "I had no idea you collected records!"

You try to downplay it. "Oh, it's just a silly hobby. I like music... and vinyl. There’s something more authentic about the sound, you know?"

She picks up an album, inspecting the cover art. "Wow. Led Zeppelin, The Smiths, Pink Floyd... You have great taste. This is so... you!" She smiles, as if that explains everything.

You chuckle. "Well, they’re classics, right?"

Chaeyoung moves from one record to the next. Each vinyl is treated like a relic, something precious, and you, watching from the other side of the room, can’t help but smile. It’s strange, but something about the way she marvels at your collection makes you... happy.

"Oh my God, you have The Beatles! I love them. Did you know I once painted a picture inspired by ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’? It was all in shades of purple and blue, kind of psychedelic, with floating stars and... Well, I’m terrible at describing it, but you get the idea!" Chaeyoung talks so fast that the words seem to trip over each other, as if they're racing to get out of her mouth.

"Wait, you paint?" The surprise in your voice is genuine. So far, Chaeyoung has been full of surprises, but the fact that she paints is something you definitely didn’t expect.

She beams, excited, putting the Beatles record back and turning to you with shining eyes. "Yeah! Ever since I was a kid, actually. In school, I was that weird girl who would be painting instead of paying attention in math class. Not that my teachers liked that, but I always thought art was more important than calculating angles."

You nod, genuinely intrigued by how interested you are. "And what do you paint besides psychedelic Beatles scenes?"

"Oh, a bit of everything! Nature, flowers, cats, starry skies... Mostly when I’m sad, I paint the night sky. The stars make me feel... less alone."

The image of Chaeyoung painting in silence, surrounded by colors and stars, fills your mind. And it’s impossible not to find her endearing in this moment. The energetic and slightly crazy girl who’s now in your house has a depth you hadn’t noticed before. You find yourself curious, more interested than you expected.

"I never imagined you were a painter," you say. "It must be nice to have something like that, to express how you feel."

She shrugs but smiles proudly. "Yeah, it helps. Sometimes life gets confusing, you know? And so do people. But when I paint, none of that matters. It's just me, the colors, and the rest of the world disappears."

You smile, stepping closer to her. "I'd love to see one of your paintings someday."

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she’s speechless, something rare for her. "Really? You’d like that?"

"Of course," you respond, without realizing just how honest you're being. "I think it’d be amazing."

Chaeyoung smiles so openly that you almost feel the room warm up. "I’d love to show you! I have a bunch at home. I thought about sending you some pictures today, but I wanted you to see them in person. I wanted it to be kind of a surprise."

You find yourself torn.

Now, seeing her here, excited about your records, almost dancing with every vinyl she picks up, you begin to feel something uncomfortable. Something that nags at your conscience like an itch.

Maybe, just maybe, you weren't as eager to end this as you thought.

Yes, all of this started as a big prank. Yes, your coworkers are a bunch of jerks who threw you into this situation without mercy. And yes, Chaeyoung… well, she’s a bit eccentric, to say the least. But there's something about her, a sincerity, a disarming purity, that makes it hard to keep thinking of her as just "the weird girl from the office."

You look at her now, smiling at something she found - a David Bowie album you’d almost forgotten you had. The way she interacts with your things, as if she’s discovering every part of you with the same enthusiasm a child would have opening a Christmas present. There’s no pretense in anything she does. Chaeyoung isn’t trying to impress you. She’s not here to prove anything. She’s just... herself. And as scary as that is, it’s also, in some way, comforting.

Suddenly, the excuse you were about to use - "I'm not ready, I'm still recovering from a bad relationship" - seems too fake to you.

A small voice - the kind that always knows more than the rest of you is willing to admit - whispers that maybe, just maybe, you’re overcomplicating things. Maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you just… let things happen.

“Are you okay?” Chaeyoung asks suddenly, turning to you with a smile.

“Yeah, just... thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” She approaches with her usual curiosity.

You hesitate. “I was thinking that... maybe I’ve been too quick to try and figure all this out.”

She frowns for a moment, trying to read between the lines. Then her face lights up. "You’re worried that things are moving too fast?"

"Yeah, something like that."

"Look, I'm not good with this stuff. Dating, friendships, these... relationship rules. But I know I like you. And I know you make me happy. I don't know what else I should be thinking about besides that."

And in that moment, reality hits you hard. Maybe the problem was never Chaeyoung. Maybe the problem is you, stuck in an idea of how things should be, when in fact, what you’re experiencing now is as real as anything you could’ve planned.

"You're right," you say finally, feeling a strange mix of relief and acceptance. "I think I was overcomplicating it… By the way, can I ask if you're free tomorrow night?"

"Yes! Why?"

"I... was thinking... maybe I could take you out to dinner."

If she was excited before, now she looks like she’s won the lottery. "REALLY? Oh my God, yes! Of course, I’d love to!" She starts bouncing slightly, barely able to contain her excitement. "Oh wow, this is going to be amazing! I can't believe you want to take me out to dinner!"

"Yeah, well... I just thought it’d be nice. Nothing too fancy."

"Nothing too fancy?" She looks at you incredulously. "It’s the best thing ever! It’s going to be so romantic!" And then, without warning, she hugs you. "I knew you were a gentleman from the start!"

You clear your throat, feeling a bit awkward. "Well, uh... since it’s raining outside... do you want to stay over tonight?"

And if you thought she was happy before, now she’s absolutely over the moon. "OF COURSE I DO! Actually, when I came, I thought you were still sick, so I brought my pajamas. I thought maybe you'd need someone to take care of you."

She smiles with such genuine innocence that you almost forget you were plotting to end this a few minutes ago.

But the truth is, deep down, you’ve always found her oddness at work kind of... cute. Like that day she showed up with dinosaur socks under her business slacks. The whole office laughed behind her back, but you thought, in some way, it was adorable. And brave. She didn’t care about the unspoken rules of the workplace. She was just being herself, and that took a kind of strength you, for some reason, had never given proper credit to.

You remember when she opened her lunchbox during the lunch break, revealing a work of art made of food: rice in the shape of a heart, seaweed bears, and vegetables so well-arranged they looked like a painting. Everyone laughed, called it childish, but you... You found yourself admiring it. You didn’t say anything, of course. Stayed quiet. But, honestly, you thought it was incredibly creative.

And when she was in charge of organizing the year-end party? Everyone was horrified by the PowerPoint full of emojis and bouncing animations. To them, it was “corny”. To you, it was a genuine attempt to make something fun. Something you secretly admired. You could see how hard she had tried. But, as always, you bit your tongue, let the moment pass, and hid in the mediocrity of consensus.

Now, as she smiles at you, you have this epiphany: maybe you’ve always liked her. Not in the obvious, immediate way the rest of the world expects. But in a subtler, quieter way. The kind of attraction that comes from admiring someone for being authentic, for being weird in a way the rest of the world finds unsettling, but you... well, you’ve always found fascinating.

And then, there's the other thing: all this time, you weren't worried about her. You were worried about what others would think. That invisible weight you carry when you're around people who judge you for everything, even the way you look at someone. Your friends, the office, the behind-the-back laughter. They shaped you more than you wanted to admit. You stayed silent when they laughed at her, you let them guide your perception, even when, deep down, you knew something was off. And this makes you think that things would have to change now. No more complacency. No more jokes at Chaeyoung’s expense. Everyone in the office would treat her well from now on, and you would ensure that.

You realize it wasn’t her who pushed you away. It was your own cowardice. The way you let others influence what you felt. And now, seeing her here, surrounded by your records, you realize you’re more comfortable than you’ve ever been with anyone else.

"Can I kiss you?" you ask.

She stares at you for a second, maybe surprised by the softness of the question, but then she smiles. "Of course you can!"

And then, without further hesitation, you lean in and kiss her. It's the kind of kiss that makes time stop - or, at least, makes you wish it would. Her arms naturally find their way around your neck, and for a moment, it's just the warmth of her lips, the way she fits into you.

When you finally pull apart, breathless, she sighs and says, without any filter: "I like your lips."

You laugh, a little surprised by her bluntness. "That's a pretty... direct comment." But you can't help agreeing. "I like your lips too." And, without thinking much, you brush a strand of hair behind her ear. That gesture that should be cliché, but somehow, it fits.

You look at her, trying to guess what's going on in Chaeyoung's mind, who now has her eyes cast down, biting her lip, and you know the atmosphere is about to change.

"Do you... find me attractive?" The question comes out of nowhere, as if it escaped from the deepest corner of her mind. Her voice was a bit hesitant, but there was a raw honesty there. The kind of honesty you only find in children or in adults who've had more disappointments than they could count.

You stare at her, astonished, for two reasons. One, that she truly doesn't realize how attractive she is, and two, that the question seems to come loaded with a raw expectation of approval. "Of course you are," you say, with more certainty than you intended. "You're very attractive."

She blushes, and her fingers begin to nervously play with the fabric of her dress. "It's just... I've always wanted... you know... to experience that thing. And with you, the desire only grows," she admits, the words coming out in a nervous whisper. "I keep imagining all sorts of things... many things."

It's rare for you to be speechless, but here you are, completely disarmed by her confession. "I understand," you respond, trying to ignore the weight of it, but there's something in the way she looks at you, like she's trusting you with an immense secret, that makes your voice come out softer. And then, before the conversation can unravel, she rushes to continue:

"I don't want you to think I just... just see you like this, as if you're only... an object of desire , you know?" Her voice is a flurry of words, as if the mere act of speaking is the only way to keep from drowning in her insecurities. "I love everything about you - the way you care, the way you talk, the way you dress, your quirks... It's just-"

"Chae," you interrupt her with a smile, gently taking her hand. "It's okay. I get what you mean."

She seems relieved, but still a little lost, as if trying to realign her inner compass. You hold her hand more firmly, the warmth and firmness grounding her. "And if you want, if you feel comfortable... I don't see any problem with... well, us doing this."

The color deepens in Chaeyoung's cheeks, which seemed impossible, and she lets out a small sigh, almost as if absorbing the gravity of what you just said. "Do you think... it's not too fast?" Her voice is quieter now, more vulnerable. "I... I thought we'd only do this after, I don't know, getting married ." She laughs nervously.

You laugh too, the kind of laugh that makes the nervousness dissipate a little. "Married? That would take a long time." You lean in a little closer, lowering your voice as if sharing a secret. "And honestly, it would be torture to wait that long, you know... with you being like this."

"Like what?" she asks, and there's genuine curiosity in her voice, almost childlike, as if she doesn't realize just how much Chaeyoung is... her.

"Like... you. So beautiful, so unique," you reply, your eyes locked on hers, hoping she understands that you truly believe this.

She looks away and murmurs, "I... I wouldn't be able to wait that long either." And then, with a kind of honesty that only Chaeyoung could muster, she adds, "Especially with you being so... hot."

You almost choke on the sincerity of her response, but before you can react, something inside you, perhaps an impulse you didn't even know you had, makes you act. With a sudden movement, you scoop her into your arms.

Chaeyoung lets out a small gasp of surprise, her arms wrapping around your neck. "W-what are you doing?" Her surprise is genuine, but there's a laugh hidden behind it.

"Taking you to the bedroom," you respond with a calm smile.

She looks at you, her face flushed and her eyes shining. "Are we... doing this now?"

"If you want," you say calmly.

Chaeyoung seems to reflect for a moment, but her eyes meet yours, and something shifts in her. "Yes," she murmurs, her voice soft but resolute. "I want to."

As you carry Chaeyoung to the bedroom, the rain continues to patter softly against the windows, as if providing the soundtrack to a scene even the gods of romantic comedies couldn't have predicted. When you lay her gently on the bed, you feel the weight of something larger than yourself approaching, a mix of desire and uncertainty that seems to hang in the air. But when your lips meet hers, all those thoughts simply... vanish.

She's warm, soft, and each kiss you share seems to last longer than the one before, as if time is slowing down, or maybe the rain outside is trying to set the pace.

You pull back for a moment, removing your shirt in a gesture you've probably done a million times, but to her, it seems incredibly unique, and Chaeyoung can't hide her surprise. Her eyes widen for a brief second before softening into something like admiration.

"Wow," she says, almost reverently, as if she's admiring a Renaissance masterpiece in a museum and not your body, which, to be honest, is far too generous a comparison, but let's go with it.

At that exact moment, your phone vibrates in your pocket, and for a second, the cruel and merciless universe reminds you of your friends' existence. You pull out your phone, read the messages - something like "so, did it work?" - and without thinking twice, you turn the device off.

"You... look so... sexy," Chaeyoung murmurs, then laughs a little, clearly fighting the shyness that's winning. "I've never... touched a man's bare chest before."

You smile slightly, moving closer again. "Then savor the moment," you say, and she hesitates before sliding her hands over your abdomen, her fingers exploring your skin with a shy curiosity, almost innocent. Her touch is light at first, but soon gains a bit more confidence.

Meanwhile, you kiss her neck, breathing in her sweet scent, and the way she shivers under your lips makes you lose yourself even more.

You begin to slide the thin straps of her dress off her shoulders, moving slowly, kissing every inch of exposed skin. When the dress reaches her waist, Chaeyoung, in a way that is both shy and determined, sits up slightly and pulls it off completely, letting it fall in a forgotten pile on the floor. Now, only in her panties and bra, she looks at you with wide, nervous eyes, as if waiting for your assessment.

And, of course, you can't hold back. "You're so beautiful, Chaeyoung." Your words are simple but carry a truth that, by the way she immediately blushes, impacts her more than any grand compliment ever could.

She looks away for a second, a shy smile playing on her lips. "I... I never thought that... anyone would think that." She shifts uncomfortably, but her discomfort only heightens her innocent charm.

You also stand, beginning to unbutton your pants, the sound of the buttons echoing almost like a beat amid the rain outside. "Lie down, Chaeyoung," you say softly, your voice gentle but firm.

She stays still for about three seconds before obeying, lying back on the bed, her body now completely surrendered to you, and to the moment that, suddenly, no longer seems so full of uncertainty.

Then, you gently spread Chae's legs in a way she didn't expect. Her eyes are fixed on the ceiling, but you notice the nervousness in her trembling fingers and the slight tapping of her feet. "It's okay," you whisper. She lets out a small laugh, the kind that only happens when someone is scared but wants to appear brave.

Kissing the inside of her thigh, you feel the shiver that runs through Chae's slender body. She can't hide the tension but says nothing, as if waiting for you to guide her through this unknown art. Your fingers glide against the thin fabric of her panties, and you feel the growing heat between her legs. "Relax," you say, even though you know relaxing is the last thing she's going to do right now.

When you slowly remove her panties, like you're unwrapping something fragile, Chae's scent fills the air. She holds her breath for a moment, and her eyes, once lost on the ceiling, now close. Vulnerable. You know she wants this, but you also know she has no idea what she's about to feel.

You move closer, gently running your fingers over her swollen lips, parting them slightly. Your mouth follows the touch of your fingers, but you don't go straight to the point. No, that would be too easy. Instead, you kiss around, intentional kisses, your tongue tracing paths on her sensitive skin. She lets out a soft moan, her hips trying to follow your mouth, but you don't let her dictate the pace.

With one last glance at her face - where her eyes are closed and her mouth is parted in a sigh - you finally touch her clitoris with the tip of your tongue. The reaction is immediate: a small jolt, a moan that echoes in the room, like her body was just switched on. You circle her clit slowly, alternating between soft and firmer licks, feeling the smooth texture under your tongue. Chaeyoung is starting to lose herself in the pleasure, and you know because her moans are getting louder, more insistent, her hips lifting off the bed in search of more.

"Mmm, p-please," she whispers, barely audible, as if she's afraid to ask for what she really wants. You answer her request, sucking on her clit more firmly as your fingers begin to explore deeper. You slide them inside her tight pussy slowly, while continuing to lick, feeling her body's response on your tongue. The warmth around your fingers, the pressure from her inner muscles that seem unwilling to let you go.

Tasting more of her with each new lick, your mouth becomes increasingly hungry, as if the only thing that matters in the world is how her body reacts to you. The heat radiating from between her legs is almost overwhelming, and her moans, once restrained, are growing louder, more desperate. She's no longer trying to hide anything.

She just wants more. Simply more.

You stop fingering her pussy for a moment, just to hold her thighs, your hands firm as you keep her legs open, which keep trying to close, your tongue sliding over her clit in quick, intense movements. Her taste is strong now, a mix of salt and desire that makes you want everything. You feel her body tremble, her hips moving against your mouth, seeking more contact, more pressure. She is completely surrendered.

“Mmm, please… don’t stop!” she moans, her voice shaky and almost sobbing. You laugh against her skin, the sound muffled between Chae's legs, and reply with a quick glance, your eyes fixed on her face, contorted in desire.

"Are you going to come for me, Chae?" you murmur, your voice husky as your fingers slide back inside her, filling her completely. She lets out an even louder moan, her body arching, her inner muscles tightening around her fingers. "Tell me, Chae... tell me what you want," you tease, your mouth not stopping, your tongue focused on her clit while your fingers penetrate her deeply, each movement a new shock of pleasure.

“I... I'm gonna... Oh my God! II can't..." she tries to speak, but the words are lost among the moans. She's on the edge, holding on by a thread, and you can feel it. She's struggling to maintain control, but she won't last much longer.

“Go ahead,” you whisper against her, sucking her clit harder now, your mouth fully covering it while your fingers continue relentlessly. “I want you to come. Now. In my mouth.”

It's all she needed to hear. With one last loud moan, almost a scream, her body completely loses control. Her hips lift off the bed, pressing your mouth against her pussy, as if trying to swallow you. Her taste explodes on your tongue, a hot, salty rush that you devour like a reward. Chaeyoung comes hard, her body trembling violently, each moan louder than the last until she's practically sobbing from the pleasure.

You don't stop. You keep sucking, drawing out every drop, as if you want to prolong the moment, wanting more of her, wanting to feel everything. "That's it, baby… Come more, " you murmur against her, your voice almost a growl. Her moans are wild now, completely out of control, and you know you've pushed her past a limit she never knew existed.

“Please, stop! Mmm, I c-can’t anymore!” she moans, her voice trembling, as if begging for mercy, but you can tell that part of her wants you to take her even deeper. Every part of her body tightens, surrenders, and you only stop when you feel she's completely exhausted, her muscles still pulsing around your fingers.

You move up her body, her taste still on your lips, your breath heavy. Chae's face is a beautiful mess of sweat, pleasure, and confusion, but you smile, knowing what comes next.

You love this part.

“Now,” you say in a low, almost commanding voice, “I want you to feel what I did.”

Before she can process what that means, you kiss her, deep and wet, your tongue slipping into her mouth, letting her taste herself. At first, she hesitates, but soon her moans turn into something new, something that mixes with the taste you just took from her. She kisses you back, hungry, and what started as vulnerability is slowly turning into something much more lustful, more intense, and carnal.

You trail kisses down Chae's body, every inch of her skin seems simply irresistible. Her breathing quickens as you descend, her hand brushing the sheets as if searching for something to hold onto, something stable. When you reach her small, delicate breasts, you slowly pull down her bra with deliberate slowness, exposing them as if standing before something precious. Your lips touch one of her nipples, soft at first, a light suction that makes her arch her body. A soft, trembling moan escapes Chae, and you feel her fingers tighten around the fabric of the bed.

“Are you enjoying it?” you murmur against her skin, your hand now playing with her other breast, fingers teasing, squeezing lightly.

She just nods, her eyes closed, lips parted as she whispers a faint “Yes, so much... Mmm, keep going...” barely audible. There's a vulnerability in her tone, something between desire and the fear of being completely consumed by it. You obey, sucking her nipple harder, her moans growing louder, more uncontrolled, as your other hand continues to explore.

But you don't want to rush anything.

You want every touch to be a memory, something she'll feel even after it's all over.

When you stop and stand to grab the condom from the nightstand, Chae looks confused for a second, her body shifting slightly, as if sensing the absence of your touch. You pull off your boxers, the cool air brushing your skin, and her expression changes. Chae's eyes, once full of nerves, now sparkle with something different, something curious.

She watches in silence as she takes off her bra, almost mesmerized, while you put on the condom. There's something intense in that moment, in her silent admiration, like she's processing everything at once.

“I'll go slow,” you say, kneeling back on the bed, gently lifting her legs around your waist. “If it hurts too much, let me know, okay?”

Chae bites her lip and nodes, her eyes locked on yours. “I trust you... just... take it easy.”

You position yourself, the tip of your cock touching her entrance, warm and tight. The moment stretches, the air heavy between you. Slowly, you begin to push in, and the sound she makes is a mix between a moan and a sigh. The sensation is intense, her tightness almost painfully constricting. You move forward slowly, every inch feels like a battle against her body, which gradually adjusts and gives way, millimeter by millimeter.

Chae bites her lip hard, her face flushed, her hands gripping her arms as if seeking something to hold onto. “Are you okay, baby?” you ask, pausing for a moment, noticing the slight tremble in her lips.

She nods, her voice is soft and hesitant. “Yeah... I'm okay. It’s just… it’s too big.”

You smile gently, wanting to reassure her. “I'll go slow, I promise.” And with that, you start moving again, pushing in slowly until you're fully inside her. Chae lets out a long moan, her eyes tightly shut. She's so tight that every movement feels like a challenge, but you hold back, maintaining control.

Then, as you pull out slightly, you notice a small trace of blood. Her hymen had broken. “Chae,” you say, your voice filled with concern. “There's a bit of blood... how are you feeling?”

She opens her eyes, still flushed, breathing heavily. “I'm... I'm okay. It's just... strange... but... it feels good too...”

You watch her for a moment, searching for any signs of discomfort beyond what she admits. Then you continue, moving a little faster, a little deeper, and her moans start to shift in tone, the pain slowly giving way to pleasure. With each thrust, you feel her body adjusting, relaxing, the initial resistance fading away.

“Fuck, you're so tight,” you whisper as you keep thrusting into her.

You lean over her, her body trembling beneath you, her small breasts pressed against your chest. Her skin is warm, sweaty, and you can feel every shaky breath she exhales as you move inside her. Your cock slides deep, her tightness gripping you like a vice. She lets out a loud moan, her arms wrapping around your neck, her legs tightening around your hips, holding you as if afraid to let go.

“Do you like it, Chae?” you ask, your voice low and rough in her ear. You can feel her heart racing, and it only makes you want more.

She tries to answer, but everything that comes out is a moan, a broken sound of pleasure. You smile against her neck, kissing the delicate skin, tasting her sweat. “Talk to me, baby. Tell me what you're feeling.”

“Fuck, y-you're driving me crazy...” she manages to mutter, her voice cracking as you thrust deep, each stroke making her arch against the bed. “I've... I've never felt anything like this.”

You kiss her neck, sucking the sensitive skin, leaving marks that will last. “Your pussy's so wet,” you murmur against her skin, lightly biting her earlobe. “Feels like your body was made for this... for me .”

Chae lets out a high-pitched moan, her hips trying to match your rhythm, but you're in control. You thrust deeper, harder, feeling her body write with each push. “Do you feel how deep I am inside you? My thick, hard cock filling every inch of your pussy.”

She can only moan in response, her fingers digging into your back, scratching the skin as pleasure overwhelms her. And you love this, love seeing this beautiful, naïve, innocent girl lose all control because of you. It's like you're sculpting every sensation, molding her pleasure to your will. And the fact that it's her first time only makes it more addictive.

“You sound so sexy, moaning in my ear while I fuck you… Tell me, Chae, do you want more?” you ask, your voice dirtier now, and she nods frantically, her eyes squeezed shut, her face flushed with both shame and excitement.

“Yes, please... don't stop!” she begs, her voice cracking as you continue to fuck her. “You fuck me so good!”

You pick up the pace, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing in the room. Your cock slides deep, as deep as you can go in this position, and she lets out a loud, desperate moan. “You like it like this, huh? Getting fucked hard, knowing how much I'm loving fucking this virgin pussy!”

Chae writhes beneath you, her moans growing louder, faster.

She’s losing herself, another orgasm is close.

And you’re going to take it from her.

“Now let’s lie on our side, princess,” you say with a final kiss.

You turn her over carefully. She obeys, her body already limp, fully surrendered to you. Now, you position yourself behind her, your bodies aligned, so close that you can feel every breath she takes, every nervous twitch.

“Yeah, like this, Chae…” you murmur in her ear, a filthy undertone hidden in the words. With one hand, you guide your cock back inside her, the tight, wet sensation making both of you moan at the same time. Your hand now slides slowly down her side, feeling the warmth of her sweaty skin, the uneven rhythm of her breathing.

“You like this, don’t you?” you tease, your voice low, as you continue to thrust slowly, each stroke deep and calculated. Chaeyoung responds with a loud moan, her eyes closed, head tilting back, resting on your shoulder.

“Y-yes, yes! I love it…” Her voice trembles with each word, as if the pleasure is making it difficult to even think. The raspy sound of every moan only spurs you to go deeper.

You kiss her slender shoulder, your hand moving up the curve of her waist to her breasts. Her skin is hot and slick with sweat, her entire body vibrating with the intensity of the experience. Your fingers squeeze one of her breasts, firm enough to elicit another moan from Chaeyoung, who begins to move, her hips pushing back against you, craving more.

“Ohhh, that feels so good! Harder…” she begs, almost breathless, her voice cracking with need. And you comply, the thrusts becoming faster, more intense, the rhythm of your bodies crashing together, primal and instinctive.

“You’re so tight, Chae… you’re driving me crazy…” you whisper, your mouth moving from her shoulder to her neck, sucking and nibbling softly as you keep thrusting deeply. She moans louder, her nails digging into the sheets.

“The first time… I never imagined it would be like this…” she murmurs between moans, her voice almost fading, as if she’s on the verge of losing her ability to speak. “It feels so good… so… Oh, you fuck me so well!”

You chuckle softly, satisfied. “You’ll remember your first fuck forever, Chae... You’ll remember how I made you come.”

And somehow, that ignites something inside her.

You feel Chae’s body start to writhe, her moans growing louder, more desperate. She’s close, you can tell. The hand that was on her breast now slides slowly down her body, and without warning, you grasp Chae’s slender neck, your fingers wrapping around it firmly, just enough to show her the control you have over her.

She gasps, her eyes widening in surprise, and her body responds immediately, arching against you, tightening around your cock. “You like this, don’t you, Chae?” your voice comes out hoarse, and she answers with a moan, the most primal sound you’ve ever heard.

“Y-yes, fuck!... yes, I… I love it!” She can barely form the words, her moans mixing with her ragged breaths. And it only makes you hungrier, more eager to push her beyond her limits.

You pick up the pace, thrusting harder, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the room, and you squeeze her neck a little tighter, feeling her shudder under your touch. “Tell me, baby… Tell me what you want.”

She’s panting, her whole body drenched in sweat, her eyes shut. “More… please… Fuck me faster… harder…” Her voice breaks between the pleas, her moans becoming nearly screams of pleasure. “Fuck my pussy good, make me your little slut!”

“Like this?” you ask, and before she can respond, you obey, pounding into her with even more intensity, your cock driving into her with such force that Chae’s body slams against you, nearly folding under the impact.

“Ahhh… yes! Like that! Fuck… keep going, don’t stop!” She’s losing herself, her body responding instinctively to the pleasure, and Chae’s face twists, her eyes rolling back as you fuck her relentlessly. “I-I’m yours, baby… all yours! Fuck me harder!”

You pull her body closer, your fingers still gripping her neck, controlling every movement as you continue to pound deep, without pause. “You’re becoming such a dirty little girl, Chae. A slut who loves my cock!”

She bites her lip hard, her eyes barely open enough to meet yours. “Yes! I’m… I’m your slut… please, don’t stop… make me come again!”

You fuck her even faster, your hand tightening on her neck, dominating her completely. Each thrust is harder, deeper, until her body starts to tremble again, her moans growing louder, more intense.

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” you murmur, your face close to her ear, your breath hot against her skin. “You love coming on my cock, don’t you, Chae? Such a dirty slut! I want to feel you come… now!”

And that pushes her over the edge.

Her body explodes against you, writhing, trembling, and she screams as the orgasm overtakes her. “Ahhh… fuck… I'm cumming … I'm… ahhh!” The pleasure ripples through her like an electric shock, her muscles squeezing your cock so tight you can barely hold back.

You keep fucking her as she comes, drawing out her orgasm, her moans oscillating between pleasure and despair. “Yeah, that’s it, Chae… come for me… come on my cock, baby.” And she does, her whole body shaking, completely surrendered to the pleasure you’ve taught her to feel, until the tremors slowly subside, and she’s completely spent, her body limp in your arms, breathing heavily.

But you’re not done yet.

You feel Chae’s body still trembling in your arms, but you don’t give her even a second to rest. You lift her from the bed with a near predatory strength, your arms wrapping around her slim, delicate waist, and in one firm motion, you hoist her into the air, her legs instinctively wrapping around you. The look on Chaeyoung’s face is a mix of surprise and pure lust, her pupils blown wide, her body molding to yours as you hold her aloft.

“You’re going to fuck me like this?” she asks, her voice shaky, almost disbelieving, but clearly begging for more.

“Yes, like this,” you reply with a lascivious smile, positioning her so your cock slips back inside her. Her weight only amplifies the intensity of each thrust, and the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the room, mixed with Chae’s high-pitched moans and your heavy breathing. Her body rises and falls, her arms wrapped around your neck, her legs clinging tightly to your waist.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” you ask, your lips brushing her ear, your hot breath making her shiver. She’s completely vulnerable, surrendered, and the feeling of power only drives you deeper into this lust.

“Yes… yes… more…” Chaeyoung whispers between moans, nearly crying from the overwhelming pleasure. “It feels so good… please… don’t stop…”

The way she says it, with so much need, with so much desperation, only drives you further. You fuck her harder, the intensity of each thrust ripping short cries of pleasure from her. She can’t control the sounds escaping her throat, and you know she’s loving every second, loving the way she’s being taken by you, losing her virginity in a way she never imagined.

You fuck her mid-air with almost animalistic force, your hands firmly gripping her slender waist, guiding her movements. Your lips meet hers with urgency, a wet, clumsy, heated kiss. Her tongue searches for yours with desperate hunger, and you respond, exploring her mouth as you keep thrusting deep, each move making her moan louder than the last.

“Can you feel my cock being shoved deep into your tight little pussy?” you murmur between kisses, your voice low and hoarse, sweat dripping down your body as pleasure begins to blur into exhaustion.

“Yeah!! Please… don’t stop!” Chaeyoung practically begs, her voice thin, loaded with desire. Every word she speaks is a breathy gasp, her eyes half-closed like she’s lost in a storm of pleasure.

“Look at you... so submissive... clinging to me like your life depends on it,” you tease, nibbling her earlobe as you fuck her even harder. The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud, dirty, and her body moves wildly with each thrust.

“I-I love it! I love being yours!” Chae confesses, her eyes fully closed, her body trembling as you feel the spasms tightening around your cock. “Fuck me more... dominate me... use me however you want!”

Her filthy words make you lose any remaining control. Your mouth trails down her neck, sucking and biting hard enough to leave marks, to remind her later of how you claimed her that night.

“You want more? Want me to fuck you until you forget your own name?” you whisper against her sweaty skin.

“Yes, baby! Yes… I want it,” Chae moans, her lips trembling as pleasure overtakes her.

You feel the heat rising, the climax almost at the door, and in one quick, rough motion, you sit up on the bed, Chaeyoung on your lap. “Then ride me,” you command, your voice raspy and authoritative, locking eyes with her.

She hesitates for only a second before letting out a low moan and beginning to move. Her legs trembling, she adjusts herself on top of you, your cock slipping back inside her. Her hands rest on your shoulders as she starts to ride, her breathing heavy, each movement eliciting short, sharp moans.

“That’s it, like that! Faster, Chae,” you urge, your hands gripping her waist, helping her keep pace. Her body moves up and down, each motion driving you deeper inside her, each moan louder, more desperate. “You’re so fucking tight… so good… I won’t last much longer, baby,” you warn, your eyes narrowing as you watch her face contort with pleasure, her lips parted, eyebrows arched in pure ecstasy.

“I want you to cum…” Chae responds, her voice barely audible from how breathless she is. “Please cum for me… I want all your hot cum in me.”

You grip her slender waist tighter, your fingers digging into her warm, soft skin, guiding her firmly, demanding more.

“Come on, Chae, I’m almost there... Faster,” you command. “I want to feel you really fuck me.”

Chae bites her lip, her messy hair falling over her shoulders as she tries to speed up, her legs trembling with the effort. With every move, her body sinks deeper onto you, drawing sharp, desperate moans from her. Your fingers dig even harder into her waist, guiding her, controlling the rhythm, forcing her to go faster than her body was prepared for. She has no choice but to follow your lead, her entire body surrendering to this frenzy.

“Your pussy is so wet, Chae, fuck…” you groan through clenched teeth, pulling her closer until your bodies are pressed together. “Can you feel how hard you’re making me? How much horny you're driving me?!”

“I... I feel everything,” Chae responds between moans, her voice breaking from the overwhelming pleasure. “I can’t... I can’t stop... it feels so good...” She keeps grinding on top of you, her movements faster, more intense. Sweat drips down her body, shining under the soft light of the room, and you get lost in the sight of her - her face twisted in uncontrollable pleasure, her legs shaking as she struggles to keep up the pace.

Without warning, you lean forward and capture one of her small breasts in your mouth, sucking hard. The taste of her skin is salty with sweat, but addictive. You suck her nipple intensely, your tongue playing, teasing, while one hand moves to the other breast, squeezing, tugging, teasing the sensitive nipple.

“Oh, fuck!” Chae cries out, her body shuddering violently from the impact of your lips on her breasts. “Please... Please, don’t sto- Oh god! I love your mouth on my breast!!” She throws her head back, her hands digging into your shoulders as you keep her moving, riding faster than ever.

You suck harder, your teeth grazing lightly, making her moan even louder. Each thrust she makes over you brings you closer to the edge, and the feel of her trembling body, mixed with the taste and texture of her delicate skin, makes you lose all control. Your fingers keep gripping her hips, guiding her with a speed she can barely keep up with.

“Come on, Chae... faster... ride me hard!” you growl, your teeth still around her nipple, your eyes half-closed in pleasure.

“I... can’t...” she moans, her eyes filled with pleasure and desperation, but even so, she tries. Her hips rise and fall faster, her movements nearly frantic as she tries to push you over the edge.

“Yes, you can,” you whisper with a wicked smile, your hand sliding down her sweaty back to grab her ass, pulling her down hard each time she rises. “And you’re loving every second... look at you, so obedient... so submissive...”

“I am... I love it! Fuck, I never thought it would feel this good!” Chae can barely speak between moans, her body now practically convulsing with pleasure. “Fuck me... fuck me more, baby... please!”

You continue to suck her, switching breasts, leaving the other one equally sensitive and swollen, while your hands squeeze her ass.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” you tease, your tone cruel, feeling her on the verge of losing control.

“Yes... yes... I’m going to cum... again... I can’t take it anymore...” Chae cries out, her face contorted with pure pleasure, and you can feel the spasms starting to tighten around your cock. Each of her movements becomes uncoordinated, but that only brings you closer to your own climax. Her body contracts and explodes into a devastating orgasm, her moans loud and uncontrollable, her hips nearly frozen as she’s overtaken by the overwhelming pleasure.

You don’t stop, even as she trembles beneath you, her moans turning into sobs from the accumulated pleasure.

“You know what’s the best part?” you say between ragged breaths, your mouth close to her neck, kissing gently. “You’ll never forget this… how I made you cum so many times.”

Chaeyoung responds with a long moan, her body completely surrendered to you. “I know... I want you to fuck me like this... every day.”

You continue to move her hips slowly, as she’s too weak to do it herself. Each thrust inside her takes you closer, the tight heat of Chae’s body making you lose control. “I’m almost there... where do you want me to cum, Chae?

She hesitates for a second, then timidly murmurs, “On my face, sweetie.. please, cum on my face.”

The way she says it, with that soft, almost innocent voice, is enough to push you to the edge. You feel the lust explode inside you, and the image of Chae’s delicate face covered in your thick cum only heightens your desire.

“Fuck, baby, you're such a naughty girl,” you tease, your voice deep, filthy, as you keep moving her trembling body against yours. “You want me to cum all over your pretty little face, huh?”

Chaeyoung just nods, unable to form words, her moans now almost whispers. “Yes, baby, please... please...” She’s nearly crying from so much pleasure, her body completely at your mercy.

“Then get on your knees for me. I’m gonna cover your face with my thick load.”

Chaeyoung slowly slides off your lap, carefully kneeling on the floor, still trying to regain control of her trembling legs. Her eyes are fixed on you, wide and full of anticipation.

You take off the condom, your breathing fast and uneven, and she immediately wraps her lips around your cock, sucking with such intensity that it almost makes you lose balance. Her taste is still on your dick, and she seems to savor it, her eyes closed, her tongue’s movements deliberate, slow.

“Suck more… Yeah, just like that, baby,” you groan, your fingers tangled in her hair, guiding her as she obeys, sucking with an almost insatiable hunger.

You feel your climax approaching, control slipping away with each passing second. Chae's body is kneeling in front of you, her wide eyes full of anticipation, fixed on you as if she's ready to receive something precious. Her chest rises and falls quickly, her breath heavy, mingled with the palpable excitement in the air. You can’t hold back any longer.

"Are you ready, Chae?" you ask, your voice hoarse, your body trembling with tension as you grip your cock, holding it tight at the base.

She nods quickly, her eyes shining with desire. "Yes... yes... I want your cum on my face." Her voice carries a shy, exciting tone, and it only makes your need grow. You start jerking yourself harder, your cock throbbing in your hand. "Cover my face with your hot cum, baby!"

Those dirty words, spilling from such a delicate mouth, make your cock twitch in anticipation. "Fuck, I'm so horny!!" you growl, holding the base of your cock and pointing it directly at her face.

"Yes... make me filthy... I've always wanted to feel this," Chaeyoung replies.

You can’t hold back anymore. "Fuck, I’m cumming, Chae!" you say through gritted teeth as the pleasure builds to a breaking point.

She can only whisper, "Yeah, please, cum-" before the first spurt hits her cheek directly. Chae gasps, but doesn’t look away. Your fingers continue moving quickly at the base of your cock, another thick shot hitting her other cheek, chin, and a little bit of her forehead.

“Oooh! Yeeaah! Mmm, that’s so fucking good,” you moan, overcome with pleasure. "You look so beautiful covered in my cum,” you groan. “I knew you’d love this… look at you, all messy.”

Holding the base of your still hard, throbbing cock, you guide it toward Chae’s face. Her body is completely surrendered, panting, her eyes half-closed, a lazy smile of satisfaction forming on her lips.

“Look at me,” you command, as the tip of your cock touches her cheek, spreading the remnants of your cum across her delicate skin. Chaeyoung obeys, lifting her face with a gaze filled with adoration and bliss. You begin brushing your cock against her face, slowly, savoring the warm, sticky sensation.

The remaining cum smears and glistens on her skin under the soft bedroom light. First her cheek, then you move to her mouth, tapping your cock lightly against her lips. Without hesitation, she opens her mouth slightly, running her tongue lightly over the tip. Just seeing her, dirty and submissive, sends another wave of pleasure through your body.

“Tell me how much you're enjoying this,” you tease, the tip of your cock tracing her chin, spreading your cum over every inch it can reach.

Chaeyoung only moans, a low, satisfied sound, moving her face to meet each brush of your cock as if wanting more. “I'm… loving it,” she murmurs, her voice broken with desire, eyes closing again as your cock glides over her forehead, leaving a trail of cum. “I love being yours… your dirty little slut.”

“This is what you wanted? To be like this, all marked by me?” you ask with a wicked smile, leaning forward to rub your cock against the tip of her nose, dirtying her even more.

“Yes...” Chaeyoung whispers, her tongue trying to reach the head of your cock again. “You're making me feel so slutty.”

The way she speaks, the devotion in her voice, just makes you want to keep going. You cover her completely, your cock painting her face with cum, the sides of her mouth, her eyes, everywhere. And each time you touch her, Chaeyoung seems to enjoy it even more, her eyes closed, as if she’s in pure ecstasy from being covered in your cum.

Chae licks her lips, savoring what’s left of your cum, her gaze locked on you, more lustful than ever. “I want more, baby…” she whispers, her shy tone now replaced by something more primal. She leans forward, and without hesitation, closes her lips around the head of your cock again, sucking with a pressure that makes you see stars.

“Fuck, Chae! Fuck…” you moan loudly, your body arching involuntarily as she sucks slowly, each of her movements intentional, prolonging your pleasure as the last spasms of orgasm ripple through you. She plays with her tongue around the head, exploring, savoring, while her hands softly caress your balls.

“Your cock tastes so good,” Chaeyoung murmurs, and then her lips press back against your cock. “I like making you lose control like this,” she says with a small smile.

She gives another slow lick before releasing your cock with a wet pop, her eyes rising to meet yours, her cheeks and chin still gleaming with your cum. You can hardly believe the sight before you: Chaeyoung, your awkward workmate, covered in your cum, satisfied, with a new confidence shining through her former shyness.

“Wow, Chae… you're beautiful like this… Seriously, so beautiful,” you say breathlessly, the words escaping as an admiring whisper.

Chae lowers her eyes, a small, embarrassed smile playing on her lips, but there's pride in the way she wipes the corner of her mouth with her hand. “D-did I do it right?” she asks softly.

“Fuck, you have no idea.”

—

The hot water falls like a liquid curtain, each drop seems to soften the moment, making your touch even more intimate. You're gently soaping her shoulder with a tenderness that can only come from that strange mix of desire and affection now hanging between you. Chaeyoung is quiet, which, you note with some surprise, is a rarity. Maybe she's still processing what just happened. You decide to break the silence because, frankly, the idea of stillness while sharing the same space with her feels strange.

“So... was it everything you expected?”

She lifts her head, blinking as if she's just emerged from a dream. And in a way, you think that's exactly what's happening. A slow, wide smile spreads across her face. “It was better ,” she says, with a restrained enthusiasm that would melt anyone's heart. “I... I never thought it'd be like this. I mean, I always imagined it would be good, but not this good.” She giggles, a giggle that starts shy but bursts into full laughter. “You're really perfect!”

This word again.

You feel the blush rise to your face, and it's not just from the hot steam. Perfect is too strong of a word for you; Honestly, it's too strong of a word for anyone. "Me? Perfect? I don't know if I'd say that.”

She hugs you suddenly, her wet arms wrapping tightly around your chest, as if she's making sure you won't disappear like a soap bubble. “I'm serious,” she murmurs against your skin, her voice muffled but full of sincerity. “The way you made me feel... I never... never imagined it. Three times, do you know? How is that even possible?” She laughs again, this time with a slightly mischievous glitter in her eyes. “It was so intense. But now, you're being so gentle with me. You're not just amazing in bed, you're amazing outside of it too.”

The mention of “three times” makes you smile.

Okay, you're a little proud, not going to lie.

But what strikes you the most is the way she talks about you, like you're some kind of medieval knight who rescued not a damsel in distress, but a damsel who didn't even realize she was venturing into unknown territory.

“I just wanted you to feel good,” you say, not really sure where to put your hands, despite them being occupied with her. “And I also... felt really good, Chaeyoung. It was special.”

She looks at you with those big eyes, as if the whole world is contained within the four walls of the bathroom. “I feel so lucky to have found you,” she says, her tone pure reverence. “It's so perfect it feels like a dream. I guess that's why I feel this need to hug you, to make sure you're real."

“Someone like me? Chaeyoung, you're amazing... And adorable. I'm nothing like that, I'm just a man.” She makes a doubtful face, but you continue. “I mean it. You have this... this thing that no one else has. You're genuine, do you know? No filters. It's rare to find someone like that. I'm the lucky one to have you here with me.”

She blushes, the steam from the shower intensifying the pink glow on her cheeks. “Do you really think that?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, without hesitation. “You know, maybe it took me a while to realize it... but yeah.”

She smiles shyly, that smile that suggests a mix of insecurity and hope. “I... I know I'm a bit weird. But I'm so happy that you like me like this, that you are not ashamed of me. I w-want to be with you.. I want to be with you forever!”

And it's at that moment that you feel the weight of those words.

Forever.

You know how amazing emotional that sounds. The idea of "forever" should make you back away, fill you with panic. But... it doesn't. Strangely, you don't feel that natural and immediate urge to run when a girl you barely know says something like that.

You look at her and, in that instant, accomplish something. Maybe that stupid prank your friends pulled on you dragged you into something you would've never chosen on your own. But, and here's the irony of fate, now it doesn't seem like a bad thing. Maybe, behind all the laughter and the initial confusion, something genuinely good has emerged.

You smile at her, a smile that starts light but turns into something bigger, something real. “You know, Chaeyoung... I think this whole thing... this mess... maybe it's the best thing that's happened to me in a long time.”

She blinks, a little confused, but the smile never leaves her face. “What? What mess?”

You laugh, this time with genuine lightness. Of course, she has no idea what you're talking about. “It's hard to explain. But you... I think you're exactly what I needed.”

“We're like... you know what?" She leans in to give you a kiss. "Like ice cream and fries!"

You raise an eyebrow.

“Ice cream and fries?”

She nods enthusiastically. “Yes! Two things you wouldn't think go together, but when they do... it's perfect. Sweet and salty. Hot and cold. Like us.”

“Ice cream and fries, huh? I guess it makes sense... in a very Chaeyoung way of seeing things.”

“Exactly!” She pulls back a bit to look at you, her face lit up by a smile. “Maybe some people would say we're an unusual couple. But you know what's unusual? It's that these strange combinations end up being the best ones.”

Now you lean in, kissing her lightly on the lips. “You know what? That makes total sense.”

When you finally leave the bathroom and get dressed, the rain outside still taps against the window, rhythmic, like a reminder that the world keeps spinning. Chaeyoung puts on her pajamas - the ones she brought to "take care" of you - and, with a satisfied expression, throws herself onto the bed with a carefree joy.

You sit beside her, admiring her for a moment.

“Now,” she says, with that sudden excitement you're starting to recognize as her trademark, “we should watch Garfield! After all, you promised, remember?”

You chuckled, shaking your head.

Of course she'd remember.

“Alright. Let's watch Garfield.”

[essentiallyleaf]

day 08. temperature play. with. lee chaeyoung.

125 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x ???, temperature play, freeform, quite experimental, very gimmicky, and extremely pretentious, judge me for my worst, not for my best, secretly a parody of me self (i hope).

notes.

questioning if i should even post this. it's really bad. i hate it. but at the same time it’s like, the funniest thing i’ve ever birthed. sorrily, leaf.

Cool. Thrown on the metallic surface of the kitchen counter, a hand on her hip, a hand on her neck, her head snapped back.

Warm. A light pink canvas with dotted heat patterns drawn in drops of oil, converting to performance art through meek wails.

Cold. Triangular frosted red crayons planting black watermelon seeds on fertile complexion before quenching her thirst.

Hot. A lone lit candlestick closely hovering over luscious curves, sole luminal source in the dim chamber.

Freezing. From one, to two, to a handful of ice dice tempting fate on a track of mounds and valleys, at the doors of womanhood finding home.

Scorching. Raining globes of wax creating puddles, immediately hardening to build white little shields around her fragile, vulnerable orgasming state.

-

footnotes.

lmao. dafuqly, leaf.

[pupyuj]

some isa thoughts?

my baby finally!!!!! isa is so precious to meeee ya'll dont even KNOW 🥺🥺

hmmmm yk so far a lot of things i've seen that are written about isa (and what i mean by "a lot of things" is like.. two bcs nobody writes abt the stayc girls dkhdfkks </3) depicts her as like a hard dom but me personally im a sub-leaning switch isa enthusiast 🤭🤭 and im talking like 90% sub and 10% dom, girlie is not rlly into that dom/top lifestyle 😭 she likes sitting and looking pretty for you that's all!!!!

as for the things she likes, she's pretty vanilla?? isa's a love maker for sureee :(( she just wants to hold you close while she's taking everything you're giving her :( and she loveslovesloves hearing you say "i love you" while doing it, or just praises n cute nicknames in general 🥺🥺 i think calling her a "bitch" or a "slut" would turn her off or upset her sjdhfjdkf cuz sex is such an intimate act for her, isa doesn't like hearing all those bad things from her angel girlfriend's mouth !!

but she's not at all 'boring' i promise!! isa definitely leans more toward the soft kinks side 👀👀

she definitely likes throatfucking or maybe i'm projecting :(( like kneeling down in front of you while you're gagging her with your fingers :(( her getting wet at the way you held her jaw open with ur one hand while the other is shoved down her throat,,, AND WHEN I SAY SHE LIKES SEEING YOU FUCK YOURSELF WITH YOUR FINGERS THAT ARE COVERED WITH HER SPIT... but maybe you're punishing her (for no reason other than bcs you find it fun ofc, isa could never do anything wrong!!) and you're telling her that she can't touch you until she figures out what she did wrong and say sorry :(( but poor baby has no fucking clue you're joking so she's crying, pouting and begging for you to fuck her instead of yourself, bcs she knows it's instant forgiveness the moment your fingers are knuckle deep inside her </3

i also feel like she really is just very traditional? like no toys whatsoever, just your fingers and your mouth is enough <33

she a cat fr tho cuz why is she always on ur lap??! there could be more than enough space on the couch but nope, isa truly believes that her only seat is ur lap <33 and ofc that leads to you opening up her legs and fucking her while you're watching a movie and she's whimpering and shaking trying to hold back her moans bcs you wanna know what's going on in the film </3

ngl i kinda ran out ideas halfway through so this is a bit bland compared to my other stuff 😣 im sorry isa my baby i'll do better next time 👀

[thighsa]

BEAUTIFUL MONSTER

Artist :

StayC Isa X Male Reader (Third Person POV)

Tags :

Wardrobe Malfunction, Female Masturbation, Masochist Fetish, Kidnap, Forced Sex, Rough Sex, Rape, BDSM, Bondage, Virgin, Anal, Anal Virginity, Gangbang, Double Penetration, Blowjob, Deepthroat, Creampie, Gape, Sex Tape, Blackmail, Drug Usages, Slut, Cam Girl, Sex Slave, Prostitution, Strip Dancer, Golden Shower, Humiliation,

Warning : Non Con Smut, This smut is going to be a long one.

(please don't read if you don't like it, thanks!)

CHAPTER 1 : THE CONCERT OF A RAISING K-POP GROUP

Finding herself standing in the bustling backstage of a colossal concert venue, the air thick with anticipation and the sweet scent of hairspray. Lee Chaeyoung, or as the world knows, Isa, a rising star in the glittering universe of K-Pop as part of the sensational girl group, StayC. With her heart racing in her chest, she look into the mirror and adjust the glittering hairpin in her raven locks, her reflection showcasing her flawless makeup and piercing gaze. Isa run her hands over her curvy hips and give her thick, toned thighs a squeeze, drawing confidence from the power they hold. The sound of the crowd's roar crescendos as the opening chords of her latest hit echo through the corridor. The stage calls, and she takes a deep breath, ready to captivate the world once more with her unparalleled charm and talent. "It's showtime, Isa," her manager says with a nod of encouragement. Isa flash a dazzling smile, feeling the excitement surge through her as she step into the spotlight.

The stage lights hit Isa like a meteor shower, illuminating her scintillating, revealing outfit. The ensemble is a masterpiece of modern fashion K-Pop flair: a crop top that barely contains her ample cleavage, paired with a thick leather jacket as the outerwear, and a skirt that hikes high on her hips, showcasing her voluptuous thighs and perfectly curvy rounded ass. Her long, silky legs seem to go on forever, ending in a pair of thigh-high boots that scream confidence with every step. The crowd goes wild at the sight of her, the sea of faces blurring into a tapestry of admiration and desire.

With the opening beats of the song pulsing through her veins, Isa takes control of the stage like a tempest, her body moving in a symphony of seduction and precision. She's the main dancer, the heart of StayC's choreography, and her every move is calculated to leave the audience breathless. Her hips sway and pop in time with the music, her curvy figure a mesmerizing spectacle under the strobing lights. Her bandmates follow her lead, their movements synchronized like a well-oiled machine, but it's Isa's fiery charisma that truly sets the stage alight.

The choreography intensifies, and Isa leaps into a high kick, her skirt fluttering up to reveal a hint of the lacey thong she's wearing underneath. The fans scream even louder, their phones raised in a forest of flashing lights, eagerly capturing every moment. Suddenly, as she lands, there's a sharp tug, and the unthinkable happens: the clasp of her top gives way, the fabric parting to expose her right breast to the thousands of eyes in the arena. For a split second, time seems to stand still, the music a distant echo in the face of the impending disaster.

But Isa is a seasoned performer. Without missing a beat, she cups her hand over her breast, her cheeks flushing a deep shade of red that only serves to enhance her allure. The crowd's gasps are drowned out by the bass drop, and she spins away from the audience, using the momentum to conceal the wardrobe malfunction. The other members of StayC, caught off guard, exchange worried glances but Isa waves them off, signaling to continue as if nothing happened. Her professionalism is a beacon of calm in the storm of chaos, a testament to her unshakeable poise.

The moment Isa's breast is exposed, a ripple of shock waves through the arena, but it's quickly swallowed by a frenzy of excitement and anticipation. The flashes of cameras and phones are so intense that it's as if a thousand paparazzi have descended upon the stage. The video of her wardrobe malfunction is captured from every conceivable angle, the digital eyes of the audience eager to preserve the scandalous moment for posterity. The videos are uploaded to social media faster than you can blink, spreading like wildfire across various platforms, hashtags springing up like mushrooms in the aftermath of a storm.

While the performance goes on, the malfunction is a mere hiccup in the grand scheme of things. Isa's swift recovery and the sheer force of StayC's stage presence are enough to keep the audience enthralled. The music, the lights, the dance as they all conspire to distract from the brief flash of nudity. The other members of the group, though shaken by the unexpected turn of events, keep their cool, their movements sharp and their expressions composed.

As soon as Isa enters the backstage, the situation is a different story. The second the music stops, a cacophony of worried whispers and frantic gestures replace the organized chaos of pre-show preparations. The manager's eyes widen in horror as they watch the live feed of the performance, their hand slapped over their mouth in disbelief. "Oh no," they murmur, their mind racing with the potential repercussions. "Isa, are you okay?" they ask, rushing towards Isa.

Isa, though still flustered, nods with a forced smile. "It's fine," she says, trying to shrug off the embarrassment that clings to her like the sweat on her skin. "It was just a wardrobe malfunction. It happens." Her voice is steady, but the tremble in her hand as she adjusts her costume gives away her nerves. She quickly gathers her composure, drawing on the iron will that's brought her to the top of the K-Pop world. "We'll just have to make sure it doesn't happen again," she adds with a determined glint in her eye.

The concert ends with a thunderous applause, and as the final notes of the last song die out, Isa is ushered backstage, her heart racing not just from the exhilaration of the performance but also from the fear of what's to come. She quickly locks herself in the waiting room, the sound of the cheering fans a muffled roar behind the thick door. Pulling out her phone, her hands shaking with a mix of excitement and mortification, she opens up various social media apps, her fingers flying across the screen as she searches for any sign of the wardrobe malfunction. It doesn't take long for her to find it a video of her exposed breast has already amassed millions of views and countless comments, both supportive and malicious.

Her heart sinks as she reads through the comments. While there are fans praising her professionalism and others sharing their own stories of similar mishaps, there's also a sea of cruel words, body-shaming, and accusations of it being a publicity stunt. The weight of the negative attention is crushing, a stark reminder of the darker side of the industry she's worked so hard to conquer. She tries to push the negativity aside, focusing instead on the love and support from her devoted fanbase. Yet, the fear of losing everything she's worked for gnaws at her like a ravenous beast.

As she was scrolling at the comments, an advertisement popped up in her phone, Isa's hand trembles with anticipation as she opens the screen fills with a smorgasbord of explicit thumbnails, each one more graphic and enticing than the last. She bites her bottom lip, her pulse racing as she selects a video that promises the depraved thrills.

With the door locked tight and the cacophony of the concert now a distant memory, her hand shakes as she sets it aside, her eyes glazed with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She's never truly allowed herself to explore this side of her sexuality, but something about the raw, unbridled passion within its pages has her craving release. Her hand slides down her torso, her fingertips grazing the smooth skin of her stomach before delving beneath her skirt. The fabric of her thong is damp with anticipation, the fabric clinging to her plump pussy lips as she slides it aside. Her heart hammers in her chest as she touches herself, her virginity a mere technicality in the face of her burning need.

The video starts with a petite Asian girl, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and excitement, surrounded by a group of well-endowed black men. They're all grinning like predators, and Isa can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she watches. She watches, rapt, as the men in the video begin to touch and kiss the girl, her cries of pleasure growing louder with every passing second. The scene is a whirlwind of flesh and desire, a symphony of lust that resonates deep within Isa's core.

Her clit is swollen and sensitive, begging for attention. With a gasp, she rubs it furiously, her other hand squeezing her full breast, the nipple pebbled with arousal. She's seen the way the men in the videos looked at the bound women, the hunger in their eyes, and she craves that same intense focus. Her imagination runs wild, her hand moving faster as she imagines herself in the girl's place, her thick thighs spread wide and her plump ass jiggling with every rough thrust. The walls of the waiting room seem to close in around her, the pressure building with every stroke. The room is filled with the sweet sound of her moans, each one louder and more desperate than the last.

Her breathing quickens, her chest heaving as she watches the men take turns with the girl, her small frame seemingly incapable of containing the sheer size of their cocks. The sight of it all is almost too much, and yet she can't tear her eyes away. Her own hand is a blur between her legs now, her fingers working her clit with a fervor that borders on desperation. The tension builds, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to shatter her very soul.

Isa's orgasm hits her like a meteor, her entire body convulsing with the force of it. Her pussy clenches around her fingers, her juices spraying out in a fountain that soaks her hand and the floor beneath her. The pleasure is so intense, so overwhelming, that for a brief moment, she forgets where she is, lost in a world of pure ecstasy. The image of the gangbang in the porn video blurs with her own reflection in the mirror, the line between fantasy and reality growing thinner by the second. Her eyes squeeze shut, her teeth digging into her lower lip as she rides the wave of her climax, her moans echoing through the empty waiting room.

When she finally opens her eyes, the aftermath of her solo performance is stark: her hand is sticky with her own fluids, her chest heaving, and her cheeks flushed. The video on her phone is still playing, but the sound has been muted by the roar of the blood in her ears. She pulls her hand away, her pussy quivering, and looks down at the mess she's made. There's a twinge of guilt, a whisper of doubt that flits through her mind, but it's quickly drowned out by the lingering aftershocks of pleasure.

The echoes of Isa's powerful orgasm still resonate through the air as she slowly comes to terms with the reality of what just happened. Her heart thunders in her chest, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sticky warmth of her cum is a stark reminder of the unbridled passion that had just consumed her, leaving her trembling and slightly embarrassed at the wet spot on the floor. The mirror reflects an image of a girl who's just crossed an unspoken line, her eyes glazed over with a mix of satisfaction and curiosity about the dark desires that now lay bare before her.

As she takes a deep breath and attempts to compose herself, the harshness of the fluorescent lights seems to cast a judgmental glare on her naked form. The glitz and glamour of the stage have been stripped away, revealing the vulnerable young woman beneath the K-Pop images. She quickly cleans up the evidence of her masturbation, feeling a strange mix of excitement and fear. What if someone finds out about her newfound kink? Would it ruin her image? Would it change how her fans see her?

The thought sends a shiver down her spine, but it's quickly replaced by a fiery determination. This is her private time, her own little secret, and she won't let it define her public persona. She tucks the magazine back into its hiding spot, her eyes lingering on the cover for a moment longer before she turns away. The concert is over, the fans are dispersing, and she's still a star. The malfunction was a blip on the radar, something to be handled with grace and professionalism.

CHAPTER 2 : THE THUGS AND THE KIDNAP

The night air is cool against Isa's flushed skin as she slips out of the venue, hoping to avoid the usual post-concert fanfare. She chooses a shortcut through a dimly lit alley, eager to be alone with her thoughts and the aftermath of her public exposure. But the shadows hold more than just her secrets. As she walks, the echo of her boots against the concrete is soon accompanied by the jeering laughter and heavy footsteps of a group of thugs. They've recognized her from the viral video, their leering smiles growing wider as they approach.

"Well, well, well," the leader says, his voice slithering through the alley like a serpent's hiss. "If it isn't the little show-off from the concert. Did you do that for us, sweetheart?" His eyes rake over her body, a blatant hunger that sends a chill down her spine. The other men close in, their intentions as clear as the moon in the sky above.

Isa's heart races as she tries to keep a brave face. "Excuse me, I'm in a hurry," she says, her voice wavering slightly. She tries to step around them, but they block her path, their bodies a wall of malicious intent.

"Oh, we'll make sure you're not late for your next appointment," the leader sneers, reaching out to grab her arm. His grip is like iron, his nails digging into her soft flesh. "We're your biggest fans, you know. We just want to show you some... appreciation." The men chuckle in unison, their eyes glinting with a predatory gleam.

Isa's mind races as she tries to pull away, her heart hammering against her ribcage. "Please, let me go," she pleads, her voice a whisper of the confident performer she was mere hours ago. But the thugs are relentless, closing in tighter, their hands grabbing at her exposed skin with a hunger that makes her stomach churn.

The leader leans in, his breath hot and sour against her neck. "You liked showing us your goods earlier, didn't you?" he growls, his teeth grazing her earlobe. "Now it's our turn to play." His hand moves to her crop top, fumbling with the clasp as the others grab at her skirt.

Isa's body tenses as the thug's rough hand clamps down on her right nipple, his grip tight and painful. He gives it a twist, a sadistic smile playing across his lips as he watches her face contort in a mix of pain and humiliation. Her eyes water, and she tries to stifle a scream, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of knowing how much it hurts. The fabric of her crop top tears under their greedy hands, the remnants of her dignity shredded along with it. Her bare chest is exposed to the cool night air, her breasts jiggling slightly as the men lean in to get a closer look. The pain from her nipple is a sharp reminder of the danger she's in, sending a jolt of adrenaline through her veins.

One of the thugs, emboldened by his leader's actions, reaches out to cup her left breast, his palm greedily squeezing the soft flesh. "Guys, look at these tits," he says, licking his lips. "I bet you've had these out more often than you've had your panties on, huh?" His leer is almost comical in its depravity, but the fear gripping Isa's heart is anything but amusing. She tries to kick him away, but her legs are trapped in the tangle of her skirt, which is now around her ankles.

The thug's hand snakes down Isa's torso, his thick, calloused fingers digging into her soft flesh as they make their way to her thighs. He squeezes them with a groan of appreciation, the other men following his lead. They all seem to have the same idea, their grubby hands reaching out to grope and fondle her thick, muscular thighs and plump ass. Isa's breath hitches in her throat as she feels the unmistakable bulges in their pants pressing against her, their excitement palpable in the tense air of the alley.

"Let go of me, you animals!" she shouts, trying to struggle free, but their grip is too strong. They laugh, their breaths hot and heavy, as they continue to maul her. The leader's hand slides up her skirt, his fingers brushing against the damp fabric of her thong. "Looks like someone enjoyed their little show," he sneers, his fingers probing further, pushing the fabric aside to reveal her glistening pussy. "You're a wet little slut, aren't you?"

Isa's body is a flurry of panic as the thugs overpower her, their rough hands tearing at her clothing and pinning her down. They're like a pack of hyenas, each fighting for a piece of their prey. Her legs kick and thrash, but it's no use; she's outnumbered and outmatched. One of the men pulls out a roll of duct tape, ripping off a piece with a grin that could only be described as sadistic. He slaps it over her mouth, silencing her protests and muffling her screams into desperate whimpers. The taste of the tape is bitter and metallic, and the smell fills her nostrils as she struggles to breathe.

Within minutes, they've managed to tie her wrists behind her back and her ankles together, hoisting her into the back of a waiting van. The doors slam shut, plunging her into darkness. The van lurches forward, and Isa's stomach drops as she's thrown around on the cold, hard floor. She can't help but wonder if this is the end, if she'll ever make it out of here to see her bandmates again. The thought of her friends, her music, her fans, it all fuels a burning anger within her, giving her the strength to keep fighting, even if it's just in her own mind.

The van ride seems to last an eternity, but it eventually comes to a jarring stop. The doors open, and Isa is dragged out by her arms, her feet barely touching the ground as the thugs pull her along. They've brought her to an abandoned house, the smell of decay and dampness fills her nostrils as she's tossed into a musty, dimly lit room. The duct tape is ripped from her mouth, and she gasps for air, the sting of pain from her bruised skin making her eyes water.

The leader of the thugs grabs a fistful of Isa's hair, yanking her head back to expose her neck. "On your knees," he commands, his voice a low growl. Isa's legs wobble, but she complies, her heart pounding in her chest. He shoves her down onto a filthy rag that covers the floor, the grime and dust of ages sticking to her skin as she lands with a whimper. The fabric is rough against her knees, the sensation only adding to her growing sense of dread and disgust.

The thugs are like hungry beasts before a feast as they strip Isa of her remaining clothing. They tear away her crop top and skirt, leaving her in nothing but her drenched thong. The fabric clings to her body, revealing the full extent of her plump, glistening ass and her thick, toned thighs. The leader rips the thong away, tossing it aside with a grunt. Isa's nakedness is laid bare, her curves and the dark patch of hair between her legs on full display for their depraved eyes. She tries to cover herself, but her bound wrists are useless, and she's pushed back down onto the rag. The coldness of the floor seeps into her, a stark contrast to the heat of the lust in the room.

"Look at her, begging for it," one of the men leers, his eyes glazed over with desire.

The leader of the thugs unzips his pants with a dramatic flourish, revealing a cock that's both terrifying and awe-inspiring in its size. It's thick and long, the veins pulsing with anticipation as it stands proudly against his muscular thigh. The other men follow suit, their cocks of varying sizes but all equally hungry for her. The room is filled with the sound of zippers and the rustle of fabric as they expose themselves, their erections bobbing in the dim light. Isa's eyes widen in horror, unable to look away from the display of male aggression and lust.

The thug's cock slams into Isa with a brutal force that steals the breath from her lungs. She screams into the gag, her eyes watering as she tries to comprehend the pain and violation. Her tight, untouched pussy stretches to accommodate his massive girth, the sensation a blend of agony and unwelcome pleasure that sends shockwaves through her body. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room as he fucks her without mercy, his hips slamming into her thick ass, leaving bruises that will surely last for days. The other thugs form a ring around them, jerking themselves off to the sight of the K-Pop star's degradation, their eyes glinting with malice as they wait for their turn.

As the second thug positions himself beneath her, his cock pressing against her unprepared anus, Isa's eyes widen with terror. She's never even considered such an act before, and the thought of it fills her with a visceral fear that's only heightened by the brutality of the rape she's already enduring. He doesn't bother with lubrication or gentleness, simply pushing his way into her with the same violent enthusiasm as his comrades. Isa's screams are muffled by the gag as she's stretched to the limits, her body a battleground for their twisted desires.

The sensation of being double-penetrated is unlike anything Isa has ever experienced. The pain is unbearable, a fiery invasion that seems to rip her apart from the inside out. She tries to squirm away, but the weight of the man beneath her keeps her in place, his hands gripping her hips as he thrusts up into her. The thug behind her shows no mercy, his thick cock pummeling her pussy without pause. Her body is a symphony of pain, each movement sending a new wave of agony crashing through her.

Isa's cries for help echo through the abandoned house, her body contorting in pain as she's mercilessly used by the two thugs. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and her cheeks are stained with tears as she rides the edge of the agony they inflict upon her. Her thick, curvy body is a canvas of their brutality, each thrust into her ass and pussy a testament to their depraved hunger. The sound of her cries mingles with the sickening wet slaps of their bodies coming together, the squelching of her ravaged holes as they're stretched beyond their limits.

"Look at her, taking it like a champ," the man beneath her says, his voice thick with lust. He grabs her ass, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he fucks her harder, the head of his cock popping out of her asshole with every thrust before plunging back in. The other man, the one who had been watching, decides he can't wait any longer. He moves closer, stroking his cock in time with the rhythm of his friends' rape, his eyes never leaving Isa's tear-stained face.

The pain and degradation become too much for Isa, and her body finally gives out. Her vision swims, and she faints, her head lolling back as the thugs continue to pound into her, their grunts and the squelching of her ravaged holes the last things she hears before everything goes dark. Her muscles relax, no longer resisting the intrusion, and for a brief moment, she finds a small reprieve in unconsciousness.

But the thugs are not content to let her escape so easily. The leader notices her stillness and gives her a vicious slap across the face, bringing her back to the world of pain with a gasp. "Wake up, slut," he snarls, twisting her nipple to the point where she can feel it might snap off. "You're still far from done."

Isa's eyes fly open, the pain in her nipple a white-hot beacon of agony that cuts through the fog of her fading consciousness. The thug holding her by the hair yanks her upright, and she's forced to look at the man beneath her, his cock still buried in her ass, his face twisted in a grotesque mask of pleasure. "You like it rough, don't you?" he asks, his voice a sneer. "You're going to love what we have planned for you next."

The thug beneath Isa doesn't miss a beat, his hips continuing to piston upwards, his cock tearing into her ass without mercy. He's a man possessed, driven by his own twisted desires and the thrill of defiling a celebrity. The thug in front of her, his cock still buried deep in her pussy, starts to fuck her even harder, his movements punctuated by the cruel twists of her nipple. The pain is unbearable, but the fear of what they'll do if she doesn't stay conscious keeps her eyes open, her body tense.

"You're going to make a great little porn star," the leader says, holding up his phone to capture the scene. "Just think, your fans will get to see the real you." His words are like acid, burning into her soul as the thugs continue to ravage her body. Isa feels a strange mix of anger and humiliation, her mind racing as she tries to find a way out of this nightmare. But for now, she's trapped, a plaything for their sick games.

The third man steps closer, his cock bobbing with excitement. "My turn," he says, his voice guttural. He grabs her hair, yanking her head back so he can whisper in her ear. "You're going to suck me off, and you're going to love it." The taste of the duct tape is still in her mouth as he forces his cock between her lips, her gag muffling her gagging noises. He's not gentle, pushing his way into her throat until she chokes, her eyes watering and nose running with snot. The men laugh, the sound a symphony of cruelty that rings in her ears as she's used in ways she never imagined.

The camera's red light glares at her, a silent witness to her degradation. The thug filming zooms in on her face, capturing the tears streaming down her cheeks, the snot bubbling at her nose, the pain in her eyes. He moves it down to her gaping pussy and asshole, the juices of her rape mixing with the grime of the floor. "You're going to be famous, baby," he says, his voice a sadistic purr. "Everyone's going to see you like this." The thought of her fans watching this, of her family discovering her darkest secret, fills her with a despair so deep she thinks she might drown in it.

But Isa isn't one to go down without a fight. With a surge of strength she didn't know she had, she bucks her hips, trying to dislodge the cocks inside her. The men laugh, tightening their grips, but she doesn't stop. Her body is a whirlwind of pain and fear, but she refuses to let them have complete control over her. The thug filming moves closer, his cock pressing against her cheek. "Suck it," he says, his voice a demand. "You know you want too."

The thugs continue to abuse Isa's unconscious body, her muscles now limp and unresponsive. They take turns fucking her, their cocks sliding in and out of her gaping holes with ease. Her pussy and asshole are stretched to the maximum, the flesh around them raw and torn from their abuse. They laugh and jeer as they use her, their sadistic pleasure clear in every grunt and slap against her flesh. The one filming keeps a close watch, making sure to capture every moment of her degradation.

"Look at her, she's like a fucking ragdoll," one of the men says, pulling out of her pussy and smacking her cheek with his wet cock. "I bet she's never thought she will be fucked like this before." he added.

The thugs, sated by their depraved act, stand up, their cocks still dripping with Isa's blood and cum. They laugh among themselves, basking in the power they've exerted over her. The leader grabs a roll of rope from the corner of the room and approaches her limp form. They hoist her up, her body hanging lifelessly as they tie her wrists tightly to a metal bar that's bolted to the wall. The cold metal bites into her skin, leaving red welts that stand out starkly against her pale flesh. They bind her ankles as well, spreading her legs wide, her gaping holes still on display.

"Leave her like this," the leader says with a malicious smile. "It'll be a surprise when she wakes up."

The men chuckle as they pull on their clothes, their eyes lingering on Isa's bruised and bloodied body. They grab a few bottles of water from a dusty shelf, tossing them at her feet. "You're going to need these," one of them says, his voice filled with mock concern.

Isa slowly comes to, her head lolling to the side as she tries to make sense of her surroundings. The pain between her legs is a constant, pulsing throb, a stark reminder of the horror she's endured. She looks down at her bound wrists, the metal digging into her skin, and feels a wave of despair wash over her. She tries to scream, but her voice is gone, lost to the screams of the night before. All that comes out is a hoarse whisper that's barely audible even to her own ears.

Her eyes fall on the bottles of water, a cruel taunt in the face of her suffering. With trembling hands, she manages to untie the knots around her ankles, the rope scraping against her raw, bruised skin. Wincing, she uses the bar to pull herself up into a standing position, her legs threatening to give out beneath her. Every movement sends a fresh wave of agony through her body, but she refuses to succumb to it. Determined to survive, she hobbles over to the water, her legs shaking with effort.

The liquid is lukewarm and stale, but it's a gift from the gods as it hits her parched throat. She gulps down half the bottle, feeling a semblance of life return to her. Her eyes scan the room, searching for anything she can use to free herself. The metal bar digs into her wrists as she tries to pull herself together, the pain a stark reminder of her new reality. In the corner, she spots a rusty knife, discarded amidst the detritus of the abandoned house.

CHAPTER 3 : ANYTHING TO RELIEVE MY PAIN

The leader of the thugs saunters back into the room, a sadistic smile playing across his face as he watches Isa's futile attempts to free herself. He's followed by two of his laughing comrades, their eyes raking over her bruised and bloodied form with predatory interest. Isa tries to shrink away from them, but her bound body refuses to cooperate. The leader pulls a syringe filled with a murky liquid from his pocket and strides over to her, his cock already thickening at the sight of her fear.

"You're going to love this, sweetheart," he says, his voice a sinister purr as he approaches her. "It's going to make you feel so good, you'll be begging us to come back." He grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him. "You're going to be our little addict, aren't you?"

Isa's eyes widen with terror as she watches him prepare the syringe, her heart hammering in her chest. She tries to pull away, but the metal bar is unforgiving, holding her firmly in place. The needle pierces her skin, the cold liquid invading her body, and she feels a rush of warmth followed by a nauseating wave of dizziness. Her legs give out, and she slumps to the floor, the thug holding her up with a grip on her hair. The drug takes effect quickly, a euphoric haze clouding her mind, muting the pain and fear.

"Look at her, she's already a junkie," one of the other thugs says, laughing. "This is going to be so much fun."

The leader chuckles, stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. "You're going to be our little slut for as long as we want you," he whispers in her ear. The drug is already starting to make Isa feel woozy, her thoughts a tangled mess of fear and confusion. She tries to fight it, to cling to the last vestiges of her dignity, but the haze is too strong.

As Isa's eyes roll back in her head and she succumbs to the drug-induced faint, the thugs chuckle to themselves, their sadistic games successful. They leave her there, sprawled on the cold floor, her body a canvas of bruises and abuse. The abandoned house is silent once more, the only sound the distant echoes of their laughter. Days pass, and the drug takes a firmer hold on Isa's system, turning her into a desperate, addicted wreck. The withdrawal is a monster that gnaws at her bones, making her crave the very thing that has brought her to this state of despair. Her mind is foggy, and the pain between her legs is a constant, pulsing reminder of their brutality.

Isa, desperate and overwhelmed by the relentless craving for the drug, finds herself succumbing to the thugs' twisted demand. With the camera's red light blinking in the corner, she hesitates for a moment before sliding her trembling hand down her bruised body. She's lost count of the times she's been violated, the rapes and abuse leaving her feeling both physically and mentally shattered. Her fingers tentatively trace her swollen pussy lips, the sensation sending a jolt through her despite the pain. The drug has turned her into a sexual creature, her body now a tool for their perverse entertainment.

The thugs circle around her, their cocks hardening at the sight of her submission. They jeer and leer, urging her on with crude comments and lewd gestures. One of them grabs her chin, forcing her to look into the camera. "Smile for the camera, slut," he sneers, his breath hot and rancid against her cheek. Isa's eyes are vacant, glazed over with the need for the drug that will dull the agony of withdrawal. She whimpers, her hand moving faster, her thumb brushing against her clit, trying to coax out the release she so desperately craves.

The leader steps closer, his hand stroking his own cock as he watches Isa's pitiful performance. "That's a good girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. "Now, spread those legs wider for us." The pain in her thighs and ass is unbearable, but she complies, her body now a tool for their depraved amusement. The camera zooms in on her, capturing the raw desperation in her eyes, the tears that roll down her cheeks. The men cheer, their excitement palpable as they watch her degrade herself for a fleeting moment of relief.

Isa's hand moves faster, her fingers slipping in and out of her wet pussy, the sound of her masturbation echoing through the room. The drug has heightened her sensitivity, and even the slightest touch feels like a bolt of lightning. Her body responds despite her mind's protests, her hips bucking involuntarily as she tries to get herself off. The thug holding the camera leans in closer, his breath hot on her neck. "You're going to be the best little slut we've ever had," he whispers, his hand reaching out to tweak her nipple, sending a fresh wave of pain through her.

The leader watches with a cruel smile, stroking his own cock as he decides how far to push her. "Keep going," he says, his voice a command. "I want to see you cum for us." The other two thugs sit back, watching the show with eager eyes. They've grown bored of the usual rape and pain, the novelty of her masturbation a new form of entertainment. They make lewd comments, egging her on as she fucks herself for them.

With trembling hands, Isa takes the massive dildos from the leader's outstretched hand. They're much larger than anything she's ever seen before, let alone had inside her. Her eyes fill with fear and revulsion, but the desperate craving for the drug overpowers her. She knows what will happen if she refuses, the memory of the withdrawal agony fresh in her mind. With a deep, shuddering breath, she slowly inserts one of the dildos into her already abused pussy, the thickness stretching her beyond what she thought possible. She bites back a scream, her teeth sinking into her lower lip until she tastes blood. The other dildo is cold and unwieldy in her hand, but she knows what's expected. She reluctantly brings it closer to her asshole, the memory of their violent rape making her shiver.

The thugs leer at her, their cocks fully erect and bobbing with anticipation. The leader's hand is still wrapped around his shaft, stroking it with a leisurely pace. "Go on," he urges, his eyes gleaming with excitement. "You know what to do."

With a whimper, Isa braces herself and pushes the second dildo into her asshole, the thick head popping in with a wet sound. She can feel the cold plastic filling her up, the sensation both terrifying and oddly comforting in the face of the pain she's come to expect. She starts to rock back and forth, the dildos moving in tandem, filling her completely. The thugs cheer, their eyes glued to her stretched, gaping holes. The pain is intense, but she's learned to separate her mind from her body, focusing instead on the task at hand.

The leader steps closer, his cock now fully erect and pointing at her like an accusatory finger. "You like that, don't you?" he sneers, his hand reaching out to tweak her clit. The sudden contact sends a jolt of pain through her, and she gasps, her eyes squeezing shut. "Look at us," he commands, his grip on her chin brutal. "Look at us while you fuck yourself."

Isa's eyes fly open, and she looks into the camera, the dildos moving in and out of her in a macabre dance. The pain is unbearable, but she knows she has to keep going. She starts to rub her clit with frenzied strokes, her eyes never leaving the camera. The thugs cheer her on, their excitement feeding the darkness inside her. Her orgasm is a strange, twisted thing, born from pain and fear. Her body convulses around the dildos, her muscles clenching and releasing in a desperate bid for relief. She cums hard, the sensation a blend of agony and pleasure that makes her scream, her voice raw from days of abuse.

"Good girl," the leader says, his voice dripping with satisfaction. He steps closer, his cock now fully engorged. "Now, you're going to take us all again." The other thugs chuckle, eager for their turn. They unbind her from the chair, her limbs trembling from the effort of holding herself up for so long. The withdrawal pains are starting to creep back in, a persistent reminder of her dependence on them. They push her onto her hands and knees, her plump ass in the air, the dildos still lodged inside her. The leader steps up behind her, his cock nudging against her bruised asshole. She feels a fresh wave of terror, knowing what's coming next.

"Please," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Please, no more. It's hurt so much."

CHAPTER 4 : THE TWO FACED CEO's

The leader's cock slams into Isa's ass, the thick dildo still lodged in her pussy. She feels like she's being split in two, the pain so intense she can't help but cry out. The thugs laugh and jeer, their excitement building as they watch the K-Pop star degrade herself for their amusement. The camera captures every moment of her anguish, the video feed streaming to the eager eyes of the old VVIPs on the dark web.

"Look at her, she's loving it," one of the thugs says, slapping her ass as the leader pumps into her. The CEOs of the K-Pop companies watch, their own hands working their cocks as they revel in her degradation. The thought of them watching, getting off to her pain, adds a new layer of horror to the situation.

Isa's body shakes with each brutal thrust, the dildo in her pussy slamming against her cervix with every thrust. The pain is unbearable, but she's learned to find a twisted sense of control in the chaos. If she can just endure this, if she can just make it through another round, then maybe, just maybe, she can find a way out of this hell. But the drug's grip is strong, and with each passing day, she feels herself slipping further and further away from reality.

"She's going to be a star," one of the thugs says, slapping her ass again. "The old fucks are going to pay a fortune for a piece of her."

Isa bites her lip to stifle her scream, but she opens them again, focusing on the camera as if it's a lifeline. The other two thugs move in, one holding her head still, forcing her to watch as they take turns with her.

The thugs, their excitement reaching a crescendo, pull Isa's limp body away from the metal chair. Her legs give out, unable to support her after the hours of abuse, but they catch her, their grips bruising her skin even more. They strip the dildos from her ravaged holes, tossing them aside with a wet slap. The leader steps back, zipping up his pants with a smirk. "Let's get you ready for your next performance," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

The thugs, having struck a deal with the VVIPs on the dark web, begin to prepare Isa for her next ordeal. They strip her of any remaining dignity, cleaning her up as best as they can without showing any semblance of care for her wellbeing. Her body is a canvas of bruises and abrasions, a stark testament to the horrors she's endured. They tie her up in a new, more elaborate position, her thick thighs and curvy ass displayed prominently for the perverted gazes of their wealthy patrons. The anticipation of what's to come fills her with dread, but she's too broken to fight anymore.

"You're going to make us so much money, little slut," one of the thugs says, running his hands over her body, his fingers lingering on the swollen mounds of her breasts. "These old fucks are going to line up for a taste of you."

Isa's heart races with fear as she's hoisted back onto the chair, the ropes biting into her skin as they secure her in place. The knowledge that she's being sold to these high-profile perverts is almost too much to bear. She tries to keep her breathing steady, but her chest heaves with the effort of not breaking down completely.

Isa numbly stares at the array of skimpy, revealing clothes laid out before her. The thugs had brought in a selection of outfits that would make any self-respecting woman cringe - garments that screamed "slut" and "whore" with every thread. Her mind races with the thought of what fresh hell awaits her, but she knows that resisting is futile. With trembling hands, she picks out the least offensive of the bunch, a tiny bikini top made of nothing but a few strategically placed strips of shiny fabric and a pair of booty shorts that barely cover her ass cheeks.

The thugs watch with hungry eyes as she peels off the tattered remnants of her original outfit, her body on full display. They make lewd comments and whistle, their excitement palpable. One of them hands her a roll of duct tape. "Here, use this to keep those nipples hidden," he sneers, a hint of a smirk playing on his lips. Isa's cheeks burn with humiliation as she takes the tape, her eyes downcast. She carefully tapes her nipples, trying to maintain a semblance of modesty despite the futility of the gesture.

The thugs exchange glances, their grins widening as they watch her struggle to put on the flimsy bikini top. The fabric clings to her bruised and swollen breasts, the tape barely containing them. Her stomach churns at the thought of what the CEOs will do to her, but she forces herself to stand, the shorts barely hugging her thick thighs. They laugh as she wobbles, her legs still weak from the days of abuse. The leader steps forward, his gaze raking over her. "You clean up nicely," he says, his voice a sneer. "Now, let's get you ready for your clients."

Isa, dressed in the skimpy stripper-like attire, is led out of the abandoned house, the thugs' hands rough on her arms as they guide her through the dark streets. The cold air hits her bare skin, sending goosebumps rushing over her body, a stark contrast to the warm, stifling air inside. They throw her into the back of a van, the metal floor cold and unforgiving against her bruised knees. The vehicle lurches forward, the bumps in the road jostling her in her seat, the dull ache between her legs a constant reminder of her situation.

The drive seems to last an eternity, the only sounds the grumbling of the engine and the occasional lewd comment from the thugs up front. The van eventually stops, and Isa is pulled out into the dimly lit parking lot of what looks like an exclusive club. The thugs lead her through a back entrance, the heavy door slamming shut behind them, sealing her fate. The music thumps through the walls, the bass vibrating in her chest as they ascend a staircase to a private room. The anticipation of what's to come is suffocating, her heart racing in her chest.

The door to the room opens, revealing a dimly lit space filled with the thick scent of cigar smoke and the low murmur of male voices. The CEOs are seated around a large, circular table, their eyes lighting up at the sight of Isa. They're all dressed in expensive suits, their faces a mix of excitement and greed. The leader of the thugs shoves her into the center of the room, where she stands awkwardly, her legs trembling. "Gentlemen," he says, with a flourish of his hand. "Your entertainment for the evening is finally here."

Isa, trembling with fear and humiliation, steps into the center of the dimly lit, smoke-filled room. The old men's eyes are glued to her, their gazes greedy and predatory. She knows she has to go through with the dance, hoping it'll buy her time or at least some form of mercy. She takes a deep, shaky breath and starts to sway her hips, trying to remember the choreographed routines she's done countless times on stage. The music begins, a slow, sensual beat that seems to mock the horror of her situation. She moves her body in time with the rhythm, her bruises and sores screaming with each twirl and gyration.

The CEOs lean back in their chairs, smoking cigars and sipping on expensive whiskey, their eyes never leaving her. They murmur to each other, placing bets on how long she'll last before breaking down. Isa tries to ignore them, focusing instead on the task at hand. The shorts ride up, exposing more of her thick thighs and the upper swells of her plump ass, making the men's eyes bulge with lust. She reaches behind her, her hand slipping into her shorts to caress her ass cheek, eliciting a chorus of lewd cheers. Her movements are forced, the dance a twisted parody of the ones she's performed for her fans, but she's determined to maintain some semblance of control.

One of the CEOs, Mr. Kim saunters over to the stereo and cranks up the volume, the bass thumping louder, the beat faster. "Alright, slut, don't waste our time anymore" he says, his voice thick with excitement. "Now, you're going to strip for us, nice and slow." The room goes quiet, the CEOs leaning in, their anticipation palpable. Isa feels their eyes on her, the weight of their lust and greed a heavy burden. With trembling hands, she reaches behind her neck, her fingers fumbling with the strings of the bikini top. It's a struggle, her coordination impaired by fear and pain, but she finally manages to untie it. The top falls away, revealing her bruised and taped-covered breasts, the fabric clinging to her skin.

The CEOs let out a collective groan, their eyes glued to her chest. Isa can see their cocks straining against their pants, their faces flushing with desire. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her trembling legs, and continues to dance. Her movements become more erratic as she fumbles with the strings of her shorts, the pressure building with each passing second. Finally, the shorts fall to the floor, pooling around her ankles, leaving only a g-string covering her pussy.

The thugs cheer, egging her on, while the CEOs lean back in their chairs, stroking their cocks through their pants. "Keep going," said Mr Han, his voice thick with lust. "Show us what you've got, what you hide underneath your idol stage outfits."

Isa's hands shake as she reaches for the strings of her g-string. The room seems to spin around her, the strobe lights flashing in time with her racing heartbeat. She pulls the string, the fabric slipping down her hips, revealing her plump, abused pussy to their eager gazes. The CEOs lean in closer, their breathing labored, their hunger for her degradation insatiable. She's never felt so exposed, so vulnerable. But she knows that she has to endure this. For the drug. For the hope of escape.

As Isa continues her erotic dance, her thick thighs jiggle with every move she makes. The CEOs' eyes are glued to her, their lust-filled gazes burning into her very soul. The room's temperature seems to rise, the heat of their desire melding with the smoke from their cigars. She starts to twerks, her plump ass bouncing to the beat of the music, the cheers and catcalls from the men spurring her on despite her fear. The leader of the thugs circles her, filming every move with a grin on his face, knowing the kind of money this footage will bring in. The sound of their zippers echoes through the room as the CEOs free their cocks, stroking themselves in time with her dance.

Mr. Han, a particularly portly man with a greasy combover, stands up and waddles closer to her. He grabs her by the hips, forcing her to grind against him. Isa tries to pull away, but he's too strong, his grip bruising her tender flesh. He whispers lewd things into her ear, his hot breath reeking of alcohol and cigars. Isa feels his cock, thick and hard, pressing against her stomach, and she can't help but gag. But she keeps dancing, her body moving on autopilot, her mind desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare.

Mr. Han's patience snaps, his lust overtaking his sense of decorum. He stands with a grunt, his grip on Isa's hips tightening. With a grin that's more a snarl, he hoists her into the air, the muscles in his arms bulging with the effort. Isa squeals in fear and surprise, her legs kicking wildly as she's held aloft. The room goes quiet, the other CEOs watching with rapt attention, their cocks in their hands, stroking in time with the music.

He slams Isa onto the table, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Her bruised body bounces slightly with the force, her taped-covered breasts jiggling from the impact. The table creaks under her weight, the surface sticky with the residue of previous debauchery. The thugs laugh, watching as she tries to push herself up, only for Mr. Han to slap her down, his hand leaving a red mark on her cheek. Her thick thighs spread wide, her pussy glistening with a mix of her own arousal and their previous abuse.

"Hold her down," he barks, his eyes wild with lust. The thugs move in, each grabbing an arm and a leg, spreading her out like a ragdoll for the CEOs' amusement. Mr. Han with the combover licks his lips, his hands fumbling with his belt buckle. "You're going to take us all, by turns" he says, his voice a low growl. "You're going to scream for us, and we're going to fuck you until you can't walk."

Isa's heart races as the Mr. Han unzips his pants, revealing a cock that's both terrifying and repulsive in its size. She tries to struggle, to fight, but the thugs' grip is too strong. The other CEOs crowd around the table, their eyes gleaming with excitement. One of them, a man with a cruel smile and a glint in his eye, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a marker pen. He starts to write on her body, his hand moving with a disturbing level of precision, leaving behind crude words that sting almost as much as the physical abuse. "Thigh Slut," he scrawls on her thigh, his breath hot against her skin. "Cheap Whore," on her stomach and "Bitch Korean Idol," on her ass cheeks. The others laugh, their hands reaching out to touch and grope her.

Mr. Han with the combover steps closer, his erection bobbing in the air. He grabs her face, turning it toward him, forcing her to look into his eyes. "You're going to scream for me," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and malice. "You're going to beg for it." He lines up his cock with her pussy, the head nudging against her swollen entrance. Isa's eyes widen with horror as she feels him push inside, the pain making her back arch off the table. She lets out a guttural scream, the sound echoing through the room.

Mr. Han grunts with satisfaction, his cock disappearing into her wetness. He starts to pound into her, his belly slapping against her bruised flesh. The thugs hold her down, their grips tightening as she bucks and struggles beneath them. The other CEOs lean in, their faces a mix of fascination and depravity as they watch the scene unfold. Mr. Kim then reaches down and slaps her ass, leaving a red handprint on her pale skin. "Take it, you little slut," he says, his voice gleeful. Isa's eyes fill with tears as she's used like a ragdoll, her body a plaything for their twisted desires.

"My turn," another CEO says, his voice a wheeze as he steps forward. The thug holding her leg releases it, and the old man takes his place, his cock already out and dripping with precum. He lines up behind her, his breath hot and sour in her ear. "You're going to take us all," he whispers, his hand reaching around to fondle her breasts. Isa tries to scream, but it's muffled by the gag that's been shoved into her mouth, the fabric biting into her tender flesh. She feels him push into her ass, the pain so intense she thinks she'll pass out. But she doesn't. She's too aware of what's happening, too present in the horror of her reality.

Mr. Han with the combover doesn't bother to hold back, his thrusts violent and erratic. He's not trying to pleasure her, just to satisfy his own twisted desires. Isa feels her insides stretch to the breaking point, the pain unlike anything she's ever felt. Mr. Han laughs, his hands squeezing her tits, his nails digging into her skin. The room spins around her, the faces of the old men a blur of lust and cruelty. They take turns, each one more brutal than the last, her cries muffled by the gag, her body a canvas for their depravity. They write on her, take photos, and even film their sick acts, sharing them with each other like trophies.

Isa feels herself slipping away, the pain and humiliation too much to bear. Her eyes glaze over, and she goes limp, the only indication of her consciousness the occasional whimper that escapes her gag. The CEOs don't seem to notice or care, passing her around the table like a toy to be used and discarded. The leader of the thugs, his eyes gleaming with greed, records everything, knowing the more degrading the content, the higher the price it'll fetch. Her mind drifts to the music she used to dance to, the lights, the fans' adoration. It feels like a lifetime ago, a world she'll never see again.

The CEOs take turns, their age not dampening their voracious appetites. Each one leaves his mark on her body, a grim testament to their power and control. The pain is constant, a never-ending crescendo that threatens to consume her. Her body is a battleground, her soul screaming for mercy. The room is a blur of movement and noise, the thud of flesh on flesh, the grunts of the CEOs, and the muffled sounds of her own pain. She feels a strange mix of anger and resignation, knowing that she's nothing but a commodity to them.

As the last of the CEOs pulls out, his cock slick with Isa's blood and tears, he grabs her by the hair and yanks her head back, forcing her to look at the group. "One last thing," he says with a sadistic smile. His cock still semi-hard, and starts to urinate on her. The warm stream of piss hits her face, mixing with her salty tears and running down her cheeks. She tries to turn away, but his grip is too strong. The other CEOs laugh, some of them standing up to get a better view, their own cocks still hard from the spectacle.

The CEOs, sated from their vile act, stand around the table, their cocks still out and glistening. They look at each other with a mix of disbelief and excitement, the reality of their depravity setting in. Mr.Kim nods, a grin spreading across his face. "Alright, let's not waste any more time," he says, his voice a mix of excitement and greed. "Line up." The other CEOs eagerly queue up, their urine flowing freely as they wait for their turn to add to Isa's degradation. The first CEO's stream of piss cascades down her face, mixing with her mascara and eyeliner, creating dark rivers that run down her neck and pool in the hollows of her collarbones.

Isa's body feels heavy and numb, the pain from their abuse and the humiliation of their bodily fluids on her a new level of hell. Each man takes his turn, their urine spattering her body, soaking her hair, and pooling around her on the table. The cold liquid runs down her back and into the cracks of her ass, making her shiver. Mr. Park, the CEO with the marker steps forward, his cock still semi-hard, and with a sadistic smirk, he writes another word across her forehead, "Public Property." The thugs laugh, their grip on her arms and legs never loosening.

As Isa feels the last drops of their urine hit her skin, she can't hold back the flood of emotions anymore. She starts to cry uncontrollably, her body shaking with sobs. The CEOs laugh and jeer, their amusement only growing at the sight of their property sobbing like a pathetic animal. The thugs, bored with the show, release her limbs, allowing her to collapse onto the table, her body sticky with their piss and sweat.

The leader of the thugs steps forward, his grin fading to a look of business-like indifference. "Alright, that's enough fun for now," he says, snapping his fingers. "Clean her up. We've got more...clients." The thugs begin to drag her off the table, her limbs limp and useless. One of them grabs a bucket and a sponge, tossing it in her direction. "Get to work, slut," he sneers. "You've got another show to put on."

THE END

[usedpidemo]

Filmic (fromis_9 Chaeyoung, Nagyung, & Jiheon)

The first ripple is what you see: the waves of smooth flesh sending shocks throughout her body. Her nails digging into the sheets, her muscles shaking as it struggles to stay on all fours.

The second is what you feel: the tightness of her cunt as it pulses against your throbbing cock, overriding every other thought. Your hands deeply burrowing into her pale skin, trying to maintain some semblance of control, all while you try your best to make yourselves look good in front of the poorly setup camera under a dimly lit bedroom.

No wonder you can’t get it right the first time; you just can’t. 

—————

It’s never as easy as it looks. You can’t simply go through the motions like with any other job. And to be fair, it isn’t exactly your fault: you can blame Chaeyoung for having a tight ass and pussy.

No matter how many times you fuck her, no matter how many positions you put her in, the end result remains the same: one take just isn’t enough. No amount of practice and experience can ever prepare you for just how tight she is, how close she gets you on the initial entry, and how each thrust is like driving a stake through your loins. She feels so good that it’s unbearable.

It doesn’t help that she’s quite the mouthful in bed. 

“Ah—oh my God—yes—” she mindlessly drones on, delivering her demand in comically overexaggerated fashion that you have no clue whether it’s all part of the act or Chaeyoung being Chaeyoung. Same goes for how she backs her ass against your hips, making sure you fill her to the hilt. “Hm—fuck me with that big ass fucking cock—oh fuck—”

To her credit, she’s quite the natural in taking it all. The push and pull of your bodies against each other is enough to generate its own center of gravity. If this were simply a one night stand, you’d already be more than satisfied, but to be her partner, her fuckbuddy—you couldn’t have asked for a better job, even if by all accounts, you’re not doing particularly well right now.

As her ass bounces against your cock, the arch of her back and every ripple caught on camera, she’s putting on quite the show. On the other hand, you’re struggling to keep up, gripping her waist as you pound to her pace, only to find the knot in your stomach burning brighter and hotter. It’s a mistake that comes with the package of having to fuck such a tight, godly woman like Chaeyoung. Slaps of skin rubbing against skin fill the space between thrusts, complemented by the echoes of her whiny cries reaching to the ceiling—

And you’re asking yourself, what sane person—hell what degenerate—even gets off to this shit. Then you look at what's right in front of you. There’s your answer.

“Christ—you’re gonna make me fucking cum—oh my fucking God—” Chaeyoing whines, tossing her dark hair around, so off-putting, you almost lose grip at how unexpected she is.  “Keep fucking that big dick in me—”

You can only respond in deep grunts and frantic breaths, straightening what little resolve you have to at least do your part. Keeping your gaze fixated on the tremble, the little jiggle of her shapely ass, your cock entering and exiting, getting wetter with each slam, staining her sheets—

“Gonna cum for you, baby,” you mumble, biting your lower lip, closing your eyes, trying to stretch moments into hours. “Gonna fucking cum—”

Here’s the thing about Chaeyoung: you don’t have a say when it comes to how long you last, because she dictates it for you. And the moment passes by so quickly, you’re left more blueballed than satisfied. 

You don’t remember the last time you’ve spent longer than five minutes inside her, but it certainly won’t happen tonight. Not while you’re violently throbbing, gasping for air holding your dick as it pulses inside her creamy cunt before you painfully draw it back. Blasting around the entrance of her core, hot and heavy, cumming all over her ass. Her body takes it—as in, effortlessly sucks up your cum, her skin glistening so bright it’s almost blinding. Your only respite is watching it slowly drip down her thighs and onto the sheets.

As the aftermath of your orgasms wash over you both and pass, Chaeyoung rolls onto her back and out of bed. Like you weren’t aggressively pounding into her and tearing into her foundations mere minutes ago. She limps toward the camera, still filming you, before she stops the recording. Checking through the reel, she shows you the footage. Watching yourself go hard into her, your mind can only focus on the noises you’re making, the stark contrast in tones. She laughs; you cringe.

“Wanna go at it again?” she asks you, drawing out a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, eager to spread it all over herself—and to spread on all fours once more. 

Hand on your beating chest, you tilt up to the ceiling, exhausted, doing something only a rare few on this planet would ever try to Chaeyoung, even though it’s your primary purpose: “How about we get out of bed and go to work?”

—————

Several floors down her apartment building is where your day job lies: a seemingly innocuous bar. The place is usually empty during weekdays, so you barely spend time ‘working’ there, but the weekends are when business picks up.

To be fair, you can hardly call it a job; you co-run the place, but you’re mostly there to serve customers and play matchmaker, most of which happen to be pretty women. It helps that Chaeyoung also hangs out most of the day to entice people inside, giving herself fresh material to work with.

And she sells. 

You’re already sure of what it is, before she even shows her phone, and wouldn’t you know it: it’s the 14th straight video of her back dripping with cum from her latest client, with nausea-inducing shaky cam included. Doing it with you on the side wasn’t enough; Chaeyoung has to get her daily fill from desperate men who have all the money to throw around, or desperate loners to find some temporary companionship. Perhaps both. They get to fuck a hot woman, she gets paid big bucks. It’s a win-win for all parties involved.

You see the large, burning red blot covering most of her ass. It tells you everything.

A quick glance away from her proud look and you see a guy scrambling out of the restroom with a hand between his pants, tissue barely hanging on his fingertips.

Yep. That’ll do.

Back to the stats: it’s another hit. It hasn’t even been 5 hours and her latest post has over half a million views and just as many likes from her subscribers. She’s running up her numbers, and she’s telling you how she’ll make millions in less than a year. You’ve crunched the numbers, and she’s right: you call it anal-ytics, and she just punches you in the arm. Your interpretation of comedy is radically different from hers (and unfortunately, she doesn’t appreciate your sense of humor).

“You should really get on,” Chaeyoung tells you, proudly showing you post after post, every thumbnail almost indistinguishable from one another: each a still frame of her heart-shaped ass. Almost every video has three million views or more, even if none of them pass the five minute mark. Same goes for her pictures. She can post a picture of any of her body parts and it’ll make money. “It’s really tough in this economy, you know? For you, it’ll be light work, just like fucking me.”

“Easy for you to say, Miss ‘I can’t be assed to work a real job so lemme whore out for some cash’ Chaeyoung.” You’re saying this, knowing full well you’re no better than her. 

“Look who’s talking, Mister ‘BIG-1, the number two male pornstar in Korea.’ How’d you end up paying for this bar and every food truck you send to your co-stars? Hm?”

As expected, the rebuttal is brutally honest. You’ve got no counter to that.

But see, the experience has become so numbing: it’s not as easy to get the complete satisfaction of fucking a girl these days, no matter how hot they are. No matter if they’ve got the thickest ass or the biggest tits on the planet. It also doesn’t help that you’re in Chaeyoung’s ass almost every other day when you’re not ‘working.’ At some point, the law of diminishing returns has come to take its dues.

Before the two of you can continue to bicker back and forth, the entrance door bell chimes, and in comes a familiar face, bringing her share of books and laptop with her. 

“Hey. Don’t mind if I brought a friend with me today,” Jiheon says to the four people inside the bar. Trailing right behind her is a fresh face to your small circle. And like most of your guests, she’s undeniably pretty. A face worth plastering on magazine covers and billboards.

There’s a common ground that you and Chaeyoung can stand on. Now you’ve both got some ideas in mind. Fresh blood is much needed around here.

“I’ll have the usual,” Jiheon says out loud, as if everyone recognizes that she’s a regular—which she is. Her partner has been unusually quiet, only mumbling to her with a hand around her face. “My friend will have the best seller,” she shouts right after, essentially acting as her friend’s mouthpiece.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the place, Chaeyoung is goading you into making the first move. “I did the last one. Your turn.”

You lift an eyebrow, hesitant. “Don’t think she’ll want to talk to me—or anyone for that matter.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” she replies. You’d assume that Chaeyoung would be more than willing to talk, considering these two are friends and have some knowledge around the industry. Nope—she’s protecting herself by using you as a shield if it falls apart. “Plus, that’s Jiheon. She’ll make anyone open up. Better than me, even.”

Begrudgingly, you concede. Walking over to the counter, you get their drinks. That’s how you get customers to stay for more: by making them feel welcome and making their experience personal. Jiheon’s too focused on her laptop to care at the moment, while her friend is on her phone, quietly scrolling. Shifting in her seat, shaken and uncomfortable, seemingly looking for an excuse to see herself out.

“Thanks,” Jiheon eventually notices, adjusting her glasses. “So—how’s it been?”

“Not much, really,” you reply, “And you?”

“Same. You know how it is.” She’s clicking through what appears to be some form of academic document. You’re so used to seeing Jiheon in uniform for all the wrong reasons that you tend to forget that she’s an actual student outside of the internet. Then again, she’s hardly on social media, with months between posts. “God, research is so boring. I just wanna go full-time with work.”

“Right?” You chuckle, trying to get through her so you can get to her friend, quietly sipping on her drink. Jiheon’s beverage has been hardly touched. “So—who’s your friend here? She’s new.”

Looking up from the laptop screen, she stares directly at you before turning to her shy friend. “Oh, yeah. This is Nagyung. Nakko, this is a friend of mine,” she says, encouraging her to shake hands, which you both do respectfully.

“Nagyung? As in, the actress? Lee Nagyung?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her first spoken word and hopefully many more to come. That explains her quiet and unusual behavior; she doesn’t want to be found and spotted in public. She’s had a few supporting roles here and there, got some awards, and her face is easily recognizable, even if she hasn’t completely broken into the mainstream. How you didn’t catch on right away is a mystery to you.

“Relax. Like I said, he’s a close friend of mine, and this place generally doesn’t get a lot of people, so I like studying here,” Jiheon reassures Nagyung, and she does mostly calm down, albeit still a little tense and jittery. “So—what’s up?”

“Well, you see—”

“Hi! I’m a huge fan of your work in Shadow Beauty,” interjects Chaeyoung out of nowhere, pushing you aside to energetically shake both of Nagyung’s hands. What little goodwill you’ve built between you, gone in an instant. She’s smiling awkwardly, clearly on edge by her manic energy. You’re surprised Chaeyoung can even name one drama she’s starred in, even if that’s what got her on the map. “You know you’d be quite the face in po—”

“Wait.” You immediately cover Chaeyoung’s mouth with your hand, resisting her effort to fight through it and speak her truth. Pulling her aside, you blurt out to Jiheon and Nagyung you’ll return to them in a moment before distancing yourselves to speak in private.

“What the hell?” you question Chaeyoung, pouring out your newfound frustration. “She was just getting comfortable y’know? You can’t just come in and yap up a storm. Not everyone is like that.”

She looks at you with a baffled gaze. Like this is normalized behavior. Like you should expect this to happen with every new person you two meet. “Dunno, she seemed quite into me.”

And you fire a blank-eyed stare back, in complete disbelief at her interpretation. “You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Maybe.”

You can only shake your head and sigh—exasperated.

“I’m just saying. Maybe she knows,” says Chaeyoung, in what appears to be an attempt at sounding optimistic. “I mean, isn’t Jiheon—”

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so.” You shut her down before the notion even finds ground. While Jiheon also is a star on her own, she’s quiet in her own right to keep her idol side and personal life completely apart. “Let’s not get any ideas right now, especially with her around.”

“Fair enough. But if she even gets the slightest hint, I’m gonna reel her in.”

“Why are you so adamant about putting Nakko onto porn?” you ask, slightly bothered by Chaeyoung’s resolve. It’s almost twisted in a way. “Last time you did that, Saerom—”

“Okay. That may have been a little too fast,” she interrupts, chuckling at the incident that caused Saerom to walk out. You haven’t been in contact with her since. That was several months ago, and not much has changed since then. “But swear to God, I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You better not.”

So you go back out there first, telling Chaeyoung to wait a few minutes before she can rejoin the conversation. Jiheon and Nagyung are talking it up when you suddenly slide back in. 

“Sorry for that,” you interject, putting on your best smile. Like you’re working service for once. Thousands of possible scenarios are playing out in your head, ranging from ideal to the worst. You’re looking at Jiheon first, then turning your attention to Nagyung. “So—Nakko, right? How’s the whole acting gig working out for you?”

She blinks a few times. Looks at Jiheon, who simply lifts her eyebrows and smiles back, shrugging her shoulders. 

“It’s—” she’s pausing, prolonging the last sound of that word. “Fine? I haven’t had any scripts coming in lately. It’s tough. But I’m doing okay.”

“Hm. Well—I know of a few people who can get you some gigs,” you tell her, your confidence shooting through the moon as you haven’t fumbled through your words. “Trust me, I’m an actor too.”

“Really?” Nagyung intently looks at you upon hearing that you’re a fellow actor..

“Let me introduce you to my friend, Chaeyoung. She knows her connections.” You’re looking over your shoulder, anticipating for her to have your back. You’ve got it all rehearsed and practiced in your head. She doesn’t show up. 

Way to kill the momentum. Again. 

“Oh Jesus—Chaeng.”

Chaeyoung finally emerges from behind the wall, more invested on her phone than the situation. “Oh. Sorry, got caught up with a new client,” she casually says, hastily tapping on the screen. “Anyway, are you interested in doing porn?”  

—————

“So you don’t have to show your face?” Nagyung asks, gobsmacked at what Chaeyoung is showing her on the phone. One look at her face tells you she’s trying to make sense of all this to no avail. Jiheon has put aside her homework to help guide her through the process.

“They’re locked behind paywalls, but these do so well that those are basically bonuses,” she replies, proud of showing her ass getting blasted on camera in every single thumbnail. Between her videos and all the illicit content she posts on the regular, she’s got the best of both worlds in quantity and quality. 

“And you don’t get tired of it? Like at all?”

“Nope! I’d say it’s the best job in the world,” she says, making sure Nagyung sees the monthly revenue on her account, in the millions. All on simple five-minute videos and nude body shots. 

“Heoni, tell me you’re not doing this too,” Nagyung looks at her friend, arching an eyebrow, hoping she isn’t playing along.

Jiheon can only shrug her shoulders and flash a gummy smile back.

Nagyung can’t believe it. Both hands on her forehead, her head is gonna explode in light of this revelation. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Well. I figured you wouldn’t take it so well,” says Jiheon, cheeks flustered and red from embarrassment. “I mean, with you being a serious actor and all.”

“I thought you said you were acting too,” replies Nagyung, feeling a little betrayed by her friend from hiding her secret hustle. “Like theater or drama acting in college—or something.”

It’s a good thing the bar is relatively empty right now, because you’re certain every other sane person would have walked out at this point hearing this conversation.

“I do some of that, yeah,” Jiheon tells her, still shrugging her shoulders, flippant. “But nothing compares to being myself on camera, you know? And also, it does pay extremely well. I can vouch.”

Chaeyoung shows her the most viewed pages on the site, even though Nagyung has no intention to look. This is too much for her to comprehend. At the top spot is Jiheon aka creamandheoni, with chaengrang in second place. It isn’t even close; the disparity between them both is about as large as the gap between runner-up and everyone else. They’ve been dominating the rankings over the past several months, even though their content is mostly them being dominated and used over and over again.

Nagyung’s shaking her head in denial, refusing to buy into their attempts at convincing her. There’s no way in any universe does selling their bodies make more money than true, honest-to-God acting. In no way should they be rewarded more for doing less. It’s far too outrageous of a concept to be taken seriously. 

“We’re not bullshitting you, Nakko,” says Jiheon, patting her friend’s back. “If you want firsthand proof, join us tomorrow to see how it works.”

“Why would I want to go to a porn studio?” questions Nagyung, giving Jiheon a judgmental look for even proposing the idea. “And if one paparazzi or fansite  sees me in there? A stray camera? My career will be over before it even starts.”

“It’s a lot more intricate than that,” Jiheon reassures her, her voice a persistent calm in spite of the uncertainty. An admirable feature that makes her a great professional. “It’s almost the same as filming a drama or movie, with just—a few more gratuitous sex scenes.”

The youngest girl blinks. Realizes there’s a lot more than advertised. “Okay. Maybe a lot more sex scenes, actually.”

“God.” Nagyung’s cursing under her breath, vehemently in denial that she might as well cover her ears. 

All of you could sit here and continue convincing Nakko about trying something new. You’re surprised she hasn’t walked out with the repetitive use of arguments. Show her the monthly stats, the paychecks, the follower counts—it isn’t enough. As a new customer walks in, you figure that this was the sign to stop. The lively air in the room quickly changes to brutal awkwardness.  

But after a while, Nagyung finally breaks the silence, sighing. “All right. I’ll go—”

Before she can go on, you can feel the giddiness emanating from Chaeyoung, so infectious that you contract her fresh spark of energy. Jiheon’s smiling.

“—but if I’m not convinced, I won’t do it, and you won’t be able to change my mind.”

That she was finally won over is more than enough of a reason to celebrate. Even if it’s out of kindness for a friend. You can sense by the appalled look on her face that she’s already regretting this. 

—————

And sure enough, Nagyung follows through on her word. Timely and professional, showing up early in the studio. She’s hilariously overdressed, covering herself with a hoodie, sunglasses, and the thickest layers of clothing possible to maintain complete anonymity. 

“This is where you shoot stuff?” Nagyung asks you, the earliest one inside. The other two women, one of which being your on-screen partner today, haven’t arrived yet. It’s a relatively unassuming, normal building, all things considered—not a grimy shithole that she imagined. 

“Yeah. Productions tend to be incredibly cheap, so much so that we tend to reuse everything,” you tell her, matter-of-fact. “For maximum profit, you know? Like a normal studio.”

“I can believe that.”

Looking out into the distance, you see Jiheon running for her life, almost losing grip on her belongings in her haste. She manages to hold on, successfully catching up with both of you at the studio entrance, with her legs being spent at her expense.

“Sorry I’m late,” she huffs, gasping for air, hands on her knees, tired. A look at your schedule tells you she’s actually almost an hour early. “I had a last-minute photoshoot to do, but here I am.”

You wanna tell her the truth, but you don’t. She’s too sweet of a person to break her heart.

On the other hand, Nagyung doesn’t care. “Heoni, filming doesn’t start for another hour.”

“Really? Damn.” Jiheon flashes a defeated look at her friend and you, devastated at her efforts going to complete waste. She laughs the pain away; it’s evident on her face. “Well that’s what happens when you’ve got your schedules all messed up.”

Not long after, you get a message from Chaeyoung telling you she won’t be able to make it on time, leaving you down to three. Another client, she says, meaning she’s gonna spend most of her day getting railed and filming herself for new content. For her, the grind never stops.

So you climb up the elevator together,   the eighth floor is where the magic happens. Passing through a narrow corridor, a nude woman suddenly emerges from one of the production rooms. Her body trembling, she gives you an inviting wink as she walks in the opposite direction. Nagyung looks back, then at you and Jiheon, alarmed that this is a seemingly normal interaction.

The woman walks into one of the bathrooms, her ass swaying hypnotically as you look back. As she completely disappears from view, Nagyung refocuses her attention back to you, baffled. 

“What the hell? Who was that?”

“Oh, Seoyeon?” You chuckle. “We know each other. Most of us.”

“Most of us?”

As you step inside the room at the far end of the corridor, you explain to Nagyung, “Yeah. The girls are the stars here, and us guys trade partners every week.”

“Jesus.” You can sense the regret in Nagyung’s voice. “That’s gross.”

The comment doesn’t faze neither you nor Jiheon; it was a given considering she’s still an outsider. It’s no different than kissing a traditional co-star—mostly.

But moving on to what’s ahead, the film set is already ready, with the production crew making last minute adjustments. The director fixes his glasses, realizes his cast have finally arrived, and he looks tired. The guy looks so done, even though nothing has happened yet. 

“There you guys are,” he comments, noticing the elephant in the room. “And who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Na—”

Jiheon’s mouth is suddenly stopped by a harsh blow to her ribs courtesy of Nagyung’s elbow. 

“Sorry. I mean—Christine.”

“Well tell them if they’re not a cast or crew, they should kindly buzz off.”

“No, no. She’s here to learn and wants to join at some point.”

“Join?” He shoots back a puzzled look. Taps his foot. No one in the right mind willingly wants to do porn. It’s the lowest of the low, you’ll admit, and there are better ways to find exposure into the greater entertainment industry, especially if you’ve already got one foot inside. If not for your friend’s influence, you’d keep your double life separate too, just like Jiheon. “Hm. I don’t know.”

At the worst possible time, the director has an existential crisis. He’s hesitant to let her in, but at the same time, doesn’t want to kick her out either. Before his head explodes from anxiety, he tells you to head into the dressing room to get ready at once. 

—————

Inside, Nagyung continues to be stunned at how casual everything is between you and Jiheon. That you’re both undressing right in front of each other, at how normalized nudity is, like you’re in your homes and not preparing to film sex in front of cameras and random strangers. The younger woman brought her actual university uniform along because the company can barely afford to film props, and same goes for you—a simple suit and tie. 

“So this is totally normal? Normal for both of you to just do this? No intimate feelings whatsoever?”

Both of you nod back, humming a harmonious mhm in unison.

“Kind of numb to it at this point,” you say, buttoning the last of your shirt. “I mean, there are some feelings, but we’re professionals. It’s all done with consent, obviously.”

Jiheon chuckles, her trademark gummy smile bouncing back through her mirror as she brushes her hair, putting on the finishing touches on her appearance. “It helps that you’ve got such a nice cock.”

Both of you end up laughing heartily, much to Nagyung’s dismay.

“But for real, I trust you more than anyone,” she tells you, walking over to your side to fix your tie properly, playfully slapping your cheeks. “I mean, that and you being the number one male—”

“Right. Not a real achievement.”

“Come on, carry yourself with pride,” Jiheon remarks, repeatedly clapping your face, turning that little frown upside down. “Who else can say they’re the top male porn star in Korea for six months straight?”

Before things get a little more personal, you hear the director calling your names. It's go time.

—————

Nagyung casually sits behind the others on set, keeping her identity concealed, but she easily stands out based on how overdressed she is compared to everyone else. No one can hardly be arsed to dress up on the job, showing the lack of seriousness. They want to get this over with and move on to better, more dignified work.

The director tells you to look into the camera as you’re put into this compromising position; Jiheon bent on the prop desk, her damp underwear in view as you press your bulging pants against her lifted skirt. The job never becomes easy, no matter how much you rehearse. Your co-star, on the other hand, is already having the time of her life; it’s written all over her face. How she wants it. How she badly needs it inside her right now.

Your cock wants her too. The feeling is mutual.

The director checks through the script, which doesn’t matter at all. The story is about as cookie cutter and as generic as anything you’ve seen in theaters lately. She’s the bratty student looking for an out, you’re the teacher with a moral crisis. Of course you’re gonna fold; you don’t need a prompt telling you that you’ll fuck her and bend the rules behind everyone’s back. You’ve seen this movie play out over and over again in different ways. The only difference being that the student is Jiheon. She’s the splitting image of the hot student fantasy that it’s an astonishment this is her first go at the premise.

Ironically, Jiheon follows the script by the book, word for word. You can tell that it’s been written by people whose only experience with sex is through porn and nothing else. If she wanted to, she could genuinely act. There’s something distracting hearing her deliver her lines in a surprisingly professional manner that you flub your cue multiple times. Not to say she’s entirely responsible, but she does contribute quite a bit; you couldn’t be arsed to read yours. So you’ve been winging it, much to your director’s annoyance.

The guy wasn’t expecting to actually direct today. 

“What’s going on, man?” he rages while on the chair, frustrated that you’ve blown your lines eight times. He’s suffering. “Did you even read the script?”

“Mhm,” you tell him, playing down the seriousness of his predicament. The consummate worker she is, Jiheon takes you aside privately for a word as he calls for a quick breather. 

“Something up today?” Jiheon asks you, redirecting your wandering gaze back to her while you search for Nagyung. She has seemingly disappeared between takes.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, unable to figure out the issue yourself. 

“Is it because of Nakko, right?”

“Maybe.”

She looks around the set herself, with Nagyung nowhere to be found. “Well, that’s not what matters right now. If she doesn’t want to, then it is what it is, right?”

You pause for a moment before nodding. “Right.”

A moment later, Nagyung emerges from the dressing room, taking a seat away from everyone else on set. It’s all in your head. The doubt. The unease. Parting in an instant. Like you’ve got something to prove.

So when you go for your ninth take, you feel a completely different person than you were minutes ago. The responses come naturally, even if it’s mostly ad-libs and improvisation. The director keeps it rolling as you effortlessly pace through the nonexistent teasing and pleasantries: commanding Jiheon to drop to her knees and unbuckle your pants like the naughty student she is. 

Even in front of cameras, you can only see her.

The director makes sure your erect cock is in clear view, already dripping with precum. Right on cue, Jiheon looks over her shoulder and looks directly at the camera, wrapping her fingers around your base. A thumbnail worthy shot. She makes sure the sound equipment hears every slurp and hum from her lips when she takes you into her mouth; bobbing her head back and forth as she sucks you dry, making you squirm on the chair.

Grabbing her by the hair, pacing her suction and forcing your cock deep in her throat. Staining her otherwise pristine face and pretty lips with thin streaks of white. Taking slow, passionate licks on your tip, giving herself a taste. Internally, you’re telling yourself you’ll nail this in one take; if you don’t do it now, you won’t do it ever, and no amount of visual effects and post-production can come close to filming that level of authenticity.

You’re not sure whether you’re filming porn or actually going for it at this point.

As more of your cum splatters on her face, Jiheon has your cock gripped in one hand, unbuttoning her shirt with the other. Giving you a blurry glimpse of her cleavage, the ecstasy feels so good that finding focus is nearly impossible. You’re losing it. Meanwhile, the cameras are still rolling, capturing every single detail. Besides the lewd sounds you’re making, the set is eerily quiet, as if they’re letting you both run the show, which you are.

“Yeah—fucking do it—do it baby—” Jiheon rasps, pumping you fast and reckless without concern or consideration, demanding you cum for her. “Come on—give your favorite student what she deserves.”

And quite frankly, you just might.

Thrusting, following her pace, gasping for air, gritting your teeth. As though you’re dangerously close to falling off a cliff. As if her hand wasn’t enough, Jiheon teases you with the faintest touch of her tongue. That needy, thirsty tongue. Tip to tip, squeezing the smallest drop of cum out of your cock, in the lewdest expressions imaginable. She’s putting on quite the show. If you weren’t so preoccupied with keeping yourself together, you’d be disappointed for not keeping up.

The camera absolutely loves Jiheon, that’s for certain. She’s taken to being under the spotlight as easily as putting on shoes: quite effortlessly. All eyes are drawn toward her as she lets it go: pointing your throbbing cock all over her shirt, her bra, and all over her face. She milks you for all your worth; the sensation feels so damn good it hurts. Half her face is painted in your cum, as if her skin can glisten any brighter. And once she finally empties you clean, she licks herself, tastes whatever amount of you she can reach.

If it weren’t for the cameras rolling, you’d pass out right then and there. But there’s still more to do, all in the name of fanservice and views.

As you prop Jiheon on top of the desk, barely able to drag your legs, a quick glimpse of Nagyung tells you everything you need to know. She’s got a hand covering her mouth; you don’t need to see through those sunglasses to sense her shock and disbelief. If only she could walk away now, but she can’t. But before your attention lingers a few moments longer, Jiheon redirects your gaze back to her. Back to what’s important.

You don’t even realize she’s borderline naked, only keeping her stained skirt on her body. Slipping your hand between her legs, you shed her panties down her legs. It’s just as drenched as you expected; there’s no faking it. 

“Smell it,” Jiheon whispers to you, catching you completely off-guard. This wasn’t in the script. You can’t tell whether she’s speaking for herself or if it’s part of the act. Perhaps both.

Before you can even question her, the cameras remind you to stay in character. So you follow. 

Grinning as if she’s caught you in her trap, Jiheon spreads her legs wide, giving you a peek of her soaked pussy. Drawing you like a moth to a flame, you grab her thighs, spread her that extra inch wider, and dive headfirst into her cunt. 

She keens. Her body glued flat to the surface, shaking while your tongue makes work of her slick core. There’s no better place to drown in. The taste is so intoxicating, you can lay in it forever. 

Jiheon lets out these scuffed, disjointed cries of pleasure. Can’t formulate complete sentences, only erratic noises and volumes of profanities. “Fuck—fuck yes—so—so good—mmh—”

All while you’re filling up the room with the sounds of slurping and humming, drowning yourself in the savory nectar of Jiheon’s cunt. The desk begins to rock the rougher and deeper you go, losing yourself in the suffocating sensation of her pussy as her legs close in on your face.

Oh, you’re doing it for real, if there was any doubt.

As Jiheon straightens her knees upward, you can hear her whining grow louder. “Almost there—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

Like you had any intention to. 

“I’m gonna cum—please—it’s so—” 

And Jiheon’s voice cracks before she can finish. Turns into an airy whine as you’re tongue deep in her to care. 

She’s trembling all over when she cums. Turns your face into a canvas, an outlet of her orgasm. A torrent of her juices wash over your face, and you graciously take it all, drowning yourself in her bliss. There’s an authenticity that an intimacy coordinator can’t replicate. Genuine emotions pouring in, of pleasure, of pain, of everything in between. The correct thing to do would be to let it pass organically before moving on.

But of course, the director can’t even do that right.

“Cut!” he yells from his chair, ruining what otherwise would have been a perfect sex scene and continuation. Jiheon’s still in the throes of her peak when the cameras stop rolling, your face still buried deep in her aching core. As you rise up for air, your face is soaked twice over in her slick. Gasping, heaving for much needed air. Another still-worthy image. 

Making Jiheon cum and cumming on her is a reward in and of itself, but still: some positive remark or compliment from the director would have been nice. 

“That was good,” he tells you as the other crew come in to clean up your mess. “But I would have liked a little more dirty talk coming from you. Some degradation, you know? Like maybe calling her a slut, but we can fix that in post. Good work today, guys.”

—————

“So—what do you think?” you ask Nagyung in the dressing room. That one take was all that you did. You and Jiheon are done for the day. At least that’s what you believe.

“I—I don’t—I just—” Nagyung is too stunned to speak. She laughs, because she can’t find the right words to say. The entire time, she had been watching behind her sunglasses, never once removing them. For her eyes and sanity, probably the best decision. “You guys are really fucking crazy.”

“We don’t know what else to tell you,” says Jiheon, calm and casual about the whole thing. Like you didn’t just have sex in front of her for real, despite the film set serving as a backdrop. “I mean—I wished we went through with the penetration, but it is what it is.”

“Thank God you didn’t.” Nagyung remarks, tone sarcastic. “My eyes are gonna need bleach after seeing all that.”

“It’s me, so what I do is honestly tame by comparison,” Jiheon replies, swiveling her chair around, kicking her leg up. “You’ve got girls in threesomes, gangbangs, free use—”

“Okay, we get it.” Nagyung interrupts. “No need to explain any further.”

“But Nakko, wouldn’t you have to do a love scene at some point?” you bounce the notion, using her background as a means to get on equal footing. “I mean, yeah, you’ve got an intimacy coordinator, but—”

She’s quick to shut you down. “I’m not doing a love scene. Not in a million years.”

And you stop talking right then and there.

Nagyung pinches her forehead, stressed out by her internal quandary. You can sense that she doesn’t want to, but can’t say no. It’s palpable through her veins. She’s come at a crossroads with her career. On one hand, there’s opportunities for work and pay, but the implications it could have long term outweigh the short term benefits.

A few minutes of awkward silence follows.

“I don’t have to show my face—right?”

“Nope. Don’t have to,” you answer.

“Your voice though,” Jiheon says, concerned about her friend’s future too. “Your face can easily be masked, but your voice—”

“Yeah, I know,” replies Nagyung, deeply exhaling. “But—I’d rather do everything now and regret it later than not doing anything at all.”

“But your career—” Jiheon is alarmed by her friend’s sudden change of heart.

“Maybe no one recognizes me through my voice and I can moonlight like you do,” says Nagyung. “If it’s a flop, then at least I don’t have to do any more,” she tells her. “I want to test myself. See how far I can go.”

Jiheon takes a look at Nakko before turning to you. You’ve been convinced since she asked that first question. You’re only waiting for her.

You nod. And that’s what finally puts Jiheon at peace.

“Okay.” Jiheon rises from her seat, smiling. “Looks like we’re doing this. No regrets?”

Nagyung smiles back. “No regrets.”

—————

“Shit—oh fuck—oh shit—” Jiheon pants, her suffocating legs wrapped around yours while you pound her against the wall with running water washing down both your drenched, tangled bodies. “Keep going—I need this—need you—fuck!”

The feeling is mutual. Turns out, you can’t get your much needed satisfying orgasms when you’re in front of cameras. Some things are better behind closed doors and between two people alone.

The showers in the studio aren’t designed for quick clean ups; they’re an outlet. A conduit for co-stars to get their proper climaxes in when the cameras aren’t rolling. They’re designed to be as loud and proud as possible. It’s all the more evident when your moans are bouncing off the walls in thunderous, shattering echoes. Not even the running water can cover your tracks. Anyone in close proximity to the bathrooms can hear you. It’s the perfect place to unwind after any filming day.

“So—fucking—embarassing,” you tell Jiheon, more a shot at yourself than a comment about how needy she is. It comes with the package when it comes to shooting porn; something about fucking your partners in private ticks those marks compared to doing it in front of a professional crew. “Can’t believe you made me cum so fucking much—”

“Isn’t that the point?” she whispers back, her nails clawing down, taking lease of your back. Between moans, her body trembles wildly with each thrust you give her. Burying your cock deep inside her needy cunt with each stroke. You give her more of a reason to cling to you. “But maybe—maybe—” she stammers, her head drowning in so much ecstasy that she goes tongue tied. “Maybe—I should have let go sooner—”

Pumping Jiheon at an erratic rhythm, your hips gained a second wind after that much needed respite after filming. Struggling to capture her lips, you barely kiss her. “You can now. Fucking cum for me. Christ—”

The sound of flesh slapping flesh ripples through the room, overpowering even the continuous shower noise. You’re fucking her like you’ve got something to prove. Using her cunt liberally, her walls pulsing tightly against your throbbing cock, quickly burning through what little resolve you have built up. Try as hard as you can, the knot in your stomach lingers and lingers, slowly flooding your head, until you have no other choice—

It all comes crashing down. 

Jiheon melts in your arms, barely hanging on for dear life. The orgasm washes over her in turbulent ripples, shuts her up in an instant. Mouth hung wide, head tilted up for you to rest your head on her neck, moaning these sweet profanities that are music to your ears. She cums all over your cock, urging you to follow her right after—which you do.

The way you cum so soon, it makes you second guess why you’re in this position to begin with. It doesn’t match your best male KAV pornstar title. Nevertheless, you fill her, give her what she’s been fiending for the longest time. It makes the entire ordeal worth it.

You stay in Jiheon a bit longer. A lot longer than you internally promised. Even as your cock withers, you keep yourself buried with what little you have, letting your orgasms pass over quietly. Resting underneath the shower, your bodies entangled like pieces of a puzzle meant for each other, your lips meet halfway in an intimate, delicate kiss.

So maybe you’re starting to catch some feelings. But before it blossoms into something more, Jiheon breaks off the smooch, grinning against your face. She’s flustered all over; she feels the same way.

“I thought you needed help getting hard again,” she remarks, as her fingers push on your lower lip.

Blinking a few times, you reply, “You didn’t help anyway whatsoever.”

She laughs, smilingly cuddling against you before going in for another passionate kiss.

—————

A week later, you’re back in the studio, this time together with Chaeyoung and Jiheon in what’s basically a pornographic blockbuster. The two biggest female stars and the top male star in an internet-breaking film. Your careers have been building toward this moment. Hell, in a rare act of restraint, you decide to abstain from your regular escapades to prepare for this. Inside the dressing room, there’s a little predicament: Chaeyoung’s having a little fit about taking cum head on, because she doesn’t want to mess up her makeup and hair apparently. She’s spoken to the director about changing the scene multiple times to no avail. She’s frustrated. The ironic thing is: she’s the one who’s been talking about it nonstop. So this sudden change of heart comes off as strange and unusual.

“How about I do it?” Jiheon steps in, seeing the frenzied, panicked state Chaeyoung is in. She’s walking back and forth, close to pulling her extensions off, possibly making a bigger mess of herself more than what you’re about to do. “Is it this serious for you to back out last minute, Chaeng?”

“Yes,” Chaeyoung yells at her, making sure everyone hears her desperate plight. “I’ve got a client tonight, and he’s apparently a chaebol, so—”

“I thought you weren’t taking any clients today,” Jiheon says. Even this shoot is that important of an occasion to skip escorting—at least only for today. Apparently not. 

“It’s not often you get a million dollar payday,” Chaeyoung remarks, looking at herself in the mirror, examining every single detail about her. You can sense that she’s itching to leave at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Is it gonna hurt you to tell him that you can delay the meeting for tomorrow?” Jiheon asks, only to immediately realize the answer she’ll give. “Oh yeah—”

“It will.” Both Chaeyoung and Jiheon speak synchronously. 

Suddenly, you enter the dressing room, catching their attention. “Good news, Chaeng. I’ve gotten them to change the scene.”

Before you can say another word, Chaeyoung breathes out a needed sigh of relief, while Jiheon shakes her head. “Thank God,” Chaeyoung says, rubbing a hand on her chest. “So—what now?”

“Told me to come up with a scene,” you tell her. “And I’ve got an idea.”

—————

You can barely hear the director’s echoes from underneath Chaeyoung’s supple ass. Her butt almost fully presses on your face, cutting off most of your sensory functions. You need Chaeng and Jiheon to relay the question for you to fully understand.

“He’s asking if you can finish in this position,” Chaeyoung shouts, while you can barely breath down here. 

“What a ridiculous question,” you’re mumbling to yourself, as if anyone can even hear you right now, while you’re basically dying. To make matters worse, Jiheon’s squatting down on your cock, already buried in her cunt as a sort of unfinished business, sequel baiting move from last week’s session. The two girls are facing each other, all of you already in the nude. Even though you’ve been on-screen for half the runtime, this is their show, and you’re merely a glorified stage prop.

The only reason you can move is because of the grind of Chaeyoung’s ass, which is basically the stand-in for the director yelling action!

If only you can see what’s up there. How hot it would be to see Chaeyoung and Jiheon making out and caressing each other’s bodies. You know that’s what’s happening because you can hear the sound of muffled hums and gentle kisses. Even without your presence, this one scene alone would singlehandedly break the internet. The two top Korean pornstars fucking is about as surefire of a hit as any theatrical blockbuster.

All the better, Jiheon’s taking your cock as she kisses her co-star, her rhythm constantly disrupted, giving Chaeyoung all the leeway to go down on her svelte body. As always, she’s the loudest one in the room, the one with the highest sounding cries, the one with the sharpest moans. Chaeyoung’s got her arms wrapped around her back, taking purchase of her frame between passionate kisses. She goes down on the one thing she’s envious of, beside her ranking as number one: her supple, shapely tits.

Meanwhile, you’ve got your tongue buried between Chaeyoung’s ass, licking up her slick core, drinking as much of her nectar as you desire. You haven’t had a taste of her in a week, so this was like quenching thirst in the middle of a hot, dry desert.

Squatting on top of you, both women are gingerly bouncing on your helpless body, taking as much of you as they possibly can. Shared experience and common interest working at play. The pleasure sends shockwaves through their nerves, causing them to abruptly freeze in place. Taking this opportunity to dig your hands on Chaeyoung’s thick thighs, deeply slurping into her suffocating heat. They’re making music with their passionate, lust-filled moans.

The pleasure appears to be far more overwhelming than thought. Chaeyoung and Jiheon tremble atop you while they ride you in slow, sloppy motions. Their bodies feel heavy to move smoothly; this is your handiwork. You feel the harsh grip of their nails on your chest. The desperation. The need to cling for support.

“Oh,” you hear a prolonged whine, unsure who it’s from. “Oh God—”

Their breaths are heaving, deep, heavy. Moments stretching into minutes. Minutes stretching into hours. You’ve found true solace between Chaeyoung’s ass and inside Jiheon’s cunt. 

You hear a follow up groan. A continuous crescendo. It’s familiar enough for you to guess it’s Jiheon, and you’d be proven correct. In the midst of this mess, you never realized your own undoing had passed, and it’s because your mind lingered on Chaeyoung’s hole. You never felt the twitch of your cock at all. The creamy load that you were intending to share between the two women, all of it sucked up by Jiheon’s needy pussy instead.

It’s gonna be a challenge to tell Chaeyoung that she’ll have to drink it out of Jiheon’s cunt. 

A brief stir, followed by a gravelly echo, and then Chaeyoung hops off your face, letting you see the light. Jiheon also clambers off your cock, your connection broken by a thick string of cum glued between your skin.

The director rises from his chair, seemingly frustrated for some reason. He’s surveying the scene; it’s a mess. “God dammit. You came too soon.”

Your hips are drenched in a pool of your own sticky load. Likewise, Jiheon’s thigh is dripping to the floor full of you. It’s unlike you to finish quite prematurely. Elsewhere, your face is coated in Chaeyoung’s slick, but not to the same extent as your groin.

“How much did you film?” Jiheon asks him, professional sounding like always, albeit barely suppressing her laughter.

“About four minutes.” 

Four minutes is about 20 short of what was expected. As much as you savored the sensation, you’re not sure you can spend another five beneath Chaeyoung’s ass.

The director pinches his nose, thinking of possible ways to prolong the scene and deliver the best product possible. It may be porn, but it’s still people’s livelihoods at stake. In the meantime, the assistant calls for a break, meaning all three of you head back to the dressing room for a breather and additional touch-ups.

Taking a chair for yourselves, you can’t find the words to speak. So do your co-stars. 

The sound of the door swinging open captures all your attention, foregoing the customary knock. An unprofessional action, but then—

You see the person entering the room, and you all shut up.

“Hey y’all,” Nagyung says, bringing half a dozen shopping bags with her. She’s wearing sunglasses to hide her identity, of course. “Don’t mind if I make myself comfortable.”

You have no objections, even if you couldn’t outright say it. The other two share your sentiment. After all, it’s been a week since you last saw her. Something about a magazine feature, Jiheon said, explaining her sudden absence from your small friend circle. But now, she’s here, in the flesh, visiting during one of your more important film shoots.

The first thing Nagyung points out after setting her bags aside is the thick layer of cum on Jiheon’s skin. “I must have missed out on a hot scene,” she remarks, her gaze lingering on the large blot. Not even her bathrobe can hide the evidence.

“You only got here just now?” Jiheon asks, to which she merely nods.

“Should have gotten here earlier,” Chaeyoung comments, chuckling at her absent friend. “I swear, it was so—so—hot.”

“I bet it was,” Nagyung replies back, lightly shaking her head.

Before it goes awkwardly silent once more, you turn to Nagyung, asking her the big one. “So—have you decided? I thought you weren’t gonna come back.”

Facing you, Nagyung hesitates for a moment. “Well,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to formulate her response. “I have thought about it. A lot. And as you know, I’d like to challenge myself, so—”

“Does that mean—” Chaeyoung interjects.

“Quiet, Chaeng.” You shush her.

Pausing again, Nagyung has this look of resignation and acceptance on her face. “Might as well give it a go.”

In an instant, Chaeyoung’s eyes light up, brimming with newfound energy. On the other hand, you and Jiheon silently nod. 

“Do everything and regret it later—”

“—Rather than not doing anything at all.” Everyone, including you, finishes Nagyung’s sentence in unison. 

“Exactly.” is her remark, amazed at how well all three of you know her mantra.

“I can’t wait,” Chaeyoung tells her, excited at the countless possibilities. “Us three, running the top of the ranks. It’s gonna be so fun.”

“Easy there. Nakko, I know this is gonna be a little bit of an adjustment, but it’s really a blast. Trust us,” says Jiheon, approaching her to be her guide through her new job. “And wouldn’t you know it, you have the best worker on standby to help you out too.”

“And who would that be?”

Jiheon points directly at you. Across your seat, Nagyung gently smiles, expectant and excited. Her friend is giving you a thumbs up, as if you’re a hundred percent down for the responsibility, when in reality, you’re not ready to guide a newcomer through the ropes. Especially one with a well-established public reputation like Lee Nagyung’s.

—————

“So, are you gonna like post that?” Nagyung asks, looking over her shoulder with a wary look. You’ve got her in bed laying on her stomach, her clothes lost on the floor save for her shirt, and you towering behind her, her bare ass trembling with your cock’s touch. With Chaeyoung out for tonight, the little studio where you normally shoot your films with her is available for practice—and you’re gonna take advantage of her absence. “My fees are hefty, you know.”

“No,” you tell her, shaking your head with a slimy, shit-eating grin. On one hand is your cock, pumping yourself hard against her core, the other holding a camera. Her ass is already wiggling against your shaft, and you don’t know whether you can capture this view perfectly once you start rolling. “This work of cinema is for my eyes only.”

Nagyung braces herself and clings to the edge of the mattress as you slowly dip into her pussy, suppressing her moans before she’s utterly consumed by your cock. By the way she reacts, you recognize that she’s born for the cameras, born for this moment.

—————

Later that week, you hear an unexpected knock on your apartment door. Under any other circumstance, you wouldn’t bother to entertain it at all; Chaeyoung’s sudden booty calls happen hours in advance. She would never come over this late. A look through the outside camera shows you a new presence: Nagyung.

You’ve got some questions running through your mind, but you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. So you welcome her inside without a second thought.

As soon as she enters your place, Nagyung sheds off the thick coat she’d been wearing unceremoniously, letting it fall to the floor. Her tits are protruding through her shirt, and she’s sporting the skimpiest pair of jean shorts you’d ever seen. 

“Thanks for letting me in,” she remarks, tone low. Picking up the discarded clothing off the ground, she opts to lay it on your couch rather than the rack close to the entrance. “Sorry if this is all out of nowhere—”

“No worries,” you miraculously manage to blurt out, your gaze lingering on her fine pair of legs. Her slim yet toned physique makes your mouth water. Can’t find the resolve to look anywhere but her eyes, no matter how hard you try. “But—how’d you get my address?”

“Friends know friends. Wasn’t hard.” She’s walking around your apartment, taking mental notes of your place. For someone with your line of work, it’s relatively modest and normal, like you’ve been doing a 9-to-5.

“Right.” You pick up her coat and set it on the rack without her noticing.

Nagyung turns around, facing you eye to eye as you approach her in the living room. Hands behind her pockets, graceful and cordial. The words that come out of her lips aren’t. “You’ve got the best dick around, and after that little trial run we did, I’d like a little more of it.”

It’s so sudden and unanticipated that you can only blink in response..

“So show me then. I need to see it again.” Every step she takes toward you, another step over that line. Her gaze, fierce and intense, goes from you down to your pajamas. Her hands reach for your pajamas, clawing at the fabric to feel your cock. The reaction is immediate; you can feel yourself throb at her hands, the need to free your raging dick. “You wouldn’t turn down a pretty girl like me, would you now?”

Never. Not in a million years. This seems like the exception. You know there are better ways to ease her in, to make the process a lot more comfortable. It’s not an easy adjustment. However, her eyes are begging, pleading in earnest for her to be thrown straight into the fire.

Under the shallowest guise of morality, you hesitate. Swallowing your throat, your voice goes hoarse—falls flat, lacks conviction: “I—I don’t think you should—it’s too soon.”

Your answer falls on deaf ears, because Nagyung continues to hold your cock, squeezing your ballsack. She gives you this teasing, offended look—a response to your half-assed attempt at convincing her otherwise. Sticking her tongue out like it’s second nature, the same manner she does on her Instagram photos. “Really? Did you say this to Jiheon too, huh?”

It seems to light a fire in Nagyung’s soul. She slides down your loose pajamas, enough to let your cock breathe in the air—and for her fingers to touch your tip. Enough for some precum to spill into her hand. Your head begins to spin; you’re feeling lightheaded. 

“Christ—Nakko—we can do this—just not now—” you say, deeply inhaling as she releases you from her grip. 

She takes a finger into her mouth, tastes a bit of you, before coating her lips with your sheen. Lifting an eyebrow, she appears totally unconvinced. “Again. Is this what Jiheon heard when she wanted to do this the first time?”

“No—”

Before you can get another word off, she drops to her knees, forcing your pajamas down to the floor. Your erection inches away from her nose, one hand wraps around the base, delicately pumping you, disrupting your train of thought. Her other hand holds onto your thigh, pulling you close. She dives in, takes you into her mouth, without hesitation. Filling herself with cock and soft hums, her tongue works backwards, licking from the hilt up to your tip in abrupt, erratic motions. 

Fucking hell, she’s such a natural at it.

“Everytime you answer incorrectly,” she mutters, struggling to take in your length, choking halfway before lodging you back in comfortably. “I’m gonna make you cum, but you won’t get to unload in my pussy.”

There are some fates worse than death; this is one of them.

Nevertheless, Nagyung continues to blow you effortlessly, like she was meant for it. This is essentially her audition and she’s passing with flying colors. Her harsh suction and smooth slurping splinters your senses, sends chills down your spine. The only thing you can do is grab her hair, find some semblance of control, but she moves at her pace, at her rhythm—and it’s a mess.

Not even thrusting into her throat can impede her.

“Just be honest with me,” she says, her voice making your cock vibrate. Her fingers remain active pumping, jerking you hard, measuring your load. “You’re trying to protect me, right? You wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining my acting career?”

You shake your head in denial, even as she continues her assault on your senses. Wrong answer.

“I don’t really care all that much. I just want your cock right now.” Nose to chest, Nagyung’s cheeks hollow out as she invites you throat deep. No gag reflex, even as she whimpers quietly, suffocating, gasping for air. Your fingers thread between strands of her hair, holding her in place, exactly as she wants. 

Merely a blur between your legs, she lightly bobs her head back and forth, relinquishing control into your hand. She’s too far gone, and so are you. You’re more than happy to oblige. 

Taking a brief opportunity to look up at you, Nagyung looks directly into your eyes. She’s never been more proud of herself. Proud to prove a point, proud to make you shut up like this. Internally, you are too; you’ve never had anyone blow you like this, take you into their mouth like it’s built to hold cock. 

“This is all on you, Nakko,” you huff, shutting your eyes, relishing the hot sensation of her mouth and lips. The yank on her hair tightens. “You wanted this.”

She songfully hums, her only response, currently immersed in taking as much of your cock as possible. You reward her, thrusting into her throat without care for comfort or rhythm, without respite. She coughs, she whines, she keens. Tears begin falling from her eyes, but she continues to take it extremely well. 

But neither of you can take it for long. Especially you with how new this sensation feels coming from her.

Your fingers twist her hair into a makeshift leash, controlling her pace to match yours. Except not really, you’re still going at full speed, never letting up for even a second. The ecstasy, the euphoria from using her mouth is too good to let go. Both her hands have given up, settling on your thighs for support. She has conceded complete control into your grasp. You’re now responsible as to whether or not you will ruin her career.

And you just might. After all, she’d given herself over, essentially coming to your side for greener pasture. You can only hope she really doesn’t regret it later.

“Gonna cum,” you groan out, pumping into her mouth, unrelenting. She feels so good, you can barely keep one eye open while she essentially rests on your pelvis, close to flying over the edge.

Nagyung makes this incomprehensible sound, garbled by cock—something between the lines of cumming all over face and never stopping. The thought never crossed your mind. Beside, you’ve got other concerns—particularly, the knot in your stomach tightening past repair. 

For a few precious moments, you feel it: the blaze of lust burning everything in sight, including Nagyung’s face. She chokes, gags on it one more time before releasing you from her grip, her hands returning to the base, intent on making sure you don’t miss a spot on her pristine features. 

Instead, your plunge between her lips again, her eyes widening, and fire away. Her mouth floods with a torrent of cum, thick, hot, filling her throat to the brim. She swallows it all, avoids wasting a single drop, and even she can’t fight it off any longer. She gave up her rights the moment she forced you into her mouth.

Even as the pulse weakens, and you eventually pull out again, Nagyung graciously drinks it up. Savors the taste like its water, like you’re the key to life itself. And while you’re able to avert a career-ending scandal by preserving her pretty face, there’s enough residue to stain her lips and chin, something you can wave off as an accident. 

The same can’t be said for her body hugging shirt. It’s mostly drenched in slick and sheen. Unsalvageable.

It’s the least of your worries right now. Your legs turn wobbly, and you slump back onto the couch, your strength drained all thanks to Nagyung.

“Okay. You got me,” you say, gasping between sentences, gathering as much needed oxygen for your lungs. Placing a hand on your chest, a glance at the woman and she’s licking up her lips for whatever cum’s left. “But—I still don’t think we should—”

Nagyung gets up from the floor and removes her shirt, tossing it aside. You’re rendered speechless at the last second. She’s not wearing any bra, her tits are out in full force, nipples taut and hot. But she’s not done yet; she makes quick work of her shorts, kicking aside her shoes before baring herself completely before your eyes. The sight leaves you shellshocked, your jaw completely agape.

As if you needed any more convincing that she’s ready to do porn. She’s got the makings of a top star; the looks, the body, the expressions, the voice—everything.

Extending out her hand to you, you grab and she pulls you from the couch before taking you to the bedroom. She lands belly first on the mattress, before arching her back, showing her plump ass directly before your presence. More importantly, she’s showing you how needy is through her wet panties, which you quickly slip off. Her wet holes, splayed and throbbing, drawing you in.

“Don’t you see how badly I want it,” she tells you, straightening her body on her fours as you join her in bed. “I’m ready. Just—please shove that big fucking cock inside my slutty hole. Please.”

It’s about as lewd as it sounds, yet still sincere. She’s too good of an actress to be doing mindless pornography.

For a moment, you consider otherwise. But then she’s continuing to whine ‘Please’ in the softest tone possible, and you can’t help but concede. Besides, you knew in your heart you were never gonna turn down a body and pussy like hers.

Lining your cock between her aching core, you give Nagyung a slap on her ass. In return, she yelps. Then another. Two should be enough, one for each cheek. But the visual of her body jiggling, rippling with each palmful as her skin turns from pale white to fiery red sets you further down an addicting, dangerous spiral. 

“Fuck, you’re really good at this,” you mutter, helping yourself to another palmful of ass. Her body trembles, glides down till you have her melted on the mattress. “Calling yourself a slut? Just like that? And I thought you wanted to be taken seriously as an actress.”

“No. I’m a slut,” she whines, her nails digging into the sheets, holding on for dear life. “I’m a slut for big cock, and I don’t care if it ruins me. Just please—shove that big cock inside me already. I can’t take it anymore.”

You want to test her a bit longer. More. To see how long it’ll take before she completely breaks. To find her limits and push them. And based on how needy she sounds, not that much longer.

“If you insist.” You hiss against her ear, spinning her around so she can meet you eye to eye. She’s trembling, anxious, ready to receive what she deserves. Hovering atop her, helpless and vulnerable, you gently slide in—and then she keens.

Nagyung’s cry of pleasure reaches high to the ceiling, filling the room with a sharp echo. The impact is immediate; her walls pulsate against your cock so tightly that it steals your breath. Impossible to drag yourself out. You can only gasp and catch yourself from grunting as loud as her, though it may have been better to give in. 

You feel her refusing to let go, the grip she has on you nigh inescapable. But you eventually slide back out, only to slip back in. Another whine forced from her lips. She’s doing it on purpose, you conclude, a way to break you back. A means to get you to fly over the edge.

Pinning her down to the sheets, going down on her neck, Nagyung’s sensitive to the touch. She quivers beneath you while you acclimate to her warmth, pounding her needy cunt at a slow, tempered pace. The tightness of her pussy enraptures you, continues to take your breath away. She’s all but a blur in your eyes, with her voice being the only guiding light as you fuck her. Her legs slowly wrap around you, keeping you in place so that you have no outs. 

Not that you had any intention of pulling away any time soon. 

Especially when she’s beginning—pleading—in the most strained of tones. 

“Ah—this—cock—this is so—oh my fucking God—” she whines, breathing heavily between words, her lips twisting in ecstasy. By impulse, her nails leave marks over your back, clinging to you desperately. “So fucking big—don’t you ever stop—”

“Never,” is your only response, and it’s oh so right. Your cock glides in and out of her core like water, effortless and silky. Your head is in a daze, going overboard through the unforgiving heat of Nagyung’s cunt. You’ve got a hand squeezed on her breast, surprisingly hefty for her proportions and size. You’re forcing out these noises from her, whether it may be a little cry or a deep whine. You can’t simply touch and admire her; you have to ruin her.

She’s dangerous; she’s an addiction you can’t get enough of. 

The bed begins to rattle, joined by the repeated, rhythmic smacks of skin slapping against skin. Pushing further along into her cunt, like you’re going to drown if you’re not balls deep inside her. It’s unlike you to go farther than normal, but you’re past the point of rational thought; the only thing that can set your mind right is what’s waiting on the other side.

“Nakko,” you mouth, and it comes out naturally. Like it’s meant to be. You can’t stop; you’re so far gone at this point. 

As you try to pull your head away, Nagyung twists her arms around your neck, wrapping you in an awkward, uncoordinated kiss. It’s sloppy and disjointed; your lips barely meet, her breath tense and hot, but passionate and sincere. Mouthing the gentlest ‘more’ and ‘so good and ‘harder’’ something you’re quite familiar with. A little reprieve and distraction from what’s to come. 

But the calm doesn’t last too long. The feeling continues to balloon higher and higher till it’s you’re at the tipping point of exploding. It doesn’t help that Nagyung continues to encourage you with all the little things; her shrilly whines, her clawing at your hair and back, her body bouncing with each thrust, causing her tits to ripple, and of course, the tightness of her cunt.

“So close—I’m gonna cum—oh God I’m going to cum—” Nagyung cries, biting on her lower lip, moving her head around to find your lips again. She narrowly misses you, your lips by her chin, breathing on her neck.

“Cum for me, Nakko,” you tell her, keeping her breaths labored and erratic, your thrusts unrelenting—like you’ve ripped the brakes off your own hips. The grip around your waist is beginning to waver. “Just—cum all over me—cum for me, slut—”

That one word. That one damned word that she’d been avoiding this entire time—is what breaks her. She embraces it now. Forget about saving face; this is who Nagyung really is. A slut.

Because she cums. Hard. Her pussy quivers, her body tenses up, and her feet curl in the air as the orgasm washes over her. Tilting her head to the side, letting out this impassioned cry of pain and pleasure as you fill her to the hilt, filthy and heavenly in every single way. Fingers embedded deep into your skin, uncaring about all the marks she’s leaving on your body; a fair trade-off for what you’re leaving in her. 

She washes all over you, a fresh wave of slick and nectar that floods your cock, and as you push further on, you realize you’re not any better. If anything, you’re dangerously close to falling apart too.

“Gonna fucking cum—” you hiss, kissing her cheek repeatedly, pulling on her dark locks, going down on her neck again in a last-ditch effort to delay the inevitable. 

“Please—” she murmurs back, unable to resist you, unable to find a moment to catch her breath. “Don’t cum anywhere else—cum inside me—fill me up—please—”

With a tone like hers, it’s impossible to decline such an offer.

And mercifully, the end comes not long after. 

Pressing Nagyung deep into the mattress, your bodies melt as one. Burying yourself deep inside her, leaving an evident mark on her neck as your connection reaches its apex. You feel it—the violent, continuous pulse of your cock unloading shot after shot inside her needy cunt till she’s drained you of your worth. A cacophony of whispers fall against your ear, the same comment of ‘so warm—so much—’ in that order, until you’re both met with a calming silence, only accompanied by your steady breaths.

Can’t move, even as your cock withers in her warmth, insisting to stay. You’ve got each other in a warm embrace, unwilling to let go. You’re resting your head right beneath hers, kissing what little of her chest you can reach. Basking in the afterglow of sex, taking all the time in the world to let everything sink in. Even now, it’s all a blur; a complete disruption of the status quo.

Tilting her head down to glance at you, Nagyung quietly breathes, her lips melding into a little smile. “Well—this is—” before she goes blank, still overwhelmed over the events that have transpired.

“Yeah,” is all you can say, just as tongue tied, like you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

As she leans in to meet you for a deep, passionate kiss, you both hear a voice echo in the distance. ‘Cut!’ the director tells you, and you both lay down, drained and exhausted. His applause echoes around the room while he approaches you both, pleased with your efforts.

While he yaps on about something, you take a moment to hush something to Nagyung. “Christ. Nakko, you’re a natural.”

She smiles at your remark, caressing the back of your head. “You’re not half-bad yourself.”

—————

“Jesus.” Nagyung looks at her phone in utter disbelief and shock. Across the table, Jiheon leans forward to take a peep herself. The title is irrelevant (but partially responsible); what matters is the view count. And to no one’s surprise, it’s a hit. Her debut ‘film’ has notched 14 million views in a little over 24 hours, a new site best, surpassing the previous record by a complete landslide. It isn’t even close; just like that, a new star is born.

“See?” Jiheon looks on, proud. “By the rate you’re going, you’ll surpass me and Chaeng in no time. And it’ll be rightfully deserved.”

“Sure, but—” Nagyung looks around the bar, trying to catch a glimpse of Chaeyoung, whom she hasn’t seen in a week. “I don’t wanna post as often as you do, you know? Make it a big deal whenever I do this. Also when my agency eventually finds out, I’m toast.

“Doesn’t matter. We all know it’s you,” Jiheon jests, raising her eyebrows playfully, much to her friend’s annoyance. By request, Nagyung had her face explicitly blurred out and cut whenever possible during sex scenes, even though she had taken up the daunting task herself instead of getting a body double. “But we’re all well protected, and this is all under the table, high security shit. So don’t worry. Besides, it pays well, if not better for a day’s work.”

Just then, Chaeyoung emerges from the restrooms, adjusting her jeans as she walks over to their table. Taking her seat besides Nagyung, she gives her a friendly kiss and embrace. “Congrats on the debut, Nakko. That was very hot, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Nagyung quietly smiles at her, tone respectful and gentle. “So—where’s he?”

Right as Chaeyoung is about to open her mouth, you come out of the bathroom, wiping off soiled tissue roll glued to your fingers and pants. Chaeyoung smirks while the other two silently giggle and suppress their laughter. It’s been a week since she’s had her hands all over you, and this is how you catch up with each other.

“So, what’s next?” Chaeyoung asks, addressing the elephant in the room. “I assume you’ll be going back to doing regular acting roles now that this is all behind you—”

“Mmm—I don’t think so.” Nagyung interrupts. “Still haven’t got a new role yet, officially, but I’ve been penciled in for one as a rich asshole student.”

“You sure that wasn’t for me?” Jiheon interjects, eliciting a hearty laugh out of everyone around the table.

“Good one. But that was a fun experience, honestly. All thanks to this guy over here,” Nagyung says, pointing her finger directly at you, drawing all the girls’ attention.

Tilting your head, you remark, “Just doing my job, that’s all there is to it.”

“Easiest job in the world, am I right?” Chaeyoung teases, smirking devilishly, like she’s ready to go another round. 

Trying to remain well-mannered and polished, you reply, “It wouldn’t be as easy if she wasn’t cooperative on set, so there’s that.”

“Right.” Chaeyoung looks down, tone sarcastic, her fingers tapping on the table. “Definitely didn’t practice the night before. Am sure.”

“Anyway,” Jiheon interjects, redirecting the conversation back to the topic at hand. “So—what will you do, Nakko?”

Nagyung gives herself a moment to think. Then, her eyes pop wide open, like an idea just hit her.

“How would you three like to break the internet one more time?”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! I hope I was able to deliver a worthwhile product; between IRL stuff dragging the whole month of February down, barely had time to truly focus on writing. And funnily enough, the three idols requested all happen to be part of the redebuting fromis lineup. I'm glad fromis will continue on in some capacity, but it's still a bummer that we lost out on Saerom, Seoyeon, and Jisun (which, considering how much they've been shelved and mismanaged since debut, is understandable). Thank you for reading!)

[kwilquib]

Driving you Mad

Series: Promised 9

Chapter - 3

Chapter 0 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Lee Chaeyeoung (Fromis_9) X Male reader (ft. Seoyeon)

Word Count: 21.8k+

a/n: See tags...

Recap:

What started as an ordinary weekend after a night with Chaeyoung unraveled into dread when you discovered Jiheon had woven false memories into your mind—crafting a counterfeit love story you’d lived as if it were real.

You wake up, gasping, the weight of two lives clawing at your chest, crushing the air from your lungs. The memories Jiheon shoved into your skull haven’t just buried the real ones—they’ve fused with them, a grotesque snarl of half-truths and lies bleeding into each other like ink dumped in water. You can’t tell where one ends and the other begins, and the chaos is eating you alive.

You see it all at once—her fabricated love story etched in vivid, nauseating detail, every fake touch branded into your skin, every whispered promise echoing in your ears. But the truth screeches behind it, clawing at the edges of your mind, a faint, ragged whisper you can’t ignore. The two don’t even fight—they coil together, mocking you, daring you to pick which one’s real. First dates you never lived, her lips brushing yours in a ghost of a kiss that never landed, vows you swore to nothing but air. Then the jagged reality: Jiheon’s cold, surgical hands slicing into your past, rewriting you like some lab experiment gone wrong.

Your phone buzzes, a violent jolt against your nerves. Friday, 6 AM.

You stare at it, eyes burning, body locked in place. The last thing you can grab onto—Sunday night—slips through your fingers like sand. A whole week, gone. Vanished. Just a black void where your mind used to be, a gaping hole that laughs at you.

You don’t move. Can’t. The sheets cling to your sweat-soaked skin, the cold air biting at your face, and exhaustion sinks its teeth into you, dragging you down. You’re awake, but your head’s trapped, spinning in the wreckage of memory and madness, begging for something—anything—to claw its way out of the mess and make sense.

The morning light slashes across the walls, slow and cruel, but time’s lost its grip on you. In one twisted version of your head, this is her room—yours and hers—the faint stench of her perfume choking the pillow next to you. In the real world, she was here once, just one night, but it’s enough to make you gag on the lie. Your shaking fingers graze your phone, itching to dig through it—messages, photos, something to tether you to the ground. But dread coils in your gut. What if it’s all fake too? Doctored pictures of a life you never lived, texts spelling out a love story you never wrote—proof of her fingerprints all over your soul, even now.

The faucet drips. One drop. Another. Uneven, unhinged, a stuttering pulse drilling into your skull. Drip. Drip. Drip. It’s alive, taunting you, unraveling you. Each sound rips another shred loose: her laugh ringing in a café you’ve never seen, her fingers locked in yours on a beach you’ve never touched, her sobs choking the air in a fight that never fucking happened. The emotions hit harder than the images—warmth that burns, tension that strangles, the gut-punch of losing something you never had. She didn’t just plant memories; she stitched them into you, thread by thread, so you’d feel every cut she made.

Your heart slams against your ribs, erratic, too fast.

You slam your hands against your eyes, grinding until white-hot sparks explode behind your lids, desperate to shove it all out—her lies, your life, the whole damn mess. But it’s a flood now, a screaming torrent of fake and real smashing together, and you’re drowning in it.

Drip.

Your teeth grind, a low growl building in your throat.

Drip.

Your nails dig into the sheets, clawing at the fabric like it’s her skin.

Drip.

Something molten erupts in your chest—rage, raw and jagged, clawing up your spine.

She did this. She broke you. She tore you apart and stitched you back together wrong, left you like this—this twitching, fractured thing.

The faucet drips again, and you shatter.

Fury floods your veins, a wildfire scorching everything it touches. At Jiheon. At them. At the pathetic, trembling mess staring back at you from the void. You let them in—you let their whispers and their twisted games sink their hooks into you, and now you’re coming apart, thread by thread, a puppet with its strings slashed.

Your mind spins, a frantic loop of blame—them, with their cryptic bullshit and their memory-warping tricks, then you, for being too stupid, too weak to see it coming, then back to them, because they’re the ones who lit the match and watched you burn. Your fists ball up, knuckles white. You suck in a breath, ragged and sharp. Let it go. It doesn’t help. Nothing helps.

The anger doesn’t fade—it festers, throbbing behind your ribs, thick and suffocating. You need to do something—scream, smash, find her and make her undo it. Anything to stop the buzzing in your head, the war tearing you in half.

Your phone sits beside you, a cold, mocking weight. You don’t think—you can’t think. Your hand lunges for it, fingers trembling like they’re about to snap, unlocking the screen with a swipe that feels too violent. The glare stabs into your eyes, cutting through the dim haze of the room, and everything’s wrong—the air buzzes with static, your memories twist and writhe like snakes, and your skull feels ready to split open. Rage floods your veins, too much, too fast, a feral thing clawing to get out, and you’re not sure if you’re holding it in or if it’s already tearing you apart.

You scroll past Jiheon’s name—her cursed fucking name—and your stomach lurches. Not her. Not now. You’d scream, you’d break something, you’d lose what little grip you’ve got left if you heard her voice. Your thumb jerks, hesitates, then slams down on Gyuri’s name like it’s a trigger.

It rings once. Twice. Then—

“Hey.” Her voice slides through, calm, steady, unfazed. Like nothing’s wrong. Like the world isn’t collapsing.

The sound of it—her casual, unshaken tone—snaps something deep inside you, a brittle thread you didn’t know was still holding you together.

“You knew.” The words rip out of you, jagged and dripping with venom, barely human.

She doesn’t answer right away. You hear something on her end—rustling, faint, deliberate. Papers? Fabric? You see her in your head, pristine and smug, perched in some sterile office, legs crossed, barely paying attention, already three steps ahead while you’re choking on the wreckage she helped make.

“You fucking knew, didn’t you?” Your grip on the phone tightens, knuckles bleaching, the plastic creaking under your fingers. “That Jiheon was—” You choke on it, the words tangling in your throat, too heavy, too real.

Gyuri sighs—a slow, deliberate hiss, not defensive, not sorry, just tired. “Of course I knew.”

The silence hits like a punch.

Then the rage explodes.

“And you didn’t stop her?!” You’re out of bed now, stumbling, pacing like a caged animal, your voice shaking with something unhinged. “You just fucking—let her do this to me? To my fucking head?!”

“I couldn’t risk it.” Her voice stays level, but there’s a crack beneath it, a wire pulled too tight.

“Risk?” Your laugh is a mangled, vicious thing, scraping out of you like broken glass. “Risk what? What was so fucking precious that you let her shred me apart? Too scared to cross your little psycho queen Jiheon? Or was it just easier—huh?—to sit there and watch while she turned my brain into her fucking playground?”

A pause. You feel it—the way she hesitates, calculating, deciding how much of you is worth her breath.

Then: “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it!” It’s a scream now, desperate, wild, clawing out of you. You need something—anything—to aim this fire at before it burns you alive.

She hums, slow, deliberate, and then she drops it: “You think you were the only one affected?”

Your breath catches, sharp and painful.

“What?”

“You act like you’re the only one suffering,” she says, voice still smooth but slicing deeper now, an edge creeping in. “Like Jiheon walked away clean. Like we’re all just laughing while you fall apart. Do you really think that?”

You stumble, your pulse hammering unevenly, tripping over itself. Because no—you hadn’t thought about it. You’d been drowning in your own splintered mind, your own violation, your own rage, and it never crossed your fractured skull to wonder—

Jiheon’s face flashes behind your eyes. Hollow. Guilty. A ghost of herself, crumbling under what she’d done.

Your fingers twitch, your jaw locks. No. Fuck that. You won’t let her haunt you with pity. You won’t let this twist back into your fault.

“Don’t you fucking—” Your voice shakes, splintering with fury. “Don’t you dare try to make me feel sorry for her!”

“I’m not.” Gyuri’s tone hardens, the polish cracking at the seams. “I’m saying it’s not that simple.”

“It is that simple!” You’re roaring now, throat raw, words slamming against the walls. “I didn’t ask for this—I didn’t fucking deserve this!”

And then—

“Neither did she.”

The silence is a void, swallowing you whole.

Your breaths come hard and fast, ragged gasps that scrape your lungs. Your nails are carving bloody crescents into your palm, and Gyuri’s not saying a damn thing, and that’s worse—it’s worse—because it leaves you alone with the storm in your head.

You feel it shift now, the ground tilting beneath you.

She’s slipping too.

You hear her exhale, sharp and unsteady, like she’s clawing herself back from a ledge, but she’s already falling.

“Do you think I wanted this?” Her voice drops, low and taut, trembling at the edges. “You should’ve asked me for help.”

Your mouth opens—no sound comes out, just a hollow wheeze.

“Do you think I enjoy watching this implode? You think I wanted you tangled up in our shit? You think I don’t—” She stops herself, her breath hitching, and for the first time, she’s shaking.

And it hits you.

She’s burning too.

Not just at you—at Jiheon, at the Promised 9, at the whole rotting mess. At herself. The heat in her words, the tremor behind them—it’s the same feral, helpless rage that’s been gnawing you alive.

Click.

The line dies.

You stare at the phone, hands quaking, heart slamming against your ribs like it’s trying to break free. The rage is still there, a living thing coiled in your chest, but now it’s got nowhere to go—no target, no release.

Gyuri was supposed to be the wall you’d smash it against. But she’s not a wall—she’s a mirror, cracking under the same fire that’s torching you.

And that only makes it worse. The flames climb higher, hotter, feeding on themselves, and you’re running out of things to burn.

You call her again. Once. Twice. Ten fucking times. Each unanswered ring is a blade twisting in your gut, your pulse slamming so hard it’s rattling your skull.

No answer.

The screen glares back at you, a harsh, mocking light. She’s ignoring me. You knew she’d do this after hanging up—Gyuri, with her calculated little sigh, abandoning you to choke on your own chaos—but the silence gnaws, relentless, a living thing sinking its teeth into you.

You rake a hand through your sweaty, matted hair, about to smash the call button again when something slams into focus—something off.

Your phone’s… stuck.

No new notifications. No new calls. No new texts.

You squint, heart lurching. That’s not right. That’s not fucking right.

You swipe to your messages. The old threads are there—random chats, group texts, stupid memes from weeks ago—but nothing fresh. Not a single new word since… when?

Emails? Same deal. Professor nagging about deadlines, pinned lecture notes—all frozen, timestamped days back. No updates, no reminders, no org newsletters clogging your inbox like they should.

A cold, greasy panic slithers up your spine.

You fumble to the call log, stabbing at a name—some guy from class, a nobody, someone too boring to be tangled in their web.

It rings. And rings. No pickup. No voicemail. Just… dead air.

You try again, fingers trembling, jabbing harder like it’ll force a connection. Nothing.

Your breath comes fast, shallow, scraping your throat raw. No. No way.

You stagger to the window, nearly tripping, and mash your face against the glass. Outside, the world’s still turning—students drifting past, cars nosing into the lot, everything mocking you with its normalcy.

You unlock the latch with stiff fingers and shove the window open. Cold air rushes in, biting against your skin.

Then—you yell.

"Hey!"

Your voice cuts through the air, sharp and desperate. A few people pass directly below, their heads tilted in conversation.

No one looks up.

You grip the windowsill, knuckles white. Your breath shakes.

"Can anyone hear me?!"

Nothing. Not even a glance.

It’s like you’re not even there.

Your stomach flips, sour and tight.

You stumble into the hall, the dorm stretching out too quiet, too long. It’s the same as ever—chipped walls, scuffed floors—except every door’s plastered with flyers, loud and garish. Every single one.

Except yours.

Yours is blank, a void in the noise, like you’re not even here.

Rent was due days ago. Your landlord’s a bloodsucker—should’ve been hammering your door down, blowing up your phone with threats. But nothing. No calls. No texts. No knocks.

You lurch outside, past the entrance, into the open. People brush by—chatting, laughing, breathing—and you’re a phantom, invisible. No eyes catch yours. No heads turn.

It slams into you, a frigid, suffocating wave.

They’ve cut me off.

A laugh tears out of you, sharp and unhinged, bouncing off the emptiness.

Of course. Of fucking course. The Promised 9. Gyuri’s bullshit “I couldn’t risk it”—what a sick, twisted lie. Risk what? Protecting you? No, this was them, flexing their claws, severing every thread tying you to the world. No new messages. No new calls. No rent demands. Like you’ve been paused while everything else keeps spinning.

You stare at the crowd—oblivious, alive, real—and it’s like you’re slamming against a glass cage, unseen, unheard.

It’s impossible. It should be impossible. But they bend reality like it’s their toy, don’t they? Always have.

Your fists clench, nails carving into your palms, blood welling up.

“Fine.” The word growls out, low and shredded.

You storm back inside, kicking the door shut so hard it shakes in the frame. The lock snaps into place—a useless little click against their game. You’re trapped, a rat in their maze, and they’re rewriting the walls while you run.

You gulp air, ragged and desperate, trying to claw your way back to solid ground. But your mind’s splintering—rage and paranoia twisting into a jagged, screaming mess.

Are they watching? Right now? Hiding in the shadows, giggling at your collapse?

Your jaw locks, teeth grinding until they throb. You drop onto the bed, slamming your palms into your thighs, gripping so tight your knuckles bleach, fighting to keep from shattering completely.

But it’s slipping. The anger’s boiling now, a scream clawing up your throat, and if you let it out—if you let go

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

You don’t know what you’ll break. Or who.

Time slips away. You don’t know how much.

Minutes? Hours? Days?

It’s all mush now, a smeared streak of nothing. The silence isn’t just outside anymore—it’s in your head, thick and suffocating, wrapping around your thoughts like damp rot.

It’s just you.

You and the jagged mess clawing inside your skull.

You collapse onto the bed, fingers twisting into your hair, pulling until it stings. Your mind lurches, dragging you down into the undertow—

Jiheon.

A flicker—a memory, or whatever the hell it is.

You’re in the back of a taxi, city lights streaking across her face, sharp and fleeting. She nudges your shoulder with hers, her voice a low murmur, teasing, curling into your ear like smoke. Her hand brushes yours—warm, soft—or did it? Did she ever touch you like that?

Another flash—her laugh, quiet and velvet, a secret carved out just for you, spilling into the dark.

Real? Fake? Does it even matter anymore? You don’t care. You let it roll, let it flood you.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you chase it—her phantom warmth, the shape of her beside you, a lifeline to a past that might be a lie. You breathe it in, greedy, desperate, clinging to the edges of something that could’ve been.

Knock.

Your eyes snap open, wide and wild.

The room’s dead still. Your breath snags in your throat. Then—

Knock. Knock.

It’s sharp, real, slicing through the haze like a blade.

Your heart slams against your ribs, erratic, too loud.

Who—?

You lurch upright, dizzy, palms slick with sweat. You haven’t heard a human sound in—fuck, how long? Days? Weeks? The world’s been a void, and now this—this knock—it’s a lifeline, a threat, a scream in the silence.

Your mind scrambles, tripping over itself. Only one person knows this place. Only one person could find you here, buried in their mess.

“Jiheon.”

The name tears out of you, raw and instinctive, a growl from somewhere deep. Your body’s moving before your brain catches up—stumbling, nearly crashing into the wall, hands shaking as you lunge for the door.

Everything else burns away—the rage, the dread, the memory of her hollow eyes the last time you saw her, the way she broke you. It’s gone, torched in the frantic need to see her, to know, to rip something real out of this nightmare.

Your fingers claw at the handle, slick and fumbling.

You fling the door open, chest heaving, eyes wild—ready to face her, ready to break her, ready for anything—

Eyes lock onto yours through the open door.

Blue.

Not hers. Not Jiheon’s.

Deeper. Mesmerizing. A pull that sinks into you like hooks.

Chaeyoung.

“Missed me?” Her voice slithers out, thick and syrupy, laced with a taunt that makes your skin crawl. You freeze, brain stuttering, but she doesn’t wait—she glides past you, smooth and brazen, like the room’s already hers.

She surveys the chaos—tangled sheets, scattered bottles, the stale reek of too many days alone—and lets out a slow, mocking “Wow.” Her fingertip trails along your desk, collecting dust like it’s evidence, a smirk flickering as she wipes it off. “You live like this?” Her hum is low, teasing, a blade disguised as velvet. “I thought men only crashed this hard after a divorce. But you—” She pivots, those piercing eyes glinting, “you’re shattering over a little heartbreak, aren’t you?”

Your fists ball up, nails biting into your palms, blood prickling under the skin. “What do you want?” The words grind out, rough and unsteady, barely holding back the storm churning inside.

Chaeyoung tilts her head, sizing you up, that knowing smirk sharpening. “Why so tense? You were practically drooling to see who was at the door.” She steps closer—too close—her perfume curling into your lungs, sweet and suffocating. “Did you think I was her?”

Your jaw locks, teeth grinding, and her grin widens, delighted.

She moves past you, slow, unhurried, fingers grazing the door as she swings it shut. The lock clicks into place.

When she turns back, her gaze drips with amusement.

“Poor thing,” she purrs, her hand lifting, fingertips brushing your collarbone—light, deliberate, dragging down slow enough to burn. “Still waiting for Jiheon to crawl back? Begging on her knees, maybe?”

She leans in, her breath hot against your neck, voice dipping low. “Or maybe you wanted something else. Someone else.”

Your exhale is a jagged rasp, and her laugh—sharp and lilting—cuts through you like glass.

“Don’t be shy.” Her fingers dance across your chest, teasing, pressing, stoking something raw. “Locked up in here for days—alone, restless, no one to talk to, no one to touch—” She inches closer, her body brushing yours, “it’s gotta be eating you alive.”

Your muscles coil, heat spiking where it shouldn’t, where you don’t want it to. Your mind’s screaming—trap, trap, trap—but your body’s traitorously still, caught in her pull.

“It’s okay,” she coos, voice softening into something dangerous, something that coils around your throat. “I can make it easier. Just let go. Let me.”

And that’s when it breaks.

Something in you fractures, a dam splitting wide open. Before she can blink—before you can think—your hands lunge.

Fingers clamp around her throat, tight and trembling, and you slam her against the wall with a force that rattles the room. Her head snaps back, breath catching—

But she doesn’t flinch.

No fear. No shock.

Her lips twist upward, a slow, wicked smile blooming under your grip.

“Oh,” she breathes, voice rough but dripping with hunger, eyes blazing dark and wild. “There he is.”

Your grip tightens, pulse pounding in your ears, but her stare—unyielding, pleased—digs into you, unraveling what’s left of your fraying sanity. She’s not scared. She’s thrilled. And that—that—makes the chaos in your head scream louder, teetering on the edge of something you can’t claw back from.

Your grip tightens, fingers digging into her throat, the tendons in your hands straining as rage boils over, uncontainable. Her hands latch onto your wrists, tugging, but it’s weak—halfhearted—like she’s playing at resistance.

“You did this.” Your voice rips out, a guttural growl trembling with fury. “You and the others—you fucking isolated me. Cut me off. Why?!”

Chaeyoung tilts her head against the wall, barely fazed, lips twitching with the ghost of a smile. “Torment?” she tosses back, her tone light, mocking, like it’s a game.

“Don’t act fucking clueless!” Your nails bite into her skin, carving faint crescents, your breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. “What the hell did I do to deserve this?!”

She exhales, slow and deliberate, a sigh that’s too calm, too unbothered for the pressure crushing her windpipe. Then—her eyes flicker up, locking onto yours.

A smirk curls her lips, sharp and venomous.

“Did you forget?” she murmurs, voice low, dripping with something dark.

“You chose this.”

Her lashes flutter, her gaze slicing through you—cruel, knowing, peeling back layers you didn’t know were there.

“You wished for this.”

Your mind stutters, a jolt of ice cutting through the heat. “Wished for this? Why the fuck would I—when—?” Then it hits—the memory slams into you like a fist. That night with Chaeyoung, her voice teasing, sultry, whispering ‘Be careful what you wish for’ as the room spun and her laughter faded into the dark. “That night? That stupid fucking wish you threw out there? How was I supposed to know—you didn’t even explain it!”

Her smirk deepens, unfazed by your snarl. “Either way, you’re with us now.” Her voice is velvet over steel. “You locked yourself in when you spent that night with me—and oh, so much more with Jiheon.”

One of her hands, still gripping your wrist, shifts—sliding up, slow and deliberate, caressing your cheek. Then it drops, her fingers brushing lower, rubbing against your crotch through your pants, a bold, taunting stroke.

“Why don’t you calm down for now?” she purrs, eyes glinting with mischief. “Or if you prefer this, I wouldn’t mind.”

Your breath hitches, a mix of fury and disbelief choking you.

“You’re fucked in the head,” you spit, voice shaking, incredulous.

Your grip clamps tighter, fingers sinking into Chaeyoung’s throat, your breath heaving, wild and uneven, like something’s clawing out of your chest. Her gasping, broken laugh spills out anyway, her chest shuddering under the strain, defiant even as you crush her windpipe.

“Ironic,” she wheezes, eyes half-lidded, glinting with something mocking, dangerous, her lips twitching despite the chokehold. “Coming from someone who’s losing his mind.”

“Insane?” Your voice cracks like a whip, jagged and unhinged, your grip tightening until your knuckles bleach. “What the fuck do you mean by that?”

She forces a ragged breath, her smile unwavering, predatory. “Haven’t you seen it? Felt it?” she rasps, voice low and cutting. “You’re coming apart. That memory’s eating you alive.”

Then—

A bang at the door—sharp, thunderous, rattling the frame.

“Hey! It’s me—Gyuri!” Her voice slices through, fierce and commanding. “Chaeyoung, open the damn door! I know you’re in there—enough with your fucking games, he doesn’t need this!”

Another bang, harder, the wood groaning under her fist.

“What was that crash earlier?!” Gyuri’s tone spikes, worry twisting into anger. “Open it—NOW!”

Your head jerks toward the sound, but your eyes snap back to Chaeyoung. She meets your stare, her smirk stretching wider, feral and gleeful, like she’s feeding off the chaos.

“What are you gonna do now?” she whispers, voice trembling with delight, strained and taunting under your grip. Her fingers twitch, still clutching your pants, pressing harder against you, shameless. “Unless… you wanna keep going?” Her lips part, a shaky inhale breaking through, her smile teetering on the edge of collapse. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

Then—

The world shatters.

The door doesn’t just explode inward—it detonates. A violent eruption of force tears through the room, sending a shockwave rippling outward. The walls groan under the impact, picture frames shattering, glass spraying across the floor. Furniture is upended—your bed slams against the opposite wall with a deafening crack, a dresser topples, scattering papers and broken wood across the floor.

A crimson-red streak of light flares from the splintered remains of the doorway, burning hot, searing bright. The entire building shakes, the foundation trembling under the sheer weight of the force. Dust and debris rain down from the ceiling, the floorboards quivering beneath your feet.

A shard of wood slices past Chaeyoung’s cheek—a thin red line blooms, blood welling up instantly. She barely reacts, eyes locked onto the wreckage, onto her.

Gyuri stands amidst the destruction, breathless, eyes blazing like molten fire. Her silhouette is framed by the carnage—splintered wood, dust still swirling, the faint glow of embers flickering at her fingertips. She takes it all in—one sharp, furious sweep—the trashed dorm, the suffocating tension, the overturned chair, the damp stench of neglect.

And you.

Looming over Chaeyoung. Hand still locked around her throat.

Then—her eyes land on you.

And something shifts.

The raw, furious blaze in her gaze wavers, flickers—just for a moment. The fire dims, softens, but it doesn’t disappear. It settles into something steady, something alive.

She steps forward—slow, deliberate, like you’re a bomb she’s afraid to set off.

“Hey.” Gyuri’s voice cuts through, soft yet insistent, piercing the static screaming in your skull.

Your chest heaves, breaths ripping out in sharp, uneven bursts. You don’t move. Can’t. The world’s a haze of red and shadow, your hands locked, trembling, unrelenting.

Her fingers graze your arm—light, cautious, not forcing, just there, a fragile thread in the storm.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, her hand sliding to your wrist, warm and steady, curling around it like a lifeline. “Look at me.”

Your grip stays iron-tight, nails digging into Chaeyoung’s throat. Her smirk’s vanished—wiped clean. Her lips part, gasping, straining for air that won’t come, her chest jerking faintly. Her eyes meet yours—stripped of taunts, hollowed out, reflecting something shattered.

“Why should I listen to you?” Your voice claws its way out, raw and trembling, thick with rage. “You fucked with my head. You’re fucking with my life. You’re making me disappear.”

Chaeyoung’s gaze holds, unblinking, her wheeze barely audible under your chokehold. No defiance. Just that flat, eerie stillness.

Gyuri exhales—slow, controlled, a thin line of calm threading through your chaos.

“We did that,” she says, her voice deliberate, careful. “And I’m sorry. We could’ve done better—I could’ve done better.” Her fingers tighten around your wrist, not pulling, just grounding. “I should’ve cared for you more. Kept you closer instead of… this.”

Her words hang there, heavy with regret, but they don’t soothe—they sting, like salt in a wound you didn’t know was bleeding.

“We didn’t know how to handle you,” she continues, softer now. “Your mind—it’s fragile. We thought controlling everything, cutting you off, would keep you safe. But I see it now—we fucked up.”

Your vision blurs, red seeping into the edges, the room swaying as your mind teeters on a brittle edge—fury crashing against her confession, tearing you apart.

“Let go. Let’s talk.”

Her hand slides up, cupping your face, her palm pressing firm against your jaw—solid, unyielding, anchoring you. She pulls you in, closer, until her forehead rests against yours, her breath warm, steady, mingling with your ragged gasps.

A faint red glow flickers at the corners of your sight, pulsing faintly, warm and alive.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again, her voice cracking just enough to feel real. Her warmth seeps into you, threading through the tangled mess shredding your head, dulling the sharpest edges.

“Breathe.”

Your fingers twitch, the grip on Chaeyoung’s throat faltering—slowly, haltingly—until your hands drop, heavy and shaking, useless at your sides. She collapses with a choked gasp, air rushing into her lungs, but you don’t look. Can’t.

Gyuri’s hands stay, firm on your face, her forehead pressed to yours, her touch the only thing keeping you from spiraling into the void gnashing at your heels.

Your grip on Chaeyoung slackens, trembling fingers peeling away.

She drops, hitting the floor with a thud, gasping, coughing, hands flying to her throat. She doesn’t speak—doesn’t taunt. Just watches.

Gyuri doesn’t spare her a glance.

Gyuri holds you there, her fingers digging into your skin, a desperate tether dragging you back from the abyss gnashing at your heels. Your pulse thunders, a deafening roar in your ears, your mind spinning—fractured, teetering—but her eyes, steady and unyielding, lock you in place, keeping you from shattering completely.

“You need help. You know it yourself,” she says, her voice firm but laced with a softness that stings deeper than you want. “Let us help you. Me. No more of… this.” Her hand sweeps faintly toward the wreckage—the trashed dorm, the splintered door, the chaos seeping into every corner. “I promise this time.”

Her words dangle there, a lifeline tangled with guilt. You hesitate, chest tight, breath hitching. She’s right—you need help. They broke you, shredded your mind and left you clawing through the debris, but they’re the only ones who can piece you back together. It’s a cruel, twisted punchline, and the bitterness burns your throat.

You nod—just a twitch of your head—too drained, too furious, too lost to fight. Gyuri’s grip eases, her thumb brushing your jaw, a fleeting warmth you hate needing but can’t reject.

Behind you, a faint rustle. Then—Chaeyoung pulls herself up from the floor, slow and stiff, her movements deliberate, like she’s testing if her body still works. Her fingers flex and curl, trembling faintly before she clenches them into fists. “Great. Can we go now?”

Her voice is flat—no teasing lilt, no playful bite. She’s facing Gyuri, her back to you, her tone hollow, drained of its usual spark. You can’t see her face, but the air shifts—something unspoken crackling between them.

Gyuri’s jaw tightens, her eyes flicking to Chaeyoung, then back to you. “I can’t,” she says, quieter, a strain threading her words. “I need to stay. Clean this up.” She nods toward the shattered door, the mess of your dorm, her hands slipping from your face but hovering close, like she’s scared you’ll bolt. “The Mist can only do so much. We shouldn’t strain it more.”

Mist? Your brows knit, confusion spiking through the haze. “I thought we were done with that. Can you just explain—”

She flinches—barely—but doesn’t answer. Her gaze meets yours, heavy with something murky—regret, maybe shame. “Go with Chaeyoung,” she says instead, voice firming up. “She’ll take you to Saerom. She’s waiting. She can… give you answers.”

You scowl, frustration boiling over. “Then why her? Why can’t you do it?” You glance at Chaeyoung, expecting her usual smirk, but she’s still—too still. Her face is blank, no fire, no taunt, just a weary, distant stare. The cut on her cheek gleams, blood still wet, but she doesn’t flinch at it.

Chaeyoung turns to you then, and—like a mask snapping back into place—her smirk flickers on, jagged at the edges. “What’s wrong? Scared to be alone with me after our little dance?” she purrs, her voice dripping with mock sweetness, leaning in just close enough to let her breath graze your ear. “Don’t you trust me, baby? I thought we were getting so… intimate.” Her tone wavers for a split second, a faint crack betraying her, but she covers it with a low, taunting chuckle.

The air thickens, heavy and suffocating, as Gyuri glares at her. A faint red glow pulses at the edges of the room, seeping from Gyuri’s clenched fists, the light flickering like a heartbeat—angry, unsteady. She squeezes her eyes shut, her chest rising and falling too fast, and you feel it—a hum in the air, a crackle of something raw and red bleeding into the space. She’s meditating, or trying to, holding back whatever’s clawing to get out. When her eyes snap open, they’re sharp, glinting with a crimson sheen she can’t fully hide, and she deliberately avoids Chaeyoung’s grin.

“Just go with her for now,” she mutters, her voice tight, strained, like it’s taking everything to keep the red from spilling over. She pulls you aside, her fingers trembling faintly against your arm, and whispers, tense and low, “Chaeyoung acts like teasing’s her only trick, but she’s the one you can trust most. At least you know what she’s after.” The red light flares briefly around her, casting harsh shadows across her face, then dims as she forces it down.

You chew on that, the words sinking in slow and bitter. Gyuri, who seems to care but keeps proving otherwise with every move. Jiheon, who cracked your mind open and left it bleeding. The others, shadows you can’t read. Chaeyoung—at least she’s predictable, her edges sharp but familiar.

“Let’s gooo,” Chaeyoung sing-songs, her lazy grin stretching wide, but her hands fidget at her sides, fingers twitching—a crack in her act she can’t quite hide.

You hesitate. Gyuri’s hand presses lightly to your back, a gentle nudge. “Go,” she says softly, urging you forward.

You step toward the door, but Gyuri’s voice cuts through just as you reach it. “Chaeyoung.”

You both pause. You glance back; Chaeyoung doesn’t.

“I’m serious,” Gyuri says, her voice taut, eyes dark and piercing. “Don’t hurt him.” It’s not a request—it’s a warning, laced with steel.

For a split second, Chaeyoung’s mask slips. Her shoulders stiffen, her breath catches—just a flicker of something raw—before she forces a sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her neck like she’s shrugging it off. When she turns, the teasing glint is back, polished and bright, but her eyes are too tight, her smirk too forced. “I’d do eight other things with him before we get to that kink,” she chirps, voice airy, then leans toward you, dropping it to a mock whisper. “Unless you wanna skip ahead?”

You don’t answer. Don’t look at her. Just step past, out the door, your mind a snarl of rage and exhaustion.

Chaeyoung follows, her footsteps light but uneven, like she’s still steadying herself. For a moment, she’s quiet—too quiet—her breathing shallow, a faint tremor in it she tries to cover with a soft hum. She’s shaken, more than she’ll let on, hiding it behind that brittle grin and barbed words.

You don’t care. You keep walking, and she trails you, the two of you slipping into the unknown, toward Saerom, while Gyuri stays behind in the wreckage—alone with her promises and the mess she can’t undo.

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

The car hums beneath you, a low, steady purr cutting through Seoul’s streets with effortless precision. It’s not Chaeyoung’s usual blue Porsche, all flash and noise. This is subtler—a Lexus, four-seater, sleek and understated, the kind of luxury that doesn’t scream but commands. Familiar. You’ve seen it before, that night you first stumbled into their world, half-blind and reeling.

Chaeyoung doesn’t fill the silence with chatter. Her hands grip the wheel, steady, her eyes fixed ahead—no music, no distractions, just the engine’s rhythmic drone and a heavy, unspoken weight between you. You don’t ask where you’re going. You don’t need to. She’d dropped it once, casual and dismissive—Saerom will explain when it’s time. That time’s now, and it hangs over you like a blade.

The car slows, but not in front of the gleaming glass tower you’d braced for. Chaeyoung veers sharp down a ramp, plunging into an underground lot. Dim fluorescent lights buzz overhead, the hum of ventilation fans swallowing the Lexus’s glide. The world above fades, muffled and far.

She parks with crisp efficiency. Her fingers tap the steering wheel—once, twice—a quick, restless tic before she exhales and unbuckles her seatbelt. “Let’s go.” She’s out before you can blink, not waiting.

The elevator ride is silent, the numbers climbing higher and higher until they stop at the top. When the doors slide open, you step into a space that feels like the crown of the building. Not just an office—Saerom’s office.

The door is heavier than the others, a polished plaque with her name the only marker. Chaeyoung raps her knuckles against it once, sharp, then shoves it open without pause.

Inside, the air thickens—leather, fresh flowers, a ghost of perfume. Floor-to-ceiling windows dominate one wall, tinted to hold the city at arm’s length. The space is pristine, curated, every detail deliberate.

At the center, behind a broad desk, sits Saerom. She doesn’t look up right away, her pen scratching across paper with a final, precise flourish before she sets it down. Only then do her eyes lift, locking onto yours. No surprise. No flicker of doubt. She’s been waiting.

“What took you so long?” Her gaze slides past you, pinning Chaeyoung.

Chaeyoung answers with a smile—thin, tight, not quite reaching her eyes.

You tilt your head, a smirk tugging at your lips despite the churn in your gut. “An actress with her own office, signing papers? Bit much, isn’t it? Almost like you run the place.”

Saerom doesn’t bite, doesn’t even blink. Chaeyoung lets out a low chuckle behind you, soft but sharp, like you’ve stumbled over something painfully obvious.

Saerom rises, smooth and unhurried, crossing the room toward you. When she’s close—close enough to feel the weight of her presence—she stops. “What happened to you?” she asks, her voice calm but edged, her eyes flicking to Chaeyoung.

You follow her gaze. The cut on Chaeyoung’s cheek gleams, still wet, but it’s her neck that draws you now—red marks blooming where your fingers dug in, faint bruises tracing the shape of your grip.

Chaeyoung flinches, just a fraction, caught off guard. “Nothing,” she says, too quick, a tiny hitch in her breath. “Just got a little excited.” Her hands land on your shoulders, rubbing them with forced ease, her smile flashing for Saerom—bright, brittle, a shield snapping back into place.

Saerom studies her for a beat, then turns, satisfied or uninterested—you can’t tell. She moves to the center of the room, settling onto a low couch by the coffee table, her eyes locking onto yours again. Waiting.

Chaeyoung’s hands give your shoulders a final tap. “Well, good luck,” she chirps, already retreating. “I’ll be outside.” Before you can say a word, the door clicks shut behind her, the sound sharp in the stillness.

You sit across from Saerom, alone now, her presence a quiet storm filling the room. Her gaze is unrelenting—steady, piercing, drawing you in whether you want it or not. No assistants buzzing around, no flashing cameras, no polished persona. Just her, seated in this private meeting room atop the city, waiting.

She doesn’t bother with pleasantries. Her eyes lock onto yours, unreadable, and she cuts straight to it. “Do you know the myth of the Promised 9?”

You exhale, sharp and bitter. “Yeah. Conveniently, I do.”

Silence. She’s waiting.

You hesitate, then give in. “Nine women, tied to humanity’s extreme emotions.” Your voice feels heavy, like you’re dragging it out of somewhere dark. “The King begged a deity for help, and they sent nine embodiments to carry that burden. But they needed an anchor—someone to keep them from losing it.”

The words hit differently now, tugging at a thread in your mind. Jiheon’s face flashes—tear-streaked, broken—“I wasn’t myself. Please, forgive me.” It clicks, heavy and sickening.

Saerom, as if reading your unraveling thoughts, breaks the quiet. “You’re that anchor. You keep us from spiraling.”

Your jaw locks. “Why me? Why now? Don’t you have someone else?”

She leans back, crossing one leg over the other, unruffled. “We weren’t always like this. Normal, once. Then one night, we woke up… changed. Something shifted, and we had no choice but to carry it.”

Your fingers twitch against your knee. “How long?”

“A few years. Less than ten.” She tilts her head, studying you. “We managed—until we couldn’t. We knew we’d lose control eventually.”

You scoff, shaking your head. “And I’m supposed to just step in? I don’t even know if I can—or how.”

Her lips curve, not quite a smile. “You already have. Twice.”

Your stomach twists. You don’t need to ask. Jiheon. Chaeyoung.

She watches the realization sink in, then adds, “And there’s more.”

You meet her gaze, wary.

“You resist us,” she says, matter-of-fact. “Our influence—our magic—it doesn’t take you fully. That’s why you’re different. Why you’re necessary.”

The words press into you, a weight you can’t shake. “You’re the perfect anchor,” she continues, voice low, steady. “Especially when we lose ourselves. Others would’ve broken by now. You haven’t.”

“And what? I just accept it?” Your voice rises, edged with frustration. “Chaeyoung said I chose this, but no one explained shit. You misled me—dragged me into this without a fucking word.”

Her eyes flicker away for a moment, staring past you, lips moving silently—like she’s cursing someone under her breath. Then she refocuses, unyielding. “I see. But what’s done is done. Doesn’t change that you’re what we need.”

“Why should I help you?” You shove up from your seat, voice cracking with anger. “After everything you’ve done? Jiheon fucked my head, and you—you made the world forget me!”

“Jiheon’s effect was… unfortunate,” she concedes, calm as ever. “But the rest? That was to protect you.”

“Protect me?” You laugh, harsh and hollow. “By cutting me off? Making me a ghost? You’re sociopaths—”

“It’s not just us who needs help,” she cuts in, stopping your spiral cold. “You need us too. That mind of yours—those memories—they’ll drive you insane. We can make it bearable, at least. Normal, even.”

“Convenient as hell for you,” you mutter, sinking back into your seat, defeated. “Might as well say you planned it all.”

“You think this is one-sided,” she says, leaning forward slightly. “That we’re just using you. It’s not that simple.”

Your fingers dig into your knee, but you don’t interrupt.

“We’re tied to you as much as you are to us,” she says, her gaze unflinching. “You anchor us, yes. But we take care of you in return. That’s the deal.”

“Sounds like a fancy cage,” you bite back.

A flicker of amusement crosses her face. “If that’s how you see it, fine. But it’s not cold. Not transactional.” She tilts her head, assessing you. “You’re already changing us—more than you realize.”

She leans back, ticking off names like she’s reading a ledger. “Gyuri—never begs me for anything. She did for you, just to get me here faster.”

“Chaeyoung—doesn’t give a damn about anyone outside us. Now she does.”

“Jiheon—reckless, shameless Jiheon—crippled with guilt over you.”

“Seoyeon—avoids responsibility like it’s a disease. Mentioned your name once, and she stepped up.”

Each name lands like a brick, stacking up in your chest. You don’t know what to say.

Saerom lets the silence settle, then drops it, casual but firm: “You should move in with us.”

Not a question. A statement.

It hits like a slap. “What?”

She doesn’t repeat it. Just watches you wrestle with it.

“That’s insane,” you say, shaking your head. “I barely know you. Why would I—”

“Why not?” she cuts in, smooth and sharp. “What’s stopping you?”

You open your mouth—nothing comes out.

“Your dorm was wrecked. No family waiting,” she says, voice low, relentless. “No career you’re tied to. No friends anchoring you. What’s keeping you out there?”

Your throat tightens, her words slicing too close. “I have a life,” you rasp, but it sounds weak even to you.

“Do you?” She leans forward, piercing. “A shitty dorm. Classes you sleep through. A routine you don’t care about.”

The ache settles into your bones. You can’t argue.

“You’d lose nothing by staying,” she says, softer now. “But you’d gain something.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Your voice is rough, brittle.

Her lips twitch—not quite a smile.

“A purpose.”

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

The elevator chime cuts through the haze, a soft ding reverberating in the empty space. The doors slide open, revealing the underground parking lot—dimly lit, shadows pooling under flickering fluorescents.

You don’t move right away. Your hand clenches into a fist at your side, and you draw a slow, deliberate breath. This time, it steadies you.

For the first time in days your mind isn’t a storm of unanswered questions. The weight in your chest hasn’t lifted, but it’s shifted—less a choking fog, more a solid pressure you can finally wrap your hands around. Something real. Something you can face.

Anchor. Necessary. One of us now.

The words echo, but they don’t claw at you anymore. They’ve settled, heavy and certain, like stones in your pocket. It should scare you—shouldn’t it?—but instead, there’s a strange relief in the clarity. A thread to cling to, something to pull you forward when everything else has frayed.

You drag a hand over your face, rough against stubble, and step out.

Then you see her.

Chaeyoung’s leaning against the black Lexus, arms crossed, one boot kicked back against the concrete pillar. The faint light overhead glints in her eyes, sharpening the smirk tugging at her lips—a knowing, waiting curve.

Your gaze locks with hers, and you can tell in an instant.

She thought you’d run.

She thought you’d crack.

Instead, you exhale, a faint shake of your head as you step toward her. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel adrift. The ground’s still shaky beneath you, but it’s there—and that’s enough.

“Waiting for me?”

Her smirk widens. “Obviously.” She shifts, stepping toward you, closing the distance with a predator’s grace. “And I’m not done with you yet.”

You scoff under your breath, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I wasn’t planning on running.”

“I know,” she murmurs, her voice dipping, less tease and more weight—something off, something personal. “You won’t… you can’t… not with me.”

It’s not about Saerom or anchors or any of that. It’s her. Just her. Your shoulders stiffen as the words settle, heavy, like a snare you’ve walked into before.

You shake your head, exhaling hard. “She said you care about me.”

Chaeyoung snorts, amused. “Did she now?”

You shouldn’t ask, but it slips out. “Is it true?”

She steps closer, her gaze unwavering. “Does it matter?”

It does. You want it to. Your fingers twitch at your side. “What about Jiheon?”

Her expression flickers—brief, almost imperceptible—lips parting before she glances away, jaw tight. “You’re worried?” she says, sharper now, edged with something raw. “After what she did to you? Worry about her later.”

Your stomach twists. What if Jiheon didn’t mean it? What if she wasn’t herself when she broke you? The thought gnaws, but you don’t have an answer. So you don’t give one.

Instead, you nod toward the car, grasping for anything else. “This ‘anchor’ thing—what does it even mean?”

Chaeyoung exhales, shaking her head with a faint, bitter laugh. “You’re overthinking it.”

“I’d like a straight answer for once,” you snap, teeth gritted.

She leans in, voice low, teasing but barbed. “You keep asking like you don’t already know.”

You don’t. Or maybe you’re terrified you do.

Her smirk sharpens, a finger tapping her lips before she drawls, “Fine. You’re ours, we’re yours… yet.” She tilts her head, eyes glinting. “Happy now?”

Your chest tightens. “And sex—is that really how I help you?”

Her eyes gleam with mischief. “Why?” She steps closer, her breath brushing your skin. “Wanna test it again—see if I’m still worth it?”

Your lips part, but before you can bite back, she moves—quick, fluid, like she’s been waiting. Her hands slam against your chest, shoving you back through the open car door. You hit the backseat with a thud, leather and her perfume flooding your senses.

Then she’s on you, straddling your lap with slow, deliberate grace. Her fingers trail up your jaw, curling into your hair, tilting your head back to lock eyes. “Still undecided?” she murmurs, lips hovering just above yours, teasing the space between. She leans closer, her smile grazing your cheek. “Need me to remind you how good this gets?”

Your pulse spikes. You swallow hard. “Chaeyoung,” you rasp, “this isn’t the time—or place.”

Her lips curl sharper. “Then stop me.”

You hesitate—too long. She sees it, and the glint in her eyes flares, reveling in the edge she’s claimed.

“Chae—”

Your protest barely escapes before she’s on you, her fingers twisting into your shirt, yanking herself closer. Her mouth crashes against yours, fierce and possessive, a hungry edge to it that leaves no room for doubt—she knows what she wants, and it’s you.

Her lips move with bold, teasing confidence, pressing hard, demanding, like she’s playing a game she’s already won. The heat surges when her tongue brushes the seam of your mouth, coaxing you open—an invitation you shouldn’t take but can’t refuse. You part your lips, letting her in, and she dives deep, tasting like danger, sweet and addictive, pulling you under.

Her weight shifts, hips pressing into yours, her body molding against you with a deliberate grind that screams intent. You should stop this—draw a line before it’s too late. You know it’s a distraction for her, a power play, nothing more. But your hands betray you, sliding to her waist, tugging her closer, feeding the fire. You want her, even if it’s just this fleeting burn.

Then it shifts.

The kiss slows—her lips soften, less demanding, more lingering. The hunger doesn’t fade, but it melts into something warmer, something unguarded. Her breath catches, a faint tremor against your mouth, and the tease gives way to a quiet depth you didn’t expect. Her tongue brushes yours again, but it’s tender now, searching rather than claiming.

Your hand twitches, lifting toward her neck. You hesitate—flashes of earlier, your grip too tight, her gasping under your anger flickering in your mind. Guilt stalls you, but the kiss keeps pulling you in, softer still, and you can’t hold back. Your fingers find her neck, resting there—not choking, not controlling, just cradling, gentle and steady, a stark contrast to before.

She doesn’t pull away. Her lips stay on yours, warm and slow, a scrape of her teeth against your lower lip—not playful anymore, but raw, almost aching. When she finally breaks the kiss, it’s too sudden, a soft gasp slipping out as she stares at you. Her eyes widen for a heartbeat, mask slipping—surprise, vulnerability, like she didn’t mean to let it feel this real.

“Chaeyoung,” you murmur, voice rough, your thumb brushing the graze on her cheek—still raw from earlier, a mark you left behind.

She snaps back fast, that smirk curling her lips like armor, her gaze sweeping over you as if she didn’t just bare something unguarded. “What?” she teases, voice steadying too quick, too smooth. “Don’t tell me you’re hooked already.”

But your hand stays on her neck, light and warm, and for a moment, she doesn’t shake it off—the softness lingers between you, unspoken.

“You’ve been acting pathetic long enough,” Chaeyoung murmurs, shifting atop you. She pulls back slowly, settling her weight onto your hips, pinning you in place. “Let me take care of you.”

Her hands, warm and sure, glide from your thighs to your belt, fingers deftly working the buckle loose.

You catch her wrist, halting her. “Chaeyoung, we’re in public—”

“No one’s coming,” she interrupts, voice soft but firm, cutting through your protest. She leans in, her breath teasing your lips. “You need this.”

Her free hand fumbles blindly behind her, pulling the car door shut with a quiet click. She doesn’t say she needs it too, but the way her fingers tighten on you, the way her pupils flare, betrays her.

Your grip slackens.

A slow, wicked smile curls her lips. She shifts lower, unfastening your belt with a tug, sliding your waistband and boxers down in one fluid motion. Your cock springs free, and her eyes widen—just for a heartbeat—before that grin takes over, sharp and hungry.

Her tongue flicks out, tracing a deliberate, languid stripe up your length. A shudder rips through you as she swirls around the tip, savoring you, then takes you into her mouth. She sinks down, lips wrapping tight, the heat of her throat swallowing you inch by inch. A groan claws its way out of your chest, your hips twitching up instinctively.

She hums, the vibration pulsing through you, her tongue flicking against the sensitive underside as she bobs deeper, faster. Her fingers curl around the base, stroking what she can’t take, while her other hand teases your balls with a gentle roll. It’s too much—too good—pleasure coiling tight and fast. You’re close, teetering on the edge, when she pulls off with a wet pop, a thin string of spit bridging her lips to your throbbing tip.

She rises slightly, hands moving to her jeans. With maddening slowness, she unbuttons them, lifting her hips just enough to peel the denim down her thighs. Her dark panties cling to her, barely a barrier, and she kicks the jeans aside, settling back onto your lap.

Before you can catch your breath, she straddles you, grinding her hips down. The thin fabric between you does nothing to hide her heat, her slickness seeping through as she rolls against your aching length. Your hands grip her waist, fingers digging in, body taut with want.

“Mmm, you taste better than I remember,” she purrs, lips brushing your ear, nails raking your shoulders with a sharp thrill. “I want you inside me. Want you to fuck me ‘til I can’t stand.”

Her words ignite you, heat roaring through your veins. The slow drag of her hips has your breath stuttering, your hands itching to pull her closer, to lose yourself in her—

But then she stops.

Not hesitation. Not doubt.

She’s waiting, her focus shifting past you.

A beat hangs.

Then—click.

The car door creaks open, and your blood turns to ice.

“Chaeyoung…?”

The voice isn’t loud, but it slices through the haze, freezing you mid-breath. You don’t recognize it—not instantly—but the weight of that stare burns into you, heavy and unyielding.

“Oh… fuck—” A woman’s voice falters, stammering.

Panic hits like a flood. You jolt upright, scrambling to yank your pants up, fumbling in a clumsy rush. Chaeyoung, unbothered, slides off you with effortless grace, reaching for her jeans like it’s a casual pause in her day.

“Unnie, you’re here,” she says, voice light, almost bored, as she shimmies denim back over her hips.

You look up, heart slamming, and see her—Seoyeon—standing there, wide-eyed, caught in the doorway.

Your breath lodges in your throat, guilt and shock colliding as her gaze flickers between you and Chaeyoung.

Seoyeon freezes, her wide eyes flickering between you and Chaeyoung before dropping to the ground, like she’s trying to unsee what she just walked into. Her fingers tighten around her bag strap, and a faint flush creeps up her neck, barely visible in the parking lot’s dim glow.

That reaction—soft, unguarded—hits you harder than it should. Seoyeon, the quiet beauty you’d watched from a distance, always so composed, so untouchable. She’d had this effortless allure—serene, distant, captivating. And now, she’s flustered, unraveling before you.

Guilt twists in your chest, sharp and unfamiliar. You hardly know her—just fleeting glances, occasional nods—but her seeing you like this, tangled in Chaeyoung’s mess, stings in a way you can’t explain. Her expression, unreadable yet raw, makes it worse.

She shifts, hesitating, like she’s torn between bolting and pretending this never happened.

Then Chaeyoung moves.

Unfazed, she slides out of the car, rolling her shoulders as if shrugging off a minor annoyance. Her lips curl, eyes glinting as she turns from you to Seoyeon. “Seoyeon-ah,” she purrs, stretching the name with relish. “You’re so cute when you blush.”

Seoyeon stiffens. “I—I wasn’t—” she stammers, voice soft, faltering.

Chaeyoung’s laugh cuts through, stepping closer. “What? Didn’t enjoy the show? Or are you mad you missed your chance to play?”

Seoyeon’s breath catches, her grip on her bag whitening her knuckles. She doesn’t retreat, though—rooted there, trapped under Chaeyoung’s gaze.

You watch, a dark thread coiling in your mind. Chaeyoung’s teasing has shifted—no longer aimed at you, it’s sharper now, laced with an edge that feels almost territorial.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, closing the distance, her tone hovering between irritation and something colder.

Seoyeon hesitates. “You… said you’d drive me home.”

“Ah…” Chaeyoung tilts her head, smirk returning, but it’s tighter, meaner. “Right. I did, didn’t I?” She crosses her arms. “So, your little meeting’s done?”

Seoyeon nods, barely.

Chaeyoung spins back to you, her grin wicked. “Hear that? Our shy little puppy just signed a deal—her book’s getting adapted.” Her fingers trail up Seoyeon’s arm as she speaks, possessive, taunting. “Isn’t she incredible?” Her eyes lock on yours, gleaming. “Go on, praise her. She’d love to hear it from you.”

Your throat tightens, brain scrambling. A writer? You’d seen her in the café—alone, lost in thought, typing by her laptop. You’d guessed student, freelancer, anything but this.

“I—” You clear your throat, forcing it out. “Congrats. That’s… really impressive. I always wondered what you were up to.”

Seoyeon fidgets with her strap, eyes down. “I—I could just go home alone. I don’t want to interrupt—”

“Too late,” Chaeyoung cuts in, smooth and biting. Her fingers slide down Seoyeon’s wrist, tugging at her sleeve, and Seoyeon tenses—but doesn’t pull away.

“Join us,” Chaeyoung hums, tilting her head, lips curving sharper. “Unless…” She flicks her gaze to you, then lowers her voice, “you wanted a different kind of invitation?”

Your breath snags. Her hand drifts lower, fingertips brushing Seoyeon’s waist, pressing just enough to draw a faint shudder. It’s blatant, deliberate—performed for you, like she’s daring you to react.

Your jaw clenches.

Seoyeon bites her lip, face flaming, eyes darting away. She’s unrecognizable from the café girl—cozy sweaters swapped for something sleek, her softness sharpened by the moment, helpless under Chaeyoung’s grip.

And you—you’re still hard, the ache a cruel reminder of where this was headed. Chaeyoung catches it, her smirk flashing like she’s won something.

“Don’t go,” she murmurs, leaning closer to Seoyeon, fingers tracing her blouse’s hem. “Especially after crashing our fun.”

Chaeyoung glances at your still bulging pants.

She whispers something in Seoyeon’s ear—too low to catch—and Seoyeon’s breath hitches, her flush deepening.

Then Chaeyoung grins, turning to you. “Besides… don’t you want me to introduce you?” Her voice drops, eyes flicking between you both. “Show you who she really is?”

She tosses you the keys with a flick of her wrist. “Drive us, sweetie. Follow the GPS,” she says, mischief glinting in her stare. She glances at the backseat. “I want Seoyeon’s company back there.”

You slide into the driver’s seat, fingers clamping around the wheel, knuckles whitening. A quick check in the rearview shows Chaeyoung sprawled comfortably, dark hair fanning over the leather, one leg crossed casually. Seoyeon sits beside her, rigid, hands knotted in her lap, staring out the window like it might save her.

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

The car hums softly, the GPS’s faint beeps punctuating the quiet. The silence stretches—not heavy, but taut—until Chaeyoung slices through it.

“So… how much do you actually know about Seoyeon?”

Your fingers flex on the wheel, eyes flicking to the rearview. Chaeyoung’s smirking, amused, while Seoyeon jolts slightly, her gaze snapping from the window to dart between you and Chaeyoung.

You clear your throat. “Uh… I see her at Golden Brew a lot. She’s always there.”

Seoyeon blinks, startled—like she didn’t think you’d noticed her.

Chaeyoung chuckles, low and teasing. “That’s it? Just some café girl?” She slings an arm over Seoyeon’s shoulders, tugging her closer with casual possessiveness. “Come on, you’ve got more than that. Give us an impression.”

You hesitate, Seoyeon’s eyes on you now, soft but searching. What do you say? That she always looked so calm there, tucked in her corner, lost in a book—like the world couldn’t touch her? That she’s nothing like the flustered girl beside Chaeyoung now?

“I don’t know,” you mutter, eyes back on the road. “She just… seemed at peace there. Like nothing else mattered when she was reading.”

Seoyeon shifts, a mix of flattered and uneasy, while Chaeyoung hums, twirling a strand of Seoyeon’s hair. “See? He notices you.” Her voice dances with playful mockery, but it lands—Seoyeon’s cheeks flush pink.

The air shifts, no longer awkward but charged, teetering on something new. Chaeyoung’s either diffusing it or stirring it—you can’t tell.

Then—“So,” she drawls, stretching her legs like she owns the car, “when are you moving in?”

Your grip tightens, knuckles whitening. You knew it was coming—Saerom’s words made it inevitable—but resistance flares anyway, a reflex you can’t kill.

“Gyuri called earlier,” she adds, casual but pointed. “Asked if you’ve got anything sentimental in that dorm.”

The question jars you. Gyuri called her—not you? And moving your stuff herself? Your mind scrambles for something sentimental, but it’s blank—Saerom was right. A week with them, and they’ve already peeled back how empty your life was.

Your silence lingers too long.

Chaeyoung clicks her tongue, shaking her head. “Still acting like you’ve got a choice, huh?” She leans forward, propping her chin on Seoyeon’s shoulder, eyes glinting in the mirror. “It’s not just about you crashing with us. It’s that head of yours—we’re keeping it from cracking open.”

Your jaw clenches.

“Your mind’s a mess,” she says, smooth and unrelenting. “It’s not a quick fix, sweetie.”

“We—or someone—” she loops an arm around Seoyeon’s waist, pulling her tighter, “has to stop you from losing it completely.”

Seoyeon stiffens, like she’s just now catching the drift. Chaeyoung doesn’t let her squirm away.

“Meet your minder,” she purrs, nudging Seoyeon forward like a prize on display. “Our best little memory-sorter.”

You catch Seoyeon’s reaction in the mirror—her fingers knot into her dress, lips parting in a half-formed protest she doesn’t voice.

“You,” Chaeyoung continues, dragging a finger up Seoyeon’s arm, making her twitch, “never step up unless you’re forced. But when Saerom asked for someone to help our poor, scrambled boy here, you volunteered fast.”

Seoyeon glances at you—quick, fleeting—then down. “I didn’t—” She swallows, voice thin. “It just made sense.”

Chaeyoung snickers. “Oh, sure. Made sense.” She mocks it, tilting her head. “Not because you’re perfect for untangling his head, but because you wanted to, right?”

“Because I’ve got the most experience,” Seoyeon snaps, face reddening.

“Mhm. Purely professional,” Chaeyoung grins, dripping sarcasm.

You keep your eyes on the road, but it’s sinking in—Seoyeon chose this? You’d figured it was thrust on her, like everything else with you. If she wanted it… why?

Chaeyoung leans closer to Seoyeon, voice dropping, teasing but firm. “Then why’re you blushing, sweetheart?”

You swallow hard, no answer forming. Seoyeon’s a stranger beyond café glimpses, but now—flustered, off-balance—she’s the last one you’d expect to sift through your fractured mind.

The wheel bites into your palms, city lights streaking past. You don’t want to unpack Chaeyoung’s words—or why Seoyeon’s quiet gaze in the mirror unsettles you so much.

Then— A sound. Soft, barely there. But in the thick silence, it cuts through like a blade. A… moan? Your grip tightens. Did you imagine that?

"You interrupted us earlier," Chaeyoung murmurs, voice slow, teasing. "He’s still probably hard from before. Don’t you think you owe him a show?”

You keep your eyes forward. You should keep them forward.

Another noise—fainter, but unmistakable—followed by the rustle of fabric, a shift of weight on leather. Your stomach twists, unease coiling tight. What the hell’s going on back there?

Chaeyoung’s voice breaks through, playful but laced with command. “See, Seoyeon’s brilliant with her spells, but there’s something she’s terrible at.”

You could look. One glance in the mirror would settle it. But with Chaeyoung, looking’s a trap—you know better. Still, your mind spins, torn between shutting it out and the nagging pull to understand. Is this her game again? Or is Seoyeon—? No. You kill the thought fast.

A soft, pleading whimper escapes Seoyeon. “Chaeyoung, please—” she mumbles, voice fragile, but Chaeyoung barrels over it.

“She can’t say no,” she teases, mischief dripping from every word. “Or rather, she’ll do anything but say it.” Another moan—clearer now—punctuates her taunt, leaving no room for doubt. “Such a sweet unnie, always so eager to please… or maybe you just love being used like this?”

Curiosity and dread tug your gaze to the rearview. The dim light barely outlines them, but it’s enough: Seoyeon pressed against Chaeyoung, her body yielding to soft, relentless touches. Chaeyoung’s fingers weave through her hair while another hand traces slow, teasing lines under her skirt. Seoyeon’s trembling grip clings to Chaeyoung’s arm, her gasps spilling out—small, desperate sounds of surrender.

“Mr. Driver, eyes on the road,” Chaeyoung chides, her tone sharp with glee. You snap your focus forward, heat prickling your neck, but the image sticks—burned into your mind.

“Sounds like someone’s enjoying herself,” she murmurs, voice curling with delight. “Seoyeon, why don’t you tell him? Describe every little thing I’m doing to you.”

Seoyeon’s breath hitches, her fingers digging into Chaeyoung’s arm. “Chaeyoung, I—” she stammers, voice a whisper, fraying at the edges.

Chaeyoung hums, feigning consideration, but her hands don’t stop. “What? Want me to stop?” A deliberate pause. “When you’re already this wet?”

Silence—thick, heavy. Then, soft and broken: “No… please don’t… I’ll do it.”

“Good girl,” Chaeyoung purrs, satisfaction dripping from the words.

The air turns stifling, filled with Seoyeon’s shaky breaths and Chaeyoung’s low murmurs. You grip the wheel tighter, fighting the urge to look, to let their game pull you in. The city lights streak by, blurred and distant, drowned out by the pounding in your chest.

Seoyeon’s voice trembles, halting. “I… I feel Chaeyoung’s fingers… sliding under my skirt… touching me…” Each word wavers, forced out between gasps. “She’s tracing circles… slow, then faster… it’s—ah—it’s tingling everywhere…”

Chaeyoung’s eyes flick to you in the mirror, a brief, wicked glint, before she leans closer to Seoyeon. “That’s it,” she coaxes, voice a velvet tease. “Let him hear every sound. Show him how irresistible you are.”

Seoyeon swallows, her breaths short and ragged. “Her fingers… they’re higher now… brushing—oh god—brushing my panties… they’re soaked… it’s too much…” Her voice climbs, desperate, unraveling.

You can’t see it, but you don’t need to—the picture paints itself: Seoyeon squirming, flushed and needy, Chaeyoung’s fingers working her into a frenzy. You force your focus on the road, but it’s useless—the sounds, the heat, the tension—they claw at you.

“Getting excited, Seoyeon?” Chaeyoung whispers, lips grazing her ear. “Does my touch make you all fluttery inside?”

A strangled moan is her only answer, nails biting into Chaeyoung’s arm.

“I think he needs to know,” Chaeyoung murmurs, fingers teasing the damp fabric. “How much you’re loving this. Tell him how wet I’m making you.”

Seoyeon whimpers, her body squirming against the seat. “I… I’m soaking,” she confesses, voice trembling, barely holding together. “Chaeyoung’s fingers… they’re making me drip… my panties are drenched… I want—ah—I want her inside…” Her words break into a fractured moan as Chaeyoung’s fingers slip beneath the damp fabric, stroking her slick, eager folds.

Chaeyoung chuckles, low and dark, her touch unrelenting. “You hear that?” she murmurs, voice a taunting caress. “She’s begging for it.” Her fingers plunge deeper, a slick, rhythmic sound filling the car as she works Seoyeon open, drawing out sharper gasps.

Your grip on the wheel tightens, sweat beading on your brow. You shouldn’t look—you can’t look—but the pull is too strong. Your eyes flick to the rearview, catching them in fragments: Chaeyoung’s hand buried between Seoyeon’s thighs, her fingers curling inside with a slow, deliberate thrust. Seoyeon’s head tips back, lips parted, her chest heaving as soft, needy cries spill out.

“Chaeyoung… please…” Seoyeon’s voice is a broken plea, her hips rocking into the touch, chasing it. Chaeyoung leans closer, her lips brushing Seoyeon’s ear, whispering something too low to catch—but it makes Seoyeon shudder, her nails scraping the leather.

The car feels smaller, the air thick and stifling. Chaeyoung’s fingers move faster, a wet, obscene rhythm that syncs with Seoyeon’s escalating moans. “You’re so close, aren’t you?” Chaeyoung purrs, her free hand sliding up to grip Seoyeon’s waist, holding her steady. “Let him hear how good it feels.”

Seoyeon’s response is a high, desperate whine, her body arching off the seat. You can’t tear your eyes away—her flushed cheeks, the way her thighs tremble, the glistening sheen on Chaeyoung’s fingers as they pump in and out. Your breath catches, pulse hammering, the road blurring at the edges of your vision.

She’s unraveling—fast. Chaeyoung adds another finger, stretching her, and Seoyeon’s cry spikes, raw and unrestrained. “Yes—oh god—Chaeyoung—” Her voice cracks, teetering on the edge, and you’re staring now, fully caught, the wheel forgotten as her climax builds.

“Come on, baby,” Chaeyoung coaxes, voice thick with satisfaction, her thumb flicking over Seoyeon’s clit. “Let go for me—for him.”

Seoyeon’s body tenses, a taut bowstring ready to snap. Her gasps turn sharp, frantic, her hands clawing at Chaeyoung’s arm. You’re locked on her—her glazed eyes, her shuddering frame—watching the wave crest, so close you can almost feel it.

Then—a horn blares, loud and jarring.

Your heart lurches as the car swerves, tires skidding over the line. You jerk the wheel hard, yanking it back into your lane, adrenaline spiking as the world snaps back into focus. Shit—too close. Your eyes snap forward, chest heaving, the climax slipping past you in the chaos.

You miss it—the peak.

But you hear it: Seoyeon’s sharp, broken cry, a sound of pure release that cuts through the roar in your ears. It’s followed by a trembling gasp, then a soft, shuddering exhale as she collapses against the seat. Chaeyoung’s low hum of approval weaves through the aftermath, her fingers slowing, guiding Seoyeon down from the high.

You don’t dare look again. The road demands your focus, but the echoes linger—Seoyeon’s ragged breathing, the faint slick sound as Chaeyoung withdraws her hand. Your knuckles ache from gripping the wheel, your shirt clinging to your back with sweat.

“Look at this mess,” Chaeyoung murmurs, her voice smug, lazy, dripping with triumph. “You really enjoy him hearing how perverted you are, don’t you?” She shifts, and in your peripheral, you catch her wiping her fingers on Seoyeon’s skirt—casual, possessive, like marking her territory.

“You do realize this is Saerom’s car, right?” Chaeyoung adds, a teasing lilt in her tone.

Seoyeon’s too spent to reply, her breath still unsteady, a faint whimper slipping out as she slumps against the seat, boneless and dazed.

Chaeyoung chuckles, low and indulgent, leaning closer to Seoyeon. “Oh, don’t even try to play shy now. You loved every second of him listening—didn’t you, unnie?”

Seoyeon’s lips part, a weak protest forming, but it dies in her throat, replaced by a shaky exhale. Her hands twitch in her lap, like she’s grasping for control she doesn’t have.

“You don’t have to say it,” Chaeyoung continues, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, though loud enough for you to hear. “It’s obvious. You get off on this—being use freely. Anyone can have you, anytime, anywhere, and you just melt for it.”

Your grip tightens on the wheel, the words sinking in. Free use? Your mind stumbles over it, but Chaeyoung doesn’t pause, her tone turning instructional, like she’s savoring the explanation.

“See, that’s her thing,” she says, glancing at you through the rearview with a smirk. “Seoyeon’s too sweet to admit it, but she thrives on being taken—however, whenever. No boundaries, no fuss. Just… available.” She runs a finger along Seoyeon’s thigh, drawing a faint shiver. “Why do you think she didn’t say no back there? She can’t. It’s wired into her.”

Seoyeon’s breath hitches, her head dipping lower, but she doesn’t contradict it. Her silence is louder than words—agreement by default, too overwhelmed to argue.

“Chaeyoung…” Seoyeon mumbles, voice barely audible, a plea or a surrender—you can’t tell.

“What?” Chaeyoung cuts in, grinning. “You’re not denying it, are you? Look at you—still trembling, skirt a mess, all because I decided to play with you in front of him. You didn’t stop me. You wanted it.”

Seoyeon’s fingers curl into the leather, her face flushed, but no rebuttal comes. She’s trapped—caught between exhaustion and the truth Chaeyoung’s laying bare.

The GPS chimes, a soft ping slicing through the charged air, signaling the final turn. The road stretches toward a towering mansion, its dark silhouette carving into the night sky, stark and commanding.

“Great, we’re here,” Chaeyoung says, stretching with a lazy roll of her shoulders, as if this were just another casual drive. “Park by the gate.”

You guide the car to a stop, tires crunching faintly against gravel, your hands still clamped around the wheel. Your mind’s a snarl—reeling from the sounds, the heat, the scene that burned itself into your skull from the rearview.

Chaeyoung slips out first, the door shutting with a crisp thud, her movements fluid, unbothered. You don’t follow. Not yet. Your fingers flex, uncertain, rooted to the seat.

Your gaze flicks to the mirror.

Seoyeon’s still there, slumped against the leather, her chest rising and falling in slow, unsteady breaths. Her skirt’s rucked up, thighs parted just enough to betray the aftermath—tremors still rippling through her, faint and fading. Her eyes are half-lidded, lost in a dazed fog.

You should say something. Move. Anything.

But before you can unstuck yourself, a light tap-tap raps against your window. Chaeyoung leans down, her smirk glinting in the dim light, sharp and knowing.

“Just leave her for now,” she says, voice thick with amusement, like she’s commenting on a spilled drink instead of a trembling wreck. “She’ll be fine.”

The way she says it—casual, dismissive—makes your fingers twitch against the wheel, a spark of something hot and unnamable flaring in your chest.

You exhale, sharp through your nose, and glance back at the mirror.

Seoyeon hasn’t moved. Her breaths are shallow, her body limp, a quiet shadow of the poised girl you’d glimpsed before.

You don’t respond. The silence settles, thick and unresolved, as Chaeyoung straightens and saunters toward the gate, leaving you with the echo of her words and Seoyeon’s heavy stillness in the backseat.

You shove the car door open, stepping out fast, gravel crunching under your boots as you close the distance. Before she reaches the gate, you grab her arm, pulling her to a stop. “What was that about?”

Chaeyoung turns, smirking like she expected this. “What, the show?” She tilts her head, eyes glinting. “Just giving you a front-row seat to Seoyeon’s little quirk. She’s fine—better than fine. She loves it.”

Your grip tightens slightly, jaw clenching. “Loves it? She could barely speak back there.”

“Exactly,” Chaeyoung says, unfazed, twisting her arm free with a casual shrug. “That’s the point. She doesn’t fight it—never will. Free use isn’t just her kink; it’s her nature. You could take her right now, and she’d let you. Hell, she’d probably thank you.”

You stare, the words sinking in, a mix of unease and heat stirring in your chest. “And you’re just… okay with that?”

She laughs, sharp and low. “Okay? Sweetie, I’m telling you to use it. She’s your anchor duty too, you know—keeping us steady means keeping her satisfied. Plus…” Her smirk widens, eyes flicking over you. “Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy hearing her fall apart. Take advantage of it. For her. For you.”

You don’t answer, the weight of her suggestion pressing down, tempting and unsettling all at once. Chaeyoung steps back, grinning, then turns toward the gate, leaving you standing there—caught between her words and the quiet, trembling figure still in the car.

The gates slide open with a low hum, machinery purring softly into the still night. Beyond them, the mansion rises—a sleek, modern sculpture carved against the dark. Sharp angles and clean lines meld glass and concrete into something precise, deliberate. Warm light pours from vast windows, pooling onto the manicured garden and the smooth stone walkway that stretches toward the entrance.

It’s grand but restrained—wealth distilled into control, not extravagance. Every detail feels intentional, a quiet flex of power.

Your shoes crunch faintly on the path as you step forward, the sound crisp in the silence. Chaeyoung strides ahead, unbothered, stretching her arms overhead with a fluid, careless grace.

You glance back—just once—at the car, where Seoyeon lingers. Chaeyoung catches it, peering over her shoulder, her smirk deepening as she reads your pause.

“Relax,” she says, voice smooth, gliding over the tension like silk. “She’ll come in when she’s ready.”

The front doors part before you reach them—automated, or maybe someone’s watching. A rush of cool air greets you, crisp and faintly floral, laced with the scent of something expensive and understated.

You step inside, crossing the threshold into their world. “Might as well show you around,” Chaeyoung says, glancing back with a faint smirk. “Wouldn’t want you lost on your first night.”

The interior gleams—sharp, modern, all polished surfaces and muted tones. Chaeyoung takes the lead, her steps echoing faintly in the cavernous foyer as she gestures with a lazy flick of her wrist.

“We’re barely here,” she says, her tone laced with casual confidence. “Busy as hell—shoots, meetings, all that chaos. The place stays empty most of the time.” She shoots you a sidelong glance, smirk tugging at her lips. “Just us. No staff, no stragglers, no visitors. Keeps it clean—literally and figuratively.”

You follow, shoes tapping against hardwood, the silence amplifying each sound. She veers left toward a small hallway—her lobby. “This is me, Hayoung, and Jiwon,” she says, pointing to three doors clustered together, a sleek bathroom tucked at the end. “Our little corner. Hayoung’s … very territorial—don’t touch her stuff unless you want a lecture. Jiwon’s chill, but she’s hardly around.”

She doesn’t linger, heading up a cold, modern staircase—glass steps, steel railing. You climb behind her, the house’s quiet pressing in. At the top, a long hallway stretches out, doors like sentinels.

“Second floor,” she announces. “This is where you’ll be.” She nods toward a lobby with five rooms—Saerom, Jisun, Seoyeon, Nagyung, and yours—flanked by three bathrooms. “Seoyeon’s is closest to you—she likes her quiet.” She nudges a door open with her hip. “Here’s yours.”

You peer in—dark wood floors, a wide bed with crisp sheets, a desk angled toward a towering window framing the garden. Sparse, sharp-edged, waiting to be claimed.

“Not bad, huh?” Chaeyoung leans against the frame, watching you take it in. “Beats that cramped dorm by a mile.”

You nod faintly, the reality of moving in sinking deeper. She pushes off, strolling down the hall. “Saerom’s got the big office up here—barely uses it unless she’s playing boss. Jisun is a neat freak, don’t let her see any of your mess, Nagyung’s… Nagyung.”

She leads you back downstairs, drifting toward the kitchen—a pristine space with gleaming appliances and an untouched island. “Jisun rules this when she’s here,” she says lazily. “Hates us touching her stuff—knife-throwing threats included.” She pauses by a wall of windows overlooking the garden, night pressing dark against the glass.

The tour stretches—past a living area with a plush sectional and stark art, a sleek bar counter, a lounge with low couches and a massive TV, a small gym with mirrored walls, a tucked-away balcony catching the city’s distant glow. “We don’t use half this stuff,” she admits, shrugging. “Too busy. Keeps it nice for crashing, though.”

She veers toward another small hallway on the first floor, two rooms facing a glass wall to the garden. “Gyuri and Jiheon’s lobby,” she says, pointing. “Gyuri’s closer, Jiheon’s farther.”

You stop, staring at Jiheon’s door. A storm churns in your chest—anger, disappointment, longing, hate, forgiveness, disgust, a twisted ache you can’t name. It’s heavy, bitter, and you don’t know what to do with it.

Chaeyoung leans close, her whisper brushing your ear, breaking the spiral. “Wanna knock?”

“No.”

She smirks faintly but doesn’t push, guiding you back toward the second floor. “Let’s check on our little star—give her time to pull herself together.” Her voice dips with that familiar tease.

When you first saw Seoyeon’s room—just down from yours—it felt normal. Quiet, orderly, a haven of books and lavender. But now, as you return, your steps drag, each one heavier than the last, like the air’s thickened, resisting you. Chaeyoung doesn’t knock—just eases the door open and steps inside, claiming the space.

Seoyeon’s there, perched on her bed, changed into an oversized long-sleeved shirt, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair’s loose, faintly tousled, a soft flush still on her cheeks. She glances up as you enter, eyes widening briefly before dropping to her lap, fingers twisting into her cuffs.

You pause, the shift in the room undeniable—something sluggish, unseen, pressing down. But Chaeyoung just smirks, oblivious or unconcerned, and you let it pass, chalking it up to the day’s weight.

Seoyeon’s there, sitting on the edge of her bed. She’s changed—swapped the creased skirt for an oversized long-sleeved shirt that drowns her frame, the hem brushing her thighs. Her hair’s loose, still slightly tousled, and the flush on her cheeks has faded to a soft glow. She glances up as you enter, eyes widening for a split second before dropping to her lap, fingers fidgeting with the shirt’s cuffs.

Chaeyoung crosses her arms, smirking. “Look at you, all cozy now. Took you long enough.”

Seoyeon mumbles something under her breath, too quiet to catch, her posture stiff but not defiant. The room fits her—bookshelves packed tight, a cluttered desk with notebooks and pens, a faint lavender scent softening the air. It’s a refuge, even if she doesn’t look entirely at ease in it now.

Chaeyoung tilts her head toward you. “Told you she’d be fine. Didn’t even need a nudge to freshen up.”

You don’t reply, the air between you three thick with unspoken currents—Chaeyoung’s easy control, Seoyeon’s fragile calm, and your own unsettled place in this strange, polished world.

Chaeyoung glances at the sleek clock on Seoyeon’s wall, then back at you, a glint sparking in her eyes. “Still got a couple hours ‘til dinner. Plenty of time for you two to get started.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Started on what?”

“Healing that mess in your head,” she says, smirking as she nods toward Seoyeon. “She’s your little mind-fixer, remember? Might as well dive in now.”

Something nags at the back of your mind. A small, quiet wrongness.

Your gaze flickers to the clock.

The sleek, minimalist hands tick forward, smooth and unhurried. But something feels off. It takes a second to register—the movement isn’t quite… right. The rhythm is steady, but it doesn’t match the weight of the moment, doesn’t line up with the pulse in your veins, the breaths in your lungs.

Seoyeon shifts on the bed, smoothing the oversized long-sleeved shirt over her thighs, her composure steadier now—a stark contrast to the trembling wreck in the car. She doesn’t protest, just nods faintly.

You glance at the time again.

Something feels… off.

The second hand moves, but sluggishly, dragging itself forward in a way that doesn’t match the quiet tension in the room. The tick, usually sharp and precise, stretches—each second stretching just a little longer than it should.

The time is wrong. Not in numbers, but in weight.

Or maybe not. Maybe you’re imagining it. Maybe your mind is more broken than you thought.

“Fine,” you mutter, the weight of it settling in. You’re here, in their world—might as well see what this ‘healing’ actually means.

Chaeyoung steps back, leaning against the doorframe, her smirk widening as she eyes you both. “Perfect. A cozy little session. Just don’t get too distracted, hmm?” She tilts her head toward Seoyeon, voice dipping low and teasing. “Our sweet unnie’s still got that free-use itch, you know. Might be hard to focus when she’s so… available.”

Seoyeon’s cheeks flush faintly, but she doesn’t flinch this time. Her gaze lifts, meeting Chaeyoung’s with a quiet steadiness. “If he needs my help,” she says, voice soft but deliberate, “I’m here.” It’s passive, almost detached—yet the way her eyes flicker to you for a split second carries an anticipating leer, unspoken but undeniable.

Chaeyoung’s grin sharpens, delighted. “See? Always so willing.” She lets out a bright, cutting laugh, pushing off the frame. “You two have fun—I’ll leave you to it.”

With that, she slips out, the door clicking shut behind her, her laughter echoing faintly down the hall.

You’re left alone with Seoyeon, the air in her room thickening—lavender and paper mingling with the weight of her words. She sits there, composed but not entirely closed off, watching you with a quiet intensity that makes your pulse tick faster.

“So,” you say, voice rougher than intended, breaking the quiet. “How does this… healing thing work?”

Seoyeon pats the space beside her, a silent invitation. You don’t move right away, and she shifts, the oversized sleeve slipping past her wrist as she gestures again—patient, expectant, a quiet pull in her motion.

“Come here,” she says, soft but certain. “Lay down.”

You hesitate.

She doesn’t repeat herself, just waits, her gaze steady, unwavering. There’s no push, no command—just a calm assurance, like she knows you’ll come to her.

And somehow, you do.

You ease onto the bed, head settling into the pillow she nudges against her lap. The fabric of her shirt drapes over you, soft and warm, brushing your skin like a whispered promise. Her heat radiates through, steadying you in a way that catches you off guard.

Then she moves.

Her fingertips graze your temple, light as a feather, tracing slow, wandering patterns. Each touch is deliberate, tender—like she’s unraveling you, thread by thread, feeling the knots of tension still coiled beneath your surface.

Your eyes lift to hers.

Her gaze catches you, and something shifts. At first, her eyes are shadowed pools—deep, unreadable—but then they bloom. Color seeps away, melting into a grey that’s alive, liquid silver threaded with dusk, like the tender hush of twilight spilling over a still lake. It’s not stark or cold; it’s a soft veil, a mist kissed by starlight, drawing you into its quiet embrace. Her eyes shimmer with a gentle depth, as if they hold the weight of a thousand unspoken dreams, tender and infinite.

The air thickens—light, hazy, blurring the edges of the world until it’s just you and her in this fragile, suspended moment.

A grey fog unfurls at the corners of your vision, curling like tendrils of smoke. You don’t flinch.

Seoyeon doesn’t blink. “It’s okay,” she murmurs, her fingers still dancing, still grounding. “Just breathe.”

You do.

The pressure against your ribs softens—just a fraction.

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

Her voice weaves through the haze, a guiding thread—gentle, not pressing, simply offering a space for you to fill.

You swallow. “Too much.”

She hums, a low, knowing sound that resonates in your chest. “Then start small.”

Her fingers press faintly, a quiet nudge, her warmth sinking deeper—sliding into fractures you didn’t know you’d left open.

Your lips part before you mean them to.

And slowly, as the grey haze wraps tighter, pulling you into its tender depths, the words begin to spill out.

You wake to silence.

The room’s dimmer now—not dark, but the warm gold of before has dulled into something softer, hazier, less defined. Your head rests in Seoyeon’s lap, her hand lying still against your hair, a faint warmth lingering in her touch.

You blink, sluggish, piecing together the gap. How long were you out? Something’s… off. Not wrong—just unmoored. Like waking from a dream where the edges don’t align, the fragments slipping through your fingers.

Your eyes drift to the clock on the wall, its sleek hands stark against the muted backdrop. You frown.

The seconds tick—or don’t. The motion’s too slow, a crawl that drags against the rhythm of time, you know. Did it move at all? Or is your mind lagging, stretching moments into something they’re not?

You must’ve been under longer than it felt. That’s it—right?

Your body’s heavy, limbs thick and reluctant, as if they’re wading through molasses. A fog clings to you—not exhaustion, not the ache of sleeplessness, but something stranger, weightless yet suffocating. A spell’s aftereffect, you tell yourself. Just the residue of whatever she did to pull you under, clouding your edges.

Seoyeon shifts beneath you, a faint rustle breaking the stillness. “You’re awake,” she whispers, voice so soft it barely stirs the air.

You swallow, throat dry. “Yeah.”

She studies you, her gaze searching—probing—for something you can’t name. Her fingers lift, returning to your temple, pressing lightly, delicately, like she’s testing a pulse beneath your skin.

You should ask. Should question the sluggish air, the way time feels like it’s pooling instead of flowing. But the words stick, caught in the haze.

Her head tilts, and those eyes—still a quiet, misted grey, like twilight caught in glass—hold you. They shimmer faintly, a silvered depth that seems to stretch too far, too still. “How do you feel?” she asks, voice threading through the fog, gentle but heavy with something unspoken.

You hesitate.

The question lingers, and you realize the room feels softer—too soft. The light bends at odd angles, the shadows too lazy to sharpen. Your thoughts drift, sluggish, curling inward like smoke you can’t grasp. It’s the spell, you think—it has to be. The aftermath of her magic left you dazed and untethered.

But beneath that reasoning, something prickles—a flicker of doubt, a whisper that this isn’t just residue. That the world itself is slowing, sinking, and she’s at the center of it.

You don’t voice it. Can’t.

You shift, pushing yourself upright. The weight lingers, but the room snaps into focus—too quick, too vivid, like a reel jerked back into alignment. For a moment, the air still hums thick, heavy with the promise of something unravelling—but then it steadies, settling into a fragile normalcy.

Seoyeon’s hand hovers near you, hesitating before pulling back. The grey in her eyes lightens, the quiet storm fading into something softer, more contained.

“Ri—right, it’s the first treatment,” she says, voice gentler, a little unsteady. “That was the first time… I’m sorry I couldn’t heal you fully.”

You shake your head, the spell’s residue still fogging your edges. “No, it’s okay. I knew it wouldn’t be instant. But I feel better now.”

And for a fleeting second, you believe it.

Until it strikes.

A flash—too fast, too brutal. Jiheon’s face, warped and sharp, tears streaking her cheeks. Not a memory—a violation, shoved into your skull with searing force. Pain blooms, white-hot, and you clutch your head, breath catching as it digs deeper.

Seoyeon’s eyes widen, concern flashing as she leans in. “Are you okay?” Her fingers graze your wrist, steady and warm. “Tell me—ask if you need anything.”

You force a sharp exhale, the image of Jiheon flickering, unstable, like a signal breaking up. “Actually, there’s something I need your help with.”

She freezes. Then—“Oh—oh…” Her voice lifts, a spark igniting in her tone. Her hand slides from your wrist to your thigh, fingers curling tight, gripping with sudden, eager intent. Her other hand follows, rubbing slow, firm circles higher up your leg, her touch bold and warm through the fabric. Her lips part, breath quickening, eyes glinting with something hungry as they dart to your mouth. “Then… tell me what you need.”

The air charges, her excitement pulsing through her grip, her body shifting closer—too close—her oversized shirt brushing your arm.

You blink, the misunderstanding hitting you late, electric and awkward. “I keep hearing ‘The Mist.’ What is it?”

Her hands stop dead.

“What…?” The word hangs, her eyes widening as the spark snuffs out. Color floods her cheeks, a flush of mortification chasing away the eagerness. She pulls back fast, hands retreating to her lap, pressing her lips tight like she could swallow the moment whole.

“The—The Mist…” she echoes, voice leveling as she forces herself steady.

A breath—shaky, then firm. She exhales, recalibrating, the blush still lingering as she meets your gaze again.

“Think of it as a literal mist or fog,” she begins, voice smoothing into something measured, deliberate. She glances toward the window, eyes tracing the faint glow of the outside lamps before flicking back to you. “Let’s say this morning, Gyuri blew up your door. Shook the entire building. A full-force explosion—undeniably real.”

Her fingers twitch against the fabric of her oversized sleeve. “But what if that wasn’t what really happened?”

Your brow furrows. “What do you mean?”

“You saw it with your own eyes, right? But to outsiders? To anyone not meant to understand?” She tilts her head. “The Mist works on their perception. To them, it wouldn’t have been a single woman causing destruction. It would’ve looked like a gas leak. A structural fault. Something explainable—because that’s easier. That’s normal.”

The weight of her words sinks in, slow and unsettling.

“Or…” she hesitates, then leans in slightly. “Have you ever walked into a room and forgotten why you were there? Sworn something was different, but you couldn’t place what?”

She taps a finger against her temple. “That’s The Mist, too. It doesn’t erase things, not exactly—it redirects your thoughts. A missing object, a changed detail, a person who was never supposed to exist…”

Your mind flashes back. “That night at the café—when we first met. It felt wrong going back. Like something had shifted.” Your voice is careful. “Did you use The Mist then?”

She nods. “The Mist doesn’t just hide things. It bends perception, guides thoughts. It makes the impossible seem ordinary, the unnatural seem mundane.”

Her gaze holds yours, steady and unreadable. “It doesn’t just mask the truth.” A pause, the air thick between you. “It replaces it.”

"So you created The Mist?"

Seoyeon shakes her head. "No. It’s always been there—thin, spread out, almost insignificant. What we do is draw from it, shape it, use it as a tool. It helps us hide, keeps us at a distance… while letting us live normally."

Before you can respond, the door swings open.

Chaeyoung steps inside, scanning the room—first you, then Seoyeon. Her wound by her cheek, marks on her neck now gone, as if it never happened. Something flickers across her face, a mix of surprise and… disappointment?

"I leave you two alone, and you did nothing?" she asks, voice lilting with amusement, but her gaze isn’t on you. It’s fixed on Seoyeon.

A beat of silence.

"I hope you know what you’re doing," she murmurs, unreadable.

Then, without waiting for a reply, she turns on her heel. "Come on. Let’s eat."

The dining room hums with a lived-in warmth—familiarity etched into the clink of plates and the quiet rhythm of routine. Gyuri and Hayoung move with seamless precision, setting bowls and dishes across the table, a dance they’ve done countless times. You follow Seoyeon and Chaeyoung to your seats, easing into the house’s unspoken flow.

Gyuri keeps her focus on the task, her movements precise, not sparing you a glance. Hayoung’s eyes snag yours—sharp, fleeting—and without thinking, you start, “I’m—”

“I know who you are,” she snaps, voice cutting like a blade, venom simmering beneath. Her hand hovers over a glass, fingers tightening for a split second before she turns away, dismissing you.

You pause, then press on, undeterred. “—a big fan of yours.”

The words land softer, earnest, and Hayoung freezes mid-motion. Her head snaps back to you, eyes widening just enough to betray her surprise. The sharpness in her stance falters—her grip on the glass loosens, and a faint flush creeps up her neck. She blinks, caught off guard, the bite in her fading as something shy flickers across her face.

She doesn’t respond right away, her lips parting then pressing shut, like she’s unsure what to do with the compliment. The hostility doesn’t vanish entirely, but it’s tempered now, her gaze darting away as she fumbles with the glass, suddenly less certain.

You settle in, the air prickling faintly as the first dish remains untouched. “What about the others?” you ask, glancing around.

Chaeyoung, already pouring herself a drink, answers with a lazy drawl. “Saerom and Jiwon are tied up with work—won’t be back tonight. Jisun’s with Jiheon, eating in her room.”

Jiheon. The name drops like a stone in your chest, dragging up jagged, counterfeit memories—her tears, her touch, a love that never was. Your head throbs, the falseness of it clawing at you, and you force a nod, swallowing the ache.

Something’s missing, though. A gap in the tally nags at you—until the chair at the table’s far end scrapes lightly against the floor.

Nagyung sits.

No one reacts.

It’s not deliberate—no one looks her way, no one adjusts to include her. It’s as if she’d been there all along, or never there at all. Gyuri keeps arranging dishes, Hayoung pours water with a taut grip, Chaeyoung sips her drink. Seoyeon doesn’t flinch.

But you see her.

“Hey.”

The word lands like a glass shattering on tile.

Gyuri freezes mid-reach, her arm suspended. Hayoung’s glass clinks hard against the table, her jaw tightening as her eyes flick to you, narrow and edged with something bitter. Chaeyoung leans forward, smirk blooming with intrigue. Seoyeon’s gaze widens, a quiet shock rippling through her composure.

Nagyung tilts her head—just a fraction—brown eyes locking onto yours, flat and unreadable, like a still pond undisturbed by wind.

“What?” You glance around, unease prickling. “Did I say something weird?”

Chaeyoung’s chuckle cuts the silence, her fingers tapping a slow, amused beat on the table. “Not weird. Just… unexpected.”

Hayoung exhales sharply through her nose, a sound laced with irritation. “We’re not used to someone noticing her first,” she says, her tone cold, barbed. Her gaze lingers on you, heavy with something unspoken, festering under the surface.

Your brows knit. “Noticing—?”

Then it clicks.

The vague itch when you’d asked about the others, the way her entrance slipped past everyone like a shadow dissolving into dusk. She’s not just quiet—she’s apathy, a presence that erases itself, deliberately unseen.

And you broke that.

A faint spark—curiosity, perhaps—flickers in Nagyung’s eyes before she speaks, her voice smooth, detached, like it’s drifting from somewhere far off. “You see me.”

Not a question. A quiet acknowledgment, testing the air.

You hold her stare. “Yeah.”

The silence stretches, too long, too still. Then, without a ripple of reaction, Nagyung picks up her chopsticks and starts eating, as if the exchange never happened.

The clink of chopsticks against porcelain punctuates the quiet after Chaeyoung’s offhand comment.

“Oh right, we haven’t told Jiheon you’ll be living here from now on.”

Your chopsticks freeze above your plate, mid-reach.

“I—”

You don’t get further—if you even meant to argue—because Hayoung chokes across the table. A harsh, ragged cough erupts, her hand fumbling for water. The sound jars the room, but no one flinches. No one moves to help. It’s as if they’re used to her unraveling like this.

You exhale, leaning back, letting your chopsticks settle. “I don’t care.”

You do. Too much.

Hayoung wipes her mouth with a napkin, her gaze snapping to you—razor-sharp, venom simmering. “Of course you don’t.”

The hostility isn’t veiled anymore—it’s a blade, honed and pointed.

You don’t bite back. There’s no point.

But you notice.

Each time your chopsticks hover toward a dish—steamed greens, grilled fish, even the plain rice—Hayoung’s move first. Her motions are swift, precise, cutting you off before you can touch anything. Once might be chance. Twice, impatience. By the third, fourth, it’s a game—a quiet, spiteful claim over every bite, every inch of space you try to take.

You let her have it.

The tension coils tighter, a bowstring pulled taut, thrumming between you. It’s suffocating, unspoken—until Gyuri’s voice slices through.

“I’m leaving first.”

You turn, really seeing her for the first time tonight.

Her eyes catch yours, and for a brief, electric moment, she holds the stare. There’s something there—raw, flickering beneath the polished mask she wears so effortlessly. A storm brews behind her calm, a heat she’s wrestling to bury. Wrath, barely leashed, glints in the tightness of her jaw, the way her fingers flex against the table’s edge.

Then she forces a smile.

It’s thin, brittle—never touching her eyes.

And just like that, she’s gone, chair scraping faintly as she slips away, leaving the air heavier than before.

Dinner winds down, the clatter of dishes fading into a quiet hum. The table’s a battlefield of half-empty bowls and scattered chopsticks, the tension from earlier simmering beneath the surface. You push your chair back, the scrape soft against the hardwood, as the others begin to drift away.

Seoyeon rises without a word, her oversized shirt swaying as she heads straight for her room, steps muted and purposeful. Nagyung’s chair sits empty—you didn’t catch when she left, her absence slipping past like a shadow dissolving into the dark. Chaeyoung lingers, smirking faintly as she watches you, already poised to follow.

Hayoung stays behind, stacking plates with sharp, deliberate movements. Her jaw’s tight, her earlier hostility still clinging to her like a second skin. You hesitate, then step toward her, voice low. “Need a hand?”

She freezes, a bowl half-lifted, her eyes snapping to you—wide, caught off guard. The sharpness in her gaze falters, softening just a fraction, as if your offer punched a hole through her armor. “What?” Her tone’s still edged, but there’s a crack in it—surprise, maybe doubt.

“I can help clean up,” you say, reaching for a stack of dishes. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, she doesn’t move, just stares, her grip on the bowl tightening then loosening. The hostility doesn’t vanish, but it dulls—her shoulders easing, her lips pressing into a thin line instead of a scowl. “Fine,” she mutters, turning back to the table, but there’s less bite in it now. A flicker of something—grudging respect, maybe—hints at her guard slipping, your thoughtfulness cutting through her resentment.

You work in silence, clearing plates, brushing past her as she rinses. She doesn’t snap again, doesn’t block you out. It’s not peace, but it’s a truce, fragile and unspoken.

When the last dish is stacked, you turn to leave—and Chaeyoung’s right there, leaning by the stairs , arms crossed, grinning like she’s been waiting. “Aw, look at you, playing nice,” she teases, voice lilting as she falls into step beside you.

You don’t reply, heading for your room, but she follows, undeterred, her presence a persistent hum at your side. Nagyung’s gone—slipped away sometime between bites, unnoticed again—and Seoyeon’s door is already shut when you pass it.

Chaeyoung trails you into your room, flopping onto the bed without invitation, stretching out with a lazy smirk. “So, hero of the night—how’s it feel to crack Hayoung’s shell a little?”

You shrug, the day’s weight sinking into your bones, but her eyes gleam—teasing, daring you to snap back. She’s not going anywhere soon.

You sink onto the unfamiliar bed beside her, the mattress yielding softly beneath you. Turning to Chaeyoung, you let the question drop.

“Hey. What was up with Gyuri earlier?”

She exhales, shifting to lean on one elbow, fingers slipping into your hair, twirling idly. “It’s expected.” Her tone’s light, but there’s a knowing edge lurking underneath.

“Expected?”

“No one told you, huh?” She tilts her head, eyes glinting as her fingers keep playing. “Using our powers nudges us closer to the edge. The more control slips, the less we fight it—a spiral. Gyuri trashing your dorm? That cost her. She’s wrestling it down now.”

You catch her wrist, pulling her hand away. “Then why keep using them?”

She slides her fingers right back, undeterred, smirking faintly. “If you had our gifts, could you really hold back?”

“If it risks my mind, yeah.”

“It’s not madness, exactly.” She tilts her head, considering. “Think of it like drinking. One glass—you’re fine. Two—you feel it, but you’re still sharp. Keep going, and suddenly you’re slurring, drunk on power. Literal power.” She pauses, voice dipping lower. "But we have to. Our powers help us cope with responsibility, make life manageable. So we focus as much as we can on controlling our emotions… ideally.”

“Like The Mist?”

She nods, a flicker of approval in her gaze. “Yeah. Seoyeon told you?” Then, after a beat, “It’s not usually that taxing, though.”

You wait. She’s not done.

“The bigger the cover-up, the more we lean on it, the worse the strain gets. And if someone breaks through?” Her exhale’s sharp, almost a scoff. “Keeping it steady turns into a fight.” She shifts, sitting up straighter, her fingers stilling briefly. “That night at the café, when you cut through The Mist? Seoyeon was holding it. She called it practice—said she’d make sure it never happened again. Since then, she’s been the one volunteering to manage it.”

Her voice drops, tinged with something rare—concern, maybe. “Your seclusion. The dorm explosion. She was probably weaving it together right up until this afternoon. And now?”

Her hand pauses, resting against your scalp, her eyes locking onto yours.

“Now she’s the one piecing your head back together.”

You’re lost in the thought, the weight of it pulling you under—so much so that you don’t notice how close Chaeyoung’s gotten. Her leg’s tangled with yours, her breath warm against your ear, her palm pressing firm on your chest, anchoring you there.

“You’ve yet to explain why you followed me here,” you say, voice low, catching up to her proximity.

“I think you already know why,” she murmurs, her lips brushing your ear, a smirk curling through her words.

“Really, now?” You shift slightly, exhaustion dragging at you. “Chaeyoung, I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”

“Is that a no?” Her finger traces a slow, deliberate dance across your chest, then dips lower, her hand sliding to your pants, rubbing your crotch with a teasing pressure that sends a jolt through you.

Her touch lingers, bold and unyielding, her breath steady against your skin as she waits—daring you to push back or give in.

“You really need to stop pretending you don’t love this,” she murmurs, leaning close, her whisper a warm tease in your ear. “I’ll be gentle. Just lie back for me—I’ll make it quick.”

You shift, dragging yourself to the bed’s center, head sinking into the pillow. Chaeyoung stays glued to your side, her leg still brushing yours, her presence inescapable.

“Were you disappointed we got interrupted earlier?”

Before you can answer, she closes the gap, her lips catching yours in a soft, deliberate kiss. She pulls back just enough to flash a smile—teasing, knowing.

“Nothing wild,” she promises, voice low and sultry. “Just one slow fuck…” Her hand moves deftly, unbuckling your belt with a flick, your cock springing free as she grips it, stroking gently, her touch firm but unhurried.

She chuckles, a soft, wicked sound, watching you squirm under her. Leaning in, she pecks your lips—a tease—then lingers, her eyes flicking over your face, drinking in every twitch of pleasure. Her next kiss dives deeper, her tongue slipping past your lips, tangling with yours in a slow, hungry dance.

She tries to pull away, but you’re caught, chasing her lips, entranced, until air runs thin and you both break, breathless.

Her smile doesn’t falter. “Stay,” she commands, voice firm, playful.

She eases back, turning it into a show. Her top peels off slow, revealing smooth skin, then her bra drops, baring her chest. Her pants follow, sliding down her thighs, and when her panties come into view, the damp fabric clings, a dark spot betraying her arousal. She tugs them off, and a glistening thread stretches, refusing to snap, connecting her to the discarded cloth.

“Fuck, Chaeyoung, you’re already wet?”

“Just for you,” she purrs, her eyes glinting with a mix of mischief and hunger. “Always.”

Chaeyoung shifts, climbing atop you with a fluid grace, her hips hovering just above yours. She straddles you, knees pressing into the mattress on either side, caging your body between her legs. Her heat radiates, close but not yet touching, a tantalizing promise hanging in the air. “I can’t wait,” she breathes, voice low, edged with need.

She lowers herself slowly, deliberately, her slick folds brushing against your length. The first contact is electric—warm, wet, a soft glide that coats you in her arousal. She starts to grind, hips rolling with a lazy rhythm, her wetness spreading over you, slick and hot, marking you with every subtle shift. Her breath hitches faintly, a sound that betrays her own want despite the control she wields.

Each motion teases you further, her folds sliding along your cock, dragging from base to tip in a slow, torturous dance. She moves too far sometimes—deliberately or not—and your tip presses against her entrance, nudging just at the edge of her hole. It’s fleeting, a tease of pressure, her warmth pulsing there, inviting but never quite yielding. She pulls back each time, smirking as your hips twitch instinctively, chasing her.

“Fuck,” you mutter, voice rough, the sensation overwhelming—her slickness, the friction, the nearness of sinking into her.

She chuckles, soft and wicked, leaning forward to brace her hands on your chest, her hair spilling over her shoulders to frame her face. “Patience,” she whispers, though her own breath trembles, betraying the effort it takes to hold back. Her hips tilt, adjusting the angle, and the pressure intensifies—your tip catches again, slipping just past her entrance, enough to feel her clench, tight and eager, before she retreats once more.

Her wetness pools, a glossy sheen coating you both now, strands of it stretching between you with each grind, glistening in the dim light. She rocks harder, just a fraction, letting your length slide through her folds, her clit brushing against you with every pass. A low moan slips from her lips, unbidden, and her eyes flutter, but that smirk stays—teasing, daring you to take more.

“You feel that?” she murmurs, voice husky, grinding slower now, savoring it. “That’s all for you.” Her hips circle, dragging you through her heat, your tip nudging her hole again—closer this time, lingering longer, her body trembling as she fights the urge to give in fully.

Your hands grip her thighs, fingers digging into her skin, torn between pulling her down and letting her play this out. The tension’s a live wire, snapping between you, her control fraying at the edges as her own need seeps through.

Her hips circle, dragging you through her slick heat, your tip brushing her entrance again—closer, lingering, her body quivering as she teases the edge of giving in. Your hands tighten on her thighs, fingers sinking into her flesh, caught between restraint and the urge to pull her down.

Chaeyoung catches it—the tension in your grip, the way your breath hitches—and her smirk widens, eyes glinting with wicked delight. “Oh, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” she taunts, voice a low purr as she slows her grind even more, torturing you with the barest contact. She shifts, letting your tip press harder against her hole—just enough to feel her tighten around it, a fleeting promise—before lifting away again.

“Chaeyoung—” Your voice cracks, rough with need, the word half a plea, half a growl.

She laughs, soft and cruel, leaning forward until her lips hover near yours, her hair tickling your face. “What? Too much for you?” Her hips tilt, and your cock slides through her folds again, coated anew in her dripping arousal. She rocks once, twice, letting your tip dip just inside—warm, tight, a maddening taste of what’s coming—then pulls back with a sly hum. “Thought you were tired,” she mocks, echoing your earlier protest, her fingers trailing up your chest to pin you with her gaze.

You groan, head sinking deeper into the pillow, hips twitching up instinctively. “Fuck, Chaeyoung, just—”

“Just what?” she cuts in, grinning as she straightens, hovering above you again. Her wetness glistens, strands of it clinging to your length, and she drags her nails lightly down your stomach, watching you squirm. “Say it. Tell me how bad you want it.”

You grit your teeth, the frustration boiling over, but her eyes dare you—playful, unrelenting. “I want you,” you mutter, voice strained, giving her the win.

Her smile turns triumphant, and she finally relents. “Good boy,” she purrs, shifting her hips with agonizing slowness. She aligns you, your tip pressing fully against her entrance now, and pauses—drawing it out one last time, letting you feel her heat, her pulse—before sinking down.

The first inch is torture—tight, wet, her walls gripping you as she takes you in, slow and deliberate. She gasps softly, a rare crack in her control, but keeps going, lowering herself until you’re buried deep, her hips flush against yours. Her warmth envelopes you, pulsing, overwhelming, and she stills there, savoring it, letting you feel every shudder of her body adjusting to you.

“Fuck,” she breathes, a quiet, unguarded sound, her head tilting back as she settles. Her hands brace on your chest, nails digging in just enough to sting, and that smirk creeps back.

Chaeyoung’s hips settle against yours, her warmth gripping you tight, a pulse of heat that steals your breath. She lingers there, savoring the fullness, her nails biting into your chest as she flashes that triumphant smirk. “Told you I’d be gentle,” she murmurs, voice husky with a teasing edge.

Then she moves.

Her first roll is slow, deliberate—a long, languid grind that drags her walls along your length, coating you further in her slick heat. You groan, hands sliding up her thighs to grip her hips, but she swats them away with a playful tsk. “Nuh-uh,” she chides, pinning your wrists above your head. “Let me play.”

She picks up the pace, hips snapping faster, the rhythm sharp and relentless. Her breaths turn shallow, punctuated by soft moans as she rides you, her wetness soaking you with every thrust. The bed creaks faintly beneath her, her control absolute—until she shifts.

She slows abruptly, leaning down, her lips brushing yours in a warm, tender kiss. It’s soft at first, a contrast to the fire she’d stoked, her tongue slipping in to dance with yours, lazy and deep. “You feel so good,” she whispers against your mouth, her tone shedding its tease for something sweeter, her hands loosening on your wrists to cradle your face.

Before you can sink into it, she pulls back, sitting upright again. Her pace ramps up—harder, faster, her hips slamming down with a wet smack that fills the room. She tosses her head back, a low groan spilling out as she chases the edge, her breasts bouncing with each thrust. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” she pants, the affection threading through her voice now, raw and unguarded.

Your hands find her waist again—this time she lets them stay, her own fingers digging into your shoulders for leverage. The heat builds, her movements growing erratic, her walls clenching tighter around you. She leans down once more, kissing you fiercely, all warmth and want, her lips trembling against yours. “Stay with me,” she breathes, a soft plea wrapped in adoration, her teasing gone, replaced by something deeper.

Her rhythm stutters, hips grinding slower now, deeper, as she presses herself flush against you. Each roll is deliberate, drawing out the friction, her moans softening into whimpers. She kisses you again—gentle, lingering—her tongue tracing yours as her body tenses. “I’m yours,” she murmurs, voice breaking with affection, her breath hitching.

Then it hits.

Her hips falter, a sharp gasp tearing from her throat as her climax crashes through her. Her walls pulse hard around you, tight and hot, her body shuddering as she rides it out, grinding slow and deep to milk every wave. She leans into you, forehead pressing against yours, her kisses turning sloppy, warm, her arms wrapping around your neck as she trembles. “Fuck, I—” she starts, but the words dissolve into a soft, breathless moan, her affection spilling out in the afterglow.

Chaeyoung collapses against you, her body still trembling, her breath hot and ragged against your skin. You’re still hard inside her, the heat of her pulsing walls a lingering ache, and she notices—her hips shifting slightly, a soft hum escaping her lips as she feels you.

“You’re not done, are you?” she murmurs, voice soft but laced with a knowing warmth. She doesn’t wait for an answer, sliding off you with a slow, deliberate drag, her slickness trailing as she pulls away. The sudden emptiness makes you groan, but before you can protest, she’s moving—slipping down between your legs, settling there with a glint in her eye.

Her hand wraps around your base, slick with her arousal and yours, stroking once, twice, before she leans in. Her lips brush your tip, teasing, then part to take you in—slowly, her tongue swirling around the head, tasting herself on you. “Can’t leave you like this,” she whispers, breath ghosting over you, sending a shiver up your spine.

She sinks deeper, her mouth warm and tight, sucking with a steady, gentle rhythm. Her cheeks hollow as she works, tongue flicking along the underside, drawing low, guttural sounds from your chest. Your hands fist the sheets, hips twitching up instinctively, but she presses a palm to your thigh—firm, grounding—keeping you still as she takes control.

Her pace quickens slightly, lips sliding down further, taking you to the back of her throat with a soft, muffled moan that vibrates through you. She’s relentless but tender, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, watching your every reaction—your strained breaths, the way your jaw tightens as the pleasure builds too fast.

It doesn’t take long. The heat coils tight, a molten knot deep in your core, her steady suction dragging you relentlessly toward the brink. Her mouth’s a furnace—hot, wet, unyielding—each pull sending jolts up your spine, each swirl of her tongue a spark that ignites the fuse. Your breath turns ragged, chest heaving as the pressure builds, teetering on unbearable.

Then she hits it—her tongue curls just right, a deft, wicked flick against the sensitive head, and you shatter. “Chaeyoung—” Her name rips from your throat, a broken, guttural cry as the climax slams into you, white-hot and blinding. Your hips buck hard, thrusting deeper into her mouth, and she takes it all—lips locked tight, throat flexing as you spill into her in thick, pulsing waves. The pleasure’s savage, shredding through you, every nerve alight as she keeps sucking, drawing out every last shudder, swallowing every drop with a soft, triumphant hum that vibrates through your core.

Your vision blurs, head slamming back against the pillow, a raw groan tearing free as she milks you dry, her tongue still teasing, prolonging the aftershocks until you’re trembling, spent, and gasping for air.

She doesn’t stop there—her lips stay on you, softer now, cleaning you off with slow, deliberate licks, her tongue tracing every inch until you’re spent and twitching from the sensitivity. You both feel it—the pull for more, the raw want still simmering—but she pulls back, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“Keeping my promise,” she says, voice low, a little hoarse. “You’re tired—I said I’d be quick.”

She slides off the bed, legs still shaky, and pads to the bedside drawer. Pulling out a cloth, she cleans herself with quick, practiced motions—wiping her mouth, cleaning away the mess between her thighs, the glistening trails of her own release. You watch, too drained to move, as she tosses the cloth aside and returns, climbing back into bed.

She slips into your arms without hesitation, curling against you, her head nestling into your chest. Her warmth presses close, soft and steady, her breath evening out as she settles into your embrace—a quiet end to the fire she’d stoked.

Chaeyoung breaks the silence, her voice cutting through the soft hum of the room. “I’ll be gone for a bit. Overseas work.”

You shift, turning to face her, the weight of her words sinking in. “That’s why you were so eager tonight?” There’s a bite in your tone—disappointment laced with the nagging thought that you’re just a tool for them, a convenient fix. “Needed a refill before you jet off?”

Her eyes lift to meet yours, hesitant, softer than you expect. The look isn’t smug or teasing—it’s unguarded, almost reluctant, like leaving isn’t her choice. It makes you pause, reconsider the venom in your assumption.

“What, did you forget that hotel night?” she says, a faint smirk tugging at her lips, though her voice stays low. “You fucked me so hard I’d have to shatter the moon to lose my mind now.”

You narrow your eyes, not fully buying it. “So it’s just horniness then? You’re always this desperate?” The words slip out sharper than intended, brushing against an insult you don’t fully mean.

Her face shifts—something flickers, hurt flashing behind her eyes, a quiet disappointment dimming her usual spark. “You think I’d just screw anyone, anytime?” Her directness hits you square, catching you off guard, and then that smile creeps back, softer now, teasing but warm. “What’s this—jealousy? I’ve already told you, I’m yours. Always will be. The others too, actually, they just haven’t caught up to that yet.”

She holds your gaze, the reassurance steady, her hand brushing your chest as if to seal it, leaving the sting of your words—and her response—hanging between you.

She leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, warm and fleeting, then pulls back with a small, knowing smile. “Didn’t you say you’re tired?” she murmurs, her voice a gentle tease. “Sleep now—unless you want me to pounce on you again.” Her hand lifts, fingers brushing your face, tracing your jaw with a caress so tender it feels like a whisper against your skin.

No magic flares, no glowing eyes or woven spells—just her, her touch, her words wrapping around you like a quiet lullaby. Your eyelids grow heavy, the weight of the day melting under her steady gaze, and as her fingers linger, you drift—slipping into sleep as if she’d willed it so.

[faebled-stories]

Healing Touch

Kinkvember Day 14: Oral (TW: Emotional & Physical Abuse)

StayC Isa (Lee Chaeyoung) x Male reader

8.5k words

AN: Just a heads-up, this story has more character development and plot, with less smut than usual. I hope you guys still enjoy!

“AGH, fuck!” Isa’s breath comes in shallow gasps, her body still tingling from the waves of pleasure that had just torn through her. The room is filled with the quiet aftermath of your lovemaking, a soft hum of satisfaction buzzing in the dim light. She lies beside you, skin slick with sweat, her heartbeat slowly returning to its natural rhythm. For a few moments, neither of you speaks—just the sound of your breaths mingling as you both come down from the high, letting the silence settle in comfortably.

You lie on your back next to her, staring up at the ceiling with a lazy grin, your chest rising and falling in sync with hers. Isa turns her head toward you, her body still warm and electric from the intensity you just shared. She treasures these moments—the calm after the storm—when every part of her feels alive yet settled. But tonight, something lingers at the edge of her mind, a familiar ache that always seems to resurface after these most intimate moments.

It’s been a year and a half since you became a couple,—since you reached the point where words were no longer enough to hold what you shared. You’ve grown closer with each passing day, yet even now, there are places in you that feel just out of reach to her, guarded and closed. Isa longs to reach those parts, to touch you in ways that go beyond the physical. She feels it most in the aftermath of nights like this—when your bodies speak a language all their own, but she knows there’s still something more, something unspoken between you.

You both bask in the comfortable silence, bodies entangled yet thoughts drifting. Isa’s fingers trace the lines of your chest lazily, feeling the steady warmth of your skin beneath her touch, grounding her. Her body hums with contentment, but her mind is already longing for something beyond it. She feels the quiet tension that always lingers after, a sense of wanting to give herself more fully to you, to offer parts of herself that words or touch can’t fully convey.

After a few moments, Isa turns her head toward you, her voice soft, carrying a hint of hope. “Do you want me to… take care of you?” She doesn’t need to be more specific; you know what she means. She wants to show her love in this way, to take you to that place of vulnerability she finds beautiful.

You smile faintly but shake your head, brushing it off. “No need, baby. You don’t have to. I’m good.”

Isa’s heart sinks, a familiar disappointment settling in. The rejection stings, even more than she lets herself admit. “I know I don’t have to,” she murmurs, her fingers still tracing patterns on your chest, searching for the right words. “I want to.”

Your response is gentle but dismissive, as always. “I’m spent. Too tired,” you say, your voice already softening with sleep as you turn to spoon her from behind. Your arm wraps around her waist, pulling her close, and Isa can feel the warmth of your body against hers, your breath soft against her neck. But despite your words, she feels your half-hardened length pressing against her, betraying your claim of exhaustion.

Her mind swirls as she lies there in your embrace. She’s noticed this pattern before—how you always find a reason to decline her offer. It isn’t the first time you’ve said you’re “tired” or that it “wasn’t necessary.” Each time, it leaves Isa feeling more confused and frustrated. For her, it isn’t about obligation; it’s her way of showing love, an expression as important as anything else you do together. She wants to share that intimacy with you—to feel the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure in her own way. And yet, every time she tries, you have an excuse.

Tonight, with the way your body presses against hers even as your words tell her no, the quiet rejection stings more deeply than ever.

As you hold her, your arm draped over her waist, you sense a shift in her, a quiet tension. Normally, after moments like these, you would both talk softly or drift into easy silence. But tonight, there’s a difference in the air, something in the way her body feels tense against yours, her breath slow but not fully relaxed.

“Chae,” you say, your voice breaking through the silence. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

Isa hesitates, biting her lip as her thoughts tumble over one another. Should she brush it off? Or is tonight the night to finally voice what’s been building inside her? After a long moment, she sighs and rolls over slightly to face you, her gaze soft but searching.

“Why don’t you ever let me… you know, give you head?” she begins quietly, her voice uncertain but steady. “It’s not like I don’t want to. I love doing it. I love making you feel good in that way. But you always say no.���

You blink, momentarily taken aback by her honesty. You open your mouth to respond, but Isa continues, the words pouring out now that she’s started.

“I don’t want to pressure you, I swear,” she says, her fingers resting lightly on your chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of your heart. “I just… I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something. You say you’re tired, or that you’re fine, but it’s a way for me to show my love, and I want to share that with you. But you keep shutting me down.”

Her words hang in the air between you, a weight both of you can feel. Isa’s heart pounds as she waits for your response, vulnerability tightening in her chest, wondering if you’ll brush it off or finally explain what holds you back.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair, your gaze shifting as if searching for the right words. You’ve always avoided this conversation, not because you don’t care about Isa’s feelings, but because the truth isn’t something you like to acknowledge—not even to yourself.

Finally, after a long pause, you look back at her, your expression serious but softened by affection. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… complicated.”

The words sit between you, a partial explanation that leaves Isa feeling both relieved and unsatisfied. She knows you well enough to sense that you aren’t ready to share more, so she nods, squeezing your hand gently before releasing it. She won’t push you any further tonight, but a familiar ache remains, lingering like an unanswered question, a space between you still waiting to be bridged.

-----

The next day, as Isa strolled through the market, the weight of your quiet rejection still lingered, gnawing at her thoughts. The autumn air was crisp, carrying the earthy scent of fallen leaves and the comforting aroma of baked goods from nearby stalls, yet the usual warmth she felt here seemed dulled. The marketplace buzzed around her—children laughing, vendors calling out their offers—but Isa moved through it, distracted, her mind tethered to the unsettled feeling that trailed her since last night. As much as she loved you and felt a deep connection, there was this persistent gap—your quiet refusal to let her give you pleasure in the way she most wanted.

It wasn’t that you were harsh about it; you always deflected her with gentle excuses: Not right now, I’m too tired, You don’t need to. But Isa cherished to have this connection with you. For her, it was an act of love, something woven into her very identity. Giving herself in that way made her feel closer, like she was tapping into a deeper level of intimacy, one that words or gestures couldn’t quite match. Yet, every time she offered, you gently closed the door. The rejection, soft as it was, had begun to settle into her, like an ache that didn’t quite fade.

Lost in thought, Isa approached a vegetable stall, barely noticing the colorful array of produce before her. Just as she reached out to pick a ripe tomato, a familiar voice pulled her back to the present.

“Isa? Is that you?”

Isa looked up, her heart skipping a beat. There, standing a few feet away, was Sojang—your ex—smiling at her with an easy familiarity that immediately set Isa on edge. They had met once before, briefly, and Isa hadn’t thought much of her since. But seeing her here, unexpectedly, in the middle of her own thoughts about you, made Isa feel oddly unsettled, as if her internal worries were somehow surfacing before her.

“Oh, hey! Sojang, right?” Isa managed a smile, though it felt tight, her voice sounding more strained than she intended.

Sojang beamed, her expression disarmingly friendly, almost too friendly. “Yes! It’s so nice to run into you. How are you? How’s Y/N?”

Isa nodded, trying to mirror Sojang’s warmth. “I’m good! We’re good, thanks. Just picking up a few things for dinner,” she replied, hoping the conversation would remain light and fleeting.

“Ah, nice, nice,” Sojang said, her eyes gleaming with an interest that made Isa feel oddly exposed. There was something too sweet, too earnest in her tone. Isa couldn’t quite place why, but there was something about Sojang’s bright smile that felt like a performance, a mask that was a little too carefully worn. Isa pushed the thought away, telling herself she was just being paranoid.

They exchanged a few pleasantries, Sojang filling Isa in on her recent return to town. Isa responded politely, though the conversation felt increasingly forced, like Sojang was trying to carve out some deeper connection than Isa wanted. As she listened, Isa’s intuition prickled, a sense that Sojang’s friendliness was intentional, perhaps even calculated. Nothing was explicitly wrong, but her smile seemed too eager, like a practiced act Isa hadn’t signed up to watch.

Then, out of nowhere, Sojang’s tone shifted, becoming playfully teasing. She leaned in, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “So, since you’re with him, your jaw must be tired all the time, huh?” Sojang winked, a sly smirk dancing at the corner of her mouth.

Isa blinked, her mind momentarily freezing. “Uh… what?”

Sojang laughed, seemingly taking Isa’s reaction as bashfulness. “Oh, come on. You don’t have to pretend. I know he’s practically begging you to suck his dick all the time.” She winked again, as if they shared some private joke, as if they were in on the same secret.

Isa’s stomach dropped, a cold, twisting sensation gripping her. “I… um…” Her thoughts raced, scrambling for a response. That wasn’t you. You never begged for oral—if anything, you avoided it. What was Sojang talking about?

Oblivious to Isa’s discomfort, Sojang continued, her tone light, even bubbly. “Oh, trust me. He loves it. He was always asking me for it. Like, constantly. It was kind of his thing, you know? Blowjobs were his main way to unwind.” She giggled, reminiscing with a fondness that felt almost too casual, as if she were sharing a harmless story. “I mean, I used to joke that my jaw was always sore because of him!”

Isa tried to process Sojang’s words, but they didn’t align with the version of you she knew. Her pulse quickened, each beat intensifying the confusion as Sojang’s words echoed in her mind. Constantly? Always asking? She barely managed to keep her expression composed, though her head was spinning. This didn’t sound like you—at least, not the you she knew. The more she tried to piece it together, the more alien it felt.

With effort, she forced a smile, though it wavered. “That’s… interesting. I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah!” Sojang replied, all too happy to continue. “If there’s one thing he loved, it was a good blowjob. I used to give them to him all the time. It was like the highlight of his day,” she added with a carefree laugh. “I’m sure you’re keeping him satisfied.”

Isa’s throat tightened, each of Sojang’s words adding to a strange, hollow ache that made her feel smaller, less certain. The more Sojang talked, the more Isa felt a creeping sense of inadequacy. She wanted to respond, to say something—anything—but found herself grasping for words that wouldn’t come. You had never once hinted that you wanted that from her, and every time she offered, you politely refused. Yet here was Sojang, painting a completely different picture of you, one that seemed to revel in a kind of pleasure you wouldn’t let her give.

A sliver of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts, each repetition of Sojang’s words chipping away at her confidence. Was it her? Was she the problem?

“Yeah, um, well…” Isa stammered, her voice trailing off as she glanced down, feeling awkward and exposed in a conversation that had turned sharp without warning. Sojang kept talking, oblivious to Isa’s growing discomfort, but Isa could barely focus on her words. All she could think about was the contrast Sojang’s experience painted, a version of you that felt foreign, unsettling.

If you loved it so much, why didn’t you want it from her?

The question echoed in her mind, nagging, each repetition a sharper edge to her doubt. After a few more forced pleasantries, Sojang finally said her goodbyes, leaving Isa standing alone in the crowded market, the buzz of conversation and laughter around her feeling oddly muted. As Sojang walked away, a heavy feeling settled in Isa’s chest, as if she’d been blindsided, caught off guard in a game she hadn’t known she was playing. Sojang’s cheerful demeanor had made it seem casual, unimportant even, but Isa’s heart felt weighed down by confusion and self-doubt.

On the walk home, the conversation replayed in her mind, every detail sharpening the ache inside her. Sojang’s words kept circling back, as if taunting her: you loved it, needed it, craved it. So why didn’t you want it from her? Was something wrong with her? Did you not trust her the way you had trusted Sojang? Or was there something deeper—something about her that just didn’t move you in the same way?

The doubt gnawed at her, a relentless churning that she couldn’t shake. She told herself not to let Sojang’s words get to her, that people change, that your past with her was just that—the past. But the seeds of insecurity had been planted, and they were starting to take root, their grip tightening around her heart.

More than anything, something about Sojang’s comments unsettled her on a deeper level. The way Sojang had been too familiar, too knowing, as if she’d relished the chance to make Isa feel small. Isa tried to shake the thought, to dismiss it as paranoia, but the suspicion lingered, settling uncomfortably in the back of her mind.

By the time she reached home, the unease had only grown stronger, her heart weighed down with questions she was almost afraid to ask.

-----

That evening, you and Isa sat down for dinner together. You had prepared a comforting meal of pasta in a rosé sauce with a side of golden, buttery garlic bread. On Isa’s plate was a vibrant mix of grilled vegetables and quinoa sprinkled with fresh herbs. Normally, the familiar flavors and your shared meal would soothe her, but tonight, they barely registered. Her mind was elsewhere, tangled in the remnants of her encounter with Sojang and the unsettling thoughts that had trailed her all the way home.

You began chatting about your day, sharing funny stories from work, your face lighting up as you recounted your coworker’s clumsy misadventures with the new coffee machine. Isa nodded along, trying to stay present, even forcing a few laughs. But her mind kept drifting back to the market, to Sojang’s words, each one chipping at her sense of ease, making her quieter than usual.

After a moment, you looked up from your plate, brow furrowing as you noticed her stillness. “Hey, is the food okay?” you asked gently, eyes filled with concern. “You’ve barely touched it.”

Isa shook her head quickly, offering a faint smile. “Oh, no, it’s good,” she replied, taking a small, obligatory bite of her vegetables, though she hardly tasted them. She didn’t want to bring up Sojang or the thoughts stirring inside her—not now, not over dinner. But she couldn’t shake the tension, and every time she looked up, she could feel your worried gaze settling on her.

The two of you finished the meal in subdued silence, Isa barely eating, her appetite dulled by the emotions she was wrestling with. You quietly gathered the dishes and moved to the sink, washing them with your usual care, while Isa slipped into the bedroom, feeling the weight of her unresolved thoughts pressing down on her, heavier than before.

Later that evening, Isa sat on the edge of the bed, staring at her reflection in the mirror, her mind a whirl of doubt and frustration. From the bathroom, she could hear the sound of running water as you washed up, the quiet rhythm amplifying the silence around her. She tried to focus on her nightly routine, brushing her hair, massaging moisturizer into her skin, but her thoughts kept dragging her back to the market—to Sojang’s playful, almost taunting voice. I know he’s practically begging you to suck his dick all the time. The words echoed in her mind, louder and sharper with each repetition, until she felt like she couldn’t breathe.

How could Sojang’s experience with you have been so different from her own? Isa had tried to offer you that same intimacy, that same pleasure, only to be gently brushed off each time. She wanted to feel close to you in every way, to connect with you on the most vulnerable level, but your repeated refusals… they were beginning to feel like a rejection of her, not just of the act.

By the time she crawled into bed, you were coming out of the bathroom, hair damp, smile easy. Normally, Isa would feel comforted by your presence, but tonight her body tensed as you slid in beside her. You wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close like always, but instead of the familiar warmth she usually felt, Isa found herself resisting, a strange weight pressing down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.

“Hey,” you murmured, noticing her stiffness. You pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’ve been quiet since dinner.”

Isa swallowed, managing a weak smile though her heart pounded in her chest. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

You didn’t look convinced. Shifting slightly, you propped yourself up on one elbow to study her face, concern etched in your expression. “Chae? You seem… off. Did I do something?”

Isa felt her throat tighten. She didn’t want to talk about it—not yet, not when her thoughts felt this raw and tangled. She wasn’t even sure how to explain it without sounding insecure. “I’m just tired,” she repeated softly, turning her head away. “Can we talk tomorrow?”

You hesitated, clearly worried, but you nodded, giving her space. “Alright,” you said gently, settling back down beside her. “But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

Isa didn’t respond, keeping her back to you as she curled up on her side. Normally, she would lean into you, her back against your chest, feeling safe and grounded. But tonight, she held herself apart, feeling an unfamiliar anger simmering beneath her sadness. You shifted behind her, closing the gap between you, your arm slipping around her waist again, but she stayed still, not moving to nestle into your embrace.

“I love you,” you whispered, your voice soft, tinged with guilt. “Whatever I did, I’m sorry.”

Your words tugged at her heart, yet Isa couldn’t bring herself to respond. She wasn’t even sure if it was something you had done, or something inside herself that had shifted. She stayed turned away, eyes shut tightly, fighting against the frustration building in her chest. The image of Sojang’s cheerful, too-knowing smile and her casual comments gnawed at her, each one twisting further into her insecurities.

Eventually, Isa drifted into an uneasy sleep, her body still tense with your arm draped over her. But for the first time, the warmth she usually found in your touch felt distant, as if a wall had formed between you, quiet but unmistakable

-----

When Isa woke the next morning, sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, but it did nothing to ease the tension gripping her chest. She turned over, expecting to find you still asleep beside her, but you were already up, pulling on a t-shirt at the foot of the bed. You smiled when you saw her stirring.

“Morning, beautiful,” you said gently, crossing over to kiss her forehead. Your touch was familiar, warm, but Isa’s thoughts were elsewhere—trapped in yesterday’s conversation with Sojang.

Isa sat up slowly, her mind racing, replaying Sojang’s words over and over. You slipped back into bed beside her, draping an arm around her waist like you always did, but today, it felt wrong. She tensed, her skin crawling with unease. You kissed her shoulder, your lips soft against her skin, but Isa couldn’t stop the flood of thoughts—the image of Sojang talking so casually about how much you had loved receiving oral.

She tried to smile, tried to shake the thoughts from her head, but the tension inside her was building too fast. Isa pulled away from your touch, sitting at the edge of the bed, her hands trembling slightly in her lap. You immediately noticed the shift, frowning as she distanced herself.

“Chae... what’s going on?” you asked, your voice gentle but filled with concern. “You’re not yourself. Did I do something?”

Isa bit her lip, her chest tightening. She could feel the frustration and doubt bubbling up inside her, and she couldn’t hold it in anymore. The words tumbled out before she could stop them.

“Why won’t you let me do it?” she asked quietly, her voice tense.

You furrowed your brow, confused. “Do what?”

Isa’s hands tightened in her lap. She turned slightly toward you, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Give you head. Why won’t you ever let me? Why was it okay with Sojang but not with me?”

You instantly stiffened at her words. Your entire body went rigid, eyes narrowing slightly as you processed what she was asking. Your reaction was immediate and unmistakable.

“Wait... why did you and Sojang meet up?” you asked, your voice sharp with unease.

Isa blinked, caught off guard by your sudden tension. She frowned, shaking her head, thinking you were deflecting. “Seriously? That’s your concern right now? You’re trying to change the subject.”

Your eyes stayed fixed on her, body still stiff with discomfort. “No, I—I’m just asking—”

“Sojang told me everything,” Isa interrupted, her voice rising with emotion. “She said you two broke up on good terms. She made it sound like you had this perfect relationship and then just decided to part ways. She implied that blowjobs were practically your favorite thing.” Isa’s voice wavered as her insecurity bubbled up. “She made it sound like she could give you something I can’t. Is that why you keep pushing me away?”

Your face tightened further at the mention of Sojang, your jaw clenching as your eyes flickered with something Isa couldn’t quite read. She mistook your reaction for guilt, for confirmation of her worst fears.

“If that’s what you want—if you still want her—I can leave,” Isa continued, her voice cracking. “If you’d rather be with Sojang, just tell me. I won’t stand in the way.”

You blinked, expression shifting from tense to confused. “Wait, what?” you asked, clearly thrown off. “Leave? Babe, what are you talking about?”

“You guys are perfect for each other. I get it. If she’s still important to you, I won’t—”

“Chae, don’t think like that,” you interrupted, your voice firm but bewildered. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. That’s not what this is about.”

Isa froze, tears pricking her eyes as she stared at you, her frustration and confusion now battling with her fear of rejection. “Then why?” Her voice broke, and her tears finally spilled over. “Why won’t you let me show you how much I love you? Why do you keep pushing me away? What’s wrong with me?”

Your face softened with guilt and regret, shoulders sagging as if the weight of what you had been holding back was finally crashing down on you. You reached out for her, but Isa pulled away, too hurt to accept your comfort.

“Honey, please, listen to me,” you said, your voice low, thick with emotion. “It’s not you. I swear, it’s not about you.”

“Then what is it?” Isa demanded, her voice trembling with frustration and heartache.

“Sojang...” you began, your voice strained, “she’s not what you think.”

Your hands trembled in your lap, eyes darting away from Isa’s as the weight of your past pressed down on you. You could feel your throat tighten, chest aching as memories you had tried to bury for so long began to resurface. Isa’s heart pounded in her chest, watching you with growing concern. She had never seen you like this—so vulnerable, so visibly distressed. You were always the strong one, the one who held her together when she felt like falling apart. But now, sitting there with your hands shaking and your gaze far away, she realized how much you had been hiding from her.

You took a deep breath, jaw tightening before you finally spoke, your voice low and strained. “Sojang... she’s not who you think she is. And we didn’t break up on good terms. We didn’t end things cleanly like she made it sound. I didn’t even tell her it was over face to face. I just... I left.”

Isa’s eyes widened slightly, her heart already sinking at the pain she could hear in your voice. “What do you mean?” she asked softly, not wanting to push, but needing to understand.

You stared at your hands, fingers fidgeting with the sheets as you tried to explain. “Sojang… She was my first girlfriend. I didn’t know any better back then. I didn’t have anything to compare it to. I was just happy that someone wanted to be with me, you know?” You glanced up at Isa, your eyes filled with a mixture of shame and sadness. “I thought that was love.”

Isa’s heart broke at your words. She could see it now—the innocence, the trust you had given Sojang, not knowing what a healthy relationship looked like. You had believed Sojang loved you, that the way she treated you was normal, and it made her stomach turn.

“At first, everything seemed fine,” you continued, your voice growing quieter. “But slowly, she started changing. She got controlling. She’d use sex as a way to manipulate me.”

Isa felt a lump form in her throat as your words sank in. She could see how much this was hurting you, how difficult it was for you to relive these memories. She wanted to reach out and comfort you, but she didn’t want to interrupt. You needed to get this out.

“She’d use it to punish me,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “Whenever I did something she didn’t like, whenever I tried to pull away from her, she’d… use her mouth to cause me pain. I know that sounds weird, but she knew exactly how to hurt me. She’d make it seem like it was this intimate thing, but it wasn’t. It was about control, about making me feel powerless.”

Isa’s breath caught in her throat, her mind reeling. The idea that Sojang had weaponized something so intimate, something that should have been about love and connection, made her feel sick.

“It got worse,” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “If I flinched, if I tried to tell her to stop, she’d accuse me of not being a real man. She’d say things like, ‘How can you not like blowjobs? What kind of guy doesn’t enjoy that?’ She made me feel like there was something wrong with me. And when I started to believe that... I didn’t know how to leave.”

You swallowed hard, your voice growing even quieter as the memories overwhelmed you. “Sojang would say things like, ‘Don’t you know how lucky you are to have a girl like me suck you off? You should be grateful.’ And for a while, I believed her. I thought… Maybe she was right. I didn’t feel lucky, but I felt like I had to be. Like I was crazy for not wanting it.”

Isa’s heart shattered as she listened. She had no idea that Sojang had twisted something so intimate into a way to control and demean you. Your hands clenched in your lap as you continued, the words pouring out now, like you had been holding them in for too long.

“I hated it,” you said, your voice raw. “But I stayed because I thought that was what love was supposed to be. I thought… I thought maybe this was all I was worth. Maybe she was right.”

Isa’s tears fell freely now. She wanted to reach out, to tell you that none of it had been your fault, that you weren’t the problem, but she stayed silent, letting you finish.

“I started dreading it,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “Every time she’d order me to undress, I knew it wasn’t about love or making me feel good. It was about control. And I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Isa’s stomach churned, imagining the fear and helplessness you must have felt, trapped in a relationship with someone who wielded intimacy as a weapon.

“I couldn’t take it anymore,” you said, your voice barely audible now. “I reached my breaking point, and one night, I just… I left. I snuck out. Cut all contact. I didn’t even tell her it was over. I was scared she’d pull me back in again. I was scared she’d make me feel like I was the problem, all over again.”

Isa’s tears blurred her vision as she reached out, placing a hand on your arm. “Oh my God… I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” Her voice cracked, filled with sorrow and regret. She couldn’t believe how much you had been holding inside, how much you had been carrying alone.

You finally looked up at her, your expression filled with pain but also relief, as if finally saying these words had lifted some of the weight from your chest. But your eyes still carried that haunted look, as though the trauma lingered, even after all this time.

“That’s why I can’t let you do it,” you said softly, your voice hoarse. “It’s not about you, baby. I love you. But every time you offer, all I can think about is her. The pain. The manipulation. I don’t want to go back there.”

Isa’s heart shattered all over again. She had thought your refusals were about her, but now she saw it for what it was—a way to protect yourself from reliving the nightmare that had nearly broken you.

Tears streamed down her face as she scooted closer to you, wrapping her arms around you tightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered through her tears. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

You didn’t cry, but she could feel the tension in your body, the way your muscles were taut, as though you were barely holding yourself together. You had always been the strong one, the one who held everything together. And now, here you were, crumbling in her arms, showing her the depth of your vulnerability.

“You’re not weak,” Isa whispered, pressing her forehead against your shoulder, her voice choked with emotion. “You’re not. You’re the strongest person I know, and I love you so much.”

You didn’t speak for a moment, but your hand found hers, squeezing it gently. It was a small gesture, but Isa knew what it meant. You were letting her in, slowly, piece by piece.

The two of you sat there in silence, Isa holding you as if her embrace could somehow mend the cracks in your heart. She wished it could. She wished she could erase all the pain your ex had caused you, take away the trauma that had scarred you so deeply. But she knew that wasn’t possible.

All she could do was be there for you. To love you. To show you that this—your love—was real, and safe, and nothing like the twisted version Sojang had given you.

“I love you,” Isa whispered again, her tears dampening your shoulder. 

-----

In the days and weeks following your confession, something shifted between you and Isa—not in a bad way, but in a way that made her feel even closer to you. She hadn’t realized just how much you had been holding inside, how much of yourself you’d kept hidden. Now that you’d shared your past, there was a lightness about you that Isa had never seen before.

You were still the strong, steady man she’d always known, but now there was a vulnerability you allowed yourself to show. You smiled more, laughed a bit louder, and even in the quiet moments between you, there was a newfound ease. It wasn’t that your trauma had vanished—it never would—but confiding in Isa had released some of its hold, and that brought her a profound sense of love and pride.

Isa never pushed, nor did she bring up what you had told her unless you wanted to talk. She understood that healing was not something that happened overnight, and she didn’t want you to feel rushed or like you had to “fix” yourself for her. She was simply there, letting you go at your own pace, accepting that some things might never change and that this was okay.

Still, she made sure you knew she was there for you, whenever you were ready.

One evening, as you lay in bed together, Isa turned to you, cupping your face gently. “I just want you to know,” she whispered, her voice warm with love, “that whenever—or if ever—you feel ready, I’d love to show you what real love feels like. Not the kind that hurts, not the kind that controls. Just love. Real, safe, and full of trust.”

Your eyes softened, and you covered her hand with yours, saying nothing but giving her a look that held everything she needed to know. You weren’t ready yet, but Isa’s patience meant the world to you.

So, life continued. You grew more open, letting yourself be more at ease. Isa noticed the subtle ways you began to change—the quiet confidence that started to return, the warmth in your touch, the way you kissed her a little longer each morning. Your bond grew deeper, and Isa felt a pride she couldn’t put into words, watching you heal, knowing she had created a space for you to feel safe.

Then, as time passed, things shifted. Slowly but surely, the weight you carried seemed lighter, and the shadows in your gaze began to lift. You still had difficult days, times when memories resurfaced, and Isa could sense your mind drifting to a place she couldn’t reach. But you no longer shut her out. You let her in, allowing her to be with you even when the darkness threatened to creep back in.

And Isa never pushed. She loved you, and that was more than enough.

Soon, your birthday arrived, a day Isa had been secretly looking forward to it. There was no need for grand gestures—it was just a day for the two of you, a time to celebrate how far you had come together. You spent the day as you always did—laughing, reminiscing, and filling each other’s lives with stories and small joys. That evening, after a cozy dinner at your favorite little restaurant, you walked home hand-in-hand, the city lights shimmering like stars around you, the crisp night air wrapping you both in a sense of warmth and belonging.

When you got home, you pulled her into your arms as soon as you crossed the doorway, your embrace tender but filled with affection. Isa’s heart fluttered as you whispered softly against her hair.

“Happy birthday,” she murmured, looking up at you with a soft smile.

“Thank you,” you replied, gazing back at her with a warmth that made her feel like the only person in the world.

The rest of the evening was spent together, curled up on the couch, comfortable and content in your little bubble. Isa had no expectations for the night; she was simply grateful to be with you, sharing another beautiful year. But as the night wore on, she noticed something different in your demeanor—a quiet intensity in your gaze, a sense of anticipation in your touch, as though you were building up to something.

Later, as you lay in bed, you turned to her, your eyes searching hers, the sincerity and calmness in your gaze making her heart race.

“Chae,” you began softly, your voice a bit shy, a hint of hesitation as you traced gentle patterns on her arm. “I’ve been thinking about what you said… about showing me what real love feels like.”

Isa blinked, her heart suddenly pounding. She hadn’t expected you to bring it up—not tonight, not even ever if you didn’t want to. She sat up a little, holding your gaze, her excitement barely contained.

You took a steadying breath, your fingers curling around hers. “I think I’m ready,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I want to try… with you.” Your eyes softened, the weight of your words filled with trust. “I trust you, more than anyone.”

Isa’s breath caught, her heart swelling with joy. You had always been the one to gently refuse when she offered to give you head, and she had never thought you’d be the one to ask.

And then, as if reading her thoughts, you added softly, “I was wondering if… if you’d still want to. I mean, if you still wanted to… you know…”

“Yes!” Isa answered, her voice bright with excitement before you could even finish your sentence. Her cheeks flushed, a soft, shy laugh escaping her as she realized how eagerly she’d spoken. “I mean… yes,” she whispered, this time more softly, her face glowing with love and anticipation.

Your eyes lit up at her response, and Isa couldn’t stop the smile spreading across her face. She’d been waiting for this—not just because of the act itself, but because it meant you trusted her in a way you hadn’t been able to before.

“You’re sure?” Isa whispered, her voice tender, but her heart raced with excitement. “I don’t want you to feel like you have to… I’d be happy to wait.”

You smiled, reaching up to gently cup her cheek. “I’m sure,” you murmured, warmth in your eyes. “I want this. With you.”

With a soft smile, Isa moved closer, leaning down to press gentle kisses along your chest, her lips trailing slowly, savoring the feel of your skin. Each kiss was a promise, filled with the love she held for you—a love that was gentle, safe, and real, just as she had always hoped to give.

As her kisses moved lower, Isa could feel your breath deepen, the slow rise and fall of your chest as you allowed yourself to relax. Her hands slid down your torso, brushing over the hard planes of your stomach, and she smiled to herself, feeling the slight shiver of your muscles responding to her touch. There was something deeply intimate about these moments—something Isa had craved, not just for herself, but for you.

She reached your hips, her fingers teasing along the waistband of your boxers, and she could feel the tension there, the quiet anticipation that came with trusting someone enough to let them in. Isa paused, her lips brushing against your hip bone as she looked up at you, meeting your eyes.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper, wanting to make sure you were truly ready.

Your gaze met hers, your breathing a little heavier now, but there was no hesitation in your eyes. You gave her a small nod, your hand threading gently through her hair. “I’m okay,” you whispered. “I’m more than okay.”

With a gentle nod from you, Isa slowly pulled down your boxers, revealing you to her. For a moment, she simply paused, admiring you, taking in the quiet beauty of this moment—your body, open and vulnerable, trusting her completely in the most intimate way. Her heart swelled with love, understanding that this wasn’t just about the act itself but about showing you that intimacy could be safe and beautiful.

Her hand wrapped around you first, her touch soft and unhurried. She felt you respond immediately, a subtle tension running through your muscles as her fingers moved in a gentle, deliberate rhythm. Isa’s heart skipped as she saw you like this—open, trusting, letting her guide each moment. She brushed her thumb over the sensitive tip, watching as your breath hitched, your hand tightening slightly in her hair, not guiding or pushing, just resting there, a silent expression of trust.

Isa lowered her head, taking you into her mouth with tender care, her lips wrapping slowly around you as she savored the warmth of your skin. She moved deliberately, her hands resting on you, steady and reassuring, her mouth exploring you with gentle affection. Each movement was thoughtful, her focus entirely on you, every moment filled with care.

She heard soft sounds escape your lips—quiet, breathy sighs that let her know you were starting to let go. Your hand stayed light on her head, not guiding, just there, a reassuring reminder that you felt safe. Isa moved at her own pace, unhurried, making sure each second was filled with intention and love. There was no rush, no goal; she simply wanted you to feel safe, to understand that this could be pure and healing.

Isa found herself enjoying each second, more deeply than she had expected. It wasn’t just about your pleasure—it was about seeing you let go, watching your body respond in a way that showed you were leaving the pain of the past behind. A quiet warmth flooded her chest, a sense of fulfillment, knowing she was finally able to give you this kind of love and closeness.

As she continued, Isa felt your breathing grow more unsteady, your muscles tensing as you edged closer. Her movements remained gentle but purposeful, her hand and mouth moving in sync. Every soft sound you made, every shiver, filled her with pride, knowing you were allowing her to take you to this vulnerable place. To her, it felt like a gift you were both sharing.

A moment later, your breath hitched sharply, your hand tightening in her hair as if bracing yourself. “Oh, fuck, Chae,” you breathed out, voice thick with a blend of surprise and pleasure. Hearing her name from you, Isa felt a surge of warmth, a quiet assurance that you were allowing yourself to feel fully, without holding back.

Your body tensed one last time, every muscle tightening as Isa felt the warmth of your release fill her mouth, unexpectedly intense. Her eyes widened in slight surprise, her heart swelling with the depth of the trust you had placed in her. The sensation was overwhelming, but she held steady, her lips remaining gentle and firm around you as she guided you through each wave, ensuring you felt safe, cherished, and seen.

As each pulse flowed into her, Isa’s movements grew even more tender, her hands holding you with care, a gentle presence as she felt you surrender completely. She swallowed softly, letting you essence fill her completely, her touch light and reassuring. Each subtle twitch, each surge of release, was a testament to the vulnerability you were willing to share, and she received it all with love.

With every pump, Isa could feel your tension melting away, and a quiet pride blossomed within her. She knew what this moment meant—that you had entrusted her with something sacred, a vulnerability once guarded. She felt a sense of fulfillment, a deep sense of joy and purpose, as she coaxed you through each wave, letting you know with every gentle movement that you were safe and deeply cherished.

Keeping her mouth softly around you, Isa lingered, savoring the warmth of every response from your body. Each twitch, each gentle pulse, filled her with satisfaction, a connection she had longed to share with you. This was her love in action, a gift of care and devotion. The fullness of that feeling glowed within her, making each touch an act of affection.

When you glanced down, your breath caught at the sight of her—her mouth still gently surrounding you, her eyes meeting yours with a look so full of care, warmth, and adoration that it sent a shiver through you. Her gaze was unwavering, her expression beautifully open, filled with a love that went beyond words.

With a slow, tender swirl of her tongue, Isa gently lapped up every last trace, her movements graceful and attentive, savoring each second. Her lips stayed around you until she released you with a soft, lingering pop. She then pressed a gentle kiss to your tip, a shimmering thread connecting her lips to you for a moment before it faded, leaving her with a soft smile of pure contentment.

Feeling deeply fulfilled, Isa continued to shower you with tender kisses, each one unhurried and filled with meaning. She traced a delicate path along your length, her mouth warm, her kisses gentle and intentional, as though committing every inch of you to memory. Her heart swelled with love and pride, knowing that you were allowing her to be this close, to give you this intimacy. Each kiss felt like a balm, a way of rewriting the past, easing old hurts with a touch that was gentle and true.

She took her time, mixing in soft licks with her kisses, her gaze never leaving yours. She wanted you to feel her presence in every touch, to know that this was her gift to you—a gift of safety, of trust, of unconditional love.

With one final, lingering kiss to your tip, Isa’s lips held there, as if sealing a promise. Then, slowly, she began to kiss her way back up, her warm lips trailing along your skin, savoring every inch. Each kiss felt like an affirmation, a reminder that she was exactly where she wanted to be, giving herself to you in a way that felt both sacred and healing.

When she finally lay beside you, your chest was still rising and falling, your breath heavy as you came down from the high of her love. Isa rested her hand lightly on your chest, feeling the steady beat of your heart beneath her palm, her own heart swelling with fulfillment and joy.

For a few quiet moments, neither of you spoke, letting the silence fill with warmth and contentment. Finally, as your breathing settled, you turned to Isa, your eyes wide, your expression a mixture of amazement and gratitude. For a moment, you seemed at a loss for words, simply gazing at her with a quiet reverence. And then, with a soft laugh, you shook your head, holding her close, knowing that words could never capture what you both had just shared.

“Honey… that was…” You paused, breath still uneven, feeling your heart race as you searched for words. “I mean, I don’t even know what to say. That was… incredible. You’re incredible.”

Isa’s lips curved into a soft smile, her own chest warm with the closeness you’d just shared. She let out a laugh, eyes bright as she leaned her head against your shoulder. “Speechless?” she teased, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “I think that might be a first.”

You laughed, shaking your head, still catching your breath. “I don’t think I’ll find words anytime soon. That was… way beyond anything I ever imagined it could be.” You rubbed a hand over your face, still looking a bit dazed. “Chae, you’re just… I can’t believe how... we need to do that again.”

Isa let out another soft laugh, her face lighting up as she took in your reaction, the awe in your expression making her feel more than just appreciated—she felt deeply cherished, like she had given you a gift that mattered. Leaning in, she pressed a playful kiss to your nose. “Glad I could surprise you,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth.

You grinned, still in awe. “Surprise doesn’t even cover it,” you said, shaking your head, the sincerity in your voice deepening. “That was…wow.”

Isa’s laughter softened, a tender look settling in her eyes as her fingers traced soft, comforting circles on your chest. “Well, I’m glad I could be the one to show you,” she said, her voice gentle, filled with love. “You deserve to feel this way, to feel safe, to feel everything. And… I’m just glad I could be here for you.”

You reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers, giving them a gentle, lingering squeeze. “Thank you,” you murmured, voice thick with emotion as you met her gaze. “I don’t know how I got so lucky to find someone like you.”

Isa’s playful smile softened, her gaze warm as she squeezed your hand in return. “I think we’re both pretty lucky,” she said, a light laugh escaping her as she nestled closer. “And honestly, I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

You shook your head, still grinning. “Lucky doesn’t even come close,” you whispered, pulling her close, wrapping your arms around her as if to hold onto this moment forever.

You lay together, letting the silence settle between you, comfortable and content, Isa’s heart swelling with joy at having been able to share this moment with you, and you filled with gratitude for her presence, her patience, and her love. She leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your chest, letting her lips linger over the steady beat of your heart. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice soft and full of warmth.

You pulled her even closer, feeling her warmth against you, a profound sense of peace washing over you. “I love you too, Chaeyoung,” you replied, voice low and filled with sincerity. “More than I ever thought possible.”

With a quiet sigh, Isa tucked herself into you, her hand resting over your heart as the two of you let the night wrap around you, safe in each other’s arms, both knowing that this love was everything you had ever needed.

[magnagaruzenmon]

Awkward I

Ugh why is she so hot??

Dino sits in his apartment, eyes locked on the glowing screen of his TV as he guides his character through a swarm of zombies in Dead Island 2. The sounds of bloody carnage—groans, grunts, and the splatter of gore—fill the room, blending into the low hum of the evening. You push the door open cautiously, trying not to interrupt his focus, but the creak of the hinge gives you away. Dino doesn’t flinch, though; his fingers twitch on the controller, his attention unwavering.

“Hey, big bro,” you start, stepping further into the room.

Dino pauses the game mid-swing, freezing a gruesome scene in place. The room goes quieter, save for the faint hum of the game music. He finally swivels his head toward you, his expression calm but mildly curious.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going out,” you say casually, leaning against the back of the couch. “You know...for that thing. The one with the app.” You try to sound indifferent, but your voice betrays a touch of nervousness.

Dino’s eyes narrow slightly. “Oh, so Chaeyoung called you again for another booty call,” he says bluntly, his tone dripping with nonchalance. The words hit like a slap, and you feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. He always has this way of cutting through your careful phrasing.

Your blush deepens, and Dino smirks, his eyes now fully focused on you. “Just tell her you like her and start dating already. This is, what, the fifth call this week?”

He’s not wrong, but you’re not about to admit that. “It’s not like that,” you mumble, crossing your arms defensively. “We just...have a good thing going on, and I don’t want to make it weird.”

Dino leans back into the couch, his expression turning thoughtful. “Look, I get it,” he says after a beat. “You don’t want to screw up whatever balance you think you’ve got going. But you’re gonna have to address your feelings sometime.”

You open your mouth to argue, but his gaze sharpens as he continues, cutting off your protest. “I see how you look at her. How you talk about her. You fawn over that girl like she hung the stars in the sky. And at some point, if you keep holding it in, it’s gonna bubble over. Either you let it out, or it’s gonna come out on its own. And trust me, that second option? Way messier.”

He gestures toward the TV, a zombie’s frozen face forever mid-scream. “Kind of like this. If you don’t get ahead of it, things can get ugly fast.”

You glance at the screen, then back at Dino. His point isn’t lost on you, but it’s not that simple. “I just don’t want to ruin what we have,” you admit quietly.

Dino softens, his smirk fading into something more genuine. “If it’s real, it won’t ruin anything. But hey,” he adds, shrugging as he grabs his controller again, “what do I know? I’m just the guy killing zombies in his living room. Now go. She’s probably waiting.”

He unpauses the game, and the carnage resumes. You stand there for a moment longer, his words echoing in your head, before finally turning to leave. Before you go however you decide to throw a wrench in his mind,

“Oh Dino one more thing,” you start.

Dino turns to you confused, “you know Momo has a crush on you,” you say as you head out knowing he’ll be spiraling the whole night about it.

You arrive at Chaeyoung’s apartment and the heat in your body is palpable as you enter.

Chaeyoung is happy to see you as she closes in on you.

“How is my favorite baby girl,” she coos as she brings you in for a passionate smooch, things quickly heat up as she leads you into her room. Her fingers loop around and your waist as she lowers her hands down through your shorts to your ass. She kisses you as she massages your supple cheeks.

As this kiss deepens so does your mutual lust. Chaeyoung smiles and says, “I missed you baby girl,” you moan as her body grinds against yours and the heat between you two becomes unbearable. You are the first one to strip. You tear off your clothes in a fiery passion as Chaeyoung gazes over you hungry no starved. She smiles at you wickedly.

You crawl to her as she brings you in for another ragged and rapacious kiss. She smiles in between them saying, “my baby girl is so hot. She says as she playfully paws at your breasts. You moan as she gropes you but before the two of you can really get into it your desire for greater intimacy gnaws at you, and you stop and ask

“What are we?”

[charrlote365]

Pumping Gym

Reference Idol: fromis_9 LEE CHAEYOUNG Word Count: 7.160

Tags: Romance, gym, Kpop idol, fromis_9, Lee Chaeyoung

I woke up with the cold touch of the gym floor against my cheek, the imaginary echo of repeated clanking steel dumbbells still ringing in my head. I saw my watch and It's 4 AM now like wtf. "Where is everyone?" "How did I end up lying on the empty gym's floor, naked??". Shit now I remember.

It was our anniversary, and Chaeyoung and I had rented out the entire gym for a private workout celebration. Like it's literally just both us. Nobody else there. I know it sounds weird to celebrate anniversary in a gym but she really loves workout and since its part of her daily routines, there's nothing out of ordinary for the medias to find out our relationship. It's friggin hard to keep our relationship from those dispatch rats. I walked into the gym, ready for our routine workout session. There she was, Chaeyoung, my dearest girlfriend, her body is so fit, her shoulder is wide and filled with muscle. She looks as if she could punch the punching bag into oblivion in one punch. Her usually bright eyes were stormy, and she seemed to be in her own world for the warming up, with her headphones on.

Confused by her cold shoulder on our special day, I tried to match her pace on the stair climber, but she sped up, so I gave up. I realized that she left her phone on the bench, so out of boredom I took it and secretly took a picture of her from behind and posted her sexy buttocks on her IG story. "Oh my gosh, she's gonna kill me for this". She kept on going with the climber. Her butts were moving up and down, my gawd if there's anything I wanted to do was to shove my face into that crack and sniff out her soul out of it. It must have felt great, I thought while losing myself looking at those bouncy heaven.

Not a minute later. Drenched in sweat, she stopped using the equipment and walked to me. She then suddenly grabbed my head with both hands like it was a watermelon on a flash sales and kissed my lips. She stopped for a while and we looked at each other, she's so cute with that begging face of her so I kissed her back, my tongue running over her lips, my hand traveling on her tight gym pants, they're so tight like its part of her skin. my lips brushed her sweaty neck finding a sweet spot "mmrh~" she started making weird sound and she suddenly whispered to my ear, "I'm sorry for being cold today but i'm so horny since this morning, it's so frustrating, so tonight, I'll squeeze you dry until I'm satisfied". "Now, just take them off~" she sighed as I bit her neck. I put my hand into her pants. "Don't rush into it" she whispered, she grabbed my hand and put it on her breast. Her breasts aren't really big, maybe around C cup, but they're super bouncy and heavy, must be because of all of the workouts she's been doing. I slipped off my shirt, throwing it to the side. I leaned forward, kissing her breast through her bra, my hands worked it's way up, slowly pulling her bra up.

My lips teased her breast, biting as she moaned "mmmh~". My hands trailed down her hips, into the pants, going right to her underwear. But wait! there's nothing there. where is the underwear??? "Hmm someone not wearing panties today", I said to slightly teasing her. My hands ran over her thigh, then went back to her big buttocks, pushing on her soft cheeks. "omhh~" she moans. Carefully, I put off all of her clothes, her gym pants, her clothes, bra and everything else. Now naked, I sat down on a chair while she sat on my lap, putting her hands on my shoulder.I ran my hands rubbing and sucking her breasts, then my lips trailing her body. breast, stomach, neck, and feeling the softness of her thighs making me fell deeper into the extacy.

Her pussy is so wet now, the love juice pouring onto my thighs like honey. She stood up so I moved my fingers down. Inserting them into her hole, Two fingers. "Shibaal~" she moaned, as my fingers curled inside of her. She moved her hips down, pushing my fingers deeper into her pussy. my pace quickened as I inserted a third finger. Her walls were closing around them, Her hands pulled my hair causing my head to throb. I did not stop, I kept going, and faster and even faster, her pussy walls continued tightening as her body suddenly shook. She came as more of her pussy juice poured onto the floor like a waterfall. I removed my fingers and licked em to taste her juice. Kinda tasted sour but I liked the yoghurt taste anyways. Now it's time for the main event. We found a gym matress lying on the floor so I lie down on it, with my d1ck standing up hard rock like a flag pole on the moon erected by Neil Armstrong. I'm waiting for her to stab it into her pussy. She squatted down slowly onto my dick. My dick was curving inside her walls, I could feel her warmth, liquid and pussy walls engulfing my dick like it's sucking a lolipop. She moaned loudly and started moving quickly. My balls slapped against her pussy lips as I felt my toes began to curl, "oh my fucking gawd!" I whined loud as her hands were playing on my nipples, she pounded deeper into my body. But then, she suddenly stopped. "Wait, what's happening? don't stop please! I haven't come yet", I begged her. "She then made a grin on her face and took 2 friggin pieces of 10 kg dumbbells. She jammed her pussy back into my dick while carrying 2 10kg dumbbells in her hands. "Can't miss my gym session just because of you, babe". Fuck, since the dumbells were so heavy her pussy jammed even deeper into me like in extra 5 cm deeper. I could even feel her cervix gate bumping on the tip of my dick. I thought the two of us would become as one if she tried to go any deeper. My body tensed up and "Chaeyoung ahhh~ sarang hae!!" I moaned loudly as I came, I felt my vision got blurry as my body got loose. Chaeyoung, who hasn't come yet ignored my moans and kept continuing to jam my dick into her cervix. She was smiling and enjoying her time while lifting the 2 dumbbells, making steel clacking sound as she's bumping her pussy deeper and harder into me. It's so deep that now the tip of my dick was being strangled by her cervix neck. "ffuckkk Chaeyoung ahh~ my dick is still so sensitive, please stopp!!" I yelled. She still didn't listen, I kept begging her to stop as I started losing consciousness and finally, fainted. Although I fainted, for fcking sure, I think she was still using my fainted body as her private dildo until I released cement into her stomach for another 5 rounds by the look of how much of my sperm was on the matress when I woke up.

"Ping", my phone suddenly rang. There's a message from Chaeyoung. She sent a photo of her topless with a message "I'm sorry for the mess last night, It seemed that I enjoyed myself too much. ㅋㅋㅋ. I was going to wake you up after I finished but I realized that I was almost late for my solo flight to Bali today at 5 AM so I just left you there. Hopefully you didnt catch a cold. See you again after I come back to Korea, baby. - xoxo, Chaeyoung." Damn it, I felt like I was pranked. I wanted to have revenge on her for making me fainted last night. Yeah right, let's follow her to Bali and surprise her with a sudden rough sex. Muehehe. -End.

[sscieloz]

Heartbeat

Shin Ryujin x reader

Synopsis: you’ve promised to take your best friend to an awaited party, located in a nearby city. Ryujin catches your eye, and you fall right into her web of plans, with the promise of having a good time once and for all.

Warnings: mentions of gangs, guns and drugs. smut. blood. violence. nsfw.

Word count: 13.8k

Notes: i thought abt this after watching ryujin’s solo mv! it was so good <3. this was a fairly new topic for me to write about, so I apologize if it’s poorly written or unrealistic. nevertheless, I had lots of fun writing it ˆˆ. english is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes.

—

You don’t mind helping out your parents by working at the family’s Diner: there usually weren’t many customers, and days went by slowly without you being bothered.

“Hey, Y/n. Can I grab another soda?” Your best friend asks, brushing her hands in front of your face to get your attention. Facing you from the other side of the diner’s endless counter, Chaeryeong looks like a hyper child, standing up from her seat to take a look at the soda machine, placed behind your frame.

You roll your eyes at her, simply grabbing the large cup she hands you and filling it up with Coke Zero, this time. “Here.”

“Awn, man, come on!” She protests, grunting. Lets her head fall back. “Coke Zero tastes like shit, Y/n! Give me something tasty, damn.” Chaeryeong turns to the few other customers, gesticulating, “What does a girl have to do to get the good stuff around here? Stop with the misery!”

She has her finger pointed at you, to which you giggle. You’ve known Chaery since your diaper days, with her living in the house in front of yours, and the two of you have been best friends ever since. Her careless, playful nature provides a nice balance to your calm, responsible one. You love her to pieces, which means you are always taking care of the dark-haired girl, in many ways.

“You’ve reached your daily quota of sugar.” You don’t even look at her as you answer, busy giving an elder woman her exchange in cash. “And don’t make those faces. I might as well just give you water, from now on.” Smiling at the customer, you ignore your friend. “Thank you, ma’am! Have a pleasant day.” Chaeryeong gulps, knowing fully well you mean your words.

She keeps her thoughts to herself, mumbling something incoherent while the loud slurps of the iced drink can be heard. Still not paying her much attention, you lean your elbows on the counter marble, sighing tiredly. Even though it was only an hour past noon, you could feel the heaviness in your eyes, the tiredness getting to you. Not having any orders, you allow yourself a few moments of rest, closing your eyes and resting your head on your hands. Just some seconds of peace, you decide.

The bell chime’s noise announces the end of your calm state of mind. In a blink, your sister is placing a medium-sized box on the counter, her usual smile directed at you. You know better than to trust her angelic looks, though — behind her rose gold hair and delicate features, Rosé is nothing but a devious manipulator.

However, she’s still your older sister, and you love her to pieces. It’s the only reason you don’t ignore her, crossing your arms and waiting for her to speak up, instead. She pushes the box towards you, smiling sneakily.

“Good morning, baby sister.” Rosé greets you. As usual, she never goes straight to the point.

You narrow your eyes at her. “It’s past noon, Rosé.”

“Yeah, whatever.” She brushes you off, winking at Chaeryeong to say hello. The girl nearly drowns in her coke, coughing violently.

Chaeryeong has had a massive crush on your sister ever since she was fourteen. Fortunately for you, Rosé has never seen her as anything apart from a little sister too, like yourself. Although the not so subtle rejection has never stopped Chaery from freaking out whenever Rosé addressed or acknowledged her.

“Good morning to you too, Rosie unnie.” She says, after finally gathering her breath. You huff, muttering about how biased she was and being promptly ignored by both girls. The package catches Chaery’s attention, ever so curious, and she pokes it with her bony fingers. “And what’s that about?”

Rosé pulls the package towards you, shrinking her shoulders down a little. For some, she might seem hesitant, but you know her too well to be aware that her movements are anything short of calculated.

“Could you deliver this for me?” She asks —tone dripping with sweetness. It always is, whenever she wants something from you. This is no different. “They asked for the pieces pretty urgently, and I’ll be off to deliver another package in a nearby city in a few minutes.”

Apart from the Diner, your father also owned a mechanical workshop, and would often sell and deliver car pieces to his clients. Rosé, being her outgoing self, dealt with them and the business part of it while you preferred to step aside, helping with the Diner instead. It was only when she had too much work to do that you had to deal with her customers, instead —and those were never pleasant experiences.

Perhaps you were just not cut for the job, or your calm aura was easy to be taken advantage of, but it was a matter of fact: you sucked at negotiating deals and making small talk. It made you uncomfortable and anxious, having to put up a superior act and bargain with assholes until you got enough profit to go home satisfied, so you avoided it vigorously.

Unfortunately, Rosé never hesitated to ask for a hand.

You eye the box suspiciously, trying to figure out the content inside without having to touch it. Even though it seems heavy, you can never truly trust appearances. After all, car pieces are not the only thing they sell at your father’s shop.

“I mean… I could.” You smirk back at Rosé, your identical smiles mirroring one another. “But I don’t want to.”

Before you even register, Rosé smacks you on the head. You’ve never been able to buck from her quick hands anyway.

“Hey!” You massage your scalp, moving your upper body forward to give Chaeryeong a push, too, since the action has her laughing loudly. “Bitch.”

Rosé giggles, too, standing on her tiptoes to give you a kiss on the cheek.

“Pretty please, Y/nnie.” She sighs, joining her hands in a prayer. “I’ll owe you one. I’ll even give you that dress of mine you love, promise.”

Chaeryeong gives you a thumbs up, biased as she’s always been.

“Come on, Y/n, let’s just do it. It’ll be fun! It’s too monotonous to be at the Diner all day, anyway.”

“See?” Rosé gestures to your best friend, pleased to be supported. “Chaery, you’re so sweet.” Your sister pinches her nose, and Chaeryeong’s face turns as red as a strawberry in a matter of seconds. She turns to you once again, then, still faking that hesitation. “Please? It’d be an outstanding deal for us. Lots of profit and all.”

You roll your eyes, still not convinced. Even though Chaery’s eyes are nearly popping off her face with how intensely she’s glaring, you refuse to give in. Rosé was stubborn, but you share the same blood, after all.

“Aren’t any of your friends available? I can’t just close the Diner and go.” Lies. You simply refuse to bulge, to relent to Rosé’s wishes as you always did.

She doesn’t even blink, though, unbothered by your lack of cooperation.

“Lisa, Jisoo, and Jennie are all busy with other work deals too, as well as the boys.” She shrugs, going around the counter to grab a beer for herself. “Trust me, Y/n: if I had anyone to go deliver this, I would… but you know how busy these past weeks have been, and we’re all so overworked. Help me out, please?” She touches the cross hanging on her chest, identical to the one you never took off.

A symbol of your bond.

You sigh, jumping off the balcony and giving in to Rosé’s orders for the nth time. “Fine.” You mumble, grumpy. “Chaeryeong can take care of the place while I go.”

“What the fuck, Y/n!” The girl jumps from her seat, suddenly interested in the conversation as if she hadn’t spent the last five minutes scrolling on her phone, all bored. Suddenly, she’s all ears, eagerly advocating for herself, “I don’t want to do the boring stuff! Let me go with you.”

Before you’re able to tell your friend to get fucked, Rosé stops you with her hands, signaling for someone to come in.

“It’s good for you to not go alone, baby sis. Chaery can make you company.” She nods, grabbing the young girl who came in by the shoulders and positioning her in front of you and Chaeryeong. “This is Rami. She’s Mingyu’s little sister, remember? She said she could handle the diner for a few hours while the two of you are at it. Such a sweetheart, is she not?”

The girl — Rami, nods energetically, looking at your sister with adoration in her glittery eyes. It was no surprise Rosé had brought one of her little fangirls to help, actually. Living in a small city for all your life, everyone knew Rosé. She’s been a notable presence since her teenage years, whether it was attending fancy balls or setting fire to the shops downtown. The blonde girl has been remarkable for as long as you can remember. She’s always been either feared, hated, or loved, but remarkable nonetheless.

Which only proved your theory that you were not going to deliver any car pieces, after all.

You and Chaery exchanged a knowing look, neither caring enough to ask anything about this girl or explain the job she’d have to take at the Diner for free.

“Very well, then.” You sigh, watching Rosé’s excited clapping and giggling. “I’ll grab my car keys.”

Chaeryeong follows you closely, also jumping of joy. You’re well aware she hates being at the Diner, always complaining of boredom, but it isn’t like she has any other friends to go out with. Behind her bubbly, chatty, and energetic personality, she’s is actually very frail and shy, which makes her an easy target for the mean fuckers your age. She struggles, and would much rather just have a single, loyal friend. And you’ve always made sure to protect her fiercely.

“Adventure!! Finally.” The dark-haired girl raises her hands, thanking God you’d go out.

“Don’t get too excited.” You warn her, turning to Rosé. Pointing a finger at the rosy-haired woman, you add. “I hate you.”

She pulls you in for a suffocating hug, used to your harsh behavior. “And I love you so, little sis. Thank you!”

Both Rami and her wave as you and Chaeryeong leave the diner, the package weighing heavily in your hands. You don’t have a big 6th sense, but something does not feel right. Although you ignore it anyway, turning the car on and driving to the address your sister texted you.

-

“Do we really have to do this?” She whines, closing the passenger’s door rather roughly — to which you grunt, paying her a harsh stare for not being careful with your precious car.

She realized the whole thing would be anything but fun sometime mid the 40-minute journey to the abandoned warehouse you were currently walking into. Besides, once you reminded her that Rosé’s request would put off her wishes of going out and partying for a few hours, that little pout of hers hasn’t left her lips. Now, Chaeryeong is all regretful to have supported the older girl in her wishes.

“Not really.” You pay your friend no mind, walking towards the place that was falling into pieces. Seeing you weren’t backing her up, her pout deepened.

“It’s my birthday.” She argues, kicking rocks along the way.

“I already bought you a cake. And milkshake, and fries.” You roll your eyes, remembering how you’d all chanted your best friend happy birthday at your parents’ Diner, during breakfast. “And a shit ton of booze, throughout all these years of knowing you. You haven’t paid me back once.”

Chaeryeong sighs, hurrying to your side, defeated. You keep walking without waiting for her, making it harder for her to catch up — truly opposites, the two of you.

“Fine. But let’s do this quickly. You promised we’d still go to that party.” She decides, playfully bumping into you. Any other time, her actions would’ve helped you to be at ease, but you’re unable to relax this time. You know this is some serious shit.

“Yeah, let’s do this quick.” You repeat her words, entering the abandoned place at a slow, nearly languid pace.

Let you both be out of here in no time. You wish, once again sensing the bad omens.

The warehouse, although old, mistreated and nearly falling into pieces, is not unsettling to you. It’s merely the place Rosé sometimes treats business, and you’ve accompanied her once or twice, before. The wooden beams are rotten, and the flooring has long disappeared, fading into dust that clings to your combat boots. You’d have to clean them later, and that somehow annoys you more than the situation itself. The place is empty, with walls that were once covered by big, expensive windows, yet all that remains are tainted, broken glasses hanging wherever you could look. Machines are still forgotten in random locations inside the building, a ghost of times when the government tried to rebuild the massive area. None of that was successful, obviously. Now, this ghost of a place belongs to your father, your sister, and the other people who were also part of the darker side of this shitty town.

Only a single table hangs in the open area of the first floor, clearly meant for dealerships and businesses. Upon arriving, you notice 5 — no, nearly 10 people waiting not so patiently. Wearing dark, shabby clothes, none of them seem welcoming, to say the least. Rosé had told you’d be doing business with Wendy, a familiar customer from another small town nearby, in hopes to ease down on your nerves. It worked, in a way: having met with Wendy a few times prior, you weren’t all nervous about the upcoming meeting. She was intimidating and oh, so pretty, but you got along well with the auburn-haired woman and her business partners, from previous experiences such as charity dinners and dealerships alongside your sister’s presence.

The woman that stands in front of you, however, looks nothing like Wendy. You know her, naturally; it was impossible not to. Jinsoul’s troublemaker fame was much different than your sister’s — while Rosé’s actions, even though batshit crazy at times, are dreadfully calculated, Jinsoul’s insanity comes with the sole purpose of enticing chaos. Her unstable nature is much of a pain, you’ve personally experienced so from watching herself prove her influence on a crowd by torturing some poor girl who accidentally spilled champagne in her dress at a ceremony, or setting fire to a man’s car at one of the car rifts you often attend. Out of all the girls from her gang, Jinsoul is the least pleasant one to set off deals with.

Naturally, Rosé and Jinsoul hate each other with a passion, being two different flames of the same fire.

With all of that knowledge, you fix your posture, observing Chaeryeong do the same with your peripheral vision. Even though you absolutely despise it, you’ve been taught well how to keep a powerful, imposing façade. Standing tall, you tower over Jinsoul and her subordinates.

“I see Rosé sent her little minion, instead of herself. Must be really busy, of course.” Jinsoul doesn’t greet you, as expected. Her tone is dripping with venom as she examines you and your best friend with harsh eyes.

Now that you’re in front of her, you’re no longer hesitant or scared. Instead, you’re bothered, irritated that you have to deal with your sister’s cheap copy instead of Wendy or Joohyun. Taking a step towards the young woman, you curse Rosé under your breath, fully aware the eventful encounter is not a misunderstanding.

“Nice hair. I love the new color.” You say, leaning your head with a knowing look. Jinsoul’s hair falls a little past her shoulders, in a strawberry-blonde tone that is exactly like Rosé’s past one, from a few months prior. “I’ll tell Rosé her oldest, most faithful fan sends her regards.”

Your words seem to stir something inside the leader in front of you. She scoffs, gritting her teeth. “This is too tedious. Give me the shipment we agreed on, I’ve got better things to do anyway.”

Rolling your eyes, you gesture for Chaeryeong to drop the box on the ground. She does as told, the metallic sounds of the guns moving inside. It echoes in the empty place, as the box falls onto the ground.

Jinsoul remains stoic, hands resting neatly inside her pockets, while her guards reach out for the box. Before they can touch it, though, you step on it, preventing anyone from moving.

“Give us the money first, Jinsoul. No funny business.” You stare right into her eyes, remembering the times you’ve caught her fooling around in her deals, leaving other people empty-handed. “Then you can check as much as you want.”

She laughs, knowing you’re no fool. “I see you’ve gotten wiser, Y/n. Well done.”

In a second, she’s handing you another small, compacted package. You take the money with your delicate hands, not in the least made to deal with such dirty stuff. You count it, already feeling the blood in your veins boil. Chaeryeong breaths are heavy beside you as you say. “This is not what we agreed on, Jinsoul. Stop being a whore for once and give me the other half of the fucking money.”

You and Chaery don’t need words to understand each other. She grabs the box back from the ground as soon as she sees you go rigid, holding on to it with the same look of disdain you bear.

“Oh, my dear.” Jinsoul stands close enough to grab a strand of your long fringe, knuckles brushing your jawline with feigned affection. “Your sister should know I am only faithful to the people I treat business with… and I didn’t discuss anything with you, precious.”

Turning your face, you hold Chaeryeong with one arm to prevent her from jumping on Jinsoul and beating her up.

“You bitch!” Your friend screams at her face, her voice muffled by Jinsoul’s hectic laughter as she walks away, back turned to you and Chaery in a clear show of disrespect.

Before you can go to Jinsoul yourself, her guards strike, going straight to the two of you. You manage to buckle and give them a few punches — causing a fair amount of trouble for someone who didn’t practice often at all, honestly. However, you were outnumbered, and soon enough you find yourself on the ground, punched and disheveled.

Coughing violently, you turn to see one of them kicking Chaeryeong in the guts, a few meters from you. The sight of your friend, cheerful and pure Chaery, being hurt enrages you to the core. You spit at their feet to gather all the attention to yourself.

“Don’t touch her, fucker!” You scream, breathless. They pay you no mind, having the time of their lives.

You feel something on your jacket, then. When you look ahead, Jinsoul has poured a thick, horizontal line of a viscous liquid through all of the massive warehouse. Other guards help, with gallons, but you know most of it is her doing — she loves to get her hands dirty in the business. There’s fire in her eyes, and by the time she lifts the lighter dramatically, you’re already well aware.

Gasoline.

“Goodbye, dearests! It’s always a pleasure doing business with you.” She chants, before throwing the lighter and walking away, without any rush.

You have to use both hands to stand on your fours, then on your knees. Your jacket is long thrown elsewhere as you grab Chaeryeong by back of her neck, much like a kitten. “Let’s go, and quick. Are you badly hurt?” You murmur, looking for any bad bruises on her porcelain skin. The girl shakes her head, running her hand through her bloody nose. She whimpers, and you know she’s trying her best to be strong in front of you. You give her a hug, as well as a kiss on her dirty cheek, in hopes of bringing her a little comfort. “Good. Now come.”

You hated — no, you despised Rosé for always deceiving you. Only this time, she’d pay.

Leaning on each other, the two of you go back to where you’d parked your car, in a hidden area a few minutes away from the warehouse, just as you’ve been taught to do. You take a deep breath, appreciating the humidity and the nature that ruled the place, a forgotten piece of the city. It had rained while you were inside, and you were glad for that. You loved the smell of rain, especially in nature.

On your way to the car, you spot a water tap nearby. You take Chaeryeong’s arms from your shoulders, then, opening the tap and turning to her. “Clean yourself up.”

“You’re so bossy.” She mumbles, but is quick to do as told, grabbing a hold of the water and splashing it on her face, cleaning up the dust that gathered. Chaeryeong nearly drenches her whole head, too — her pitch-black hair all shiny within minutes as the color slowly returns to her face.

While she takes the dirt off her arms and legs, you look around to check on the fire. It is still lively, a bright beacon as the night falls by, but you know it won’t spread. The place was all rotten by rust, with barely any ceiling left, so the rain would most likely put it off.

Still, Jinsoul’s message was clear, and it stung on your pride.

At least she’s always been like that, never presenting herself differently. Much different from your sister, who tells lies for breakfast.

Your mind is still clouded by troubled thoughts when Chaeryeong lets out a tired laugh, smiling once you kneel to clean up yourself. “They beat up our asses hard out there, you know.”

As much as her statement annoys the shit out of you, you’re grateful to have her cracking jokes again. Your best friend’s delicate features suit the red color on her mouth, a sign she’s well and ready for the next one.

You feel the dust gathering under your fingers and all over your skin. It’s all over you, so intensely your honey hair can be misguided as black, with how much of it is covered by dirt.

“I’ve barely noticed.”

Chaeryeong chokes in her saliva to keep herself from laughing, knowing your patience’s running thin. Even if you have the softest spot for her, she decides not to push it.

“Yes, obviously.” She nods. You think she’s finally going to be quiet, but it’s your best friend you’re talking about. Naturally, she continues. “Let’s go to the party, please?”

You scoff, rolling your eyes as you finish washing up, feeling refreshed and no longer too bothered. “Yes.”

You both arrive where the car is parked before she adds. “And we need fighting lessons once we get back home.”

“Chaeryeong.”

“It’s true, sorry! It is.” She raises her hands as if to keep herself from being attacked by your rage.

You limit yourself to giving her a harsh stare, and she shivers under it. You can be quite intimidating when you wish to be, especially since you’re not exactly a chatterbox.

Turning the car on, you indulge your friend’s wishes as you drive towards the party she’s been nagging you about for the whole week.

-

The night’s already taken over the sky once you park on the crowded street, after hours of speeding on the free road. As you hop out of the car, your thoughts go to your sister: you know the meeting with Jinsoul had been arranged all along, with her words about Wendy being merely for you to agree on doing as told. How could she fool you like that? As if you were nothing more than another dischargeable person, like many of her toys.

It’s not the first time Rosé has sent you and Chaeryeong to some skimpy situation, but knowing she was well aware of it being a clear trap all along leaves you absolutely outraged.

Even though she knew of the risks, she still sent you. You would’ve never gone, had you known it was a situation like that, and that’s the reason she didn’t warn you beforehand.

You hated Rosé’s guts.

Chaery rushes to your side once again, side-eyeing you with as little discreetness as possible — unlike yourself, she’s never been good at hiding her expressions. You don’t even attempt to smile, still mad about your earlier encounter and all that went wrong.

Not even your bubbly, cheerful best friend can lift your spirits, at the moment.

“Don’t tell me you’re still pissed, Y/n.” She shakes her arms, sighing. Her tone is serious, and you know she means it. “Come on! Live your life, and stop being so strict all the time. You deserve to have fun.” Chaery grabs you by the shoulders, lifting your chin so you’ll stare at her. “So have fun! I know it fucking sucks, but it’s done! Let’s just enjoy the night and deal with the whole problem tomorrow morning.”

You roll your eyes, knowing she’d never comprehend your feelings. As much as you love how carefree she is, you also know your personalities are too different.

You allow her to interlock your hand with hers, though, as the two of you pass the sea of cars in the direction of the crowded mansion.

“You could use a little fire within yourself too, you know.” You murmur, examining the place with harsh eyes.

The front garden alone is already impressive. Its deep green lawn is impeccable — clearly trimmed and well cared for, aligning with the lavish fountain that stands in the center and all the animals sculpted in the bushes. A cupid stands in the middle of the marble fountain, water flowing smoothly from its carved bow. You recognize the modern styling of the mansion, with plenty of massive windows that cover both floors of the house. With its wooden walls, the place has a rustic yet cozy surface. There is no doubt whoever owns such property has a great sense of style.

Even that front area is crowded, too. People nearly having public sex, others throwing up vigorously while being helped by friends, a few others just passed out on the lawn… although you’re surprised to see many groups simply drinking and chilling, leaning on their cars, too — most likely seeking an escape from the vivid music and the heat wave that must be inside. You already feel the energetic music echoing through the whole atmosphere, the rhythm reverberating through the walls and on the ground. You bite your cheek to suppress a smile, not wanting your friend to notice yet. To you, there was something appealing about attending such crowded spaces. Amidst the sea of people, you were no one: known by no one, cared for by no one. It was strangely comforting, as if a weight was going off your shoulders, and you liked it.

Interrupting your thoughts, Chaeryeong shrugs, “I mean, it’s Rosé we’re talking about. Did you seriously not expect the deal to be suspicious, to say the very least?” She sighs hard, adding. “That lying, dreadful hot bitch. I’d go to as many sneaky warehouses as she commands me to, sorry, Y/n.”

Her tone is truthful enough to have you shaking your shoulders in laughter, squeezing her hand to make her stop walking through people so fast. As a matter of fact, Chaery’s fat crush on your sister isn’t by any means new to you — going on for many years already, but it always surprises you to hear her say stuff like that.

You find it hilarious, actually, that Chaeryeong is, to this day, one of your sister’s fangirls.

“I seriously can’t believe you sometimes.” You say, although youthful spirits have been lifted. Your best friend smiles brightly at you, her button nose scrunching adorably.

“You just love me so much.”

You leave her at that, and stand by the door, making your way to the main, open area — the living room. Chaeryeong is smart and attentive, which also helps to access the whole place rather quickly. Soon enough, both of you have some kind of fancy drink in hands, and you stare at the dark-haired girl rather hesitantly.

Her bright humor and the room’s energy, bustling with excitement are enough to have you feeling much better, even a little happy yourself. Still sensing your hesitation, she brings the cup to your mouth with her small hands, both of you downing your drinks within seconds.

“Okay,” She says, looking around for anything interesting. “Now the real fun begins.”

You laugh, knowing she’s going to find some source of entertainment for the night — whether it is a pretty girl to lose herself in or a newly discovered gossip to watch and comment over like a TV series.

Chaeryeong disappears and comes back with another fancy-looking drink, stumbling and nearly falling in the process, and you quickly grab the one she hands to you, taking a small sip this time. She’s already had a handful of hers and stares at your choice of savoring the liquid with playful eyes.

“What? I would rather not pass out. That’s your role.”

“You never forget, do you? It was once, Y/n. Once. And forever ago, too! I’ve never done that again.” She huffs, bringing her free hand to her chest in a fake display of resentment.

You giggle as you hug her sideways, shutting off the older girl’s whines. She quickly steps aside, though — not wanting people to think she’s not seeking some fun, and you take the opportunity to look around, observing the inside of the mansion properly.

It’s a beautiful house — a mansion, indeed — and the first floor is nothing but lavish. The bar, where you and Chaeryeong stand, is nearly the size of the one at the Diner, filled with expensive drinks and crystal cups as the bartender — not at all like the junk places the two of you usually attend— mixes drinks with experience.

It also pleases you to see how such a person is not afraid of spending money to host a good party, even if the people enjoying it are complete strangers. The lively atmosphere of young people having fun, mixed with the grand decor of the place balanced each other well, giving a lived-in aspect to said gorgeous place.

The open area has plenty of windows, allowing you to watch the gardens and the pool, outside — even though it’s massive, there’s barely any space left in between the waters, making you gulp with disgust. It was hard for you to understand how that many people would muster the courage to get in, with so many germs and fluids certainly dirtying the once crystal-clear waters.

Looking back inside, you’re able to observe the planned furniture, which is clearly well thought out, with the wooden ceiling and the thick, marble columns. There are rugs lacking, you notice, but it is surely so they don’t stain or anything.

You wonder what the place is like during a quiet, common day. One where the only noises come from the birds, chipping and singing while flying through the trees, and the running water that drips on the pool fountain.

Besides that, it is absolutely crowded. Nearly every single space is occupied by either a couple kissing like there’s no tomorrow or people screaming and dancing, yet everyone seems to be having a nice time. The atmosphere makes you smile, surprisingly cozy on this chaotic yet lively night. That’s how you feel, specially after the prior encounters: alive.

You have to make that feeling worth it.

-

Time goes by fast once you’re trying to have fun.

You quickly learn so, as you drink, smoke, and dance with Chaeryeong. Even with the alcohol leaving you happy, you’re still uneasy. You can’t shake the feeling that you’re being observed, no matter how many times you tell yourself that’s absolutely insane — there are people in every possible corner of the place, and no one’s paying attention to you.

However, Chaery also seems to be opposed to the logical part of your brain.

“I think you should go for it,” Your best friend tells you, after long minutes of heavily flirting with a barbie-like girl from afar.

You’re nearly sure you know that girl, actually. She’s from your hometown, most likely; her heart-shaped mouth and cherubic features are impossible to miss.

There’s nothing more like Chaery than going to a party located 2 hours away just to fuck around with the same people you’ve known since elementary school.

Your best friend turns around, filling up both of your drinks, even though yours is only halfway empty.

You frown. “Go for what?”

It’s Chaeryeong’s turn to be annoyed at you. She throws her free arm on your shoulders, gesturing to the middle of the living room area, where four good-looking girls stand with critical looks, acting like they own the place.

Which, judging by their style and the way they carry themselves, they might as well do.

Chaeryeong points in their direction with her head, never in her life subtle. “The one in the middle has not stopped staring at you ever since we’ve arrived. Ryujin, they say it’s her name.” Your friend’s excited tone grabs your attention, and you finally take a look at the small group she’s so enamored by. “I think you should go get her.”

Your friend has always had a good taste in women, and this time’s no different. They are beautiful, crushingly so, all hanging out by the long couch, circled by many people who seem to fight for an ounce of their attention. They stay disinterested, though, not paying them as much as a quick look.

One has sharp eyes, listening attentively to what a jumpy redhead and a blonde girl have to say as she sips on her Marguerita. At last, you observe the raven-haired girl Chaeryeong mentioned: she stands powerful in the middle, her sharp features giving her an intimidating look. To your surprise, she’s already staring— her dark eyes examining you with such hunger your heart starts beating rapidly as if there were no one else in the room. Electric shocks fly through your body upon her piercing gaze, and you look away immediately.

“She’s creepy.” You take a long gulp of your drink, in hopes of washing away the urge of sneaking her a glance once again.

Chaeryeong rolls her eyes, nudging you. “Just how you like them.” She scoffs, then, when she realizes you won’t answer — not in the mood to indulge her little monologues. “Please, Y/n, for once in your life just—“

You interrupt your friend, taking a step back and giving her a fake smile. “I need to use the bathroom, but I’ll catch up with you soon, Chaery.” Getting away from her as fast as you can in such a crowded space, you’re still able to hear her voice as you ascend the grand staircase, screaming while raising her cup in your direction to prove her point.

“YOU CAN’T ESCAPE ME, Y/N! IF YOU TAKE TOO LONG, I’LL COME AND GET YOU.” You can’t help but laugh, fully knowing she means it.

Even though you escape her lecture — hearing that same discourse at least once a day ever since you can remember, you know Chaeryeong means well. It’s a matter of fact: you’ve always been the responsible one, caring and supervising others, to the point people always referred to you as “lame” or “boring”. Whether it was at the Diner, with your reckless family, or dealing with your friend’s spontaneousness, you’re unable to help it: being careful comes naturally to you, always thinking about countless opportunities for every situation possible.

Before opening many doors — the place was indeed massive, leaving you to wonder how many rooms there are — you finally find a bathroom. Without rushing, you take a deep breath, washing your face in hopes of easing your mind, too.

For the first time in many hours, you have time to truly think about the events of the day. Weariness infiltrates your bones as you grip both sides of the sink, not daring to look at yourself in the mirror. Looking at your face, your features, means staring at your sister, too. At your father, the whole dirty business you do for a living and how you’re also to blame, no matter how much you avoid taking part in it. You belong in this world, there’s no denying it.

Only you so wish you didn’t.

Sitting on the toilet, you hug your knees, waiting for the tears to come. They never do; you only feel an overwhelming emptiness, somehow accustomed to this entire mess. Crying and pitying yourself won’t change anything.

The door opens, and Ryujin is standing in front of you before you can make yourself look presentable. She’s as intimidating as she was from afar, her thick boots making her look taller.

“Sorry for taking so long, I needed a moment. I’ll go now.” You get up quickly, trying to brush past her as you murmur excuses for keeping the bathroom all to yourself, even though she doesn’t seem to mind.

With a hand brushing your waist, she says, tone low and husked. “It’s ok. I can take you to somewhere quieter if you’d like.” Her posture is relaxed and patient, waiting for you to answer. “Listening to loud music for too long can be a bother.”

You don’t exactly know why you agree; perhaps it’s her voice, soothing and sensual — even though you somehow know her invite is not one seeking sex, or her dark eyes, staring at you like she could undress your soul and be aware of your deepest secrets. Regardless of the motives, you feel drawn to her, almost as if she’d cast a spell on you, luring you in. So you nod, allowing yourself to enter the labyrinth of corridors as Ryujin walks by your side, without rushing. Only when the two of you stop by a black, wooden door, she turns back to you. You step inside, as the world behind you suddenly turns quiet.

You’re fully aware of the risks you’re taking. She’s a stranger, and you know nothing about each other. You should be jumpy, wary in the least.

Instead, for the first time in many years, there’s not a train of thoughts running through your head, thinking about millions of possibilities and outcomes of every little thing you’ve ever witnessed.

As you walk into the middle of the spacious room, you feel nothing but calm.

-

Ryujin has good taste.

You’re not stupid: you know the bedroom you’re currently in belongs to her. The walls are made of wood, carved in light brown, and most of the furniture is black, a true portrait of how she presents herself — all dark and mysterious. Her bed stands appealing in the middle, the covers undone and inviting, while numerous papers rest neatly on her desk, but it’s the content on the wall that catches your attention. A map of the country, covered with red strings and pins linking numerous places. There are names written, too, as well as keywords and small texts.

“I’m a good listener. If you’d like to, naturally.” She takes a blunt out of her pocket, gesturing to you. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.” You give her a small smile in acknowledgment. “It’s your room, anyway.”

She laughs. “Smart girl.”

“I’ll pass on your invitation to listen, though.” You continue as you stare at her closely, curious about how she’d react. Her blazer made her shirt ride up, revealing part of her toned abdomen, and you can’t help but ogle, mouth dry at the sight.

God, she’s so hot, sitting casually like that.“As you wish. No problem.” Ryujin doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, which provides you with enough confidence to start looking around again.

A black wooden bookshelf catches your attention, standing on the opposite side of the windows and the balcony, and you’re appalled by how vast it is. It nearly occupies the entire wall, with numerous books. It’s the only part of the room that has any color besides black, brown, or white, and the books all seem pretty worn out. You brush your fingers through the shelves, lost in paradise.

“Do you expect us to fuck?” You don’t turn to face her as you ask, without shame. Strangely, you feel like you could tell her whatever you wanted to.

She shrugs, adjusting her pillows so she’d lie comfortably, looking rather small in the massive bed. The words leave her mouth so casually like nothing was ever complicated. “If you'd like to, maybe.” Her eyes travel to your body, and you shiver, once again feeling exposed. “You’re pretty. You have a beautiful body, too. So, sure.”

“Why did you bring me here, then? If not to fuck.” You murmur, eyeing her as your fingers brush a specific book, waiting for her permission.

You take it from its place once she nods, freeing the smoke from her lungs. The Waves, highlighted and annotated.

“You looked as if you had many thoughts going on in your head.” She runs her hand through her shiny, pitch-black hair, casually. “This is my quiet place. I figured you could use a little peace for a while, too.”

She was so right. From the time you entered her room, you felt nothing but peace, as if your emotional turmoil had cooled down for a few moments.

Maybe it was the calming energy Ryujin emanates or the way she looks at you so curiously. Anyway, you decide she’s worth it.

You were not exactly fond of meeting new people, much less welcoming them into your life. You didn’t feel the need to add anyone — you could barely keep up with the amount of drama you had, with not that many people. You have a best friend, a father, a stepmother, grandparents, a sister, and her friends who were your acquaintances. Not a massive crowd, but just enough for you.

However, you feel the need to let this girl in, too.

Jumping on the bed, you don’t stop until you’re near enough to feel the warmth of the blunt Ryujin holds. You lean on your elbows, facing down whilst she’s facing up, hands behind her head to support herself as she stares at the ceiling.

“I’m Y/n, nice to meet you.” You say, determined not to feel threatened by her piercing gaze and those midnight eyes that carry such mystery.

Ryujin laughs, shaking the hand you offer. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/n. I’m Ryujin.”

She stares back, her eyes undressing you as if she’s the keeper of all your secrets. You look away. She laughs again.

Your mind wanders to Chaeryeong’s words, always eager to talk about how you should take more risks and live freely. Perhaps she’s right; you should stop worrying too much and overthinking every single thing.

You snuggle yourself even closer to Ryujin, still deciding. “But are you good?”

She frowns, turning to you. “Probably. But good at what, exactly?”

“In bed, obviously.” You roll your eyes. “Are you a good fuck?”

Being so close to her allows you to see the switch your words provoke. Her eyes darken, and she fixes her posture, no longer carefree and unbothered. No… the girl whose eyes roam over your body is far from inviting or calming. She’s powerful, just as you watched her present herself downstairs, earlier at night. With strong hands, she grabs one of your thighs, bringing you so close you’re able to play with the collar of her silk shirt.

“Why do you ask, Y/n?” Ryunjin’s hands brush your neck in a careful motion, tucking your hair away so she’s able to run her nose through your skin. One look at her, and you know she enjoys toying with you like that too much.

As she must do with anyone, you suppose.

“Well…” You look down, although still leaning at her touch. “‘Cause I want you to fuck me, of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be asking.”

She doesn’t mind your impatient tone but doesn’t touch you either, even after your words. If anything, she just keeps staring at your body, as if imagining all the things she’d do.

“And how would I do that, exactly?” You roll your eyes, ready to give her a defiant answer when she grabs you by the chin, ever so gently. “Make sure to be clear with your words, my angel.”

And it’s that tone once again — so low-pitched and raspy, that makes you gulp, barely breathing under the enchanting, mysterious girl’s touches. Besides being in control at all times: when you’ve decided to accompany Ryujin to her bedroom, when initiating this battle of desire… you finally come to realize how different it is, this once. This time, Ryujin’s question presents itself as a warning, its meaning loud and clear even though it was unsaid. If you agreed to this, she would be the one in control. She’d take as much as she pleased, however, you wished her to do.

Something that is so appealing to you. Not because you feel the need to let go; no, you’ve done much of that throughout all of your life — being your family’s pawn, toy, and little doll to show off to other powerful families, making a profit over the image of perfection.

No, Ryujin’s offer is appealing simply because you’re curious to see what she’d do to you. You feel drawn to her, with a sudden urge to be under her touch, to have her inside of you.

You want her to do the most unspeakable, filthy things to your body, bringing you enough pleasure to fuck you dumb, until all of your worries are washed away and long gone.

Her. You want her.

So you stand on your knees, taking your time with unclasping your bra and throwing your shirt off the ground, long hair flowing gracefully as you move, cascading down your hips. It’s only once you’re done that you speak, long after letting her watch as you make a show out of the small act.

“I want you to pleasure me.” You say, with a voice just as lustrous as hers. “I’m sure you’ve been spoiled enough in sex. Prove it to me, then. And if you’re good enough, maybe I’ll satisfy you, too.”

She smiles, exposing her canine teeth as she watches you crawl to her. Within seconds, you’re between her legs, her mouth hot and wet on your clavicle — then wasting no time to go to your breasts, as she kisses and sucks on your skin. Making sure to bruise, to mark her presence. Territorial.

“Your wish is my command, angel of mine.” She murmurs, breath warm on your skin.

Ryujin’s taste is bitter, much like poison. Still, her lips are addicting, and it’s easy to lose yourself in between the sultry kisses you share. Your skin, your insides — you’re on fire, so turned on it burns.

Her hands, skilled and lithe, wander through your body, squeezing and groping as she pleases. Such a tease, she is. You can easily tell how delighted she is to be able to take her time, caressing the insides of your thighs as you huff, impatient. She’s so close, yet so far from where you need her. Your cunt aches, sticky and needy for something, anything.

Yearning for release after such a stressful day, you feel your body trembling with anticipation. Soon enough, you’re under her, both of your clothes long thrown on the ground. It’s hard not to blush with how she’s looking at your naked body, licking her lips as she spits, a long trail of saliva going from her fingers to your wet cunt.

You need more of her. Desperately.

Tugging her hair, you let out a loud whine. “You’re so mean, Ryujin.”

“I am.” Her answer comes immediately, as she lowers her body until her mouth is close to your pussy. She brushes the hair away from her face, eyes still heavily focused on your dripping cunt. Ryujin cups your ass, one of your legs resting on her shoulder as she brings your sex as close to her face as possible. Her eyes are starstruck, long-lost in your body as she parts your folds before giving your cunt a messy, wet kiss.

Her actions are more than enough to turn you into a withering mess: her mouth is everywhere, working her way inside of your walls with such vigor you feel so full, your troubled thoughts long forgotten. She works wonders, her tongue teasing your entrance and alternating between lapping on your clit, circling your hardened bud as you moan, squirming almost desperately. You’ve never been this sensible, yet Ryujin reverberates all of her actions through your body harder than usual — even the mere brush of her fingers has her holding your thighs firmly, to keep you from moving so much and closing your legs away.

Incoherent words leave your mouth so fast that you’d be ashamed if you were able to think about anything. Your long nails scratch her bare back in random patterns, leaving her skin so red you close your hands in a sudden wave of consciousness, shy as you bring them to your chest.

She stops too, ignoring your whines as she looks up to you with a serious face, her mouth swollen and glistening with your juices. “If you stop, I’ll stop.” She grabs your hands, placing them on her once again. It’s so sweet, somehow delicate how she handles you, much different from the way she acts with anyone else. “Don’t hold yourself back.”

You nod, gulping. She has two of her fingers aligned with your slit, spreading your juices through your pussy with that little smug smile of hers before easing them inside. They slide in easily, the gushing sounds filling the room along with your voice. “Ryujin… oh f-fuck!”

“Touch your nipples.” Ryujin commands, mouth closing against your clit once again. She licks and applies a weak suction, not yet enough to overstimulate you. You’re long gone, though, incapable of forming any thoughts on your pretty head, let alone following any commands. She knows it, which is the reason her hands grope your tits with strength, massaging. “You’re sensitive, angel. Touch them for me, will you?”

It seems to work, this time. You mumble a response to her patient tone, hands going straight to your nipples as you cup your breasts. They weren’t exactly big, but certainly not small either. If you squeezed them tightly — as you were currently, doing, you could fit them in your hands. Biting your lip, you flick your thumbs through the hardened buds, circling your areolas as your fingers twist and pinch your nipples.

The action sends a shock of electricity through your body, and you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Good girl, Y/n. God, your tits are so pretty. You look so pretty like this, doing so good for me.” You barely register her words, although it doesn’t seem necessary; if anything, Ryujin seems to be speaking to herself. She lifts her head, fingers thrusting in even deeper as she judges the bruises on your hips with hard eyes. Her voice is different, too, serious as she adds, “Must’ve been a tough day, hm? You’re all bruised, my love. And I haven’t given you any of these.”

“Something like that, I guess.” You murmur, closing your eyes to focus on how good she is making you feel.

She kisses each one of your bruises with delicacy, looking somehow annoyed. Her brows are furrowed, and her lips are pouty, making it easy to tell she’s lost in thought. Because of her reaction, you lift her chin, cocking your head to the sides as you try to figure her out. It seems to wake her up from her trance, instead. Ryujin takes your fingers and sucks, staring at you while her tongue wets your index and thumb just as she was doing to your pussy, moments prior.

This girl’s going to be the death of you.

Her attention returns to your cunt, swollen and red, as she fastens the thrusts on your slit. It hits deep, each movement bringing you closer to the orgasm you ache for. A third finger is added, then, and you feel yourself close to the edge. Ryujin must’ve felt your muscles clenching, too, since she’s quick to give your clit one last, deep suck.

It feels like there’s no air left in the room. The pleasure that was building up in your lower abdomen explodes, with violent waves of pleasure erupting and giving you the best sensation you’ve ever felt. It’s ecstatic, as if thousands of fireworks live in every little space of your body. You feel spectacular, but more than that, you feel alive. With a high cry, you cum, Ryujin’s fingers still working their way inside, helping you ride out from your orgasm. She’s careful to not touch your clit, just staring at your fucked out face as your chest moves rapidly, trying to even your breathing.

After a few minutes, you squirm, expecting her to distance herself and stop touching your cunt.

It’s not what happens, though — in a blink, she’s all over you, working her way up your body with wet kisses until your lips meet once again in a messy kiss.

“You’re relaxed now, right?” She says, sucking on your lower lip. “And you were so perfect, angel. It’s my turn. Can you give me one more? Do you think you can do it for me?”

Suddenly, you’re all hot again, as her fingers thrust into you deeper and deeper. You’re dizzy, more than happy to drink on her and let her drive you into pleasure as she says so.

“R-ryujin…” You chant her name, clinging to the girl.

It doesn’t take you long to cum, this time. The orgasm that drags through your body is strong but slow, leaving you full in more ways than you’ll ever be able to describe.

“So good.” She says, hands tight on your waist and caressing your abdomen, with no rush at all. “You’re doing so good, Y/n.”

Your cunt feels empty without her fingers inside, pussy swollen and pleased. Even though she’s right by your side, you miss her, reaching out for her touches. She’s more than eager to comply, holding you close as she kisses the top of your head, brushing the long strands of hair away from your face.

The two of you stay like that, wrapped up in a warm bubble that has you completely in peace. Your muscles relax, and you feel the tiredness in your bones, pleading for sleep. It’s easy to get lost in Ryujin’s arms, forgetting your duties and obligations until your mind is filled with her.

Just as quickly, you’re thrown back into reality by the doorknob — it’s forced from the outside, although the door doesn’t move, thankfully locked. It’s most likely someone drunk, searching for a place to have fun with someone, but the action is enough for you to remember the reason you’ve attended such a party: an energetic girl with dark hair and the worst sense of humor you’ve ever seen, who was probably worried sick about you and cursing your entire existence.

With that in mind, you get up, grabbing your dispersed clothes on the floor and putting them on. Ryujin’s stare is attentive, following your every move. She’s still comfortable in her bed, not bothering to cover herself as she reaches out for the blunt on her nightstand.

“You can stay, if you’d like.” Her voice has a special effect on you. It makes your body relax instantly, and you breathe in. “Enjoy the quietude. There’s no need to run away.”

“I’m not running away.” You frown, somehow bothered that she thinks so. Grunting, you clarify, “I’d like to… hum, continue this. But my friend’s been waiting for long now. She must be going crazy, thinking I’ve been kidnapped or something. I have to take care of her.”

“Why so?” There it is. That smirk, the air of superiority that adds to Ryujin’s strong façade. It’s almost as if she’s mocking you, playing with her words. “Is she a child? Or just so stupid she can’t take care of herself…”

Your face reddens, and you finish tying your shoes just as quickly as you turn to her, both hands gripping her bed frame so you’re able to jerk your body forward. “Chaeryeong’s not stupid. Watch your fucking mouth.”

People could say anything they wanted about you. In fact, they already did — ever since you were little and your mother had left, people judged and made assumptions about your life. It was impossible not to be a target, with a family like yours, handling the business that you do. It did hurt, at the beginning, but you’ve eventually figured it out: people talked about everyone, and you weren’t special. They were so miserable and uninteresting that they’d criticize every single little thing, no matter how invisible you tried to be. It’s just how they were.

However, any words directed at your best friend are enough for you to get into messy fights. No one was allowed to talk shit about her. Not cheerful, bright Chaeryeong, who had the biggest, cutest smile and the purest intentions in her heart. You’d never allow it.

Seeing how serious you were, Ryujin’s smile dropped. She tapped her blunt in the ashtray, careful to not let the dust spill. “You’re right, she’s not. I apologize.” Although she doesn’t look sorry at all. It’s as if everything is a big joke to her; which, with such a lavish house, you know it most likely is.

Rich people are always assholes.

Humming, you roll your eyes as you try to fix your hair, failing terribly. It’s still as wild as ever, stubbornly fighting your fingers when you run your hands through its entire length, in attempts of detangling something. The subject’s been brushed off when she speaks again, breaking the silence without any awkwardness. “Yeji is keeping an eye on her, anyway. So you don’t need to fry your neurons and die of preoccupation.”

It’s awkward — you’re awkward, meanwhile, the girl looks completely at ease as she takes another hold of smoke into her lungs, naked in all her glory. God, she’s so hot; her muscles are defined, and she’s simply beautiful, like a fallen angel. It takes all of you to not fall down on your knees immediately, begging to eat her out and make her scream in pleasure like she’s done to you. But you’re also tired, and you really need to let your friend know you’re alive and well. There’s nothing more that you hate than being a bother, so you can’t let her alone, wondering if you’ve forgotten about her presence.

“You really are good.” You stare at your hands, letting out a faint giggle. It’s amazing how suddenly shy you are, given how you were begging just minutes prior. “A good fuck, I mean. You are.” In a blink, you’re by the door, gripping the doorknob with an unnecessary amount of strength. “I hope to return the favor, someday.”

“Someday.” She says, tone enigmatic as ever. You’ve noticed she’s annoyingly good at hiding her expressions, always with a bored look on her face. “See you, Y/n.”

You don’t say anything else as you leave the room, losing yourself in the labyrinth of corridors without looking back.

-

Turns out Chaeryeong is still at the same place she was when you left, thankfully. She jumps into your arms as soon as she sees you, sighing in relief. “I’m going to kill you! Where have you been? I looked everywhere!”

You hold her firmly by the waist, her voice a few quarters higher than usual. Chaery might not be tall, but in this drunken state, she’s heavy, nearly dragging both of you to the ground. She laughs uncontrollably, happy to have you by her side once again.

“The bathroom line was too long.” You lie, taking the drink from her hands as you take a sip. It’s strong, provoking a nauseous sensation that you ignore as you swallow it down.

The lie comes naturally, not because you feel like you have to hide what happened from your best friend, but simply because you find yourself too tired to explain. She’s going to make you repeat yourself as soon as she sobers up again, anyway.

She knows it, though. “Liar! You were doing something.” The girl narrows her eyes, a confused expression on her face as she brushes the hair away from your neck. “Where’d you get a new necklac— Y/n! You dirty whore!”

You can’t help but laugh as she examines the hickeys Ryujin left on your skin, mouth opened in a big “O” — slightly pushing her off you. Chaeryeong stumbles, hitting the wall with her shoulders as she tries to gather her balance.

“I’ll tell you about it later, okay? M’ too tired right now.” You promise, not giving her drink back once she reaches out for it.

Chaeryeong doesn’t seem to mind, jumping up and down in excitement. She grabs you by the shoulders, shaking your body with a smile that nearly covers her entire face. “My girl’s getting some game, wow! I’m so happy for you, Y/n! You have no idea. Do you know how many times I wished you got someone? I seriously thought you were going to turn into a nun or something.”

“Hey!” You protest, “I’m not a prude! The last time I had kissed someone was like, last month or something.”

Chaery stops jumping, thankfully. She pays no mind to your grumbling, twirling, and moving along with the blasting music’s rhythm. “Sure, sure. Whatever you say.”

You eye her with narrowed eyes, but she stops all of her movements before you can give her a sneaky response. Her face pales, and she gulps deeply.

“Are you okay, Chaery?” No response. Chaeryeong’s eyes are fixated on the wall behind you, the colorful lights and blasting music from the living room surely doing nothing but overwhelming her even more.

“Yeah.” She looks up, sighing. “Just felt this sudden urge to t—“ The way she covers her mouth is enough of a sign, for you. Acting quickly, you pull her to the gardens, as Chaeryeong tries her best to not jerk her body forward. It’s immediate: she throws up as soon as she finds a bush to lean on, the effects of the alcohol, adrenaline, and visual stimulation from the party getting to her organism.

“I guess you kept your drinking game high while I was busy?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood. It works, you can tell Chaery’s laughing by the way her small shoulders move. She gives you a thumbs up, too, her face still shoved in between the leaves. “Okay. Are you good to be by yourself for a few moments? I’ll get you some water, then I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” Your friend manages to say, lying down on the grass. Her hair is all messy, and her face remains pale. “I’m fine now, though. 100%.”

“I’m still getting you the water.” You get up from where you were kneeling, too, rushing towards the kitchen entry with hurried steps.

You’re not too worried, though. This wasn’t exactly an unusual situation — sometimes Chaeryeong would drink too much, too fast… sometimes you would. It was a pain in the ass, naturally, and you’d always wake up deeply hungover the next day, but it wasn’t something to be deeply preoccupied with.

Humming to yourself, you open the fridge, in hopes of finding a bottle of fresh water. It was better than going to the bar set in the lively living room and asking for one, anyway. You barely notice a girl standing next to you, handing exactly what you’re looking for. She’s one of Ryujin’s friends, you reckon — her sunset, pin-straight hair compliments her features effortlessly, as her hypnotizing eyes stare at you attentively.

You know a judgmental look when you see one. This one’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

“For your pretty friend.” She says, waiting patiently for you to take the bottle from her hands. You do, still silent, yet your lack of enthusiasm doesn’t scare her away. She keeps babbling, not minding you at all. “I hope she feels better.”

It’s as though she knows something you don’t, and the hidden mockery in the air leaves you uneasy.

“Thanks…” You murmur, playing with the bottle in your hands. Before you brush past her to return to your friend, she adds.

“—Yeji. That’s my name.” Yeji tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, waving you goodbye with feigned innocency. “Bye, Y/n. Make sure Chaeryeong arrives home safely.”

Chaery’s had an eye on her earlier, nearly fucking her from afar while you were in your own world, lost in thoughts. They probably had some fun before you came back to your friend, that’s all.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself as you lean next to Chaeryeong again, trying to ease the knot in your stomach as you give her the plastic bottle.

“Here, don’t drink it all at once.” You say, chuckling as the girl nearly drowns herself in the water, desperate to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth. “It’s been a long day, Chaeryeong. Let’s go home.”

She gladly takes the hand you offer, groaning as she shakes the remains of grass from her pants. “I had fun, though. Today was a fun day, Y/n. Did you have fun too?”

There’s mischief all over her face, making it impossible for you to feel down. It’s her gift, being able to lift your spirits with her lame jokes and energetic nature.

“Of course, Chaery. I always have fun when I’m with you.” You nod.

Your words please her, and she leans her head against your shoulder as you make your way to the car, side by side.

It’s late, and you’re tired. You’d handle it all in the morning.

-

Despite the weariness that penetrates thick in your bones, you’re punctual as always, doodling in your journal by the counter as the sun fights its way up against the messy fog of the morning. It’s a routine you’ve been doing ever since you were a teenager: going out, partying, and going to so many places until dawn, while still showing up to work at the Diner in the following morning.

You’d get some rest, eventually. For now, the four hours of sleep you had were enough to keep you up, somehow. Besides, Saturday mornings are always some of the slowest days at the place, with hardly anyone coming for breakfast. People liked to sleep in, trying to gather all the hours they’ve lost from having to wake up early for work, you guess — which is why the place is empty, no customers to be seen.

There’s a hard slam on the corner, and you lift your eyes to follow the sound. You’re greeted by Rosé: her baby-pink hair is even messier than usual, and her leather jacket seems to be the only thing protecting her from the chilly weather. It does little to ease her, though — Your sister’s shorts expose her legs, dirty and scratched. At least her crop top is thick, the black clothing making her seem even more intimidating. And she smells of smoke, instead of her usual cologne.

“You look like shit.” You’re the first to break the silence, as your eyes return to your sketch. It’s not an easy thing to do, but you try your best to act indifferent to your sister’s piercing stare. “I’m taking you haven’t had any sleep at all.”

She’s fuming, you know that. Somehow, Rosé’s cold attitude is much worse than her red fire. Her quietness scares you, as it should. It’s never a good sign.

“Have you ever been anything other than useless, all your life?” She spits, and her words hurt, no matter how long you’ve mentally prepared yourself to have that talk, ever since you left the warehouse. “I asked you to do one thing, Y/n. One fucking thing, and you managed to fuck it all up! God, you’re such a failure.”

Your mouth is dry, all of your courage going down the drain as you stare at the woman in front of you. Suddenly, you’re a little kid again, playing your part as Rosé’s little doll so you’d receive a smile, a praise, anything from her. You’d do anything to get her to acknowledge you, having to fight for her attention like everyone else.

But not anymore.

She hits the counter again, visibly enraged. You shove your finger at her chest, fighting back before she destroys you with her words — like she’s so good at.

“And you’re a fucking liar! Fuck you, Rosé. You fucking lied to me, saying we’d meet Wendy because you knew damn well I’d say no to dealing with Jinsoul. And you know what? I was fucking right!” Saying the words out loud is enough to give you courage. When you speak again, your tone is low, sharp like she’d taught you. “We could’ve gotten seriously hurt out there, Rosé. And you were fully aware of that when you sent us into that fucking trap! You’re in no position to demand anything.”

Rosé runs her hands through her hair, and you can tell she’s exhausted, too. She’s always hidden things from you, so it’s impossible to know what’s going on in her life. Although you can’t bring yourself to care, anymore.

“We need that money, Y/n!” She shouts, exasperated. If her stare could burn, you’d be long dead. “How do you think things work, huh? Who do you think is paying for that fancy college of yours — our house, the food we eat every day? It’s me! I provide for us, with that dirty money you hate so much. So wake up! Fucking idiot. Stop being such a burden and help, for once.”

You know it’s true. Even though your father is supposedly the one in charge, Rosé is the true leader. Needless to say, you’re grateful for all of those things.

Which doesn’t make Rosé any less of an asshole.

“You’re a shit sister.” You lean on the chair, your icy tone placing a blunt contrast to her fiery screams. “And an absolutely horrible person. I despise you.”

A flash of hurt passes through Rosé’s eyes, so fast you wonder if you’ve imagined it. But as fast as it happens, it’s over with. Instantly, her defenses are up again, and your sister looks down on you, rolling her eyes as she crosses her arms in the middle of her chest.

“You’re tiring me.” She huffs, her tone making it clear she is done with the conversation. Rosé leans on the counter and shoves your shoulders on a punch before storming away, slamming the entry door loudly. “I’m going out, to clean the mess you’ve made. Like always.”

Tears start to cloud your vision as you watch her hop on her car, the roaming of the engines making her feelings clear enough for anyone to understand. She’s an asshole, you know it; but it’s hard to not be upset by her lack of care towards you. You long for her approval and affection, getting anything other than that is enough to leave you deeply hurt.

It’s frustrating, to feel like that over such a shitty situation. You don’t even know if the tears you shed come from sadness or from anger, as you brush them away from your face.

A lithe figure hits the window to grab your attention, and you’re deeply surprised to see Ryujin barging in, walking towards you in confident steps. She chooses the table closest to you, resting her arms over the chairs next to hers.

“Good morning, Y/n.” She says, completely comfortable.

“Morning.” You can’t help but frown, confused. At least her presence offers enough of a distraction from your actual problems. “What are you doing here, Ryujin?”

Ryujin smiles, her eyes small and dazed, so pretty it should be a crime. The rays of weak sunlight brighten her face, making her seem almost innocent. Much different from the night prior. “I heard this place had great food, so I came to check. I woke up pretty hungry, you know.”

“Sure.” You hum, eyeing her suspiciously.

“I’ll have some waffles, pancakes, and coffee. Black, and with no sugar, please.” She says, after looking at the menu. You nod, making your way to the kitchen as quickly as possible, in hopes of escaping her intense stares.

It’s unsettling, how you’re able to feel her gaze burning holes on your back. The sensation takes you back to the night prior, a tingling sensation looking for a place in your core. You push it away, opening the double doors of the cooking area.

“Yoona unnie?” You look for the woman, watching her put her phone down to pay you attention. Smiling, you hand her a small note. “We have a customer.”

“Oh, so early! No one comes on Saturdays.” She mumbles, peeking out behind you to spot Ryujin, who stares at the road in boredom. “I’ll prepare it quickly. Meanwhile, you can go entertain her.”

You laugh at Yoona’s suggestion, shaking your head. “I’d rather wait here, with you.”

Yoona’s face turns serious, as she points at you. “No one is allowed in the kitchen while I cook. Goodbye, Y/n.” You grumble, having no choice but to go back to Ryujin while the woman pushes you out the doors.

Having coffee without any sugar is a trait reserved for psychopaths, which you think suits Ryujin well. You pour her drink in your favorite mug, before returning to her table.

“I thought you also cooked.” The raven-haired girl stands when you approach, promptly pulling the chair in front of herself.

She gestures for you to sit, and you frown, ready to argue that you are still working. The knowing look she gives you is enough to make you sit down, obedient.

“I can’t cook to save my life.” You explain, giggling to cover the shame of having to admit such a fact. “Yoona does it effortlessly, though. Her pastries are the best.”

Ryujin nods, scrunching her nose as she looks around. “And where’s your friend, may I ask?” Her smirk turns playful, pointy canines exposed at you. “Are you not taking care of her right now?”

“She’s not a child, right? She can take care of herself.” Although you play along in her game — repeating what she’d told you the day prior, you’re also quick to add. “Besides, she’s sleeping right now. Chaery always sleeps until late after a party.”

“Lucky her.” Ryujin whistles, and you agree. You wish you could sleep like your best friend, too. Not only did Chaeryeong often sleep until late at noon, but she’s also the heaviest sleeper you’ve ever met, unlike yourself. You envy her ability to sleep through literally anything possible.

Yoona calls for you to get Ryujin’s order, which you quickly do. The dishes look impeccable once you place them on the table. Yoona never misses.

It wasn’t rare to have customers who came by themselves, with the desire to have a moment of peace and enjoy their meals. With that in mind, you motion to leave, leaving Ryujin alone to do just that. She surprises you by grabbing your hand, ever so gently.

“This one’s for you, actually.” She pushes the pancake plate in your direction, hand still holding on to yours. Her fingers trace gentle circles in your palm. “Would mind joining me? I hate to eat alone.”

Leaving you without words is, apparently, one of Ryujin’s many talents. Once again, you feel drawn to her, incapable of saying no. It’s something in her eyes, you suppose; the way she stares at you, attentive, from the moment you first met each other. She acknowledges every little detail about you, and most importantly, she listens. You didn’t know someone could understand you entirely like that — it’s both thrilling and scary, to know you’re so aligned.

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” You murmur, and she shakes her head, in a clear sign that you don’t.

The two of you eat, soon engaged in lively conversation. It’s a pleasant surprise, to know Ryujin is much more than a pretty, intimidating face: she’s smart, funny, and very attentive. You both enjoy the same books, and she’s respectful and mindful when sharing her perspective about topics you disagree on. Time flies, and you find yourself comfortable in her presence.

Getting you to talk about yourself is difficult — even Chaeryeong has to ask repeatedly to get information from you. You just can’t help it: being raised to be a discreet, private person has created the habit of bottling up your emotions, and hiding things until you couldn’t handle them anymore.

However, the words flow freely with Ryujin. You want to share about your life, your hobbies, the people you love… it’s just somewhat easy when it comes to her.

And she doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. Far from that, Ryujin drinks from you: acknowledging every little detail about yourself, enchanted and marveled.

You barely notice how quickly you’ve eaten breakfast, not even a small bite left. Ryujin is surprised, too, to not have noticed either. You’ve distracted her and knocked down her defenses without even meaning to do so.

“Okay, so I might’ve come here with a purpose…” She says, and you shake your head. Of course, she did. “In my defense, I found this on my bedside table, a little after you left, and it looked pretty fancy to just keep to myself.”

In her hands, there’s a cross necklace, shining in bright silver. Your fingers go to your neck unconsciously, in hopes of touching the one you kept with yourself at all times — only to hold on to the air, instead. You grasp, bile bundling up in your stomach at the thought of the hours you’ve spent without your precious necklace.

As soon as you reach out for it, Ryujin holds the jewelry away from your hands.

“May I?” She unclasps the lock, gesturing to where it should be rested.

You nod, eager to have your necklace back. Holding your hair away from your face, you turn around, waiting for her. Her breath is hot on the back of your neck, and for a moment, you think she might kiss you. Instead, she takes a step back, a proud look on her face as she runs her thumb against the bruises on your collarbone. “There. All done, angel.”

“Thank you.” The words that leave your mouth are sincere, and you can’t muster how grateful you truly are. “I… Thank you, really. This is so important to me. How can I repay you?”

No matter how much you might hate Rosé at the current moment, that necklace means everything to you. It reminds you of a time when things were less complicated. When you were too young to understand what was truly going on in your life, lost in the innocence of childhood.

“Don’t worry about it.” Ryujin brushes it off, getting up quickly. She drops some money on the table, definitely much more than what she’s ordered. “We’ll see each other soon. Bye, Y/n. You look beautiful, by the way.”

Just as fast as she appeared, Ryujin’s gone. Leaving you to wonder what’s underneath all that mysterious façade, you go back to your chores, unable to brush the raven-haired girl off from your thoughts.

—

Rosé’s been having one hell of a week. Weeks, or even a month.

As if dealing with her family’s business wasn’t enough, with people constantly waiting for an opportunity to betray her and plan their downfall, this new gang that’s been stealing all her clients and supplies has been pissing her off in ways she didn’t deem possible. And now, she has your stupid feelings to worry about. God, you’re so damn sensitive it drives her crazy.

“Rosie?” Lisa’s voice reminds the woman she’s in the middle of a meeting — one she called herself. “What’s going on? You’ve been distracted ever since you walked through the door.”

“Yeah. This fucking sucks, but don’t fret too much. It’s not like we’ve not dealt with situations like those before. Those bitches will get what they deserve.” Jisoo says, in an attempt to soothe Rosé’s nerves. Her tone is excited — perhaps too much.

She’s always been a little masochist.

They’re right, which only makes Rosé more frustrated. She should be planning her revenge, not pouting over a stupid fight.

“I know, it’s just—“ She sighs. “Never mind. Let’s get this over with.”

They all nod, chatting vividly, but Rosé’s phone lights up before she’s able to join the conversation. There’s a message from an unknown number, which is unusual.

The content of it is what unsettles her the most. Her mouth dries and the air runs from her lungs as she stares at the image sent — A picture of you, boobs covered by someone’s arms and bare waist filled with bruises.

The message under it says Thank you for the guns and the snack. I’ll make sure to come back for more, later.

It doesn’t have a slight indication of who sent it, but Rosé doesn’t need a confirmation. She knows exactly who did.

“Jennie!” She screams, even though the girl is not far away from herself, sitting by the long table in the dining room. “Grab the stuff immediately. We’ll do this at my house, instead.” And so she turns, barging orders as she goes.

No one’s going to use her little sister as bait and live.

This newcomer might’ve had a few strikes of beginner's luck, but Rosé’s patience had run thin. She wouldn’t tolerate any insolences anymore, no.

She’ll have Ryujin’s head.

[wonysugar]

show them | lee chaeyoung

synopsis: your camgirl best friend invites you to feature in one of her shows<3

pairing: camgirl!isa x fem!reader

genres: just pure smut tbh nothing else going on LOL

warnings: degradation, heavy humiliation, voyeurism/exhibitionism, objectification, kind of dumbification

word count: 1069

a/n: so i was working on my sana fic, but i had this thought stuck in my head and it wasn’t letting me concentrate so i wrote this instead. here are some crumbs to feast off of while i finish the rest!!

“thank you so much for the donation seraphinee!” thanked your best friend, isa, as she was pumping her fingers in and out of you with no mercy whatsoever whilst reading the comments and checking the tips. it’s been about 40 minutes and you still couldn’t fully believe you were here doing this, getting used in front of a camera, with a whole audience watching. and you were even more shocked that you enjoyed every bit of it.

first, her casually confessing that she did this for a living, and then straight up inviting you to one her lives? it all felt like a fever dream, but here you were.

“do you see this, baby? people are liking it, alot. maybe i should invite you over more often.” she said in a playful tone, still working her fingers inside of your walls, making you clench around her as you moaned out her name repeatedly. “don’t you think so, y/n?” she added as she increased the speed of her movements, making you a whining mess. words couldn’t come out of you, you weren’t bothered enough to make them come out.

“answer me, you slut.” she harshly pulled on your hair, making your head throw back as her fingering grew rougher by the second, making it even harder for you to form a complete and correct sentence.

“y-yes isa, i - fuck - i think so t-too.” you said, eyes rolling at the back of your head at her calling you ‘such a good girl’ for her. being so vulnerable like this for hundreds of people to see and get off to, getting used like this by your own best friend, all of it, turned you on so much. then, as you were getting closer to your climax, her rough movements suddenly stopped.

“awe, you didn’t get to cum, did you, baby?” she mocked, you whined out of impatience, bucking your hips for any type of friction, mumbling and muttering little ‘please’s as she chuckled. it was honestly pathetic.

“sooo needy. and you’re letting everybody see you like this, too. everyone can see how much of a fucking whore you really are, and you’re just letting it happen hm? you like being used by your best friend while a bunch of nobodies jerk off to it, don’t you, you dumb fucking bitch?” she giggled as your chest heaved up and down, desperately trying to find enough oxygen. then, she pulled out her fingers, which earned a slow whimper from you, proceeded to lick them thoroughly and turned to the chat.

“my loves, what do you think we should use on this poor, naughty little thing? she clearly would cum to basically anything at this point, i mean, have you seen her?” she mockingly said, spreading apart your pussy lips with two fingers so everybody saw how dripping wet you were, it was so embarrassing, but you loved it so much. “so, let your imagination run wildd.”

lots of objects were coming up, some of them absolutely ridiculous, but most people were suggesting something pretty average, like a vibrator or a dildo. isa, at that moment, was feeling cheeky, so she chuckled to herself and grabbed a vibrator from her drawer.

she motioned for you to get on your back, cunt diagonally facing the webcam, she set the toy on the highest level, not even bothering to look at the donations anymore. she was focused on you now, and only you.

“now, i’m gonna use this on you. you are not allowed to cum until i say you can, okay darling?” her eyes and voice lustful, like her only intention was to ruin every part of you, it sent chills down your spine. you nodded.

“words.” she added, you shivered. “y-yes ma’am.” is what weakly came out of your mouth, and in response, she laughed in your face.

“ma’am? god, you really are a whore. you’re like a stupid bitch in heat. you probably can’t even think right, poor thing.” she said, still laughing at you. soon enough, she pressed the vibrator against your clit, making you gasp at the sudden sensation. you swore you could’ve just came right then and there. but you couldn’t, you had to hold it in. for isa.

what felt like an hour passed and she pressed it harder, sometimes to the point that it hurt you, but she didn’t give a fuck about that. in fact, she wanted you to be in pain. she knew how much you wanted to cum, but she also knew the amount of effort you were putting in not to.

“pleaseeepleasepleaseplease isa let me cumm please i’ve been so g-good.” you begged, letting go of every last bit of dignity you had left, which already wasn’t a lot. but, you couldn’t help it, you felt like you were gonna explode.

“hmmm… do you guys think we should let her?” she asked the audience, gently massaging your folds as she continued abusing your core with the toy, making it almost numb. fuck, it hurt.

she looked at the chat with an innocent smile plastered on her face, waiting for responses. when she saw them appear, she was a bit disappointed on seeing that most of them were a bunch of approvals on letting you cum, but she also did agree that you’ve went through enough for that day.

she looked at your shaking body with amusement, because that’s all you were at that moment. a fucktoy, something to entertain her. “you wanna cum, love?” she asked, acting as if it wasn’t obvious enough. you nod eagerly. you quietly begged her to let you finish, breathy moans escaping your mouth also. then, she put the vibrator away and… replaced it with her mouth?? “then cum on my tongue.” she ordered.

the feeling of her mouth on you felt incredible, especially after having nothing but a vibration on your clit for 10 whole minutes. you honestly felt pathetic, because a singular swipe of the tongue is what brought you to your peak. you closed your eyes as the orgasm you’ve been waiting so long for hits you like a truck. you let out a long and loud moan, calling out to her in any way you could think of. that’s the thing, you weren’t able to think, it all just felt sososososo good.

“that’s right, show them how good i made you feel, y/n.”

[yearningitzysnaps]

You always say I'm too fragile and can't handle it, but Chaeryeong, I can handle your big cock and I can handle you being rough. Please daddy, give it to me

Genre: Lovely Smut

Pairing: G!P Dom Lee Chaeryeong and Sub! Female Reader

“Can you really handle rougher sex with me? You’re always unarching your back, running away, or putting your hand on my stomach to slow me down when I’m going a bit rough on you. I’ll have to tie your hands behind your back if we do, and maybe your feet together too you like to kick too. I honestly just hope you enjoy yourself a lot during it.”

- G!P Lee Chaeryeong

[00angelyoon]

“𝘀𝗼𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘀.”

—————————————

its not exclusive to kpop but its mostly kpop.

also these songs are and can be popular its just songs i like right now so it will update whenever i feel like it.

. ‘𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐮𝐥.’ listen this is a bop. like leave my kidz bop girlie alone, its a masterpiece simply. like be for real such a pretty fucking song. i really love the part where she’s like “i’m the baddest you’ve ever seen.” the chorus is so catchy.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦　　

.‘𝘀𝘂𝗴𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗼𝗮𝘁 𝗯𝘆 𝗻𝗮𝘁𝘁𝘆.’ just again such a pretty song, like whoever is making their songs is doing such a good job, like my second favorite song right now. its literally my most streamed track. please i beg go listen to this song right now. like the “eopjani.” part is so good and the pre chorus is so perfect

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

“idubilu by seventeen ppu unit.” this is no doubt my favourite song currently, the lyrics are so perfect so pretty. minghao’s chorus has me in a fucking chokehold, like i bark when it comes on. jun and hao’s pre chorus is something else bro, i love love hoshi’s rap so so much and that’s coming from a vocal girlie. giving the post chorus or whatever to the china line is the best thing pledis has ever done ever, chan sings like the angels above and thats all that matters.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

“light a flame by seventeen ‘96 line.” listen to this song now. so beautiful like I'm literally listening to it right now. wonwoo’s voice is so handsome and because of that fucking chorus he can curb stomp me snd i’d thank him no doubt about i. Hoshi is an honorary member of the vocal team like he eats cds for breakfast microphones for lunch and albums for dinner. woozi and juns “we already know losing control.” verse, is just i can’t explain my love for it in words and the power it holds over me.

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“thirsty by aespa.” so perfect, ningning really popped off in this song it was really her era. the second part of the song is the best part, just so pretty also so good when you’re doing your hair or getting ready to go out, makes me feel so so cozy.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

“what it is by doechii.” doechii ate, no crumbs left plate devoured fucking simple. her vocals sound so so good. she didn’t come to play at all, she went into the studio prepared.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

“look here by bts.” it’s very retro and funky and cute just simply mwah. the part were jungkook and jimin were harmonising or whatever they were doing together is my favourite part in the song.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

“shh by kiss of life.” now this is how you debut take fucking notes.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

“like crazy by jimin.” its my 3rd favourite song right now, like i like it so much that i wrote a fic inspired it, a quote for this song was my description. the “the moon embraces you.” part in korean is my favourite part in the song.

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“blue flames by le sserafim.” its so retro and fun love it so so much. the “that that is faction.” part is literally my description right now its so cute the only part i don’t like is kazuha’s part at the end but other than that this song is certified bop.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

“knock by chaeyeon.” it’s so cute. the pre chorus is so pretty. i’m just loving it so much. literally just because of this song she’s become my favourite soloist, can’t wait for her new comeback.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔ 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　 ˚　.˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　 　　 　　　　 ੈ✧̣̇˳·˖✶ ✦

[thighsa]

I still don't know how people survived from this Isa

[fanfiction4sooya]

Masterlist

Hi guys! Just a quick introduction: I'm Lua, 27 brazilian woman who loves to write. This blog is for kpop girl groups and gg's only. I write for fun and for fun only, so I don't like angst and will probably write it only under request (and I can say no if it makes me uncomfortable bc I'm really bad at it).

I try to be as polite and gentle as a human possibly can, but I can and will set boundaries (and be mean) if I have to. (Some people tend to go crazy since they are anonymous)

Mainly a NSFw blog focused on Sub F!R x Dom Idol and Idol x Idol; but feel free to request Dom Fem!R :) I write imagines, thoughts, MTL, polygamous relationships (3 people only) and honestly a lot of other stuff, just check with me on my ask box and I'll let you know!!

I only write smut for girls with legal age/people I'm comfortable writing for;

If I see spam in my ask box I won't respond and probably will delete it, I definitely do not to want to bring any negative attention towards anyone, nor shame anyone.

I don't write about any disorders at all.

Do NOT call me mommy under any circumstances, I'll be rude to you if you do.

Please be kind to each other! 💖

My favorite groups are:

BP, Dreamcatcher, Itzy (Top 3). Twice (For the n*zi shirt incident I chose to NOT write for Chaeyoung, no hate for her or those who write for her), Red velvet, IVE, Loona, WJSN, New Jeans (But I don't write for them), Le Sserafim, XG, G- Idle, aespa, SNSD and VIVIZ

Soloists: Yena, Bibi, Eunbi, BoA, Sunmi, CL, Chungha, Soojin

Dancers: NoZe, Lee Jung.

So here are the links for what I write. Fics are blue, imagines are pink, asks and requests are red!

BlackPink:

Crazy over you - Jisoo x Fem! Reader

Dom! Jennie x bimbo reader

Dreamcatcher:

Office game - Handong x Yoohyeon

Happy Su-A day!

Itzy:

Annoyingly you (A! Chaeryeong/ O!Lia)

Hot wife Chaeryeong

BFF's Yeji and Chaeryeong

Power Bottom Chaeryeong

Soft love making with Chaeryeong

Pervy neighbor chaeryeong

No rush (Yeji x F!R)

Le Sserafim:

Make me yours (Sakura X Yunjin)

Can't save you now (Sakura x Chaewon x Kazuha)

Speak up (Dom Kazuha x F!Sub reader)

Lakers Yunjin fucking you

Sloppy head with Yunjin

Puppy needs (Hybrid Yunjin x F!Reader)

Dog hybrid yunjin claiming you

Just a quick lesson (Yunjin x F!Reader)

Twice:

Fire & Gasoline (A! Jihyo x O! Reader)

Pretty Pet (Sana x F! Reader)

Mornings with you (G!P Momo x F!Reader)

G!P Mina x F! Reader

Jealous Step mommy Sana (G!P)

MILF Sana x Maid F! Reader

Fisting with Step mom! Sana

G!P Doctor Sana x F! Reader

Rewarding Idol!Jihyo

Cockwarming w/ Jihyo

Masc! Jihyo

Possessive G!P Momo

Deep throat w/ G!P Mina

Sana x miyeon

GF Jeongyeon

Brat tamers Jeong and Sana

Loophole (sub nayeon x sub reader)

Sana overstimulating you

Twice as hybrids (g!p)

Jeongyeon bottoming for you

On edge (sana x F! Reader)

Cry for me (Dahyun x F! Reader)

Forbidden dream (G!p Nayeon x Fem! Reader)

G!p jeongyeon making you cum

Momo x chubby Fem! Reader

IVE:

Double Trouble (G!P Yujin x F!Reader x G!P Gaeul)

Rough G!P Yujin x innocent F!Reader

Yujin degrading F!Reader

Nerdy student Yujin

Cockwarming Yujin

G!P Gaeul w/ innocent tutor F!Reader

Birthday Sex w/ Wonyoung

Wonyoung x Bratty F!Reader

Riding hung Gauel

Wolf hybrid Yujin

My dream girl (Wonyoung x Liz) - Fluff

Possessive hybrid wonyoung

Loser yujin giving you head (G!P)

G-Idle:

A little relief (Shuhua x Miyeon)

Miyeon x Yuqi

Miyeon with a breeding kink

Somnophilia & Mimin

Thoughts on mafia boss Miyeon

Red Velvet:

Addictive (Wendy x F!Reader)

Possessive mommy Irene

Loyal dog (Sub A! Seulgi x Dom O! Reader)

Cult leaders RV fucking you

Alpha Seulgi helping on your first heat

Dirty thoughts about Irene

Joy + innocence kink

Aespa:

Mommy Karina

The closest to her (G!P Winter x F!R)

Gamer winter neglecting you

Dirty thoughts about ningning

Somnophilia with puppy minjeong

Call her now (Karina x Fem!R)

SNSD:

Let me help (Tiffany x F!Reader)

Fox hybrid yuri

Possessive alpha Tiffany

How big is alpha Bada/ Tiffany

Jessica Jung and F! R first time

Tiffany with younger gf

Somno w/ Tiffany on her birthday

WJSN:

Use me please (Exy x Dayoung)

XG:

Pillow princess Harvey

Loona: -

I'll be your sweet dream (Heejin X F!Reader)

Camgirl! yeojin

Thoughts on G!P Kim Lip

VIVIZ: -

KISS OF LIFE:

Kitty cat (Hybrid Julie x F!Reader)

SOLOISTS:

Yena:

Married Reader x Yena

Car sex w/ Yena

Eunbi:

Bitter (Eunbi x F! Reader)

BIBI:

Touchy BIBI

BoA:

Dom coded BoA

Sunmi:

CL:

Chungha:

Soojin:

DANCERS:

Bada Lee: NOT TAKING REQUESTS

Sly fox, dumb bunny (G!P Bada x F!Reader)

Alpha Bada

How big is alpha Bada/ Tiffany

Alpha Bada in rut

NoZe:

Making out with NoZe

Lee Jung:

Hard dom Lee Jung

[kwilquib]

Careful What You Wish For

Series: Promised 9

Chapter - 1

Chapter 0 | Chapter 2

Lee Chaeyeoung (Fromis_9) X Male reader

Word Count: 8.8k+

a/n: please read chapter 0 first...

“...Just a little nap.” A voice—familiar yet frustratingly elusive—echoes in your mind as you jolt awake, drenched in cold sweat. The words linger, slippery and insistent, like a whisper you’re not supposed to remember.

Your heart pounds as your eyes dart around, landing on the ceiling of your room. Afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting golden streaks across the walls. You sit up abruptly, a vague unease twisting in your chest. Something feels... off, though you can’t quite place it.

Shaking the thought, you glance at the alarm clock on your bedside table, only to realize it isn’t there. Did you forget to set it up last night? No time to ponder. Your body moves on instinct. Late. You’re definitely late.

Throwing on a crumpled shirt and the first pair of jeans you find, you fumble with your shoes, skipping the hassle of socks. There’s no time for a shower; no time for anything, really. Professor Min doesn’t tolerate tardiness, and while you’d normally convince yourself you could charm your way out of it, today is different. You feel heavy—foggy, like a part of you is still struggling to wake up.

You rush out of your room, backpack slung hastily over one shoulder. Yet as your hand touches the doorknob, you pause. A strange sense of déjà vu washes over you, like you’ve forgotten something important. A flicker of... something—a faint image—dances on the edge of your consciousness.

Darkened windows. Cyan blue. Laughter and whispers.

You blink, and it’s gone.

“What the hell...?” you mutter, shaking your head as you swing the door open.

The hallway feels unfamiliar, even though you’ve walked it countless times. The walls seem a little too bare, the light a little too dim. Your feet carry you forward, but the nagging sensation that something isn’t right refuses to leave.

As you step outside, the sun’s warmth strikes your skin, grounding you momentarily. Yet, as you hurry toward campus, you can’t help but glance over your shoulder, as though expecting to see someone—or something—following.

The faint echo of that voice, soft and teasing, creeps back into your thoughts.

“Just a little nap.”

And for the life of you, you can’t remember what came before it.

As you step out of the dorm building, your hurried stride falters. A particular car catches your eye—a sleek, emerald green Mini Cooper parked casually at the curb. Its glossy finish gleams under the afternoon sun, an almost hypnotic allure drawing your gaze.

You pause, a strange pang of familiarity gripping your chest. It’s an uncommon car for this area, a neighborhood more accustomed to well-worn sedans and the occasional scooter. This Mini Cooper feels out of place, yet somehow… it doesn’t. Something about it nags at the edges of your mind, tugging at thoughts you can’t quite grasp.

“Why does this feel so... familiar?” you mumble under your breath, your feet rooted to the spot.

You study the car closely, as though its curves and details might unlock the reason it stands out. The deep green hue reminds you of something—vivid yet blurred, like a dream slipping away the moment you wake. Your thoughts swim with fragmented flashes: evening, under the street light, brown hair.

And then, nothing.

You shake your head, frustrated with yourself. It’s just a car, you tell yourself, though the words feel hollow. A part of you knows it isn’t just a car. It’s connected to something—or someone. But no matter how hard you try to chase the thought, it remains just out of reach, like a name you can’t remember no matter how many times you roll it around in your mind.

With a final glance at the Mini Cooper, you force yourself to move. There’s no time to stand around playing detective. Yet, as you walk away, you can’t help but feel like you’ve left behind more than just a car.

As you jogged up the university steps, the sharp echo of your hurried footsteps reverberated through the halls. The sound was accompanied by the pounding in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and residual confusion from your abrupt awakening. Your mind raced just as quickly as your feet.

"Please don't be over, please don't be over," you muttered under your breath, clutching your bag tightly as you approached the classroom door.

With a quick glance at the room number to confirm you were at the right place, you pushed the door open. The chatter inside abruptly quieted, and you were met with a sea of unfamiliar faces staring back at you. No sign of Professor Min. No familiar classmates. Instead, a lecturer you didn’t recognize stood at the front of the room, mid-discussion.

"Uh… sorry," you stammered, stepping back awkwardly.

The lecturer barely spared you a glance, and the students returned to their notebooks and screens. Confused, you slipped back into the hallway, your heart sinking. This didn’t make sense. You checked the schedule last night—it was supposed to be Literature in this room today.

Pulling out your phone, you glanced at the time. 1:47 PM. That was correct. But something else caught your eye.

The date.

You blinked, certain you’d read it wrong. Friday.

But that’s impossible, you thought. Yesterday was Wednesday, Wasn’t it?

Your stomach churned as you refreshed the screen, but the date stubbornly remained the same. You checked your calendar app, your messages—everything confirmed it was Friday.

A cold wave washed over you as the realization hit. Somehow, an entire day had slipped past you, and you didn’t even remember it. You staggered back against the wall, struggling to steady your breathing.

What’s going on?

—

You find yourself staring at your reflection in the school's bathroom mirror, your damp hair clings to your forehead. The gnawing discomfort of losing an entire day weighed heavily on you, but what else could you do? you need to move on. Whatever had happened to Thursday—or your memory of it—was a mystery you weren’t equipped to solve. At least not now. For now, you have to focus on damage control.

Pulling out your phone, you checked the course materials. The latest lecture—The Promised Nine. you frowned. The title rang a distant bell, but you couldn't quite place it. Deciding you wouldn't get anything done in your cramped apartment, you fix your damped hair and head out . Golden Brew seemed like the best choice; it was quiet, comfortable, and you had a shift there later anyway.

The walk to Golden Brew feels longer than usual. The streets are quieter now, the usual hustle of students replaced by a calm that only deepens your unease. You can’t shake the feeling that something is missing—something important—but every time you try to grasp it, it slips away like smoke.

When you finally push open the door to the café, the familiar scent of roasted coffee beans and freshly baked pastries washes over you, grounding you for a moment. The place is bustling, as always, with students hunched over laptops and faculty members sipping espresso. You scan the room, looking for a quiet corner to settle into, when your eyes land on her.

Gyuri.

She’s behind the counter, her usual warm smile in place as she hands a customer their drink. But something about her feels different today. Her movements are slower, more deliberate, and there’s a faint crease between her brows that wasn’t there before. It’s subtle, but you notice it—the way her gaze flickers to the door every so often, as if she’s waiting for someone.

“Junho,” she calls out, her voice warm but with a hint of something you can’t quite place. “You’re early today.”

You approach the counter, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I… had some time to kill. Thought I’d get a head start on some reading before my shift.”

Gyuri studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re not usually this early. Everything okay?”

Her question catches you off guard. There’s a suspicion in her tone, a probing curiosity that makes you feel like she’s seeing right through you. “Yeah, everything’s fine,” you say quickly, perhaps too quickly. “Just… trying to stay on top of things.”

Gyuri doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t press further. Instead, she nods toward the usual spot in the corner. “Well, find a seat and make yourself at home. Let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” you say, grabbing a cup of coffee before heading to an empty table near the window.

As you sit down and pull out the book you borrowed from the library, your eyes drift across the room. That’s when you notice her.

Seoyeon.

She’s sitting in her usual spot, hunched over her laptop. She looks the same as ever, but something about her presence feels… heavier today, as if she’s carrying a weight she doesn’t want anyone to notice.

You watch her for a moment, struck by how familiar she seems, even though you’ve never had a proper conversion with her. She’s always here, always in that same spot, typing away at something. You’ve seen her countless times, but today, for some reason, she stands out to you. Maybe it’s the way she seems so detached from the world around her, or the way her tired eyes flicker to the screen with a kind of quiet intensity. Whatever it is, you can’t look away.

Gyuri doesn’t mention her, doesn’t even glance in her direction. It’s as if Seoyeon doesn’t exist to her, which strikes you as odd. You’ve always assumed they knew each other, given how often Seoyeon is here, but now you’re not so sure. The two of them seem to exist in separate worlds, even though they’re in the same room.

And yet… something about the way they don’t interact feels wrong to you. It’s not just that they don’t acknowledge each other—it’s that they should. You don’t know why you think that, but the thought lingers, nagging at the back of your mind. There’s a strange dissonance in the air, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit, and you can’t shake the feeling that you’re missing something obvious.

Shaking off the thought, you pull out your phone and open the document. The title stares back at you: Myths and Legends: The Promised Nine. It’s the same myth Professor Min discussed in class yesterday—or at least, the class you think was yesterday. You flip to the chapter, skimming the first few lines. The words feel familiar, almost too familiar, as if you’ve read them before. A faint sense of déjà vu washes over you, and you pause, your fingers hovering over the page.

“Long ago, during a time when humanity was steeped in chaos, war, and unrelenting greed, there was a king—a wise man, yet weary of the barbarism that plagued his people…”

The words echo in your mind, but not just from Professor Min’s lecture. Something deeper, something more recent, tugs at the edges of your memory. Fragments of last night begin to surface—flickers of a darkened café, the hum of low voices, the glow of cyan light. Your chest tightens as the images grow clearer. The women gathered around the table, their presence commanding and otherworldly. Gyuri’s uncharacteristic coolness. Jiheon’s playful smile, her fingers glowing with that eerie light. The weight of their words—The Promised Nine. Anchor. Deceit.

Your breath catches, and you nearly drop your phone. It all comes rushing back—the meeting, the cryptic conversation, Jiheon’s spell. You remember everything. The shock of it hits you like a punch to the gut, and you grip the edge of the table to steady yourself. Your heart races, your mind reeling as the pieces fall into place.

Gyuri and Seoyeon. They were there. They were part of it. They’re part of this—whatever this is. The realization sends a chill down your spine, and you glance up, your eyes darting to Gyuri behind the counter. She’s watching you, her expression unreadable but her gaze sharp, as if she can sense the turmoil in your mind. Seoyeon, too, has paused her typing, her tired eyes flickering toward you for the briefest moment before returning to her screen.

You force yourself to take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in your head. You can’t let them know you remember. Not yet. Not until you figure out what’s going on. Slowly, you close the book and set it aside, your hands trembling slightly. You take a sip of your coffee, the bitter taste grounding you, and pretend to focus on the steam rising from the cup.

But inside, your mind is racing. The Promised Nine. Anchor. The weight of their emotions, their burdens. And you—somehow, you were there. You heard it all. You saw it all. And now, you’re caught in the middle of something far bigger than yourself.

Gyuri’s voice breaks through your thoughts. “Junho, everything okay over there?”

You look up, forcing a smile. “Yeah, just… got lost in thought for a second.”

She studies you for a moment, her gaze lingering a little too long, before nodding. “Let me know if you need anything.”

“Will do,” you say, your voice steady despite the storm inside.

As she turns away, you glance at Seoyeon again. She’s still typing, her movements slow and deliberate, but there’s a tension in her shoulders that wasn’t there before. You can’t tell if she’s aware of your internal crisis or if it’s just your paranoia, but one thing is clear: you’re not as invisible as you’d like to be.

For now, all you can do is keep up the act. You reopen the book, pretending to read, but the words blur as your mind races. The memories of last night play on a loop, each detail sharper than the last. You need answers, but you can’t risk tipping them off. Not until you know what you’re dealing with.

The café hums with activity around you, but at your table, the silence is deafening. You take another sip of your coffee, the bitterness grounding you slightly. Whatever is going on, you’re determined to figure it out. But for now, all you can do is sit here, pretending to read, while the weight of the unknown presses down on you.

The hours drag on as you finally start your shift, your mind still reeling from the flood of memories that returned while reading the book. Every movement feels deliberate, every action calculated, as if Gyuri might notice the slightest slip-up. You’re hyper-aware of her now, her presence looming larger than ever as the two of you work in close proximity behind the counter. Her usual warmth is still there, but it feels… different. Like a mask she’s wearing, one that’s just a little too tight.

You fumble with the espresso machine, nearly spilling a shot as you pour it into a cup. The milk steamer hisses louder than usual, startling you, and you overfill a latte, the foam spilling over the edges. Each mistake piles up, small but noticeable, and you can feel Gyuri’s eyes on you more and more often. Her smile remains, but there’s a tension in her posture, a sharpness in her gaze that makes your stomach twist.

Finally, after you nearly drop a tray of pastries, Gyuri steps closer, her voice low but firm. “Junho, can I talk to you for a second?”

You freeze, your heart pounding as you nod and follow her to a quieter corner of the café. Her warm smile is still in place, but it feels strained now, like it’s holding back something you can’t quite name. Anger? Frustration? Whatever it is, it’s enough to make your palms sweat.

“Is everything okay?” she asks, her tone gentle but probing. “You’ve been… off today.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you say quickly, forcing a smile. “Just… tired, I guess. Didn’t sleep well last night.”

Gyuri studies you for a moment, her eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re sure that’s all it is?”

You nod, though your throat feels dry. “Yeah. Just a rough night.”

She doesn’t look convinced, but before she can press further, the bell above the door jingles, drawing both of your attention. You glance over, and your stomach drops.

Chaeyoung.

She strides in with effortless confidence, her presence commanding the room the moment she crosses the threshold. A bold blue sweater clings to her frame, the faux fur trim brushing against her collarbone—a perfect reflection of her duality. Allure and restraint. Desire and control. Her sharp gaze sweeps across the café before settling on you, a sly smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

You recognize her instantly from last night. But you force yourself to look away, pretending you don’t.

From the corner of your eye, Gyuri stiffens ever so slightly, though she quickly masks it with her usual warm smile. “I’ll let you handle this,” she says, her tone light but laced with something unreadable. Before you can respond, she’s already disappearing into the back, leaving you alone at the counter with Chaeyoung.

Your heart pounds as you turn to face her, forcing a polite smile. “Welcome to Golden Brew. What can I get for you?”

Chaeyoung doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she leans against the counter, her eyes locking onto yours with unsettling ease. “Junho, right?”

Your stomach drops. The name feels heavier coming from her lips. You scramble to keep your composure. “I... don’t know you.”

She smirks, savoring your discomfort. “Of course you don’t.” She gestures lazily toward your chest. “I read it off your name tag. Unless we have met before?”

“No— I... we haven’t,” you stammer, fingers curling involuntarily. “Can I take your order?”

“I’ll have a caramel macchiato. Extra shot.” She watches you with an almost amused expression. Then, casually, she adds, “Funny thing... I feel like we have met. Maybe you just don’t remember?”

Your throat tightens, and you quickly focus on the register, keying in her order. “That’ll be 4,500 won.”

Chaeyoung makes no move to pay. Instead, she leans in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You remember, don’t you?”

Your hands tremble slightly as you fumble with the cash drawer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Her smile widens, and there’s a flicker of something dangerous in her eyes. “Sure you don’t. But just in case you’re lying... meet me after your shift.” She tilts her head slightly, the threat barely concealed beneath her playful tone. “If you don’t, I might have to let the others know your memories are coming back. And trust me... you don’t want that.”

Your pulse quickens, the café suddenly feeling too small, too stifling. Before you can respond, Gyuri reappears from the back, her timing unnervingly precise. She places the caramel macchiato on the counter, her smile unwavering but her eyes sharper than usual. “Here’s your drink. That’ll be 4,500 won.”

Chaeyoung straightens, pulling out her wallet with deliberate slowness. “Thanks, Gyuri. Always so helpful.”

Gyuri’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s an unmistakable tension in her posture. “Junho, can you check on table three? They’ve been waiting for their order.”

You seize the opportunity, nodding quickly and stepping away. As you walk toward the other side of the café, you can feel Chaeyoung’s gaze burning into your back, her presence lingering like an unwelcome shadow.

—

The shift drags on, each minute feeling heavier than the last. By the time evening rolls around, the café has emptied out, the usual hum of chatter replaced by an eerie silence. You’re hyper-aware of Gyuri’s presence, her every movement sharp and deliberate, as if she’s watching you more closely than usual. Your clumsy mistakes throughout the day haven’t gone unnoticed, and the tension between you feels like a taut wire, ready to snap.

Seoyeon, who had been typing away in her usual corner, left at some point without you even noticing. Her absence feels strange, as if the café lost a piece of its atmosphere when she walked out. You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you barely register Gyuri approaching you, her expression softer now but still tinged with concern.

“Junho,” she says, her voice gentle but firm. “You can leave early tonight. I’ll close up.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Are you sure? I can stay and help—”

“No,” she interrupts, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’ve been… off today. You should rest. You don’t look well.”

Her words sting, not because they’re harsh, but because they’re true. You do feel off—like you’re teetering on the edge of something you can’t quite understand. Still, you hesitate, glancing around the café. “Are you sure you don’t need me?”

Gyuri’s smile is warm, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m sure. Go home, Junho. Get some sleep.”

You nod reluctantly, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. As you head for the door, you can feel her gaze on your back, heavy and unreadable. The bell above the door jingles softly as you step outside, the cool evening air hitting you like a splash of water.

The street is quiet, the golden glow of the café’s windows fading behind you as you walk. Your mind is still racing, the events of the day—and the night before—swirling together in a chaotic mess. You’re so lost in thought that you almost miss it.

A flash of light catches your eye, and you turn to see a sleek, blue sapphire Porsche parked a short distance away. Its engine purrs softly, the headlights briefly flickering as if to get your attention. Your breath hitches. It’s one of the cars you saw last night, parked outside the café after hours. And now, it’s here.

Your stomach twists as you realize what—or rather, who—it must belong to. Chaeyoung.

The memory of her threat echoes in your mind: “Meet me after your shift. If you don’t, I might have to let the others know your memories came back.”

You hesitate, your feet rooted to the spot. Part of you wants to turn around, to walk away and pretend you didn’t see anything. But another part—the part that remembers the weight of her gaze, the sharpness of her smile—knows you don’t have a choice.

Taking a deep breath, you walk toward the car. As you approach, the passenger-side window rolls down, revealing Chaeyoung behind the wheel. Her sharp eyes meet yours, a sly smile playing on her lips. She’s dressed in the same sleek blue dress from earlier, the deep blue fabric catching the faint glow of the streetlights.

“Get in,” she says, her voice smooth and commanding.

You glance around, as if hoping for some kind of escape, but the street is empty. Swallowing your unease, you open the door and slide into the passenger seat. The interior of the car is as luxurious as you’d expect, the leather seats cool against your skin. The scent of her perfume—something rich and intoxicating—fills the air, making your head spin.

Chaeyoung doesn’t say a word as she pulls away from the curb, the car gliding smoothly through the quiet streets. The silence is heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and the occasional flick of the turn signal. You sit stiffly, your hands clenched in your lap, your mind racing. Where is she taking you? What does she want? And most importantly, what happens if the others find out you remember?

The tension builds with every passing second, and you can’t take it anymore. “Chaeyoung,” you say, your voice tight with impatience, “what’s this about? Why did you bring me here?”

She glances at you briefly, her smirk widening. “Impatient, aren’t we? Relax, Junho. We’ll get there.”

“Get where?” you ask, frustration creeping into your tone. “You said you wanted to talk. So talk.”

Chaeyoung chuckles softly, her fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel. “So eager. I like that. But some things are better discussed in private, don’t you think?”

You clench your jaw, trying to keep your composure. “You threatened me back at the café. Said you’d tell the others if I didn’t meet you. What do you want from me?”

Her expression doesn’t change, but there’s a glint in her eyes that makes your stomach twist. “Patience, Junho. All in good time.”

You want to press her further, to demand answers, but something about her calm demeanor stops you. She’s in control, and you’re not. The realization makes your skin crawl.

The car continues to glide through the city, the streets growing quieter and more upscale the further you go. Finally, Chaeyoung slows the car and pulls into the driveway of a luxurious hotel. The building looms ahead, its glass façade reflecting the city lights like a glittering jewel. A valet steps forward as the car comes to a stop, but Chaeyoung waves him off with a dismissive hand.

She turns to you, her sharp eyes locking onto yours. “We’re here.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding. “A hotel? What are we doing here?”

Chaeyoung’s smile is slow and deliberate, her voice dropping to a low, almost teasing tone. “Like I said, some things are better discussed in private. Come on.”

Without waiting for your response, she steps out of the car, her movements smooth and confident. You hesitate for a moment, your mind racing. This feels like a trap, but what choice do you have? If you walk away now, she might make good on her threat. And if the others find out you remember...

Swallowing your unease, you open the door and step out, the cool night air doing little to calm your nerves. Chaeyoung is already walking toward the hotel entrance, her heels clicking softly against the pavement. She doesn’t look back, as if she knows you’ll follow.

And you do.

—

The penthouse suite is bathed in the soft glow of city lights filtering through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The room is spacious and opulent, with plush furniture and a sleek, modern design that screams luxury. But you’re too on edge to appreciate any of it. Chaeyoung stands a few feet away, her back to you as she pours two glasses of wine from a decanter on the counter. The bold blue sweater she wears clings to her frame, the faux fur trim brushing against her collarbone as she moves. She looks relaxed, almost casual, but you know better. There’s nothing casual about this.

“Sit,” she says, not turning around. Her voice is smooth, commanding, and you find yourself obeying before you even realize it. You perch on the edge of a sleek leather sofa, your hands gripping your knees as you watch her.

She turns, holding out a glass of wine to you. You hesitate, but she raises an eyebrow, and you take it, your fingers brushing against hers for the briefest moment. The contact sends a jolt through you, but you quickly pull your hand back, setting the glass on the table in front of you.

“Relax, Junho,” she says, her lips curving into a sly smile as she sits across from you, her posture languid and confident. “I’m not going to bite. Not unless you want me to.”

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. “Why are we here, Chaeyoung? What do you want from me?”

She tilts her head, her smile widening. “Straight to the point, huh? I like that.” She takes a sip of her wine, her eyes never leaving yours. “I told you before. I’m curious about you. You’re… interesting.”

“Interesting how?” you ask, your voice tight.

She leans forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees. “You somehow got through the mist. Jiheon just let you through. And now, Jiheon lied to the others for you.”

You shake your head, trying to keep your composure. “Mist? Jiheon? We’ve only known each other since yesterday. And didn’t you also see me when you entered the café that night?”

“Hmm,” she hums, her gaze sharpening. “Maybe… but that makes you even more interesting.”

You don’t respond, your mind racing. She’s toying with you, and you know it, but you can’t figure out her angle. Why bring you here? Why the games?

Chaeyoung sets her glass down and stands, moving to sit beside you on the sofa. You tense, but she doesn’t touch you, her presence alone enough to make your heart race. “You’re nervous,” she observes, her voice soft, almost teasing. “Why? Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you say quickly, though the lie is obvious. “I just… don’t understand what you want from me.”

She smiles, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Maybe I just want to get to know you better. Is that so bad?”

You don’t answer, your throat dry. She’s too close, her scent—something rich and intoxicating—filling your senses. You try to focus, to keep your guard up, but it’s getting harder. There’s something about her, something magnetic, that’s pulling you in, and you can’t figure out why.

Chaeyoung leans in slightly, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You’re fighting it, Junho. Why?”

“Fighting what?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“This,” she says, gesturing between the two of you. “The tension. The attraction. You feel it too, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to deny it, but the words catch in your throat. She’s right, and you hate that she is. There’s something about her, something irresistible, and the more she leans into it, the harder it is to resist.

“You don’t have to fight it,” she murmurs, her voice like velvet. “Just let go.”

Her words are soft, almost hypnotic, and you feel yourself leaning in despite your better judgment. Your mind screams at you to pull away, to leave, but your body betrays you, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. She’s close now, so close you can feel her breath on your skin, and you know you should stop this, but you can’t.

And then, just as your lips are about to meet hers, you see it—a faint flash in her eyes the color of allure and depth, sapphire blue, like a spark of light catching the edge of a gemstone. It’s there for just a moment, so brief you almost convince yourself you imagined it. But before you can process it, her lips are on yours, and all rational thought evaporates.

The kiss is electric, consuming, and you’re powerless to resist. Her hands slide up to cradle your face, her touch both gentle and demanding, pulling you deeper into the moment. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of wine and something uniquely her, and it’s impossible to think, to breathe, to do anything but surrender.

For a moment, the world narrows to just the two of you—the warmth of her body, the softness of her lips, the way she seems to know exactly how to unravel you. But even as you lose yourself in the kiss, a small, distant part of your mind whispers that something isn’t right. That flash in her eyes… It wasn't normal. It wasn’t human.

But then she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours, and the thought slips away, drowned out by the overwhelming sensation of her. The way she moves is deliberate, teasing, and you can’t help but respond, your own instincts taking over. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and you’re lost in the heat of the moment, unable to think, to reason, to do anything but feel.

And at that moment, you don’t care. Whatever she’s doing, whatever game she’s playing, you’re too far gone to stop it.

When she finally pulls away, it’s slow, deliberate, her lips lingering just inches from yours. Her breath is warm against your skin, and her eyes—now their usual dark, piercing gaze—lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“See?” she murmurs, her voice low and husky. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You're too dazed to respond, your mind still reeling from the kiss. She smiles, a slow, satisfied curve of her lips, and leans back, putting just enough distance between you to make you ache for her closeness again. Your eyes meet with hers. You can tell what she's thinking, she takes pleasure in seeing you this flustered. Chaeyoung's fingers trail down your chest, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

She kneels down in front of you, her eyes locked onto yours as she slowly unfastens the button on your pants. The zipper slides open with a gentle click, and she pulls your trousers down with deft hands. You can't help but breathe a little heavier as she cups your lenght through the fabric of your boxers, her touch sending sparks along your body.

She teases you for a moment, tracing patterns on your skin with her fingers before giving in to the desire that's been building between you two. Chaeyoung asks, her voice low and husky as she leans forward to whisper in your ear, "Want to see something?" You can't help but nod, your throat dry with anticipation.

With a sly smile, Chaeyoung takes her time, pulling down your pants and boxers with a gentle tug. Her eyes dance across your body, drinking in every detail as she licks her lips in anticipation.

"Look at me," Chaeyoung says, her voice low and commanding. "Tell me what you want to do with yourself."

You try to form words, but all that comes out is a groan of desire. Chaeyoung laughs, a soft sound that sends shivers down your spine.

"Oh, I think this guy knows what he wants," she says, glancing at your shaft before her eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Her lips brush against your skin, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. She kisses you slowly, incrementally making her way up to your tip. With each gentle touch, your meat twitches in response, and Chaeyoung enjoys every reaction, her eyes never leaving yours.

As she reaches the base of your shaft, she pauses for a moment before continuing her ascent. Her lips dance across your skin, sending shivers down your spine with each caress. You feel yourself becoming harder, more insistent, as if begging to be claimed by her touch.

Chaeyoung's mouth covers yours now, warm and soft against your skin. Your breath catches as she nibbles at your tip, sending waves of pleasure through your entire body. She takes her time, savoring the moment as much as you are. Your heart pounds in time with hers, the rhythm matching the beat of your desire.

Just when you thought you were finally adjusting to the explosion of stimulation you’ve experienced. She stopped, her eyes met yours.

"Want me to make it easier for you?" Chaeyoung asks, her voice low and husky as she leans forward to whisper in your ear. "Want me to show you exactly what I want?"

Your gaze locked with Chaeyoung although her mouth is preoccupied to form a smile, you can see it through her eyes. She planted both her palms on your lap, gripping them, as her cheeks hollowed as she took you in deeper, her tongue moving freely, swirling around your meat. The sensation was too much, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you as she worked to bring you pleasure. All you can do is groan. As you helplessly grip the sofa.

The reaction as if giving her energy, her pace grew faster, taking you even deeper, you can feel her tongue pressed down by your shaft as she sucks. The wet sound rings to your ear, her moans muffled, its vibration moves through your skin as she serves you pleasure, and it's close. She matched your eye once again, you can see she has no intention of stopping. Her lip tightening around you as she sucked even more harder, her tongue swirled around your tip, her movement grew bolder as she knew you were near the edge.

You groaned one last time as it finally happened. At the last moment she freed her mouth from your length and switched it immediately with her palm cupping the top of your tip, catching your release.

"That's it?" her eyes looking at you disappointed. Before her attention shifts to her hand full with cum. "It was fun at least". She continues.

You stare at her still in dazed, as she was sitting on the floor, she first licked her palm clean of your cum, then her fingers sucking them one by one. After cleaning herself up, she realized you were still staring at her.

“‘You’re still here?’ Chaeyoung mildly amused, her eyes locked on yours once again. A faint, otherworldly light seemed to dance in their depths, as if they were absorbing the very air around them.

“You can leave now,” she said with a wave of her hand, as if ousting you from her presence.

Your confusion deepened at her question. "What do you mean, leave?" you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

Chaeyoung's eyes widened in surprise as you sat up straight, mirroring her bewilderment. "How?" she asked again, her voice tinged with frustration and curiosity.

Your confusion deepened at her question. "What do you mean, how?" you replied, unsure of what she was getting at.

Chaeyoung stood up and placed her hands on either side of the sofa, trapping you in between her grip. Her eyes, filled with the tiniest hint of blue, bore into you, making you feel as if she was delving into your soul.

"You remember?" she asked cautiously.

"Yes, I remember last night. Isn't that why we're here?" you answered back.

"No, not that. Just now, what happened, did you remember it? Were you conscious?" Chaeyoung queried again.

“Am I not supposed to?” You asked.

Still maintaining her lock on you, she broke eye contact and started muttering, "So Jiheon didn't lie... you're either resistant if not immune..." Her thoughts drifting away from you.

"Helloooo..." you try to get her attention, snapping her out of her musings. Her gaze returns to your eyes, reminding you of how close your face is.

"Anyway, what will you do now? Will you leave?" she asked, her voice regaining its usual confidence.

"Should I leave? Do you want me to?" you reply, starting to get annoyed with the constant questions and stacking confusion.

Chaeyoung seemingly recognizes your hidden desire. "So you don't want to?" She shifts her position, her arms which were on your sides before now resting on your shoulder, crossing behind your neck. Her feet, once on the ground, now on both your sides as she sits on your lap.

"Why? Is there a reason you want to stay?" she asked, her voice teasing you.

"Well, I feel like it's only right that I return the favor," you answer, your desire to explore this new dynamic between you both growing. Chaeyoung's eyes widen at your response, her lips curling into a smile as she leans in, her breath brushing against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Chaeyoung's eyes widened further, her smile turning into a predatory grin. "Be careful what you wish for, Junho," she whispers in your ear, her voice laced with both warning and invitation. "Are you sure you want to continue?, you sure you can handle it?”

She pauses, allowing the weight of her words to sink in. "It's not too late to walk out, after this there's no going back" Chaeyoung explains, her voice low and intense.

Driven by lust and the thrill of the unknown, Junho doesn't take her warning too seriously. "I can handle it," he responds, his confidence fueled by arousal.

Chaeyoung's grin widens as she leans back, her eyes never leaving yours. "Then show me how much you can handle," she dares you.

Your heart races as you accept the challenge. You take hold of Chaeyoung's waist, pulling her closer as your lips meet in a passionate, fiery kiss. Your hands roam her body, exploring her curves and feeling the heat of her desire.

She moans into your mouth, her hands moving to your chest, then to the end of your shirt, pulling it up, undressing you as if impatient to have your skin against hers. Your lips never falter, continuing their fiery dance as her hands roam over your chest, exploring every ridge and valley.

With the same fervor that you tore her clothes, you begin to undress her, your lips never leaving hers, your hands never leaving her body. Only stopping to catch air, you take a break from kissing, giving you enough time to admire her now barely dressed top, with only her black lace bra remaining.

Chaeyoung, impatiently, hastily stands up, and in a fluid motion, removes her shorts, then her panties, casting them aside. You, not idle, pull down your pants and boxers which were already previously unbuckled.

After undressing, with the exception of Chaeyoung's bra, you're both completely naked. She returns to your lap, and resumes the kiss, her hands roaming your back, her nails digging into your skin, urging you on.

Your hands grasp her waist, pulling her closer, your bodies pressed tightly against each other. As the kiss deepens, you can feel her hardened nipples rubbing against your chest, sending shivers down your spine.

Chaeyoung breaks the kiss, her lips trailing down your jaw, to your neck, her teeth gently nipping at the sensitive skin there, as her hands reach around to unclasp her bra. It falls away, her breasts freed, her nipples standing erect, aching for your touch.

You eagerly complied, your hands finding Chaeyoung's breasts, cupping them gently, thumbs teasing her nipples, rolling them between your fingers, making her shiver with pleasure. Her head falls back, a soft moan escaping her lips.

You move your hands lower, tracing her stomach, and settling between her legs. Your fingers part her folds, gently rubbing her swollen clit, feeling her wetness coating his digits. Chaeyoung's moans grow louder, her hips bucking against his hand, encouraging you to continue.

Your other hand leaves her breast, moving to her hip, steadying her as you begin to finger her, slowly at first, then increasing the pace as you feel her body reacting to your touch. Her back arches, and her fingers claw at your shoulders, leaving red marks.

The air is thick with the scent of desire, the sounds of their heavy breathing, and the wet slaps of your fingers penetrating her. Chaeyoung's eyes flutter shut, her body quivering, on the edge of release.

You feel a surge of power, knowing you're the one bringing her closer to ecstasy. You stop, smirking against her lips as you pull your fingers from her, bringing them to your mouth, tasting her on them.

Chaeyoung's eyes open wide, a look of both frustration and desire on her face. "Put it in.." she whispers, her voice breathy and needy. Junho smirks, ready to continue their erotic dance.

You prepare yourself to pierce Chaeyoung, the sensation was both overwhelming and exhilarating. The tight warmth enveloping me sent shivers down my spine. You could feel her muscles clenching around you, gripping your length, and her orgasm washes over her like a tidal wave.

Chaeyoung's body arched, her fingers digging into my shoulders, her cry of ecstasy echoing in the room. Her eyes seemed to lock onto yours, filled with the subtle color of allure. I asked her, "Why did that happen so fast?" My voice was laced with curiosity and a hint of concern.

Flushed with both embarrassment and amusement, Chaeyoung admitted, "I... I haven't done it in a while." Her cheeks were a vivid shade of red as she revealed, "Usually, others never got this far."

You feel a surge of pride and protectiveness, your heart pounding with each beat. you start to move within her, your thrusting slow and deep, feeling her body responding to your touch. The sensation of her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer, is intoxicating.

“Oh…. Fuck… that feel… sooo.. Good…” Cheayoung exclaimed.

You feel the telltale signs that Chaeyoung is nearing her climax once again. Her moans grow louder, her pants hasten, her muscles tightening around your length, her nails digging deeper into your shoulders. You can sense the electricity building between you two, as you match her intensity, with lust fueling both your passion.

"That's it… I'm close, keep going… plea–... please," Chaeyoung pleaded, her voice trembling with desperation as she pressed against me, her body yearning for release. The air was electric with tension, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of desire at the sight of her, her skin glowing with sweat, her eyes locked on yours with an unspoken plea.

As Chaeyoung reaches her climax for the second time, her body shudders, her grip on you tightening as her cries fill the room. A wave of satisfaction and arousal washes over you, and you continue to move with her, wanting her to feel every moment of connection between the two of you. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered promise sends shivers down your spine.

"Wa- wait… not yet," she gasps, her words interrupted by uncontrollable moans that echo through the room like a symphony of pleasure. Her body begins to tremble, her muscles convulsing as if trying to release a pent-up storm.

Breathless yourself, you decide to heed her plea, slowing your movements to give her a moment to recover. Chaeyoung's body, now glistening with sweat, slumps against yours, her stiff nipples brushing against your skin as she rests her head on your shoulder. Her face is a mess, strands of hair clinging to her flushed cheeks, her lips parted as she gasps for air.

Gently, you guide her into a new position, placing her hands on the backrest of the couch and helping her kneel on the cushions. You stand behind her, taking a moment to admire the curve of her toned back, the delicate dip of her waist, and the graceful arch of her hips. The sight of her is intoxicating, and you feel a renewed surge of desire that threatens to overwhelm you.

Chaeyoung's brief respite ends as you join with her again, moving in a rhythm that feels both familiar and exhilarating. Her body responds to yours, her grip tightening as if unwilling to let go. Every movement, every breath, every whispered promise sends shivers down my spine, building the tension until it becomes almost unbearable.

"I can't... no... I- can't..." she murmurs, her voice a mix of protest and surrender, though the way she clings to you tells a different story. You wrap one of your arms around her waist, holding her in place for support, while the other reaches up to grip her neck, feeling the tension in her throat muscles as each of her moans vibrates through her body.

With a gentle pull, you bring her closer, your bodies pressed tightly together as you stand. Her hands, desperate to find something to hold onto, wrap around your hair and grasp it firmly. Her head turns to yours, her eyes locking onto yours with an unspoken plea for release, for connection, for the one person who can satisfy her.

"You feel so good," you whisper, your voice husky with desire as you meet hers once again in a fierce, passionate kiss. Chaeyoung's body shudders and trembles beneath you, her third climax building to a crescendo that threatens to consume them both.

And then, in a burst of energy, you felt your body tense and release, your orgasm building to a crescendo as Chaeyoung's muscles responded to yours. You could feel your seed mixing with hers, a union of flesh and blood that was both intimate and primal. The sensation was overwhelming - a mix of pleasure, pain, and release that left you breathless and trembling.

As the wave of pleasure washed over you, you felt Chaeyoung's body tighten around yours, her muscles contracting to hold onto your spent form. You knew then that you had come inside her, that your seed had mingled with hers in a union of flesh and blood that would remain with you forever.

As you hold on to her tightly, feeling her body lose strength against yours, you can sense the power dynamic shifting in between you. You are the one in control, the one guiding her movements, but she is still clinging to you, as if needing your strength to keep her upright.

You continue to hold her close, your lips never leaving hers, as Chaeyoung's body begins to relax into yours, her breathing slowing and her muscles releasing their tension. You can feel her heart pounding in time with yours, a rhythmic match that seems to be growing stronger by the second.

Just when you thought she was spent, her body turned to face you. She created distance between your lips, giving you a clear view of her face, even with her messy hair and sweat-drenched cheeks, her face wore a smile, instead of exhaustion and satisfaction. Her still eyes full of passion and hunger seemed to bore into your soul.

You realized the night had just started, her eyes hinting at a desire for an endless night. “I told you, Junho, be careful what you wish for”.

Her lips returned to you, unrelenting as she led you to the bedroom. The rest of the night was blurry, but one thing was clear - your desires and hers had merged into a single, all-consuming passion.

—

You wake to the soft glow of pre-dawn light filtering through the window, the sky painted in muted shades of blue and gray. The bed beneath you is warm but messy, the sheets tangled and damp, a testament to the night’s activities. You blink slowly, your mind still foggy, as you take in your surroundings.

By the window, Chaeyoung stands, her silhouette framed against the cityscape. She’s completely bare, her back to you, her posture relaxed yet commanding. The faint light catches the curves of her figure, and for a moment, you’re struck by how effortlessly she commands the room, even in stillness.

Her voice breaks the silence, soft but clear, and you realize she’s not just standing there—she’s on the phone.

“...Jiheon was telling the truth,” she says, her tone thoughtful. “It doesn’t work on him. He’s… resistant to it.”

You freeze, your breath catching in your throat. Resistant to what? Your mind races, fragments of the night before flashing through your thoughts—her sapphire-blue eyes, the way she seemed to pull you in, the way you couldn’t resist her. Was it all… her? Her magic?

A deep unease coils in your chest, the realization creeping in slowly. What have you done? You replay the night over and over in your head, trying to convince yourself it was your choice—that you wanted it. But doubt gnaws at you, whispering insidious thoughts. Did she manipulate you? Was any of it real? Or were you just another piece in whatever game she was playing?

Chaeyoung continues, her voice calm but firm. “He’s perfect for the job. What else do you need? He’s already acquainted and close to the other girls. Plus, he knows our secret, and we can’t exactly get rid of him now, can we?”

Her words send a chill down your spine. Perfect for the job? What job? And what secret? Your mind spins, but before you can process it, Chaeyoung turns toward the bed. The dim light hides her expression, but you can feel her smile, sharp and knowing, as if she’s aware you’re awake and listening.

“Don’t worry, Romsae,” she says, her voice dropping slightly. “He’s more than adequate. I checked him myself.”

The way she says it—confident, almost smug—makes your cheeks burn. The heat rising to your face is laced with something far heavier than embarrassment—regret. Should you have resisted? Should you have walked away when you had the chance? Now, it feels like you’ve stepped into something far beyond your understanding, and there’s no easy way out.

You want to say something, to demand answers, but your body feels heavy, your thoughts sluggish. Chaeyoung ends the call and sets her phone aside, her movements unhurried as she approaches the bed.

Her eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you’re pinned under her gaze. You search her expression for anything genuine, anything real—but all you find is that same knowing look, like she’s already figured you out.

She reaches out, her fingers brushing against your cheek, her touch surprisingly gentle. “You should sleep more,” she murmurs, her voice soft, almost soothing. “It’s going to be a long day.”

Her words wash over you like a lullaby, and despite the storm of questions raging in your mind, you feel yourself drifting. Your eyelids grow heavy, and the last thing you see before sleep claims you is Chaeyoung’s faint smile, her sapphire-blue eyes glowing softly in the dim light.

And as darkness takes you, the doubt lingers—settling deep within your bones. Did you make the right choice? Or did you just seal your fate?

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