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rvp32 · 14 days ago

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Falling for the Unknown Part 2

Karina x reader

Part 1

Thank you so much msafterhours and kesujo for proofreading

Karina stands in the quiet of the Seoul night, the distant hum of the city a faint backdrop to the storm of emotions swirling within her. Months ago, she had been Jimin again—not the polished idol, not the face of a million posters, but just Jimin—tangled in sheets and your arms, her heart pounding with a freedom she rarely feels. That night, she lets herself drown in you, in the way you look at her like she is everything, not just a fragment of a spotlight. But as dawn creeps closer, reality claws its way back in, cold and unrelenting.

She remembers slipping out of your embrace, your steady breathing contrasting the chaos in her mind. Her phone buzzes incessantly on the nightstand—schedules, rehearsals, a looming comeback. Her groupmates count on her, their dreams intertwined with hers, and the weight of that responsibility presses down like a vice. She stands by the bed, watching you sleep, your face soft and unguarded, and her chest aches with a longing she cannot indulge. He doesn’t deserve this, she thinks. Dragging you, a non-celebrity with a life untouched by the madness of her world, into the relentless scrutiny, the rumors, the suffocating expectations, would be cruel. She imagines a future where you resent her for it, where the spark between you dulls under the glare of her reality, and it breaks her.

So she leaves. A whispered thank you scribbled on a note is all she manages, a fragile apology for cutting herself out of your life. She wants to stay—God, how she wants to stay—curled against you, pretending the world outside doesn’t exist. But she turns away, slipping back into Karina, the idol, the untouchable star, and buries that night deep where it cannot hurt her. Or so she thinks.

Now, standing outside the stadium after the halftime performance, the past rushed back with a vengeance. She’d seen you on the sideline, your eyes wide with recognition, and her carefully constructed mask had cracked. The dance moves had felt mechanical after that, her mind spinning with the shock of your presence. You were here, in her world, and the distance she’d forced between you felt like a wound reopening.

The air between you and Jimin crackles with tension as you face each other, the stadium’s noise fading into a dull hum. She’s close enough that you can see the faint tremble in her hands, the way her eyes dart nervously before settling on yours. The months apart haven’t dulled the pull you feel toward her—it’s sharper now, edged with the pain of her absence. You want to step forward, to pull her into your arms and kiss her until the questions and the hurt melt away, but you hold yourself back, fists clenched at your sides. She left you once, and the fear of reaching out only to lose her again keeps you rooted.

Her lips part, then close, as if she’s searching for words she’s scared of saying. Her voice was soft but strained, carrying the weight of everything unsaid. Your throat tightens, and you force a nod, the memory of that empty bed and her note flashing through your mind.

“Yeah,” you manage, your tone clipped despite the storm raging inside you. “Guess the universe has a cruel sense of humor.” You want to ask why she left, why she didn’t fight for you, but the words stick, tangled in the ache of wanting her so badly it hurts. She can't seem to meet your eyes fully, darting back and forth, meeting your gaze and flickering back onto the ground, in an endless, restless cycle. In the corner of her eyes, you can see her grip on her arm tightening, her feet shuffling every so often: there's an impatience about her, something about your presence that seems to make her uneasy, and while it makes you feel bad in more ways than one, it also arouses within you an urge to hold her—and it only makes the urge to hold her stronger, your resolve fraying with every second she stands there, so close yet untouchable.

The silence stretches, thick and awkward, as you and Jimin stand there, the weight of months apart pressing down on you both. You shift your weight, she fidgets with the hem of her hoodie, and then—

“Why did you—” you start, just as she says, “I didn’t mean—”

You both freeze, a nervous laugh escaping her lips while you rub the back of your neck. “You go first,” you say, gesturing toward her, your voice softer than you intend.

Jimin opens her mouth, her expression shifting to something vulnerable, but before a word can escape, a sharp voice cuts through the tension. “Karina, we need to go. The van’s waiting.” A man—broad-shouldered, clipboard in hand, with the unmistakable air of a manager—approaches, his tone brisk. Her face tightens, and she glances at him, then back at you, a flicker of frustration in her eyes.

“I—” she starts, then stops, turning fully to you. “Can I have your number? I want to talk. Really talk.” Her voice is low and urgent, and you nod quickly, fumbling for your phone. You exchange numbers in a rush, her fingers brushing yours as she hands it back, sending a jolt through you.

“Text me,” she says, her gaze lingering as the manager huffs impatiently. Then she’s gone, swept away by her world, leaving you standing there, heart racing.

*************************************************************************************************************

Later that night, you text her: When are you free? Her reply comes fast—Tomorrow, late. After midnight. Can we meet somewhere private? You suggest your hotel room, knowing the risk of being spotted together could spark chaos. She agrees, and the hours crawl by until the clock ticks past midnight.

A soft knock pulls you from your restless pacing. You open the door, and there she is—Jimin, or Karina, or whoever she is tonight—slipping inside, hood up, eyes wary but searching. You close the door behind her, and the room feels smaller, the air charged with everything unsaid.

“Hey,” she says, pulling down her hood, her hair spilling loose. She looks softer here, away from the stadium lights, but there’s a tension in her shoulders you can’t ignore.

“Hey,” you echo, leaning against the desk, arms crossed to keep your hands from reaching for her. “So… talk.”

She takes a deep breath, sitting on the edge of the bed, her fingers twisting together. “I owe you an explanation. About that night. About… me.” She meets your gaze, and there’s a rawness there that makes your chest tighten. “I’m Karina from Aespa. That’s my real life—stages, schedules, cameras. That night, with you, I was just Jimin. For once, I got to be someone else.”

You blink, the pieces clicking into place—her disappearance, the secrecy, the note. “You’re an idol,” you say, more to yourself than to her, running a hand through your hair. “And I’m—well, I guess I should tell you too. I’m not just some random guy. I play for Manchester United. Midfielder. Just got back from injury.”

“Guess we were both hiding something,” you say, a wry smile tugging at your lips. But it fades as the real question looms. “Why’d you leave, Jimin? That night—it felt real. Then I woke up, and you were gone. Just a note. ‘Thank you.’ Like it was nothing.”

Her face falls, guilt shadowing her features. “It wasn’t nothing. It was everything. That’s why I left.” She looks down, voice trembling. “I wanted to stay so badly. You have no idea how much. But I had rehearsals at dawn, a comeback to prepare for. My groupmates—they depend on me. And you… you didn’t sign up for my mess. The fans, the cameras, the chaos. I thought dragging you into that would ruin you.”

You step closer, unable to stop yourself, though you still don’t touch her. “You didn’t even give me a choice. I woke up thinking I’d dreamed you up, Jimin. That note—it broke me.”

“I know,” she whispers. “I hated myself for it. I thought I was protecting you, but I was just scared. Scared of what I felt, scared of what it’d do to you. I didn’t want you to hate me later.”

“I could never hate you,” you say, your voice rough with the truth of it. “I’ve been looking for you ever since. Every day, wondering where you went, why you didn’t trust me enough to stay.”

She stands, closing the distance between you, her hands hovering near your chest before settling there, tentative. “I trust you now. I didn’t leave because I didn’t want you— I left because I cared, no, I care about you and was worried about pulling you into a life you never chose to live. I thought it was the right thing, but it wasn’t. I’m sorry.”

You look into her eyes, seeing the regret, the longing, and it cracks your restraint. “I wanted you too,” you admit, voice low. “Still do.” Your hands twitch, aching to hold her, but you wait, letting her words settle, the misunderstanding unraveling like a knot finally loosened.

The air in the room thickens with the weight of your confessions, the space between you and Karina—Jimin—shrinking as her hands rest lightly on your chest. Her touch is hesitant, but it burns through you, reigniting every buried feeling from that night. Her apology lingers in your ears, her eyes searching yours for forgiveness, for understanding, and you can’t hold back anymore.

You cup her face gently, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones, and she leans into your touch, her breath hitching. “Jimin,” you murmur, her name a tether pulling you closer, and then you kiss her. It’s slow at first, tentative, a question answered as her lips part beneath yours, soft and warm and so achingly familiar. The intimacy of it steals your breath—her taste, the way she melts against you, her fingers curling into your shirt like she’s afraid you’ll vanish. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a reclamation, a stitching together of everything torn apart by her absence.

You deepen it, one hand sliding to the nape of her neck, tangling in her hair as you tilt her head just so, and she responds with a quiet whimper that sends a shiver down your spine. Her lips move with yours in perfect sync, a dance of longing and relief, and you pour every missed moment into it—the nights you wondered, the days you ached. She presses closer, her body fitting against yours like it never left, and the world outside fades until it’s just her, just you, just this.

You pull back slightly, needing to see her, to ground yourself in the reality of her here in your arms. Your foreheads rest together, breaths mingling as you stare into her eyes. They’re dark, endless, shimmering with something raw—regret, desire, hope. Her pupils dilate, her gaze flicking to your lips and back, and you see the moment she breaks. “I missed you,” she whispers, voice trembling, and it’s all the warning you get before she moves.

Jimin shifts with feline grace, climbing onto your lap in a single fluid motion that steals the air from your lungs. You’re still perched near the coffee table, its sharp edge grazing your knee as she straddles you, her toned thighs bracketing your hips with a firm, possessive grip. Her hands cradle your face, fingertips trembling faintly against your jaw, and then she dives in—kissing you with a raw, insatiable hunger that obliterates your thoughts. Her lips crash against yours, hot and urgent, and you groan into her mouth, a deep, primal sound that vibrates between you. Your hands snap to her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath her hoodie as you yank her closer, her body molding seamlessly to yours.

The weight of her atop you—the delicious press of her lithe, warm frame against your chest—ignites a wildfire in your veins. She rocks subtly, a teasing shift of her hips that sends a dizzying rush through you, and your hands glide up her back, tracing the elegant curve of her spine. Beneath the fabric, her skin is satin-smooth, her muscles flexing faintly as she moves. Her tongue brushes yours—tentative at first, then bold and demanding—and the kiss turns sloppy, a chaotic dance of lips, teeth, and breathless need. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you,” she gasps between kisses, her voice fracturing with desire as she grinds down harder, the friction of her pelvis against your growing erection sparking a heat that threatens to unravel you both.

You pull her flush against you, fingers sinking into the plush give of her hips, anchoring her as you lose yourself in her essence—the sweet, faintly salty taste of her lips, the press of her boobs against your chest, the soft whimpers she muffles against your mouth. It’s intoxicating, the way she fits so perfectly in your lap, her slender frame a puzzle piece slotting into yours. Her kisses carry the weight of every moment she’s been gone, a desperate reclamation of what distance stole.

The kiss deepens, a tangle of ragged breaths and clashing tongues, and the ache of missing her for months surges through you like a tidal wave. Karina’s hands grip your face tighter, her nails grazing your skin as she straddles you, her thighs flexing with each restless shift. You can feel the heat pouring off her, the damp warmth seeping through her shorts where she presses against your straining cock. It’s not enough—nowhere near enough. You need her closer, need to dissipate every inch of separation time carved between you.

Your hands slide beneath her thighs, firm and possessive, gripping the taut muscle as you stand in one swift motion. She gasps softly against your lips, a startled little sound that melts into a moan as you lift her effortlessly. Her legs wrap around your waist, locking tight, her ankles hooking at the small of your back. You don’t break the kiss—not for a heartbeat—as you carry her toward the bed, her fingers digging into your shoulders with a needy intensity. Her lips stay fused to yours, hungry and unrelenting, and you stumble slightly, too consumed by her to care about grace. The mattress edge bumps your knees, and you lower her onto it, her lithe body sinking into the sheets as you follow, hovering over her, your forearms braced on either side of her head.

“God, I missed you,” you murmur against her lips, your voice rough with the aching truth of it, and she arches up, her chest pressing into yours. Her hands claw at your shirt, tugging insistently, and you pull back just enough to rip it over your head, tossing it aside. Her eyes darken as they roam over your bare chest, drinking in the hard planes of muscle, the faint scars. Her fingers trace the lines of your pecs, then lower, mapping you like she’s relearning every inch.

“I missed you too,” she breathes, her voice trembling with the same pent-up longing that’s been gnawing at you. She sits up, peeling her hoodie off in one smooth motion, revealing the expanse of her smooth, golden skin and a simple black bra that clings to her round, firm breasts. Her nipples pebble faintly beneath the fabric, and your hands are on her instantly, sliding up her sides, savoring the warmth radiating from her. She shivers under your touch, her breath hitching as your thumbs brush the sensitive skin just below her ribcage.

You kiss her again, slower this time but no less desperate, your tongue teasing hers in a languid, deliberate dance as you ease her back onto the bed. Her hands roam your back, nails grazing lightly over your shoulder blades, leaving faint, tingling trails. You trail your lips down her jaw, then her neck, tasting the salt of her skin as you go. She tilts her head, offering more, and you linger at her collarbone, sucking gently until a faint, rosy mark blooms beneath your mouth—a quiet claim. “Mine,” you whisper, half to yourself, and she moans softly, her fingers threading through your hair, tugging just enough to send a spark of pleasure-pain down your spine.

“Not fair,” she murmurs, a playful lilt cutting through the heat in her voice. She pulls you down, her lips finding the taut skin just below your collarbone. Her mouth is searing, deliberate as she kisses the spot, then sucks hard, her tongue flicking against you. The sensation jolts through you—sharp and electric—and you groan, your cock twitching in your jeans as her teeth graze your skin, leaving a bruise to mirror hers. She pulls back, smirking at her handiwork, a glint of satisfaction in her eyes, and you grin back—until the primal urge to touch her overtakes you again.

You ease her onto her back, hands roaming her flat stomach, teasing the waistband of her shorts. “You’re too much,” you say, voice low and teasing as you pop the button open, dragging the zipper down with excruciating slowness. She lifts her hips, helping you peel the denim away, and you take your time, letting your fingers skim the silken insides of her thighs—soft yet firm, trembling faintly under your touch. You stop just shy of her core, and her breath catches, her legs parting slightly as she whines, “Stop teasing.”

“Not yet,” you reply, smirking as you lean down, pressing a kiss to the tender skin of her inner thigh. You move higher, closer, your breath ghosting over her warmth, and her hips buck, chasing your mouth. Her chest heaves, her round breasts rising and falling rapidly, frustration simmering in her half-lidded eyes. You slide her panties down, revealing her glistening core—pink and slick with want—and the sight makes your throat tighten, your cock aching painfully against your jeans. “Fuck, I’ve missed this,” you say, voice raw with hunger, and you dip your head, kissing just above her clit, teasing her with the faintest brush of your lips.

“Please,” she gasps, her hands fisting the sheets, knuckles whitening, and you relent—just a little. Your tongue flicks out, tracing her slowly, savoring her sweet, musky taste as her body trembles beneath you. She’s warm and wet, and every shuddering moan she lets out stokes the fire in your gut. You circle her clit, deliberate and torturous, sucking gently until she’s writhing, her voice breaking on your name in a desperate, jagged plea.

When you finally pull back, she’s panting, her eyes glassy with need. You shed your pants and boxers in a frantic rush, climbing back over her, and she drags you down, kissing you fiercely, tasting herself on your lips. “I need you,” she whispers, her legs wrapping around your hips, pulling you close. You tease her one last time, sliding your cock along her entrance, coating yourself in her slick heat, and she groans, her nails biting into your back hard enough to leave crescent marks.

“Missed you so fucking much,” you growl, and then you push inside her, slow and deep. The sensation is overwhelming—her tight, wet heat envelops you, her walls fluttering around your shaft as you stretch her open. She cries out, her head tipping back into the pillow, exposing the delicate column of her throat, and you feel her pulse racing beneath your lips as you bury your face in her neck. “Jimin,” you groan, starting to move, each thrust a visceral reminder of how much you’ve craved her—how much you’ve needed this.

She meets you thrust for thrust, her hips rising to match your rhythm, her moans loud and unrestrained, filling the room. “Harder,” she gasps, her voice raw with desperation, and you oblige, slamming into her with a force that makes the bedframe creak. Her body arches beneath you, her breasts pressing into your chest as you grip her thighs, spreading her wider. The angle lets you hit deeper, your cock brushing that spot inside her that draws a scream from her lips, sharp and uninhibited. “Yes—fuck, just like that,” she pants, her words ragged, her face flushed and glistening with sweat.

You pull her up slightly, shifting so she’s half-sitting, and kiss her again—messy, deep, all tongue and clashing teeth—as you drive into her relentlessly. Her hands clutch your shoulders, her breath scorching against your lips, and you feel her tightening around you, her walls pulsing with every thrust. “I’m so close,” she whimpers, her voice breaking, and you push harder, your own release coiling tight in your core as her body trembles on the brink.

When she cums, it’s with a cry of your name, her body shuddering violently beneath you. Her walls clamp down around your cock, milking you as she unravels, her eyes squeezed shut, mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. The sight—her flushed cheeks, her arched back, the raw vulnerability of her pleasure—shatters you. You groan, spilling inside her, the pleasure crashing through you in blinding waves as your cock pulses, filling her with heat. You hold her tight, riding out the aftershocks together, your breaths mingling in the stillness.

You collapse against her, both of you sweaty and breathless, and she clings to you, her lips brushing your ear as she whispers, “I’m never leaving again.” Her voice is soft, shaky, but certain, and it sends a warmth through you that has nothing to do with the sex.

You pull back just enough to kiss the mark you left on her collarbone, then press your forehead to hers, your noses brushing as the afterglow settles over you like a second skin. The world narrows to this—the quiet rhythm of her breathing, the steady beat of her heart against yours, and the unspoken promise hanging in the air.

*************************************************************************************************************

The morning light filters through the curtains of your hotel room, casting a gentle glow across the bed where you lie, still wrapped in the warmth of last night’s passion. You stir awake, the weight of Karina’s arms around you pulling you back to reality. Her grip is tight, almost desperate, her fingers curled into your side as if she’s afraid you’ll slip away like she once did. It’s a silent plea, a fear mirrored in the way her body presses against yours, her chest rising and falling steadily in sleep. You can feel the tension in her hold, and it tugs at your heart—a reminder of how much she’s been carrying, how much she fears losing you again.

You shift slightly, careful not to wake her, and take a moment to admire her. Her face, inches from yours, is a vision of serenity, illuminated by the soft light. Her dark hair fans out across the pillow, framing her delicate features—those almond-shaped eyes, closed now but still vivid in your memory, framed by thick lashes that curl gently against her cheeks. Her skin glows, smooth and flawless, with a subtle flush that lingers from the night before. Her lips, full and slightly parted, are a soft pink, still swollen from your kisses, and the beauty mark near the corner of her mouth catches your eye, a perfect detail in her otherwise ethereal face. Her high cheekbones and sharp jawline, softened by sleep, are as striking as the poised idol you saw on stage, but here, in this quiet moment, she’s just Jimin—vulnerable, real, and breathtakingly beautiful.

You can’t resist reaching out, your fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. Leaning in, you press a tender kiss to her forehead. The contact is light, but it stirs her. Her brows furrow slightly as her eyes flutter open. She blinks, disoriented, and her grip on you tightens for a moment before relaxing as recognition dawns.

“Good morning,” you whisper, a smile tugging at your lips as you lean in to kiss her, craving the taste of her again. But she turns her head away, her cheek pressing into the pillow, a shy giggle escaping her.

“No, wait—” she mumbles, her voice groggy but playful, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Morning breath.”

You chuckle, the sound warm and genuine, and you gently cup her face, turning her back toward you. “I don’t care,” you say, your voice soft but firm, and before she can protest again, you kiss her. It’s slow and sweet, her lips hesitant at first but softening under yours, the taste of her—morning breath or not—exactly what you’ve been craving since she walked back into your life. She melts into it, her arms loosening their grip to wrap around your neck, and you pull her closer, the laughter fading into a shared, quiet intimacy that feels like coming home.

The morning lingers in comfortable silence, the warmth of your kiss fading into a gentle closeness as you both lie tangled in the sheets. Jimin shifts beside you, propping herself up on one elbow. Her dark hair falls over her shoulder as she looks at you with those captivating eyes. “What if we went on a date today?” she suggests her voice soft but laced with excitement. “Just the two of us.”

You hesitate, the image of paparazzi flashes, and headlines flash through your mind. “I don’t know, Jimin,” you say, your tone cautious. “I’d love to, but… what if someone sees us? I don’t want to cause trouble for you—your career, your group. It’s risky.”

Her expression softens, and she reaches out, her hand resting lightly on your arm. “I get it, I do. But I’ve spent months hiding, running from this—from us. I don’t want to do that anymore. I’ve noticed some llittle spots that linger in my mind, and I catch myself picturing us there, sharing quiet moments. And the other day, a film played on the flight, its warmth sticking with me, making me think of us tucked away together, enjoying the story. We can be careful. There’s a private restaurant I know, with private rooms. No one will see us. Please?” Her plea is earnest, her eyes pleading, and the way she looks at you—vulnerable yet determined—chips away at your reluctance.

After a moment, you nod, a small smile breaking through. “Okay. Let’s do it. Private restaurant it is.”

*************************************************************************************************************

Later that evening, you’re seated across from her in a secluded room, the soft glow of candlelight casting shadows on the walls. The table is small and intimate, and the door is locked behind you, ensuring your privacy. The meal—delicate Korean dishes served with care—sits mostly untouched as the conversation deepens, the food secondary to the connection reigniting between you.

Karina leans forward, her hands clasped in front of her, her gaze steady but emotional. “You know,” she begins, her voice low and sincere, “you make me feel so safe. Like I can breathe, even with all the chaos in my life. That night we spent together—it wasn’t just passion for me. It was the first time I felt like I could be myself, not Karina the idol, but Jimin. And then I left, and I missed you every single day. The way you looked at me, the way you held me—it haunted me. I can’t believe I almost gave this up because I was too scared. Too scared of what people might think, of what it might do to you. I was wrong.”

Her words hit you hard, stirring your longing since she disappeared. You reach across the table, your hand hovering over hers before you gently take it, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I missed you too,” you admit, your voice rough with emotion. “More than I can say. And I don’t want to lose you again.” You pause, the question burning in your chest, and before you can overthink it, you blurt out, “Jimin—Karina—will you be my girlfriend?”

Her eyes widen, and for a moment, she doesn’t respond, her lips parting as if searching for words. The silence stretches, and panic creeps in. “I know it’s quick and random, and maybe I’m rushing this,” you ramble, your free hand running through your hair. “But I don’t want to let you go. I’ve spent too long wondering where you were, and now that you’re here, I—”

She cuts you off with a laugh, bright and melodic, her head tilting back as she squeezes your hand. “You’re adorable when you’re nervous,” she teases, her eyes sparkling with affection. Then her expression softens, and she leans closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that feels like a promise. “Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend. With you, I feel like I’ve found a home I didn’t know I needed—a place where I can be me, fully and without fear. I want to build this with you, step by step, through every hidden room and stolen moment, because you’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

Her words wrap around you, warm and romantic. You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling as you gently kiss her hand.

*************************************************************************************************************

Over the next few days of Manchester United’s tour in South Korea, you and Karina carve out stolen moments in secret places, each date a cherished escape from the world. You meet her at a hidden rooftop garden in Gangnam, the city lights sprawling below as you share whispered conversations and soft kisses under the stars. Another night, you sneak into a private hanok courtyard in Bukchon, the traditional wooden walls shielding you as you hold hands and laugh over shared street food. You even manage a late-night stroll through a secluded trail in Namsan Mountain’s forest, the darkness cloaking you both as you steal glances and brush against each other, the air filled with the scent of pine and her perfume. Every second with her feels like a gift—her laughter lights up your world, her touch grounds you, and the way she looks at you, unguarded and real, makes you forget the looming end of your time together.

But the final day arrives, inevitable and heavy. You’re at the airport, your team already boarding for the flight back to Manchester, and Karina stands before you in a quiet corner of the terminal, her hoodie pulled low to avoid recognition. Your chest tightens as you pull her into a hug, her arms wrapping around you with a desperation that mirrors your own. “I don’t want to go,” you murmur into her hair, the words raw and honest, but you both know it’s not something you can change—not with her comeback looming and your season about to start. She pulls back, her eyes glistening but resolute, and presses a lingering kiss to your lips, a silent promise that this isn’t the end, even as you step away, the ache of leaving her settling deep in your bones.

Karina watches as you disappear through the airport gate, your figure swallowed by the crowd until there is nothing left but the echo of your goodbye in her heart. The weight of your departure crashes over her the moment you are out of sight, and tears spill down her cheeks, unchecked, as she makes her way back to the van. The ride to the dorm blurs into a haze of quiet sobs, her hands trembling as she presses them to her face, unable to believe how deeply she has let herself fall for you. In just a few stolen days, you weave yourself into her soul—your laughter, your touch, the way you make her feel safe—and now the emptiness suffocates her.

When she finally reaches her room, the door clicking shut behind her, she drops her bag and moves instinctively to her bed. Her fingers find the tiger cub toy you won for her at the bustling street market. Its soft fur is a tangible reminder of your grin as you hand it to her. She clutches it tightly to her chest, curling into a ball as fresh tears soak into its surface. Then, reaching for the hoodie she slyly took from you—a bold theft masked by a playful kiss—she pulls it over her head. The fabric envelops her, carrying your scent—earthy, warm, and unmistakably you—and she buries her face in the collar, inhaling deeply. It is a poor substitute for your presence, but it wraps her in a fragile comfort, easing the ache just enough to let her drift into a restless sleep, dreaming of the next time she sees you.

Karina knows she misses this—misses the rare, unguarded moments where she sheds the weight of her public persona and simply is. She misses the freedom of her truest self blooming in your presence, unfurling like a flower kissed by dawn after a long, cold night. Most of all, she misses you—misses the way you see through the layers she has so carefully crafted for the world, peering straight into her soul with those warm, knowing eyes. Even after she bares her deepest secret, confessing the identity she hides behind the spotlight, you never waver. You still call her Jimin, her name falling from your lips like a soft, cherished melody, untouched by the chaos of her fame.

She adores how it sounds in your voice—smooth and tender, a quiet caress that wraps around her heart each time you speak it. “Jimin,” you say, the syllables rolling off your tongue with a reverence that makes her feel seen, truly seen, not as an idol or a symbol, but as the woman she is beneath it all. It is a simple act, yet it carries a profound intimacy, a promise that you hold her authenticity close, cradling it like something precious. In those moments, with your voice threading through the air between you, she feels anchored, loved in a way that transcends the fleeting adoration of crowds. She misses that sound, that feeling, the way it tethers her to you—a lifeline she hadn’t known she needed until it becomes hers.

Back in England, the rhythm of your life as a Manchester United midfielder picks up with the intensity of the season, but Jimin—Karina—remains a constant, grounding presence despite the distance. You both make it work, carving out time for video calls whenever your schedules align, often late at night for her due to her packed idol schedule. Her face lights up your screen, sometimes framed by the dim glow of her dorm room, other times from a backstage corner during a break. “I’m so tired,” she’ll admit at 2 a.m. her time, her voice soft but warm, “but talking to you makes it better.” You smile, urging her to rest, but she insists on staying up, craving the connection as much as you do.

Your conversations flow effortlessly across a wide range of topics—her latest dance practice struggles, your grueling training sessions, funny stories about her groupmates, and your teammates’ locker room antics. One night, she giggles, her eyes sparkling through the screen. “My members figured out I’m dating someone—they keep teasing me about how I’m always smiling at my phone. But I haven’t told them it’s you. Not yet.” You laugh, imagining her blushing under their scrutiny, and the thought of being her secret makes your heart race.

As the Premier League season kicks off, Jimin surprises you during a call after one of your matches. “I’ve been learning more about football,” she says, her tone proud. “I watched some breakdowns online, and now I can really appreciate how good you are. That assist you made last game? Insane.” Her words catch you off guard, a flush creeping up your neck as you rub the back of your head, trying to play it cool. “You’re making me blush, stop it,” you mutter, but her laughter only grows, bright and infectious. “I also try to watch your matches whenever I can,” she adds, “even if I’m half-asleep on a plane. You’re worth it.”

Through your late-night scrolling, you stumble across a fan page mentioning Jimin's birthday. An idea sparks, and you spend days planning the perfect long-distance gift. You settle on a delicate platinum necklace with a small pendant shaped like a heart with ‘I love you Jimin’ engraved on the back, paired with a handwritten letter pouring out how much she means to you. You arrange for it to be delivered to her dorm through a discreet courier, ensuring her privacy.

A few days later, during your next video call, Jimin’s eyes are brimming with emotion as she holds up the necklace, the pendant glinting in the light. “I love it,” she says, her voice trembling with gratitude. “It’s so thoughtful—I can’t believe you remembered the tiger cub. And your letter… I cried reading it. Thank you, really.” She clasps the necklace around her neck, her fingers brushing the pendant with a soft smile. “I’ll wear it all the time. It’s like having a piece of you with me.” Your heart swells at her reaction, the distance between you shrinking just a little at that moment.

The days stretch on, each one marked by the gnawing ache of missing Jimin. Your mornings start with thoughts of her smile, your evenings end with the memory of her touch, and every quiet moment in between is filled with longing for the sound of her voice. In England, the grind of training and matches keeps you busy, but it’s never enough to fill the void she left when you parted at the airport. Meanwhile, her texts hint at the same yearning—late-night messages about how she stares at the necklace, how the hoodie she stole from you still carries your scent, and how she wishes she could feel your arms around her again. The distance feels unbearable, yet your video calls, scattered across time zones, become a lifeline, a way to bridge the gap between Manchester and Seoul.

One night, during one of your usual calls, the screen flickers to life, revealing Jimin in her dimly lit dorm room, her face framed by tousled hair. But something’s off—her breathing is uneven, punctuated by occasional gasps, and her voice carries a strange, breathy edge, distracted and distant. “Hey,” she says, her words faltering slightly, and you tilt your head, narrowing your eyes.

“Jimin, what’s going on?” you ask, your voice tinged with curiosity as it crackles through the video call. She shakes her head quickly, a breathy “Nothing” slipping from her lips, but the gesture feels hollow. Her dark eyes flicker away from the screen, betraying her, and you catch the subtle shift of her hand disappearing below the frame. Leaning closer, you study her—the faint quiver in her slender shoulders, the way her full lips part with each shallow, uneven breath. Then it clicks: she’s touching herself. Her fingers, hidden just out of view, are working her slick, needy pussy, her body betraying her attempt to stay composed while she pretends to focus on you.

A slow, mischievous grin curls your lips as you decide to play with her. “Oh, I see what you’re up to,” you tease, your voice dropping low and warm, laced with amusement. Her reaction is instant—her cheeks flush a deep, rosy pink, the color blooming across her smooth skin as her wide, doe-like eyes snap back to you in mortification. “I—I didn’t mean for you to—” she stammers, her hand stalling beneath the desk, fingers glistening with her own arousal. You interrupt her gently, your tone softening but carrying a hungry edge.

“No, don’t stop,” you murmur, your voice dipping into a husky, commanding register that sends a shiver through her. “Keep going. Let me watch you.” Her blush deepens, painting her neck and chest in a faint glow, but she nods shyly, her hesitation melting under your gaze. Her hand resumes its rhythm, slow and deliberate at first, and you can just make out the way her delicate fingers slip between her wet folds. Her pussy is slick and pink, glistening in the soft light as she parts her thighs slightly, giving you a better view. Her thumb grazes her swollen clit in tight, needy circles, and the sight ignites a surge of heat that races down your spine, pooling in your groin. Your own hand drifts instinctively, sliding beneath the waistband of your pants to wrap around your hardening cock. The first touch sends a jolt through you—your shaft thickens in your grip, warm and pulsing as you stroke yourself slowly, syncing with her tentative pace.

“God, I wish I was there,” you groan, your voice rough with want as your fingers tighten around your length. Precum beads at the tip, slicking your hand as you drag it along your shaft, the friction sparking a low burn in your core. “I’d bury my face between your legs, taste every inch of you—lick you slow until you’re dripping for me.” You imagine her sweetness on your tongue, the way her thighs would tremble against your cheeks, her soft moans filling the air.

Jimin lets out a quiet, desperate moan, her fingers picking up speed as she responds to your words. Her pussy shines wetter on the camera, her arousal coating her hand as she spreads her legs wider, her hips tilting forward. Her body is a vision—petite but curvaceous, her small breasts rising and falling beneath her thin tank top, nipples pressing faintly against the fabric. “I miss you so much,” she gasps, her voice trembling with raw need, her long, dark hair clinging to her sweat-dampened neck. “I wish you were here, filling me up with your cock instead of my fingers. Touch yourself harder—please.”

Her plea sends a thrill through you, and you obey without hesitation. Your strokes grow firmer, your grip tightening as your cock throbs eagerly in your hand, the veins along its length pulsing with each rough tug. You can almost feel her—her tight, wet heat clenching around you, her walls fluttering as you thrust into her. “Like this?” you ask, your voice gravelly, and she nods with a frantic little whimper, her eyes glued to the screen where your hand moves in a steady, relentless rhythm. “Yes—faster,” she begs, her fingers plunging deeper into her soaked pussy, her knuckles brushing her clit with every thrust. Her hips buck slightly, her toned thighs tensing as she grinds against her own touch, chasing that edge. Her moans climb higher, breathy and unrestrained, her free hand clutching the edge of her desk so hard her knuckles whiten. You can see her inner walls tightening around her fingers, her clit flushed and swollen beneath her circling thumb, and it drives you wild.

“I want to feel you come,” you growl, your hand pumping your cock with desperate urgency now, the heat coiling tight at the base of your spine. Your balls draw up, heavy and aching, as you imagine sinking into her, the way her body would arch beneath you. “Picture it’s me inside you, Jimin. I’d thrust so deep, stretch you open, make you scream my name until you’re shaking.”

“Oh God—yes,” she cries, her voice breaking as her orgasm crashes over her. Her body trembles violently, her fingers buried to the hilt in her pulsing pussy, her juices spilling over her hand and dripping onto the chair beneath her. Her head tips back, exposing the graceful line of her throat as she rides the waves, her lips parted in a silent scream of ecstasy. The sight shatters your control—your cock jerks in your hand, and with a guttural groan, you cum hard. Hot, thick streaks spill over your fingers, splattering across your stomach as your hips twitch, every pulse a release of the tension you’d built watching her.

Panting, you both ease to a stop, your chest heaving as you catch your breath. Jimin’s hand slips from between her legs, her fingers slick and trembling as she wipes them on her thigh. A shy, dazed smile breaks through her flushed face, her eyes half-lidded with satisfaction. “I can’t believe we just did that,” she whispers, her voice soft and shaky, a contrast to the boldness she’d shown moments ago. You chuckle, grabbing a tissue to clean yourself up, the sound warm and intimate despite the miles between you.

“Me neither,” you admit, your tone tender as the afterglow settles over you like a blanket. “But I meant it—I wish I was there with you. Soon, okay?”

“Soon,” she echoes, her eyes softening with a mix of longing and contentment, the distance between you shrinking just a little in the hazy warmth that follows.

One evening, as the golden hues of a Manchester sunset filter through your apartment window, you settle in for another video call with Jimin. Her face appears on the screen, her eyes sparkling with a brightness that makes your heart skip a beat. “I’ve got something to tell you,” she says, her voice practically vibrating with excitement, and you lean closer, hanging on her every word. “Aespa’s going on tour next month—and we’re stopping in England! London, Manchester, the whole deal!”

The words slam into you like a tidal wave, and for a moment, you’re speechless, your chest tightening with a rush of joy so intense it almost hurts. “Are you serious?” you finally choke out, your voice cracking as a wide, uncontrollable grin spreads across your face. “Jimin, you’re really coming here? I’m going to see you?” Your hands grip the edge of the table, your pulse racing as the reality sinks in. After months of longing, of aching for her touch, the thought of holding her again feels like a dream you’re terrified to wake up from.

“Yes, I’m serious!” she laughs, her own excitement mirroring yours, her eyes crinkling at the corners in that way you adore. “I couldn’t believe it when they told us. All I could think about was you—finally seeing you, being with you. I’ve been counting down the days already.”

“God, Jimin,” you say, your voice thick with emotion, “you have no idea how much I’ve missed you. I feel like I’ve been holding my breath since I left Korea, and now I can finally breathe again. I can’t wait to hold you, to kiss you, to just… be with you.” Your throat tightens, and you blink back the sting of tears, overwhelmed by how much she means to you.

“I’ve missed you too,” she whispers, her voice softening, her gaze locking onto yours through the screen. “Every day, every second. I keep touching the necklace you gave me, thinking about you. I can’t wait to be in your arms again.”

The call ends with your heart soaring, the promise of her arrival a beacon lighting up the days ahead. After training the next day, your phone buzzes, and you open a message to hear Jimin’s voice—pure, hauntingly beautiful, filling your ears with an unreleased song. Her vocals soar through the melody, a perfect blend of longing and tenderness, each note wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You listen to it on repeat, letting her voice wash over you, and it becomes your sanctuary—something you play whenever you’re alone, whether you’re on the team bus, in the locker room, or lying in bed at night, her voice a tether to her across the miles.

The following day, you can’t wait to tell her how much it means to you. You call her, your excitement spilling over the moment she answers. “Jimin, that song—it’s incredible,” you say, your voice brimming with awe. “Your voice… it’s like magic. It’s so perfect for the melody like it was made for you to sing. I’ve been listening to it nonstop, every chance I get. When I’m alone, it’s like you’re right here with me. I can’t stop hearing you.”

Her laughter comes through, soft and delighted, and you can see the faint blush creeping up her cheeks on the screen. “You really think so?” she asks, her tone shy but warm. “I was so nervous sending it to you. But knowing you love it, that it’s with you like that… it makes me so happy. It’s like I’m there with you, even when I can’t be.”

“You are,” you say, your voice low and earnest. “Every note, every word—it’s you, Jimin. And it’s keeping me going until I can see you. I love you.” The words slip out, raw and unfiltered, and her eyes widen for a moment before softening, a smile tugging at her lips.

“I love you too,” she whispers, and the words settle deep in your chest, a promise that makes the wait for her arrival feel both endless and worth every second.

*************************************************************************************************************

The day finally arrives when Aespa’s tour reaches London, and the anticipation has been building inside you like a crescendo, each passing hour amplifying your excitement. Thanks to Jimin, you’ve secured VIP tickets and backstage access, a privilege that feels surreal as you watch the concert from the front row, her voice soaring through the arena, her every move a testament to her artistry. The crowd roars, but your eyes are locked on her, your heart pounding with the knowledge that you’ll see her soon.

As the final notes fade and the lights dim, you’re ushered backstage, your pulse racing. The moment you spot her, standing near a dressing room door, still glowing from the performance, you don’t hesitate. You close the distance in a few strides, pulling her into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around her with a fierceness born from months apart. “Jimin,” you breathe into her hair, and she melts against you, her arms squeezing you back just as hard. Then you tilt her face up, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss—deep, hungry, and filled with all the longing you’ve carried. Her lips part under yours, her breath hitching as she kisses you back with equal fervor, the world narrowing to just the two of you until the sound of giggles breaks you apart.

She pulls back, her cheeks flushed, and turns to the three women standing nearby—her groupmates, Winter, Ningning, and Giselle—watching with wide eyes and amused grins. “Guys, this is… my boyfriend,” she says, her voice a mix of pride and nervousness as she gestures to you. The room goes quiet for a beat, then erupts in a chorus of gasps and exclamations.

“Wait, boyfriend?” Winter blurts, her eyes darting between you and Jimin. “And he’s… a football player? Like Manchester United famous?”

Ningning claps her hands, laughing. “Oh my God, Karina, you sneaky thing! We knew you were dating someone, but a pro athlete? That’s next-level!”

Giselle steps forward, eyeing you with a playful smirk. “So, you’re the reason she’s been all giddy and blushy on her calls? She turns into a lovesick puppy. It’s hilarious—last week, she was giggling at her phone like a teenager!”

Jimin’s face turns beet red, and she swats at Giselle’s arm. “Stop it!” she protests, but her smile betrays her embarrassment. “They’re exaggerating,” she mutters to you, but the warmth in her eyes tells you she’s secretly delighted.

Winter chimes in, grinning. “No, we’re not! She’s been spacing out during practice, muttering your name under her breath. It’s adorable—and totally unlike her usual self.”

You laugh, pulling Jimin closer, your arm around her waist as you take in the teasing. “Well, I’m honored to be the cause of that,” you say, winking at her.

The backstage chatter buzzes around you as you spend a little while getting to know Jimin’s groupmates—Winter, Ningning, and Giselle. Their energy is infectious, each of them sharing quick anecdotes about life on tour, their playful teasing about Jimin’s lovesick demeanor blending with genuine curiosity about your football career. Winter leans in with a grin, asking about your latest goal, while Ningning mimics Jimin’s giddy phone-scrolling with exaggerated flair, earning a mock glare from her leader. Giselle, ever the observer, nods approvingly as you recount a tough training session. After a few minutes, you turn to them with a polite smile. “Hey, would you mind letting the manager know Jimin’s coming with me tonight? I’d love to spend some time with her.” They exchange quick glances, then nod enthusiastically, Winter giving you a thumbs-up. “Go for it! We’ll handle it,” she says, and the others chime in with supportive winks, clearly rooting for the two of you.

You guide Jimin out of the venue, the cool London night air brushing against your skin as you lead her to the parking lot. There, parked under a streetlight, sits your Aston Martin Vanquish—sleek, black, and gleaming with a quiet elegance. You open the passenger door for her, and her eyes widen in surprise, a delighted gasp escaping her lips. “Oh wow, this is your car?” she asks, running her fingers along the smooth edge of the door before sliding into the leather seat. The interior smells of polished wood and luxury, the soft hum of the engine starting as you close her door and circle to the driver’s side.

As you pull out onto the road, you glance at her, her profile illuminated by the dashboard lights. “That concert was incredible,” you say, your voice warm with admiration. “And you—God, Jimin, you looked so beautiful up there. Every move, every note—it was like you were glowing.” Her cheeks flush, and she turns to you with a shy smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thank you,” she murmurs, her voice soft. “Hearing that from you means everything.”

The 30-minute drive to your house flies by, the car filled with a lively hum of conversation. You talk about your upcoming matches, and the pressure of the season kicking into high gear, and she shares details about her next concert stop in Manchester, her eyes lighting up as she describes the choreography. Laughter weaves through the dialogue as she recounts a hilarious mishap during rehearsal—Ningning tripping over a prop and dragging Giselle down with her—while you counter with a story about a teammate’s locker room prank gone hilariously wrong. The miles melt away, her voice a melody that keeps you anchored, and every shared glance feels like a step closer.

When you finally pull into your driveway and the car comes to a halt, the engine’s purr fades into silence. Before you can even unbuckle, Karina leans across the console, her hand cupping your face as she presses her lips to yours. The kiss is sudden, fervent, tasting of her excitement and longing, and you respond instantly, your hand sliding to the back of her neck to pull her closer. Your lips move together with a passion that’s been simmering since London, her breath warm against your skin as she deepens the kiss, a soft moan escaping her. The world outside the car fades, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in the intimacy of the moment, the night stretching ahead with unspoken promises.

You pull away from Jimin, the taste of her lips lingering on yours as you catch your breath, your heart racing from the intensity of the kiss. Her eyes are still locked on yours, dark and shimmering with desire, but you don’t linger in the car for long. You step out quickly, the cool night air hitting your flushed skin, and rush around to her side, opening the door with a swift motion. Before she can protest, you scoop her up into your arms in a classic princess carry, one arm under her knees, the other supporting her back. Her sudden yelp of surprise melts into a laugh, her arms instinctively wrapping around your neck.

“What are you doing?!” Jimin exclaims, her voice a mix of shock and amusement as she squirms slightly in your hold. “I’m too heavy—you’ll hurt yourself!” Her tone is playful, but there’s a hint of genuine concern as she looks up at you, her brows furrowed.

“You’re light as a feather,” you dismiss with a grin, tightening your grip as you start walking toward your front door. “Besides, I’ve been training for this moment—carrying my girlfriend is the best kind of workout.” She rolls her eyes at your teasing, but her protests fade, and she gives in, her body relaxing against yours. Her face nuzzles into the crook of your neck, her warm breath tickling your skin, and you can feel her smile against you, her hair brushing your jaw as you carry her. The closeness, the way she melts into you, sends a rush of warmth through your chest, and you savor every second of having her so near after so long apart.

You fumble briefly with the keys, managing to unlock the door with one hand while keeping her secure in your arms, and step inside your house, kicking the door shut behind you. The moment her feet touch the hardwood floor, you don’t give her a chance to catch her breath. Your hands find her waist, and you push her gently but firmly against the wall just inside the entryway, your lips crashing into hers with a passion that’s been building since the concert. The kiss is fiery and desperate, your mouths moving together with a hunger that speaks of months apart and countless nights spent dreaming of this moment.

Jimin moans softly into your mouth, her hands sliding up your chest to grip your shoulders, pulling you closer as her body arches against yours. You press yourself against her, pinning her to the wall, one hand cupping her face while the other slides down to her hip, your fingers digging in just enough to make her gasp. Her lips part, and you deepen the kiss, your tongue brushing hers, tasting the sweetness of her as the heat between you ignites. The wall is cool against your knuckles, a stark contrast to the warmth of her body, and every sound she makes—every hitch of her breath, every soft whimper—fuels the fire coursing through you, the longing of being apart finally giving way to the reality of having her here, in your arms, against your lips.

The kiss against the wall explodes into something feral, a collision of lips and tongues that sets the air ablaze with unrestrained heat. Jimin’s hands slip beneath your shirt, her nails—short but sharp—raking across your skin, igniting a trail of tingling fire over your abdomen. She tugs the fabric upward with impatient fingers, and you break the kiss just long enough to rip the shirt over your head, tossing it into the shadows. Her eyes, dark pools of molten desire, rake over your bare chest, drinking in the taut lines of muscle, the faint sheen of sweat already gathering there. You don’t hesitate—your hands find the hem of her hoodie, peeling it off to reveal the smooth, golden curve of her shoulders and the gentle swell of her breasts, barely contained by a thin black bra. The air between you crackles, electric with urgency, as you scoop her up again. Her legs snap around your waist, thighs clamping tight, the heat of her core pressing against your lower abdomen as you carry her toward the living room, her lips locked to yours in a messy, unbroken dance of need.

You lower her onto the plush couch, the cool fabric brushing her back as she sinks into it, her body a vision of taut curves and trembling anticipation. You hover over her, your hands roaming with a ravenous hunger that’s been simmering for months—fingers tracing the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips, the soft give of her belly. Her breath hitches as she fumbles with your belt, her desperation palpable, and you help her, shedding your pants and boxers in a frantic tangle that leaves you bare and aching. She’s already wriggling out of her jeans and panties, kicking them off with eager little jerks, and the sight of her—naked, her pussy glistening with slick arousal, her inner thighs faintly trembling—makes your cock throb, hard and heavy with need. You dip your head, kissing down the slender column of her neck, your teeth grazing her skin before you suck hard at her collarbone, pulling a faint, rosy bruise to the surface. Your hand slides between her thighs, finding her pussy soaked and scorching, the lips puffy and inviting. She gasps, a sharp, needy sound, her hips bucking as your thumb brushes her swollen clit, teasing it in tight, lazy circles while two fingers slip inside her impossibly tight heat.

“God, I’ve missed this,” you groan, your voice gravelly with raw want as you pump your fingers, marveling at how her walls grip you—velvet-soft yet so fucking tight, like she’s molded just for you. You curl them, hitting that spongy spot deep inside, and her moan—your name spilling from her lips in a broken cry—sends a jolt straight to your cock. “I want you so bad, Jimin.” Her pussy pulses around your fingers, slick and greedy, coating your hand as you work her, each thrust drawing wet, obscene sounds that fill the room.

“Please—don’t tease,” Karina whimpers, her voice fraying with desperation, her hands clutching your shoulders, nails digging into your skin as she pulls you closer. You can’t deny her—not when she’s like this, flushed and panting, her dark hair fanning across the couch. You pull your hand free, her juices clinging to your fingers, and position yourself, the head of your cock nudging her entrance. With a slow, deliberate thrust, you slide into her, and the sensation is mind-blowing—her pussy a tight, wet vise, clenching around you as you fill her inch by inch. She cries out, her head tipping back, exposing the delicate arch of her throat, and you set a steady rhythm, each thrust sinking deep into her molten core. Her walls flutter around your cock, warm and slick, sucking you in with every motion, and you groan low in your chest, the sound mingling with her breathy gasps. The couch creaks beneath you, protesting as you pick up speed, the slap of your skin against hers—your balls smacking her ass—echoing in the room. “Harder,” she begs, her voice a ragged plea, and her legs tighten around your waist, heels digging into your lower back.

You comply, slamming into her with a force that jolts her body up the couch, her round, firm breasts bouncing beneath her bra with each punishing thrust. Her pussy grips you like a fist, so tight it’s almost painful, the friction building a white-hot pressure in your groin. She shudders beneath you, her orgasm tearing through her with a scream that rips the air apart—her walls clamp down hard, pulsing wildly around your cock, milking you as her juices flood out, soaking your shaft and dripping onto the couch. The sensation shatters your control, and with a guttural moan, you cum, your cock jerking as you spill deep inside her, thick ropes of heat painting her insides. Your body trembles, muscles tensing and releasing as you collapse against her, her chest heaving beneath you, her skin sticky with sweat and sex.

But the hunger doesn’t fade—it lingers, smoldering, ready to flare again. After a brief respite, her lips crash into yours, fierce and demanding, reigniting the spark. You’re both up, stumbling toward the kitchen in a tangle of limbs, her hands shoving you against the counter with surprising strength. The cold edge bites into your lower back as she kisses you hard, her tongue claiming your mouth. Then she pauses, stepping back, her hands sliding to her back. “Wait,” she murmurs, voice husky, and with a flick, her bra unclips and falls away, revealing her tits—full, round, and fucking perfect. Your breath catches, eyes locking onto them: creamy skin, dusky pink nipples hardening in the cool air, the slight bounce as she shifts. “Goddamn, Karina,” you rasp, voice thick with awe, “your tits are unreal. So fucking beautiful—perfectly round, so soft-looking, I could stare at them all day.”

She smirks, stepping closer, letting them press against your chest. “You like them that much, huh?” she teases, but there’s a needy edge to her tone. You don’t just answer—you act. Your hands cup her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples, feeling them pebble under your touch. “Love them,” you growl, squeezing gently, marveling at their weight, their warmth. “They’re fucking gorgeous—best I’ve ever seen.” You pinch her nipples lightly, rolling them between your fingers, and she gasps, head tilting back as a shiver runs through her.

“Play with them more,” she whispers, and you oblige, kneading her tits, tugging her nipples until they’re stiff and swollen, her soft moans spurring you on. You lower your head, taking one into your mouth, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. She arches into you, fingers tangling in your hair, and you switch to the other, leaving both glistening with spit, her skin flushed. “Fuck, you’re driving me crazy,” she pants, her chest heaving.

She drops to her knees in a fluid motion, hands gripping your thighs, nails pressing into your skin. Her eyes—dark, wicked—lock onto yours as she wraps her lips around your cock, still slick with your cum and her arousal. “Fuck, Karina,” you groan, voice hoarse as her mouth envelops you, warm and wet, her tongue swirling around the sensitive tip with devastating precision. She sucks hard, hollowing her cheeks, tasting the salty-sweet mess, and the sight—lips stretched around your shaft, spit glistening as she bobs her head—makes your head spin. Your cock twitches, hardening fast, and she takes you deeper, the head brushing the back of her throat. Her hands slide up, one cupping your balls, rolling them gently as her tongue flicks the underside, the other stroking the base.

“You taste so fucking good,” she murmurs, words muffled around you, vibrating through your length. You tangle your hands in her hair, guiding her as you rock your hips slightly, fucking her mouth. She moans, eyes watering but locked on yours, pupils blown with lust. Her tongue teases the slit, lapping up precum, her lips tight and perfect. The pressure builds—too fast—her skill undoing you. “Karina—shit, I’m gonna—” you warn, voice breaking.

She pulls off with a wet pop, lips swollen and shiny, a string of spit and cum dangling before it snaps. “Not yet,” she says, voice dripping with need. She stands, pressing her tits together with her hands, framing them like an offering. “Cum on my tits—please, I want it. I need you to cover them.” Her begging hits you like a punch, raw and desperate, and your cock throbs at the thought.

“Fuck, Karina, you’re killing me with those,” you groan, stroking yourself as she kneels again, pushing her breasts up higher. You can’t resist—your hands reach out, squeezing them again, thumbs circling her nipples as she whimpers. Then she takes over, wrapping her tits around your cock, soft and warm, enveloping you completely. “Like this,” she whispers, starting to move, sliding them up and down your shaft. The friction’s insane—her skin’s silky but firm, her nipples brushing your tip with every stroke, slick with spit she lets drip down to ease the glide.

“Holy shit, your tits feel so good,” you rasp, watching her work you, her cleavage swallowing your cock as she pumps faster. “Love how they squeeze me—perfect fucking fit.” She smirks, but her eyes are pleading, locked on yours. “Cum on them—please, I want it so bad,” she begs again, voice shaking, and she tightens her grip, pressing her breasts harder around you. The sight—her on her knees, tits bouncing as she titfucks you, begging for your load—snaps your restraint. You groan, hips jerking, and cum explodes from you, thick ropes splattering across her chest. She moans loud, tilting her head back as hot streaks paint her tits, dripping down her nipples, coating her skin in a glossy mess.

“Fuck, look at that,” you pant, admiring the sight—her breasts glistening with your cum, nipples swollen from your play, her chest heaving as she catches her breath. She runs a finger through it, smearing it over one nipple, then licks it clean, smirking up at you. “Tastes even better off me,” she teases, and you haul her up, kissing her fiercely, tasting yourself mingled with her sweat and spit.

She stands, wiping her swollen lips with the back of her hand, cum glistening on her chin and tits. You grab her wrists and bend her over the kitchen island, hunger driving you. Her pert, round ass presses against you, soft and warm, as you align yourself, your cock nudging her soaked entrance. You thrust in from behind, plunging deep into her tight, dripping pussy, and she moans loudly, the sound echoing off the walls. Her walls grip you like a vice, slick and scorching, clenching around your shaft as you drive into her. The cold marble presses against her belly and cum-slicked breasts, her nipples hardening against it.

You thrust hard, relentless, the wet slap of your hips against her ass filling the room, paired with the counter’s creak under her grip. Her fingers curl around the edge, knuckles whitening, and her second orgasm hits fast—her legs tremble, her pussy spasming around you, so tight it’s almost unbearable. Her juices gushed out, mixing with your precum, and trickling down her thighs. The sensation tips you over, and with a guttural groan, you cum, your cock pulsing as you spill deep inside her. Your thick release blends with hers, a hot, sticky mess dripping down her skin and pooling on the floor.

Breathless, you scoop her up, her body limp yet clinging as you stumble to the bedroom. The sheets are rumpled from earlier, and you lay her down, her dark hair fanning across the pillow. You kiss her breasts, nipples still pebbled and sticky with your cum, your tongue flicking over them, drawing a soft gasp. You kiss her stomach, muscles twitching under your lips, then her inner thighs, silky and trembling, slick with your combined release. You spread her legs, exposing her glistening pussy—pink, puffy, dripping—and dive in, tasting her. Your tongue laps up her sweet juices mixed with your salty cum, intoxicatingly filthy.

She writhes, hips bucking as you tease her oversensitive clit with slow swirls until she’s whimpering, tugging you up. You kiss her fiercely, letting her taste the mess, and slide into her again—slower, savoring her tight, fluttering walls. Her nails rake down your back, leaving stinging trails, and she cums again, cries muffled against your shoulder as her pussy clenches hard. It drags you over the edge, your cock throbbing as you spill inside her, collapsing together, sweat-soaked and panting.

The night stretches on, insatiable, and you stagger to the bathroom, bodies slick with cum, sweat, and sex clinging like a second skin. The tiles are cool underfoot as you fumble for the shower, but she presses you against the sink, pinning you with surprising strength. Her hand wraps around your cock—still slick, half-hard—and strokes you back to life, fingers tight and teasing, coaxing a low groan. “One more,” she whispers, voice hoarse, and you lift her onto the counter, her legs spreading wide, her pussy dripping with your combined mess.

You step between her thighs, the mirror reflecting her bouncing breasts—round, perfect, still streaked with your cum—and her stretched, swollen pussy as you drive in. Her tightness grips you like a glove, every thrust forcing a wet squelch as fluids spill out, coating your shaft and dripping onto the counter. The slap of skin echoes in the small space, lewd and relentless, and she clings to you, arms around your neck, breath hot in your ear. Her third orgasm hits with a sob, her pussy clamping down hard, pulsing wildly, pulling you into your release. You cum with a broken moan, pumping her full again, some splattering her thighs as you thrust through it.

Exhausted, you step into the shower together, warm water washing away the cum, sweat, and raw scent of your marathon. The intimacy lingers, soft and unspoken, as your hands move gently over her body. You trace her hips, the dip of her spine, lathering soap across her skin as she sighs, head resting against your chest. She cleans you too, fingers tender over your shoulders and chest, washing away her nail marks, steam rising like a warm cocoon around you.

The soft light of a London morning filters through the curtains, casting a golden glow across the bedroom where you and Jimin lie entwined, her body nestled perfectly against yours. Her rest day in England is your precious gift, the only full day you have before her tour sweeps her away again, and you intend to savor every second. You wake slowly, the warmth of her breath against your chest stirring you from sleep, her arm draped possessively over you. With a reluctant sigh, you gently pry yourself from her embrace, careful not to wake her, and slip out of bed, the cool floor a stark contrast to the heat of her skin. Your heart aches with how much you already miss her closeness, but the promise of a perfect day fuels your steps as you head downstairs to make breakfast.

In the kitchen, the quiet hum of the morning surrounds you as you gather ingredients—flour, eggs, milk—setting out to make pancakes, her favorite. The sizzle of butter in the pan fills the air as you pour the first batter, the scent of vanilla wafting up, a small gesture of love. Lost in the rhythm of flipping, you don’t hear her at first, but then a soft rustle, followed by hurried footsteps, catches your attention. That morning, Karina wakes in your bed, the empty space beside her jarring, and a wave of panic grips her—her pulse quickening as she scrambles out of the sheets, searching the bathroom, the hallway, her voice shaky as she calls your name with increasing urgency. When she finally reaches the kitchen, her breath catches in relief. You turn to see Jimin standing in the doorway, her hair a tousled halo, her eyes still heavy with sleep but now softening with reassurance at the sight of you. She’s wrapped in your oversized shirt, the hem brushing her thighs, and the sight steals your breath.

“Good morning, beautiful,” you say, your voice warm and tender, a smile spreading across your face as she pads toward you. She doesn’t reply with words—instead, she slips behind you, her arms sliding around your waist in a gentle back hug, her cheek pressing against your back. “Your heartbeat,” she murmurs, her voice soft and dreamy, “it’s so calming. I could listen to it all day.” The intimacy of her words wraps around you, and you feel a surge of affection, your heart beating a little faster under her touch.

You turn in her arms, facing her, and cup her face gently, leaning down to kiss her. It’s slow and sweet, her lips soft and warm against yours, tasting faintly of sleep and the promise of the day ahead. Breaking the kiss, you lift her effortlessly, her surprised giggle filling the room as you set her on the counter, her legs dangling. “Stay there,” you say with a grin, turning back to the stove to flip the first pancake, the golden edges crisp and perfect. You slide it onto a plate, drizzling it with a touch of syrup, and hand it to her straight from the pan, the warmth transferring to her fingers.

She takes a bite, her eyes closing in delight, and as you cook more, you pass her each fresh pancake, the kitchen filling with the cozy aroma. She feeds you a piece in return, her fingers brushing your lips, and follows it with another kiss—brief but filled with love, the taste of syrup mingling between you. The ritual continues, a dance of giving and receiving, until the stack is gone, and her fingers are sticky with syrup and butter. You catch her hand, bringing it to your mouth, and slowly lick her fingers clean, your tongue tracing each digit with care, savoring the sweetness and the way her breath hitches at the intimate gesture. Her eyes lock with yours, a soft blush coloring her cheeks, and the moment stretches, a quiet, romantic thread binding you together on this fleeting, perfect day.

After the tender moment of cleaning her sticky fingers, the air between you and Jimin shifts, charged with a quiet, simmering intimacy. The kitchen is still warm with the scent of pancakes, but your focus narrows to her—her soft breaths, the way her eyes follow your every move. You step closer, your hands resting on her hips where she sits on the counter, and gently guide her thighs apart, the fabric of your shirt riding up to reveal the smooth expanse of her skin. Her gaze meets yours, a mix of curiosity and anticipation flickering in her dark eyes, and you feel your heart swell with love and desire.

Leaning in, you start with slow, deliberate kisses along her neck, your lips brushing the sensitive skin just below her ear. Each kiss is a tease, lingering for a heartbeat before moving to the next spot, your breath warm against her as she tilts her head back with a soft sigh. You trace a path downward, your lips grazing the curve of her collarbone, then lower, nipping gently at the hollow of her throat where her pulse quickens beneath your touch. Her hands find your shoulders, fingers curling into your shirt, and a quiet moan escapes her, fueling the romantic tension building between you.

You sink to your knees, your hands sliding down her thighs, parting them further as you press slow, reverent kisses along the inner skin. Each kiss is a caress, your lips soft and warm, moving with agonizing slowness from her knee upward, savoring the smoothness of her flesh. Her breathing grows uneven, her thighs trembling slightly under your hands, and you can feel the heat radiating from her core as you inch closer. You kiss the tender crease where her thigh meets her hip, your lips hovering just shy of her pussy, and her hips shift instinctively toward you, a needy whimper slipping out.

Teasingly, you pause, your lips a breath away, and instead of touching her where she craves, you blow a gentle stream of cool air across her slick folds. She gasps, her body jolting at the sensation, the contrast of the air against her heated skin making her squirm. “Please,” she whispers, her voice a desperate plea, her hands tightening on your shoulders, but you only smile against her thigh, placing another slow kiss just to the side, prolonging the sweet torture. The intimacy of the moment wraps around you both, a dance of love and longing, her vulnerability laid bare as you worship her with every careful, teasing touch.

The teasing tension hangs in the air, but you decide to shift the moment into something even more intimate. Pulling back from Jimin’s trembling thighs, you rise to your feet, your hands lingering on her hips as you meet her flushed gaze. “I think it’s time for a bath,” you say, your voice low and warm, laced with affection. “Want to join me?” Her eyes light up, a soft smile breaking through her needy expression, and without a word, she slides off the counter, her movements eager.

Before you can take a step, she leaps onto your back, her legs wrapping around your waist and her arms encircling your neck in a playful, clinging hug. Her laughter rings out, light and joyous, as she presses her cheek against yours, her breath tickling your ear. “Carry me!” she giggles, and you chuckle, adjusting your grip under her thighs to support her weight, her body warm and soft against you. The short journey to the basement feels like a dance, her legs tightening playfully as you descend the stairs, the cool air of the lower level contrasts with the heat between you.

You reach the basement, where the jacuzzi sits nestled in a cozy corner, its sleek edges promising relaxation. Setting her down gently, you turn on the faucet, the sound of water filling the tub a soothing backdrop. “Can you keep an eye on it?” you ask, brushing a strand of hair from her face. She nods, her eyes following you with a tender smile as you head upstairs to gather supplies. You grab a pair of soft sweatpants and a t-shirt for yourself, a fluffy robe, and one of your old hoodies for her, along with thick towels. On impulse, you snag a bottle of red wine and two elegant wine glasses from the kitchen, the idea of sharing a romantic soak with her fueling your steps.

Returning to the basement, you find the jacuzzi nearly full, steam rising in gentle curls, the air thick with warmth and promise. Jimin stands by the edge, her silhouette is graceful against the soft, amber light filtering through the room, her presence magnetic. You set the clothes and towels aside on a nearby bench, your pulse quickening as you approach her. “Let me help you,” you murmur, voice low and edged with anticipation, your hands trembling slightly as you reach for the hem of the loose shirt she’s wearing—one of yours, oversized on her frame, the fabric clinging faintly to her curves.

You peel it off slowly, deliberately, revealing her skin inch by inch, and as the shirt lifts past her waist, her breasts come into view—unrestrained, no bra beneath, full and perfect. Your breath hitches, eyes locking onto them: round, supple, with a gentle heft that makes your mouth water, her dusky pink nipples already perking up in the warm, humid air. “Fuck, Jimin,” you whisper, almost to yourself, “your tits are incredible.” You drop the shirt aside, hands hovering for a moment before settling on her waist, guiding her closer as you begin your worship.

You start with soft, lingering kisses along her collarbone, tasting the faint salt of her skin, then trail down the curve of her shoulder, your lips brushing with a featherlight touch that makes her shiver. But it’s her chest that draws you—irresistibly—and you dip lower, pressing your mouth to the swell of her breasts. “So fucking perfect,” you murmur against her skin, voice thick with awe, as you cup them gently in your hands, thumbs grazing the undersides. They’re warm, and heavy, the weight of them filling your palms like they were made for you. You knead them softly, savoring their softness, the way they yield under your touch yet hold their firm shape.

Jimin lets out a quiet moan, her hands resting lightly on your head, fingers threading into your hair as you kiss across her chest, lips tracing the delicate curve where her breasts meet her ribcage. “You like them that much?” she breathes, a teasing lilt undercut by the hitch in her voice. “Love them,” you reply, muffled against her skin, and you prove it—your mouth finds one nipple, brushing it with a slow, wet kiss before sucking gently. She gasps, arching slightly, and you take your time, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, feeling it harden under your attention. “So pretty,” you groan, pulling back to admire how it glistens with your spit, swollen and flushed, before switching to the other, sucking harder this time, teeth grazing just enough to make her whimper.

Your hands never stop, massaging her tits with a reverent rhythm, thumbs flicking her nipples in sync with your mouth. “God, I could play with these all night,” you say, voice rough with need, and you press her breasts together, marveling at the deep cleavage it creates. You bury your face there, kissing and licking the valley between them, inhaling her scent—clean sweat and something faintly sweet, uniquely her. She squirms, a soft laugh breaking through her moans. “You’re obsessed,” she accuses, but her grip on your hair tightens, urging you on.

“Damn right, I am,” you growl, and you pinch her nipples lightly, rolling them between your fingers until they’re stiff peaks, her breath coming faster now. You tug gently, watching her face—eyes fluttering shut, lips parting in a silent cry—and it’s intoxicating, the way she reacts to every touch. “They’re so sensitive,” you murmur, almost in wonder, and you lower your mouth again, sucking one nipple deep while your hand works the other, squeezing and teasing until she’s trembling, her thighs pressing together as arousal pools lower.

You pull back for a moment, just to look—her tits are flushed, nipples dark and glistening, a faint sheen of sweat making them glow in the dim light. “Fucking gorgeous,” you say, voice hoarse, and you can’t resist giving them one more slow, deliberate lick each, tongue flat and broad, dragging across the peaks as she moans louder, her hands clutching you tighter. Only then do you continue downward, kissing her stomach, the dip of her hips, your lips brushing every exposed inch with the same reverence? You kneel, trailing kisses along her thighs, then her calves, before sliding her panties down, pressing a final worshipful kiss to the tops of her feet as they step free, her body now bare and trembling before you.

You shed your own clothes quickly, your eyes never leaving hers, and step into the jacuzzi first, the warm water enveloping you as you settle against the side. “Come here,” you say softly, holding out your hand. Jimin joins you, her movements graceful despite the steam, and she slides into the water, settling between your legs. Her back presses against your chest, her head resting on your sternum, and you wrap your arms around her, pulling her close. The water laps gently around you both, the heat seeping into your muscles as her hair floats softly against your skin. You reach for the wine, pour two glasses, and hand her one, clinking yours against hers in a silent toast to this stolen moment, the intimacy of her body against yours filling the space with a profound, romantic stillness.

The jacuzzi’s warm water envelops you and Jimin, the gentle jets humming softly, easing you both into a cocoon of relaxation. Steam curls upward in lazy spirals, blending with the faint, fruity scent of red wine perched on the ledge. Jimin nestles perfectly between your legs, her back flush against your chest, her head tucked just below your chin.

You feel her breathing, slow and steady, her chest rising and falling in sync with yours, the world beyond this moment fading away. One arm drapes around her, hand splayed across her soft stomach, while the other traces idle, featherlight circles along her forearm. The silence wraps you like a warm blanket, melting away the stress of your separate lives.

After a long, peaceful stretch, Jimin’s voice cuts through, soft and tinged with melancholy. “I’ll miss this,” she murmurs, her head tilting so her cheek grazes your collarbone. Her words sting, a sharp reminder of her looming departure, and your heart tightens painfully.

You refuse to let the sadness take hold—not now, with her warm, pliant body pressed against you. “Let’s enjoy every single moment we have left,” you say, voice low and resolute, a vow to savor her presence. To banish the gloom, you dip your head, lips brushing the delicate curve of her neck.

At first, you kiss her gently, lips lingering on the sensitive skin below her ear, tasting the faint salt of her skin, warm and slightly damp from the day. She sighs, a soft, contented hum vibrating through her chest. Her body sinks deeper into you as tension ebbs from her shoulders. You trail kisses down the slope where her neck meets her shoulder, each one slow and deliberate, a silent promise. Your hands slide up her sides, brushing the edge of her shirt before slipping beneath, finding her breasts—bare, soft, and warm against your palms. You cup them gently, thumbs grazing her nipples, feeling them stiffen under your touch, velvety and hot. She gasps, a sharp intake of breath, as you roll one nipple between your fingers, the skin puckering into a tight bud. Your lips move lower, kissing the swell of her chest, tasting her sweetness, then close around the other nipple—wet and slick as you suck lightly, tongue flicking over the hardened peak. Her fingers twitch against your arm, a quiet moan slipping out as her body arches into the heat of your hands and mouth.

Your hand on her stomach stirs, creeping downward with agonizing intent. It slips between her legs, the water slicking her skin as your fingers graze the tender insides of her thighs. You tease her, brushing so close to her core but never quite touching, a maddening dance of almosts.

You trace slow, teasing circles around her pussy, skimming the edges of her folds, feeling the heat radiating from her. Her breath hitches, legs parting slightly, inviting you in, her body arching just a fraction toward your hand. You graze her clit with the lightest whisper of a touch, then retreat, leaving her wanting.

You blow a soft stream of air through the water, the bubbles tickling her sensitive skin, and she whimpers, a needy little sound that makes your cock twitch. Her hands grip your thighs beneath the surface, nails digging in as she squirms against you, desperate for more.

“Please,” she gasps, voice trembling, her head tipping back against your chest. Her dark eyes lock onto yours, wide and pleading, glistening with raw need. “I need you—please, stop teasing me, I can’t take it.”

Her desperation fuels you, her breathy plea dripping with want as she writhes, her ass pressing harder against your growing erection. “Touch me, please—I’m begging you,” she whines, her voice cracking, her hips rolling subtly to chase your hand. The sight of her—so undone, so needy—sets your pulse racing.

You prolong the torment, letting your fingers hover near her entrance, brushing her folds with featherlight strokes. “You want it that bad, huh?” you murmur, voice low and teasing, lips grazing her ear. She nods frantically, a soft sob escaping her throat.

“Please, I need your fingers inside me—please, it’s too much,” she begs, her tone raw and shattered, her body trembling with anticipation. Her pussy clenches the air, aching for you, and you can’t resist her any longer.

Finally, you give in, sliding two fingers into her slick, searing heat, curling them deep as your thumb presses firmly against her swollen clit. She moans loudly, the sound bouncing off the tiled walls, her pussy gripping your fingers like a tight, wet glove, pulsing with every move.

“Oh God, yes—that feels so good,” she groans, her voice thick with pleasure, her hips bucking to meet your thrusts. You set a slow, torturous pace at first, dragging your fingers in and out, feeling her walls flutter and squeeze you, her slickness coating your hand.

“Fuck, you’re amazing—so deep,” she pants, her head lolling back, eyes half-lidded as she surrenders to the sensation. You pick up speed, thrusting harder, curling your fingers to hit that sweet spot inside her, and her moans turn to desperate cries.

“It’s so good—don’t stop, please,” she gasps, her hands clutching your thighs tighter, nails biting into your skin. The water sloshes around you, splashing over the edge as her hips grind against your hand, chasing every stroke, every press of your thumb on her clit.

You kiss her neck again, sucking a dark, possessive mark into her skin as you drive her higher. “You feel incredible—so tight around me,” you growl against her ear, reveling in how her pussy clenches even harder at your words.

“Oh fuck, I can’t—feels too good,” she whimpers, her voice breaking as her body tenses, teetering on the edge. You thrust faster, your thumb circling her clit with relentless pressure, and she’s a mess of moans and pleas, her breath ragged.

“Cum for me, baby,” you murmur, voice rough with desire, your lips brushing her earlobe. That’s all it takes—her orgasm slams into her, her body shuddering violently in your arms, her pussy clamping down on your fingers so tight it steals your breath.

“Yes—fuck, I’m cumming!” she cries, her voice shattering as she rides the waves, her walls pulsing wildly, gushing slick heat over your hand. You keep moving, drawing out every tremor, her thighs quaking, her moans turning to soft, broken sobs of ecstasy.

“So good—so fucking good,” she pants, her body limp against you as the aftershocks ripple through her, her pussy still fluttering around your fingers. You slow your pace, easing her down, kissing her shoulder tenderly as she catches her breath.

When the high fades, Jimin turns her head, her lips crashing into yours in a deep, desperate kiss. One hand slides up, tangling in your hair, tugging hard, while the other grips your shoulder, anchoring herself to you.

The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue, her taste mingling with the faint tang of her arousal still on your lips. She pours her lingering pleasure into it, possessive and fierce, and the water laps gently around you, a warm contrast to the fire between you.

As Jimin’s orgasm subsides, her body still trembling in your arms, you feel the overwhelming urge to take her right there in the jacuzzi, to bury yourself inside her and lose yourself in the heat of her. The way her pussy clenched around your fingers, the raw sound of her cries echoing in the steam-filled room, ignites a fire in you that’s hard to ignore. But the intensity of her release is evident—her legs shake uncontrollably, her chest heaving with ragged breaths, and her head lolls against your shoulder, a testament to how powerfully it hit her. You don’t want to overwhelm her, not when she’s still so vulnerable in your embrace, so you temper your desire, choosing instead to cherish her in this moment.

With gentle care, you reach for the soap, lathering your hands to clean her, your fingers gliding over her skin with a tenderness that contrasts with the passion moments ago. You wash the sweat and remnants of her pleasure from her thighs, her stomach, her breasts, each touch a silent promise of love. She sighs softly, leaning into your hands, and you clean yourself too, the warm water rinsing away the evidence of your shared intimacy. Once done, you step out, wrapping her in a fluffy towel before helping her into the oversized hoodie and robe you brought, the fabric swallowing her petite frame. You dress in the sweatpants and t-shirt, the casual comfort grounding you as you guide her upstairs, her hand clasped in yours.

In the living room, you settle onto the couch, pulling her close as you drape a blanket over you both. You queue up her favorite movies—romantic classics she’s mentioned in late-night calls—and the soft glow of the TV casts a warm light across her face. Her head rests on your chest, her breathing slowing as the familiar scenes unfold, and soon her eyelids flutter shut, her body relaxing fully against you in sleep. You watch her for a moment, her peaceful expression a stark contrast to the passion of earlier, and your heart swells with love. Reluctantly, you glance at the clock—training awaits—and with a sigh, you ease out from under her, careful not to wake her. You scribble a quick note—“Went to training. Be back soon. Love you, Jimin”—and leave it on the coffee table, pressing a feather-light kiss to her forehead before heading out.

The day at training drags, your mind drifting to her sleeping form, but when you finally return home, the door creaks open to a sight that stops you in your tracks. Jimin—now awake—rushes toward you, her bare feet padding against the floor, her hair a messy cascade around her face. She throws her arms around your neck, pulling you into a kiss that’s sweet and eager, her lips soft and warm against yours. “Welcome back home, babe,” she murmurs against your mouth, her voice laced with affection, her body pressed close.

The words and her embrace hit you like a wave, a deep warmth spreading through your chest as you hold her tight, your hands resting on her lower back. “I could get used to this,” you say, your voice thick with emotion as you pull back just enough to look into her eyes. “Coming home to you jumping into my arms and kissing me every day—it’s more than I ever dreamed of.” Her smile widens, a blush coloring her cheeks, and she nestles back into you, the promise of more moments like this lingering in the air, a romantic thread binding your fleeting time together.

After stepping through the door and sharing that heartfelt moment with Jimin, you feel the lingering sweat and fatigue from training clinging to you. You excuse yourself for a quick shower, leaving her in the living room with a lingering kiss on her forehead. The hot water washes away the day’s exertion, and you emerge feeling refreshed, slipping into a comfortable pair of joggers and a loose t-shirt. Your mind turns to the rest of the evening—Jimin’s last few hours before she has to leave for her next tour stop—and you decide to cook for her, something simple yet heartfelt to make the most of your time. Homemade pasta with a light tomato sauce comes to mind, paired with a small cake for dessert, a sweet ending to her rest day in England.

You head to the kitchen, Jimin trailing behind you with a curious smile, her oversized hoodie sleeves dangling past her hands. “What’s the plan, chef?” she teases, leaning against the counter as you pull out ingredients—flour, eggs, sugar, and a few ripe tomatoes. “Just some pasta and a little cake,” you reply, rolling up your sleeves. “Thought we’d start with the cake first. Want to help?” Her eyes light up, and she nods eagerly, stepping closer to join you.

You begin mixing the cake batter, measuring out flour and sugar while Jimin cracks the eggs, her movements careful but playful. As you sift the flour into a bowl, she sneaks up beside you, a mischievous glint in her eye. Before you can react, she dips her fingers into the flour bag and flicks a handful onto your face, the white powder dusting your cheeks and nose. “Jimin!” you exclaim, laughing as you wipe your eyes, the flour leaving a streak across your forehead. She giggles, her laughter bright and infectious, and tries to dart away, but you’re quicker, grabbing a handful of flour and tossing it at her. It catches her hair and the front of her hoodie, turning her into a snowy mess.

The kitchen erupts into a full-on food fight, the air filling with clouds of flour as you both lob handfuls at each other, your laughter echoing off the walls. She squeals, ducking behind the counter to grab more, then launches another attack, the powder sticking to her cheeks and eyelashes, making her look like a playful ghost. You chase after her, dodging a particularly wild throw that sends flour scattering across the floor, and finally catch her, wrapping your arms around her waist from behind. Your grip is firm, pinning her arms to her sides, preventing her from throwing any more flour. She squirms, laughing breathlessly, but there’s no escaping your hold, her body pressed against yours as you both catch your breath.

Jimin tilts her head back, looking up at you, and her eyes are alight with happiness, the kind of pure, unfiltered joy that makes your heart ache with love. Flour dusts her face, a smudge on her nose, and a streak across her cheek, but she’s never looked more beautiful. Her gaze softens, the laughter fading into a tender warmth, and you can’t resist. You lean down, capturing her lips in a kiss that’s brimming with passion, the taste of flour mingling with her sweetness. Her lips part under yours, and she melts into the kiss, her body relaxing in your arms as her hands—still dusted with flour—reach up to cup your face, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, a hungry edge to it as your tongues brush, the mess of the kitchen forgotten in the heat of the moment, the passion a testament to how much you’ll miss her when she’s gone.

The passionate kiss in the flour-dusted kitchen sparks a fire neither of you can tame, the playful food fight fading into a raw, primal hunger. Jimin’s flour-dusted hands slide from your face to your chest, fingers clawing into your shirt as she presses closer. “God, I want you so bad,” she breathes against your lips, her voice trembling with need, her kiss fierce and hungry.

The air thickens with lust, flour scattered on the counter and floor a forgotten mess as desire takes over. You pull back, panting, locking eyes with her—dark, dilated, blazing with want. “Jimin, I need you—right here, right now,” you say, voice husky and thick.

“Yes, please—take me,” she gasps, nodding eagerly, her words a desperate plea. Your hands grip her hips, hoisting her onto the counter, the cool edge biting into her thighs as her legs part wide. “Fuck, hurry,” she urges, her tone needy.

Her oversized hoodie rides up, baring her smooth skin, and you yank it off, tossing it aside. She’s naked beneath, flour smudged across her chest and arms, her breasts heaving. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” you murmur, voice dripping with awe, and she blushes, whispering, “Touch me—please.”

She fumbles with your joggers, fingers shaking, and you help, shoving them down with your boxers. Your cock springs free, hard and throbbing, and she gasps, “Oh God, you’re so big—I need it.” You step between her legs, hands sliding up her thighs, spreading them wider.

Her pussy glistens, wet and ready, and she leans back on her elbows, panting, “Please, don’t make me wait.” You smirk, leaning in to kiss her deep, tongue plunging into her mouth as your hand teases between her legs. “Not yet,” you whisper against her lips, fingers brushing her slick folds.

She moans into the kiss, hips bucking, and you circle her clit with your thumb, light and teasing. “Oh fuck—touch me more, I’m begging you!” she cries, voice quivering, her body trembling under your control. You graze her entrance, barely dipping in, and she whines, “Please, I need your fingers—tease me more and I’ll lose it!”

“You want it that bad?” you taunt, voice low, dragging your fingers along her folds, avoiding her clit. “Yes—fuck, yes, I’m dying for it!” she sobs, her hands gripping the counter, flour puffing around her. “Please, put them in me—I can’t take this!”

You prolong the torture, tracing her pussy’s edges, feeling her drip onto your hand. “Tell me how bad you want it,” you growl, lips brushing her ear. “So fucking bad—I need you inside me, please, I’m begging!” she wails, her hips rolling desperately.

Finally, you slide two fingers into her tight, soaking heat, and she screams, “Yes—oh my God, that’s it!” Her pussy clamps down, hot and slick, and you pump slowly, curling them deep. “Fuck, you feel so good—so deep, don’t stop!” she moans, voice loud and raw.

“Like that, huh?” you rasp, thrusting harder, your thumb teasing her clit in slow circles. “Yes—holy shit, it’s amazing!” she gasps, her head tipping back, flour dusting her hair. “You’re driving me crazy—feels so fucking good!”

Her walls flutter around your fingers, squeezing tight as you pick up the pace. “Oh God, I’m gonna explode—keep going!” she cries, her hips grinding against your hand, her juices coating you. “You’re so good—so fucking perfect inside me!”

You suck a mark into her neck, thrusting relentlessly, and she groans, “Yes—right there, it’s insane!” Her moans fill the kitchen, loud and unrestrained, her breasts bouncing as she writhes. “I can’t—fuck, it’s too good, please don’t stop!”

“Cum for me, Jimin—let me hear you,” you growl, thumb pressing hard on her clit, fingers curling to hit her sweet spot. “Oh fuck—I’m cumming, yes!” she screams, her pussy pulsing wildly, gripping your fingers as her orgasm rips through her, juices soaking your hand.

“So good—so fucking good!” she pants, riding the waves, her voice breaking with each shudder. You keep moving, drawing out every cry, her body shaking, “Oh God, you’re amazing—I can’t stop cumming!”

When she quiets, you pull your fingers out, gripping your cock, guiding it to her dripping entrance. “Ready for me?” you ask, voice rough. “Yes—fuck me, please!” she begs, eyes pleading, and you thrust in slow and deep.

“Oh shit—you’re so big, it’s perfect!” she groans, her pussy stretching tight around you, warm and wet. You both moan, and you grip her hips, starting a steady rhythm. “Goddamn, you’re tight—feels incredible,” you rasp, thrusting deep.

“Harder—please, fuck me harder!” she cries, legs wrapping around your waist, heels digging into your back. You slam into her, the counter creaking, flour puffing into the air. “Yes—like that, don’t stop!” she screams, nails clawing your shoulders.

You lean down, sucking her nipple, tongue flicking the hard peak, and she gasps, “Fuck—right there, it’s so good!” Her pussy tightens, fluttering around your cock, and you growl, “You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you?”

“Yes—oh God, make me cum!” she pleads, and you rub her clit hard, thrusting deeper. “I’m there—fuck, I’m cumming!” she wails, her orgasm crashing over her, pussy pulsing, soaking you. “You’re unreal—cum with me!” she begs, and you do, groaning, “Fuck, Jimin!” as you spill inside her, hot and thick.

Panting, you stay connected, her legs still locked around you, her chest pressed to yours. “Holy shit, that was insane,” she whispers, pulling you into a tender kiss. “I love you—so much,” she murmurs, flour streaking her face.

“I love you too,” you reply, brushing a flour-dusted strand from her eyes. The messy kitchen is a testament to your wild, beautiful connection.

As the afterglow of your passionate encounter settles over the kitchen, you and Jimin linger in each other’s arms, the flour-dusted counter a testament to your intimacy. Her breathing steadies against your chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin, and you press a tender kiss to her forehead, savoring the quiet moment. The thought of her leaving soon weighs on you, but you push it aside, wanting to make the most of her remaining time. “How about we go out for dinner?” you suggest, your voice soft but hopeful. “Somewhere nice, just the two of us.” Jimin’s eyes light up, a smile spreading across her face, and she nods eagerly. “That sounds perfect,” she replies, her tone warm, unaware that this decision will cast a shadow over your future.

You both clean up, wiping the flour from your skin and changing into fresh clothes—Jimin in a casual sweater and jeans, her hair pulled into a loose bun, and you in a simple button-up and trousers. The drive to a cozy Italian restaurant is filled with laughter and shared glances, the evening unfolding like a dream. The dimly lit dining room offers a secluded corner table, and you order pasta and wine, feeding each other bites across the table, your hands brushing as you share romantic moments—her leaning in for a quick kiss, you wiping a smudge of sauce from her lip. Unbeknownst to you, paparazzi lurk outside, their camera lens capturing every tender exchange through the window, the flashes unnoticed in the warm ambiance.

The night ends too soon, and early the next morning, you drive Jimin to meet her groupmates at the airport for her flight to the next concert destination. The sky is still dark, the air crisp as you pull up to the terminal, her suitcase in the trunk. You help her out, pulling her into a tight hug, your lips meeting hers in a lingering kiss that tastes of goodbye. “I’ll call you when I land,” she whispers, her eyes shimmering with emotion, and you nod, watching her join Winter, Ningning, and Giselle before they disappear into the terminal. Exhausted, you return home, the house feeling emptier without her, and collapse into bed, drifting into a deep sleep.

Your slumber is shattered hours later by a relentless barrage of notifications—your phone buzzing with messages and calls from your teammates, friends, and family. Groggy, you fumble for the device, the screen lighting up with texts like “Is it true about you and Karina?!” and “Mate, you’re all over the news!” Panic sets in as you open a news app, and there it is—a headline screaming “Manchester United Star Dating K-Pop Idol Karina!” accompanied by those stolen photos of your dinner, your faces clear as you shared that intimate meal.

Your mind spirals into chaos, images flashing of the paparazzi, the public scrutiny, and the potential fallout for Jimin’s career. Your first instinct is to call her, to hear her voice, and figure this out together, but her phone is switched off. You try again, then a third time, the automated message cutting through each attempt, and the silence that follows terrifies you. Your heart pounds, fear gripping you as you wonder how this will affect her, her group, and the fragile love you’ve built, the uncertainty leaving you frozen in your bed.

The weight of the unfolding media storm presses heavily on your shoulders as you head to training, your mind a chaotic whirlwind of worry and guilt. The drive to the training ground, usually a time for mental preparation, is filled with dread, your fingers gripping the steering wheel too tightly, your jaw clenched as you replay the images of those paparazzi photos in your mind. You can’t stop thinking about Jimin—how she must be feeling, whether she’s okay, why she hasn’t called. The silence from her end is a knife twisting in your gut, each unanswered call amplifying your fear that this scandal might have pushed her away for good.

As you pull into the training facility, your worst fears materialize—a swarm of reporters and photographers crowds the entrance, their cameras flashing aggressively as they shout your name. “Are you dating Karina?” “How long have you been together?” “What does this mean for your career?” The barrage of questions hits you like a tidal wave, your heart pounding in your chest as you push through the throng, keeping your head down, your lips pressed into a tight line. The scrutiny is suffocating, the flashing lights blinding, and you feel a raw, exposed vulnerability you’ve never experienced before. Your teammates, already on the pitch, glance over with curious expressions, but you can’t meet their eyes, the shame and anxiety coiling tighter around you.

Inside, you’re summoned to the manager’s office, the familiar space now feeling like a courtroom as you step through the door. Your manager, a stern but fair man with experience handling high-profile players, sits behind his desk, his expression unreadable. You brace yourself, expecting a reprimand, your stomach churning with the fear that this could jeopardize your place on the team. But he leans back in his chair, his tone calm yet firm. “I don’t care what happens off the pitch,” he says, his voice steady. “Your personal life is yours. But I’ll be clear—your performance cannot slip. The media will eat you alive if you let this affect your game. Stay focused.” His words are both a relief and a warning, the pressure to perform now layered with the chaos of your personal life. You nod, muttering a quiet “Understood, sir,” but as you leave his office, the weight of his expectations settles heavily on your already burdened shoulders.

Days crawl by, each one an agonizing stretch of silence from Jimin, and the weight of her absence presses down on you like a suffocating fog. Aespa has already performed in Germany, their tour schedule moving forward without pause, and yet she still hasn’t called you back. The absence of her voice, her laughter, her reassurance—it eats at you, gnawing at your thoughts like a relentless parasite, each unanswered moment reopening a wound you thought had healed. You check your phone obsessively, your fingers trembling as you swipe through notifications, hoping for a message, a missed call, anything, but the blank screen mocks your desperation, a cruel reminder of the void she left behind. Your mind spirals into the darkest corners, conjuring worst-case scenarios that haunt your sleepless nights. What if her management forced her to end things? What if the scandal has damaged her career and reputation, and she blames you? What if she’s decided the pressure is too much, that loving you isn’t worth the risk?

The thought of losing her again, of never feeling her warmth, her touch, sends a sharp pang through your chest, a hollow ache that feels all too familiar. You’ve been here before—when she slipped out of your life the first time after that night in Seoul, leaving nothing but a whispered note and an empty bed. That abandonment carved a deep scar into your heart, the pain of waking to her absence, of not knowing why she left, haunting you for months. You’d spent countless nights wondering if you’d done something wrong, if you’d been too much or not enough, the silence amplifying your insecurities until you buried them deep. Now, as the news of your relationship spreads like wildfire, those old wounds rip open, the fear of abandonment clawing at you with vicious claws. What if this is her leaving again, but this time for good? The idea of her walking away, of choosing her world over you, is a torment that seeps into every corner of your being, your heart aching with an emptiness that no amount of training can distract you from.

You go through the motions at practice, your body moving on autopilot—dribbling, passing, shooting—but your mind is elsewhere, trapped in a loop of memories and fears. You replay every moment of that dinner, the way her eyes sparkled as she laughed, the warmth of her hand brushing yours; every stolen kiss, her lips soft and urgent against yours; every whispered “x,” her voice a melody that tethered you to her. Now, with the headlines screaming your names, those memories feel like fragile glass, on the verge of shattering under the weight of public scrutiny. The uncertainty is a torment, a constant undercurrent of fear that threatens to drown you, each unanswered call a reminder of the first time she vanished, leaving you to pick up the pieces of your broken trust. With each passing day, the hope you cling to feels more fragile, more out of reach, and the pain of her potential abandonment cuts deeper, a raw wound you fear might never heal.

The moment Karina steps into the hotel lobby in Germany with her Aespa members—Winter, Ningning, and Giselle—their phones erupt with a cacophony of notifications, a sudden storm of buzzing and dinging that shatters the quiet exhaustion of their arrival. Her heart sinks as she glances at her screen, the headlines blaring in bold: “Karina of Aespa Spotted with Manchester United Star!” The accompanying photos—her laughing with you over dinner, your hand brushing hers—stare back at her, a public exposure of the private sanctuary she tries to protect. A wave of panic crashes over her, her chest tightening as her breath quickens. Shame burns her cheeks, not for loving you, but for the vulnerability of it all—her career, her group, her carefully curated image, all laid bare for the world to judge. Fear gnaws at her, a cold dread that this might ruin everything she has worked for, that her members might resent her, that SM Entertainment might force her to end it. The weight of their stares—curious, concerned—presses down on her, and tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she clutches her phone, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios.

Yet, beneath the chaos, a fierce resolve flickers. She loves you—deeply, irrevocably—and the thought of losing you over this feels like losing a part of herself. The stolen moments, the late-night calls, the way you make her feel safe and seen—they are worth fighting for. Her heart aches with longing, a desperate need to hear your voice, to assure you she isn’t walking away, but the situation spirals out of her control before she can act. When SM management summons her to a video call the next day, their expressions stern and unreadable, she takes a deep breath and speaks the truth. “Yes, I’m dating him,” she admits, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. “He’s a football player from Manchester United, and I love him. This won’t affect my work or the group—I promise.”

The managers exchange glances, their silence heavy, and after a tense pause, they deliver their verdict: they will discuss it after the tour ends, a week away. Until then, her manager confiscates her phone, a cold, impersonal act that leaves her feeling isolated, her lifeline to you severed. The days blur into performances, her voice carrying through sold-out arenas, but her heart isn’t in it—every note tinges with the ache of your absence.

The final stop of the tour—Paris—passes in a blink, the stage lights blurring into a haze as Jimin pours every ounce of her energy into the performance, her movements sharp and her voice powerful, a defiant declaration that this won’t break her. But her focus narrows to one thing: confronting management. After the concert, everyone returns to South Korea, and in a long, grueling meeting that stretches into the early hours, she stands her ground. “I won’t break up with him,” she says, her voice firm despite the exhaustion etching her features. “This won’t affect Aespa—it’s my personal life, and I’ll manage it. Please, let me keep this.” Hours of debate follow, her arguments met with skepticism, but her passion and commitment to the group eventually sway them. SM relents, agreeing to let the relationship stand, and returns her phone, the weight lifting slightly from her shoulders.

The moment she powers it on, her fingers tremble as she dials your number, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and hope. When you pick up, the first word that tumbles from her lips is raw, unguarded, and filled with all the love she has held back: “Babe.” The sound of your voice on the other end, even before you can respond, brings tears to her eyes, a floodgate of relief and longing breaking open as she clings to the phone, desperate to bridge the silence that has torn you apart.

The phone rings, shattering the tense silence of your apartment, and your heart leaps into your throat. You’ve been on edge for days, the uncertainty gnawing at you like a relentless beast, and seeing Jimin’s name on the screen sends a jolt of both hope and fear through you. You answer in just one ring, your thumb trembling as you press the button, and her voice—soft, raw, and filled with emotion—comes through. “Babe,” she says, and the single word breaks something inside you, a dam you didn’t even know was there. Your eyes well up instantly, a single tear escaping to trace a hot path down your cheek, the relief of hearing her voice after days of silence overwhelming you. You’ve been so scared, so terrified that she might have decided to end things, that the weight of your dread has been a constant ache in your chest.

“Hm,” you manage, your voice tight and barely above a whisper, not wanting her to hear the quiver in it, the way you’re teetering on the edge of bursting into tears. You swipe at your cheek, trying to steady your breathing, but your heart pounds so loudly you’re sure she can hear it through the phone. Jimin doesn’t hesitate, her words spilling out in a rush, her tone heavy with the weight of everything she’s been through. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t call you sooner,” she starts, her voice trembling slightly. “They took my phone—management, I mean. The photos… the news… it all blew up when we got to Germany. I was so scared, babe. I didn’t know what they’d do, what they’d make me do.”

She tells you everything—the barrage of notifications, the panic that consumed her, the meeting with SM where she laid her heart bare, refusing to let go of you. Your heart thunders in your chest, each beat echoing in your ears as you hang on her every word, the rollercoaster of her emotions mirrored in your own. “I told them I love you,” she says, her voice breaking with sincerity. “I told them I wouldn’t break up with you, that this wouldn’t affect the group. They debated for hours, but in the end… they agreed to let us keep this going. For now.” She pauses, her breath shaky, and you can feel the gravity of what’s coming next. “But they said if it affects the group in a hugely negative way… I’d have to break up with you.”

The relief that washes over you is so profound it feels like a physical weight lifting from your shoulders. Your worst fear—that she’d be forced to end things, that you’d lose her—hasn’t come to pass, and the realization makes your chest ache with a mix of gratitude and lingering caution. “Jimin,” you say, your voice finally steadying, though it’s thick with emotion, “I’m so relieved. I was so scared—so scared I’d lose you. I’ve been a mess these past few days, thinking of every worst-case scenario. But hearing this… knowing we can keep going… I’m so happy. We’ll be careful, I promise. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure this doesn’t hurt you or the group.”

She exhales softly, the sound laced with her own relief. “I’m happy too,” she says, her voice softening with love. “I missed you so much. But there’s more—SM is going to accept the rumors tomorrow. They’re releasing a statement confirming our relationship. You should have one prepared too, just to be safe.” Her words carry a mix of resolve and nervousness, and you nod to yourself, already mentally drafting what you’ll say, determined to protect her as much as you can.

The next day, both parties release their statements—SM’s a concise confirmation of your relationship, yours a heartfelt acknowledgment of your love for Jimin while emphasizing your commitment to your career and her privacy. The response is a whirlwind of mixed emotions. Many fans and supporters flood social media with positivity, celebrating your love with heartwarming messages and edits of you both, their acceptance a balm to your nerves. But the online space quickly turns into a battleground as a fierce fanwar erupts between Manchester United fans and Aespa fans, both sides staunchly defending their idols. Manchester United supporters rally behind you, posting messages like, “Our star doesn’t need this K-pop drama—leave him alone to focus on the game!” and “Karina’s just a distraction, he deserves better than her!” Meanwhile, Aespa fans fire back with equal intensity, defending Jimin with comments like, “Karina’s a global icon, your washed-up footballer should be grateful!” and “Don’t drag our queen into your boring sports mess—Karina deserves the world!” The clash escalates, with some United fans writing, “She’s using him to boost her failing career—K-pop idols are all fake!” and Aespa fans retaliating, “Your guy’s a nobody compared to Karina—keep her name out of your mouth!”

But there’s a darker, more vicious side to the reaction—hateful comments aimed directly at Jimin, tearing into her with a cruelty that makes your blood boil. On various platforms, detractors unleash their venom, each message a dagger to your heart and a deeper wound to her spirit. A user named @KpopTruthUnveiled writes, “Karina’s such a disappointment, throwing away her career for some washed-up footballer. She’s a slut who doesn’t care about her fans.” Another, @AntiAespaForever, posts, “She’s pathetic, chasing a guy while her group suffers—Karina’s a selfish idiot!” A particularly vile comment under a news article reads, “Karina should just quit. She’s a disgrace to K-pop, sleeping her way to headlines. Hope her career tanks and she fades into nothing.” The cruelty of these words cuts deep, a bitter reminder of the cost of your love being public, and you can’t help but worry about how Jimin is handling it, imagining the pain she must feel seeing herself reduced to such hateful labels.

The days following the public statements are a turbulent storm of emotions, the internet a battleground of support, fanwars, and vitriol. While many fans rally behind you and Jimin, flooding your social media with messages like “They’re so cute together! Love wins!” and “Protect these two at all costs,” the fanwar between Manchester United and Aespa supporters rages on, adding fuel to the fire. United fans post captions like, “Our lad’s too good for her—she’s just a publicity stunt!” while Aespa fans counter with, “Karina’s a queen, your team’s just jealous of her shine!” The hateful comments targeting Jimin multiply, piling up under every post about your relationship, each one a fresh wound. Another user, @HateKarinaNow, writes, “She’s a talentless fake—using a guy to stay relevant. K-pop doesn’t need her!” The brutality of these attacks makes your stomach churn, a mix of anger and helplessness boiling inside you as you picture Jimin reading them, her heart breaking under the weight of the cruelty, her confidence shaken by the relentless onslaught against her character.

At SM Entertainment, the initial wave of hate catches management off guard, and whispers circulate about whether Karina should lay low for a while to let the storm pass. The pressure mounts as they monitor the negative comments, their concern for Aespa’s image growing with each hateful post. Meanwhile, you’re grappling with your own frustration, the distance between you and Jimin making it harder to shield her from the onslaught. One evening, your phone buzzes with an incoming call from her, and you answer immediately, expecting her usual warmth. But instead, you hear the unmistakable sound of her crying—soft, broken sobs that pierce through you like a knife.

“Jimin, what’s wrong?” you ask, your voice laced with worry, your heart sinking as her cries continue. She doesn’t respond at first, just sniffles, and the silence on her end only heightens your panic. “Babe, please—talk to me. What’s going on?” you press, your tone gentle but firm, desperate to understand.

After a long pause, her voice comes through, trembling and raw. “It’s… it’s the messages,” she confesses, her words punctuated by shaky breaths. “Some of them—they’ve been getting to me. People saying I’m a disappointment, that I’m ruining my career, that I don’t deserve to be in Aespa. They’re calling me horrible things, and I… I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry, but it hurts so much.” Her voice breaks again, and the sound of her pain shatters something inside you, a fierce protectiveness surging to the surface.

“Jimin, I’m so sorry,” you say, your voice thick with emotion, your own eyes stinging with tears. “You don’t deserve any of this. Those people—they don’t know you, they don’t know us. I’m not going to let this continue.” The anger in your chest hardens into resolve, and you make a decision right then, your love for her outweighing any fear of backlash. “I’m going to sue everyone who’s been leaving those disgusting comments about you,” you declare, your tone unwavering. “I’ll make sure they face consequences. No one gets to hurt you like this—not while I’m here.”

True to your word, you work with your legal team over the next few days, announcing publicly that you’ll be taking legal action against those responsible for the hateful comments targeting Jimin. The statement, released through your management, is clear and firm: “I will not stand by while my partner is subjected to vile, baseless attacks. Legal action will be pursued against those who have posted defamatory and harmful comments about Karina.” The news spreads like wildfire, and the impact is immediate. The popularity of your relationship skyrockets and fans and even neutral observers rally behind your protective stance. Posts begin to flood in with captions like “This man loves her—look at him fighting for Karina!” and “Respect for standing up for his girl. That’s true love.” The tide turns, and the public begins to see the depth of your care for her, the lengths you’re willing to go to shield her from harm.

Those who were still against your relationship—lurking in the shadows of anonymity—suddenly go silent, unwilling to risk the legal repercussions of their hateful words. The comments sections transform, the venom replaced by admiration and support, with messages like “I was wrong about them—they’re perfect together” and “Karina deserves someone who fights for her like this.” The shift in public perception is a balm to your frayed nerves, and though the scars of the initial hate linger, the knowledge that you’ve protected Jimin, that you’ve shown the world how much you love her, fills you with quiet, resolute pride.

The shift in public perception, fueled by your fierce defense of Jimin, prompts SM Entertainment to seize the moment, leveraging the global spotlight on Karina to elevate Aespa’s international presence. They selected her to represent the group at Paris Fashion Week, partnering with Prada, where she’ll don a stunning ensemble—a floral-patterned dress with a delicate blend of soft peach and green hues, adorned with intricate leaf motifs, paired with a ruffled white collar and cuffs dotted with tiny polka dots. The outfit hugs her figure elegantly, the tied sash accentuating her waist, and her long, dark hair cascades in loose waves, framing her face with natural grace. Unbeknownst to her, you’ve also been invited by a sponsor, keeping it a secret to surprise her, your heart racing with anticipation.

The day of the event arrives, and you navigate the chaotic backstage of the Grand Palais, the air buzzing with the chatter of stylists and the click of cameras. You spot Karina near a mirror, her Prada dress catching the light, her poised demeanor a stark contrast to the flurry around her. When she turns and sees you, her eyes widen, a gasp escaping her lips. “Oh my God, you’re here!” she exclaims, her voice trembling with joy as she rushes toward you. She throws her arms around your neck, her lips finding yours in a fervent kiss, her body pressing against you as if she might never let go. Her hands clutch your jacket, her fingers digging in, and she clings to you, her warmth seeping through the fabric. “I can’t believe you surprised me like this,” she whispers, her breath hot against your ear, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes.

“I wouldn’t miss seeing you shine like this,” you reply, your voice thick with emotion as you stroke her back, feeling the delicate ruffles of her dress under your fingers. “You look absolutely breathtaking, Jimin. I’m so proud of you.” She pulls back slightly, her smile radiant, a blush coloring her cheeks, and you guide her toward the front-row seats, your hands brushing as you walk, the connection between you electric.

As the runway show begins, the lights dim, and the first model strides out, but your focus remains on Karina beside you. The conversation flows naturally, a private sanctuary amidst the glamour. “That green in the dress—doesn’t it match my outfit from Paris?” she asks, leaning closer, her shoulder resting against yours as she gestures at a model. “Only if I get to take you out in it later,” you tease with a grin, and she playfully slaps your arm, her laughter bubbling up. “You’re impossible!” she giggles, but her hand finds yours, her fingers lacing with yours, squeezing gently. The audience murmurs approvingly, some snapping photos, captivated by your chemistry. “Look at that pattern—reminds me of a garden,” you comment, and she nods, resting her head on your shoulder for a moment, her hair tickling your neck. “I wish we could do this all the time,” she sighs, her voice laced with longing, and you turn to kiss her temple, murmuring, “We will, I promise—someday.”

The show concludes with a standing ovation, and as the lights brighten, you and Karina are ushered to the press area. Cameras flash as you pose together, her arm looped through yours, her smile dazzling. “One more, please!” a photographer calls, and you tilt your head toward her, sharing a quick, loving glance before the shutter clicks. Sensing the need for privacy, you guide her out a side exit, slipping into a nearby private restaurant you’d researched. The maître d’ leads you to a secluded room, the door clicking shut, muffling the outside world.

Alone, you pull Karina into your arms, your lips crashing into hers in a passionate kiss that’s all heat and yearning. She reciprocates eagerly, her hands sliding up your chest to grip your shoulders, her mouth opening to deepen the kiss, a soft moan escaping her. The taste of her—sweet and intoxicating—ignites a fire in you, and your hands roam her back, feeling the ruffles of her dress, pulling her closer. But the risk of being caught, the fragile balance of your public relationship, pulls you back. “We should stop,” you murmur against her lips, your voice thick with regret, and she nods, her breathing heavy. “You’re right,” she agrees, her fingers lingering on your collar before she steps back, her eyes still smoldering.

You settle at the table, ordering pasta and wine, the romantic ambiance wrapping around you. As you eat, Jimin’s phone buzzes incessantly, the screen lighting up with a flood of messages. She glances at it, laughing as she reads aloud. “Oh my God, listen to this—Winter says, ‘Karina, you and your man are killing it! That dress and his arm around you? Iconic!’” She scrolls further, her smile widening. “Ningning wrote, ‘OMG, you two are the cutest! That shoulder moment had me screaming!’ And Giselle just sent, ‘The fans are losing their minds over these pics—power couple vibes! Slay, girl!’” She looks up at you, her eyes sparkling with amusement and love. “They’re going absolutely crazy over us.”

You laugh, reaching across to take her hand, your thumb brushing over her knuckles. “They’re not wrong you look quite sexy next to me,” you say. She leans forward, kissing you softly, the moment a quiet promise amidst the whirlwind of your public life. The messages keep coming, a testament to the support growing around you. Though the world watches, in this room, it’s just the two of you, savoring every second.

The months following Paris Fashion Week marked a turning point for you and Jimin, a testament to the power you’ve drawn from each other. The legal action against the haters, combined with SM’s strategic embrace of the publicity, propels Aespa to new global heights, their music topping charts worldwide, with Karina’s star shining brighter than ever. Her presence at Fashion Week, bolstered by your surprise appearance, cements her as a fashion icon, her floral Prada dress becoming a viral sensation. At the same time, her performances exude a confidence that fans attribute to your unwavering support. Meanwhile, your career flourishes—Manchester United’s season ends with you scoring a career-high number of goals, your focus sharpened by the love that anchors you, the media dubbing you “the heart on the pitch” inspired by your off-field devotion.

The public scrutiny that once threatened to tear you apart fades into a distant memory, replaced by a narrative of resilience. SM’s decision to accept your relationship, reinforced by your legal stance, silences the naysayers, and the mixed emotions of the fanbase settle into overwhelming support. Fans post captions like “They’ve made each other unstoppable—look at their glow!” and “Karina and her footballer are goals—pure love and strength,” their admiration starkly contrasts the earlier venom. The couple photos from Paris, with Jimin leaning on your shoulder or playfully slapping your arm, become iconic, a symbol of a love that thrives under pressure.

With the tour concluded and the season winding down, you seize every free moment to be with her. During your off-season, you spend most of your time in South Korea, the vibrant streets of Seoul becoming a second home. The first morning after your arrival, you wake in her dorm, the soft light filtering through the curtains as you watch her sleep, her face peaceful, the tiger cub necklace glinting at her throat. When she stirs, her eyes meet yours, and a smile spreads across her face. “You’re here,” she whispers, her voice thick with emotion, and you pull her close, kissing her forehead. “Always, when I can be,” you reply, your heart swelling with the reality of her in your arms.

You explore Seoul together—quiet afternoons at hidden cafés where she feeds you tteokbokki, evenings strolling through Namsan Park where you steal kisses under the cherry blossoms, and lazy holidays at her family’s countryside home, where she teaches you to make kimchi, her laughter filling the air. Her groupmates, now your extended family, tease you relentlessly—Winter quipping, “You’re stuck with us now, footballer!” while Ningning adds, “Better keep up with her schedule!”—but their warmth embraces you. In return, you invite her to Manchester during her breaks, showing her the training grounds, taking her to quiet pubs where you share pints and dreams, her hand always in yours.

Your careers soar in tandem—Karina’s next single breaks streaming records, her voice a beacon of empowerment, while you lead Manchester United to a championship, your leadership on the field a reflection of the strength she’s given you. The distance remains a challenge, but you navigate it with video calls late at night, her voice a lifeline, and planned visits that punctuate your schedules. One evening, as you sit on her dorm couch during the off-season, a documentary about your season plays on the TV, and she rests her head on your chest, her fingers tracing the tiger cub pendant. “We’ve made each other so strong,” she murmurs, her voice soft but certain. “I wouldn’t change a thing.”

“Me neither,” you reply, tilting her chin to kiss her, the taste of her lips promising more moments. “We’ve built something powerful, Jimin. And I’ll spend every holiday, every free second, proving it.” The room fills with the quiet hum of your shared future, the chaos of the past resolved, your love a force that propels you both to success, together yet independent, a partnership forged in adversity and destined to endure.

#kpop smut #asks #ask me anything #aespa smut #karina smut #aespa karina #yu jimin #yoo jimin

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honeyhotteoks · 1 year ago

Text

lessons in intimacy (k.ys)

summary: you didn't mean to actually meet the man who's audio porn was single handedly getting you off every night, but you do.

note: this has been a looooong time coming and is dedicated to one of my best friends, grace. 💗 i hope everyone enjoys this chaotic smut fest.... also i've recently discovered that porn is actually illegal to produce or consume in korea? so suspend your disbelief for this fic lol

warnings: camboy!yeosang/barista!yeosang x fem!reader, it's a smut-a-thon barely a plot in sight featuring - nsfw/audio porn, guided masturbation, female masturbation, male masturbation, lots and lots of orgasms, use of dildo, nipple play, one night stand dynamics except they kind of fall for each other, big and i mean big dick yeosang, oral sex (f receiving), gratuitous squirting, fingering, thigh riding/grinding, protected and unprotected sex (do not do this they're being hella dumb), rough sex, maaaaaajor praise play he says good girl more times than i can count, so much use of 'baby', plus pretty girl/babygirl, absolute pleasure soft dom yeosang of our dreams, reader literally passes out from coming you're welcome

pairings: yeosang x reader

genre: smut and more smut, where's the plot???

word count: 14.5K

additional note: yeosang owns a cafe in this fic called ongozisin, it's a real cafe in seoul and you can check out their ig here! the vibes are truly so yeosang i can't even articulate it, so i just wanted to share this for the extra visual!

Paid porn for women has tiers. You stumble headfirst into this realization with your fingers stuffed inside yourself and your body slick with sweat, and there’s nothing that takes you right out of your frantic self care session than a request for your credit card number and a terms of service page.

Your chest is heaving, legs shaking, and you feel your orgasm slip right through your fingers as you skim over his Fansly page. You should have just skipped to another one of his free audios on Pornhub like you always do, but this week was long and stressful and slightly emotionally fraught, and there’s only so many times you can ignore his husky little ad at the end of the audio file inviting you to check out the full, uncut content.

“Jesus,” You breathe, pushing yourself up in the bed and letting your phone drop to the side as you recover your breath.

Are you really going to do this? Are you really going to pay for porn? The internet is full of it, spilling over from every angle with any little thing you can imagine. There’s a reason Rule 34 exists, people are horny and people love attention, so if you can fathom it there’s free porn of it.

And yet, nothing ever, ever gets you there like he does, and you’ve never even seen his face.

You glance down at your phone again and you see his familiar header image, a deeply contrasted black and white header of tangled white sheets, and his username striking across the corner in neon green. fromryu. This is what drew you in initially, the simplicity of it all. You were sick of skimming through all of the men making porn for women with names like ‘TheMasterDominant’, ‘Your_Daddy’, or ‘forherpleasureee’ and then just listening to them groan in your ear and call you a slut for fifteen minutes. That might work for some, but it definitely doesn’t work for you.

Ryu was different, is different. His audios are a mix of scenario based role-plays and straight forward guided masturbation for women, and you’re pretty sure he comes right along with you when you listen, but it’s just not the same.

You’ve fucked yourself to every single one of his free audios. Some of them more than once, some of them several times, if you’re being honest. You’ve always ignored his ads, because he gives so much content away for free you can’t imagine what would be behind a paywall that would get you off harder, until today.

Your brain just couldn’t get there. You’ve heard him chuckle that chuckle before, say that line before, coax you into orgasm with those exact words before, and you need more.

Your credit card is firmly in your hand before you can give it another thought, and with a fluttering stomach you tuck yourself into a robe and back into bed to pick a tier. With a long sip of a fresh glass of wine you lean back in your pillows and read through his welcome page.

His tiers make you smirk, he’s funny.

Third base, full uncut audios and one special audio per month just for subscribers – $4.99/month

Just the tip, uncut audios, one special audio per month, and access to a private discord server where subscribers can make audio request submissions – $9.99/month

Every inch (and more), uncut audios, exclusive audios, access to discord, exclusive video content, and access to a private Snapchat - $24.99/month

In for a penny, in for a pound, you guess.

You click on ‘Every inch (and more)’ and plug in your card numbers before you have a second to rethink your decision. You really hope you don’t get hit with a fraud alert that you have to explain to some poor customer service representative.

The wheel spins, the charge goes through, and suddenly you’re in. Your mouth has never been so dry.

There’s dozens of videos, dozens. For every audio you’ve listened to on Pornhub, there’s a video that goes with it, and for every free piece of content there’s two times as much paid video content. $24.99 was nothing compared to how many hours of content you’re suddenly sifting through.

There’s a common thread across every video though, you can already tell from the thumbnails, Ryu still never shows his face. Almost every thumbnail is the same, a white wall and a charcoal gray couch, and a man wearing oversized black sweatpants and a tight black athletic shirt.

His knees are parted, legs spread open and casual, and his hands rest clasped between them. You swallow thickly at the sight of his arms. He’s built. His hands are so good looking you think idly that he should just be modeling watches or something, it’s ridiculous how nice they are. His skin is tanned, veins snaking up his forearms, and silver rings across several of his long, thick fingers. Can the sight of a man’s hands make you come? Your aching clit throbs.

You skim through the video titles and tags to try and select one and your stomach twists. His videos are even more varied than the free content he posts and organized so well you think you might be in love with him already.

There’s a folder for role play videos, and you skim through that quickly just to see. Neighbor overhears you moaning and comes to check on you, best friend takes your virginity, boss and secretary working late, brother’s best friend slips into your room at a sleepover, step-daddy teaches his babygirl a lesson.

Your cheeks flush hot pink and you settle further into your sheets, backing out of this folder and navigating to your tried and true favorite.

Guided masturbation and encouragement.

There are even more videos in this folder and you skim through any of those ones that say ‘exclusive’ in the title to avoid ones you’ve already heard parts of. The hashtags alone leave you breathless and you have no idea what to choose, every video cleanly tagged with what you’ll need to be able to keep up with his instructions. Hands only, rabbit vibe, hitachi wand, bullet vibe, dildo, butt plug, nipple clamps, lubricant, massage oil, blindfold, wrist restraints, ankle restraints, the list goes on and on.

You select one at almost random with the tags ‘hands and fingers’, ‘dildo’, and ‘optional squirting’.

The screen starts black, and for a second you’re pretty sure something’s wrong, but then you hear him.

“Hi everyone,” Your muscles melt, and you push your noise canceling earbuds deeper into your ears, “I have something a little special today,”

You’ve never heard him talk so casually, almost like a vlogger or something. His voice hasn’t yet shifted into that deep teasing tone that kicks off every free video, and you’re already sold on every dollar you’ve spent when he starts to just chat.

“I got a request from a special subscriber in my discord,” He says, “someone who’s become a friend and who confided in me that she’s never been able to make herself squirt,”

Your breath comes a little more quickly.

“It’s not easy to do, I know,” He says, tenderly, the screen still black, “and I want you all to know that if you’re still struggling after this audio, that’s okay. It takes time, and your body is not a sex toy. There’s not a perfect combination that works for every person with a vagina,”

Your brow quirks at the inclusivity of his language choice and you smile a little, easing yourself down in the bed to keep listening to him.

“But I’m going to do my best to help you,” He continues, “so while I get set up over here, I need you to get your own space ready. Get up out of bed or off the couch, but keep me with you, okay, baby?”

You’re shaking and he hasn’t even said anything sexy yet. You don’t always listen perfectly to instructions, sometimes you skip ahead a bit and get to the good stuff just to get yourself off, but this time it’s different. You tuck your phone in your robe pocket and stand.

“For this session,” You can almost see the smile in his voice and you try to imagine him, “you’ll need a couple of good towels laid out across your space. You’ll need to drink a big glass of water before we get started, and then I want you to find your best dildo, the one that really makes you come hard. The one that fills you up just right, that hits that tender little place you wish I was touching with my fingers,”

He’s going to make you come so hard you see Jesus, you can tell already.

“We need everything to be perfect,” He says, “and for you to be comfortable. Tonight is not the night to test out that new toy, okay? Tonight is for you and me, so go and get your supplies, and I’ll tell you all about my day. I’ll be your favorite little sexy podcast.”

As he starts warmly talking to his audience about his long lazy morning off work, you nearly crumble. You’re really not supposed to be getting a crush on this guy, but here you fucking are. He’s sweet, casual and laughs a little while he talks, and while you gather up the towels and the water and the frankly oversized dildo, you’re smiling.

You hear him sit down and sigh and then his voice shifts, just a little, “Alright, baby, are you ready?”

You sink back back down to sit on your own bed and you wait.

“Just a reminder,” He says, “I will be using female descriptors throughout this video. If you’re uncomfortable with me calling you ‘girl’, like babygirl or good girl, or referring to you as a woman in any way, I am posting the similar content with male descriptors. If you’d prefer to hear baby boy or good boy, check the links below this video, okay?”

You smile again.

“Alright,” He hums, “now, where were we?”

The camera clicks on and you feel the little gasp leave you. You almost forgot.

He leans back on the couch and keeps talking, “That’s right, the lesson. Get settled over the towels, and if you’re wearing anything, it’s time to take it off for me.”

You lay back over the towels and let your robe part open.

“That’s so good,” He croons softly, “god, you’re so pretty, baby,”

Your chest thumps hard.

“Let’s start slow, okay?” His hands smooth over his thighs, “the key here is teasing, and I know how much you like it when I tease you.”

Your hand rests on your own thigh, your other propping up the phone as you watch with rapt attention.

“Touch your pretty thighs for me,” His voice is rich and thick in your ears, “that’s a good girl, there we go, nice and soft. Is your pussy wet? Did I do that to you again, pretty girl?”

You’re barely breathing, eyes fixated on the screen as he strokes his own thigh through his sweatpants, slow and steady.

“Are you aching?” He asks and you can’t help but nod, feeling like suddenly he can see you through the screen.

“Touch just a little,” He murmurs, “but don’t jump ahead. Keep your fingers off your clit, we’re not there yet, sweetheart.”

A little tight sound slips out of you as you follow his instructions.

“Is your sweet slit wet?” He hums, and his hand slides up his thigh and rests over his stomach, “Are you throbbing?”

Fuck.

“Someday, baby,” He sighs and you watch him shift on the couch cushions, “I’ll taste you,”

“Fuck,” You whisper.

“But for now,” He’s smiling, you know it, “you just need to listen to me and do everything I tell you,”

You’re nodding again.

“I promise,” He says, “I’ll take such good care of you baby, if you listen, I promise to make you come.”

Your stomach clenches, core fluttering, and you drift your fingertips up and down your slit, following the way his middle finger is slowly sliding back and forth on his abs.

“Are you listening?” His voice goes husky and your head drops back into the pillows. Next time you’ll need a better way to watch him and listen and touch yourself, but you’re so incredibly desperate at this moment that it really doesn’t matter, you’ll make due.

“You are, aren’t you?” He murmurs, “Good girl,”

Your legs spread a little wider.

He leans forward, you hear the rustling of the fabric and you snap your eyes back to the video to see him leaning forward, hands clasped together loosely, and you’re pretty sure you can see the outline of a bulge in his sweatpants.

“Does it hurt?” He croons, teasing.

You love him like this.

“Take your hand away from your pussy,” He says, just a little more commanding, “right now, baby,”

You pull it back reluctantly.

“Close your eyes for a minute,” He murmurs, “spread your legs for me,”

You comply immediately.

“Tease your nipples,” He sounds a little breathier now and you fight the urge to watch the video, “do whatever feels good, touch your tits exactly the way you like it,”

You roll your nipples, tugging them softly and kneading your breasts with both hands now that you’re not propping up the phone.

“Imagine me with you,” He says, “feel my fingers sliding up your calves, my lips on your inner thigh, you can feel my breath against your sweet cunt, I know you can,”

You’re about to come untouched, that’s the thought that rocks through your mind when your hips jerk on their own, his deep voice nestled right in your ear.

“Look at you,” He muses, “squirming around, so fucking desperate for something inside you,”

Your breath catches.

“You’re so needy,” He continues, “are you making noise for me? Little pants, little moans? Are you trying to be quiet?” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, a soft scold, “Not with me, baby,”

A moan bubbles up out of you.

“Hands off.”

Your eyes open immediately, and you don’t pull your hands away just yet, but you’re frozen still. You’re breathing hard, blush climbing up your chest, and your hips jerk slightly. If he doesn’t let you touch yourself soon, you’re going to lose your mind.

“Good girl,” He says after a moment, “very good,”

You drop your hands, scrambling for the phone so you can see what he’s going to do next.

“Now watch me,” He instructs, holding his palm up to the camera, “take two fingers,” he separates his fingers, keeping his middle and index fingers tucked together, “and when they’re inside curl them just like this.” He crooks his fingers in a come-hither motion, “Just like this,”

You slide your hand down your front, slipping your fingers through your soaked folds, but his voice makes you pause.

“Go slow,” He instructs, “push them in nice and slow for me,”

You follow his instructions.

“There you go,” He sighs softly, “now curl your fingers,”

You watch as he does it in the video and you follow instructions dutifully, your fingers brushing over your spongy g-spot.

“Feel that?” He leans back, and the tent in his sweatpants makes you pant, “That perfect little spot that makes you whine so good for me?”

You nod again, biting down on your lip, desperate to move but waiting.

“When I say,” He slips his fingertips into his sweatpants, teasing you, “fuck your perfect pussy with those fingers,”

Sweat drips down your chest.

His hand disappears into his sweats and he groans, “Now,”

You don’t have to be told twice.

“Harder,” He says, throaty and low, “I know you can,”

A tight sound slips out of you as you work yourself, but you nearly fall apart when you watch him push down the top of his sweats. His cock is huge, there’s no other way to say it. Thick and perfect, aching pink at the head and when he wraps his hand around himself you feel the tense knot of your orgasm rushing back.

“Oh, f-fuck,” You scramble in the sheets, pulsing your fingers in and out just like he told you to.

“Look at you,” He says again, “fucking yourself for me. I bet you’re imagining my fingers, aren’t you? Just like I’m imagining your dripping pussy,”

Pleasure rocks in your gut.

“Use your other hand,” He instructs, “rub that clit for me,”

You drop the phone like it’s hot, and you have to crane your neck to see the video, but it doesn’t matter. He’s given you the perfect permission to do exactly what you need and you have to take it.

“Does that feel good, baby? Yeah? Do you feel like you need to come for me?” His voice gets closer to the microphone and you’re rapidly approaching the edge, “You’re so close, fuck, listen to you,”

“God, oh god,” Your legs are trembling.

“Do you see how hard you make me?” His fist jerks over his cock faster and your mind is unraveling, none of his other audios feel like this, “Do you know how much I want to see you come?”

Pressure drops in your belly.

“Fuck,” He pants, “you’re almost there, I know you want to come for me, but not until I say,”

It’s happening whether he wants it to or not, whether you want it or not, and your fingers bear down harder on your clit, your eyes locking closed, head falling back.

“Hands off,” He’s not teasing anymore, he’s telling, “right now, babygirl, hands off.”

You pull your hands away and it’s possible that nothing has ever felt as bad as this one stolen orgasm. Your hands are shaking, body flushed and slick with sweat, and if any of your neighbors are up they are probably getting an earful.

You lock eyes with the video again and his hands rest on his knees, cock standing tall and at attention, edging with you.

“Get that dildo nice and wet,” He says, and you search your sheets for the silicone cock, “in your mouth pretty girl, imagine that’s my cock between your lips,”

He strokes his hand slowly down his length, smearing a bead of precum down to the base of his shaft as you dip the cock between your lips and take it as far in your mouth as you can.

“It’s time to come,” He soothes, like he knows you’re a whining, quivering mess, “I know you need it,”

The dildo pops free from your mouth and you watch as he lifts the hem of his shirt to expose the smooth plane of his abs, “Fuck yourself with me, sweetheart,”

Pleasure pops through you as you press the toy to your hot channel.

“Nice and fast,” He pleads, thrusting into his fist, “don’t stop this time, not until you come,”

The bubble inside you expands again, pressure everywhere.

“Just trust me,” He whispers in your ear, “don’t stop. I’ve got you, I’m right here, you let go baby. Don’t fight it,”

Your back arches up off the bedding, the muscles in your arm aching as you thrust the toy in and out of yourself, pressing it up again and again into your g-spot.

“Come, baby,” He sounds like he’s begging, and your free hand flies down to grip the sheets, “let go, you come, that’s it, there you go,”

You turn your head, catching sight of him again and the way he works himself over.

“There we go,” He groans sharply, his own release spurting up ropes of cum onto his exposed chest, “can you feel me inside you? Come with me, that’s a good girl, good fucking girl,”

He sounds dizzy, panting himself, you’ve never heard him quite like this and one final thrust sends you spilling over the edge. Your vision whites, body locking up in ecstatic pleasure, and you clap a hand over your lips to stifle the moan that rips out of you.

It takes a minute to come back from that. Your ears ringing, and the dildo slips out of you with a final pulse from your shattering orgasm. He’s talking, you register it, but his voice sounds far away and you realize that you’ve lost your earbuds. You scramble to get them back in, pulling the video up to your eyes.

“-And that’s okay,” He’s saying, his cock tucked away and his shirt back down, “you can try again another time if you didn’t quite get there,”

For a second you’re confused, it was the hardest orgasm of your life, but then you remember this was intended to be a guided masturbation to squirt and you blush, alone in your apartment, at the fact that you didn’t quite get there and he’s talking to you.

“It’s all about the build up,” He explains, “but I’m sure with a little practice we can get you there.”

You’ve never really cared about squirting until now, but he makes it sound like a perfect date and something tells you that you’ll be back here again night after night if he’ll have you.

“Anyway,” He sighs and you hope he’s smiling above the camera, “thank you for spending a little bit of your day with me, I hope I made you feel as good as you made me feel,”

You blush again.

“I’ll see you soon,” He assures, gentle like a lover would, “sleep well, jagiya,”

The video cuts and you blink hard, you’re still smiling.

You are so, so fucked.

After that, Ryu becomes a problem. You wish it was just the videos and the dirty talk and the good orgasms, but it’s more than that. You just like to hear him talk now, the little bits at the beginning about his day are starting to get into your head. And then there’s the Snapchat.

You kind of expected the private Snap to be sexy photos and videos of him in the almost pitch dark huskily saying good morning, but it isn’t. You still have never seen his face, but his videos are casual, friendly, too real for a man you spend every night fantasizing about. He chats about things he’s doing or books he’s reading while he’s cooking, filming just shoulders down so you can watch the muscles in his arms while he chops vegetables. You fall in love with the sound of his voice when he’s just talking, his stretched out s-sounds that only really peek through outside of his constructed scenes. You find yourself missing him a little on days he doesn’t post.

You’ve gotten used to waking up with him, falling asleep with him, checking in on him during the day. His message announcements in Snapchat don’t feel like they’re for everyone, they feel like they’re for you. You know that’s not true of course, you know you’re paying a hefty monthly bill just to feel like this, but you don’t care. It’s been a while, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t just need some company.

It’s a Thursday when everything goes to shit.

You wake up far too late, forgetting to set the alarm on your phone after falling asleep directly after yet another Ryu narrated orgasm, and everything has been off kilter since. You’re scrambling to get to work on time and every little thing is going wrong. Your coffee machine isn’t turning on, the sweater you want to wear is still in the wash, and your umbrella will not open despite the rain that’s ruining what would have been a good hair day.

When you decide to stop into the coffee shop across from your office it’s not even a want, it's a need. You’re already thirty minutes late, why not make it forty-five?

You’ve never come here, not once. You’re used to going to the shop around the block from your apartment, and this place is new. Ongozisin is the kind of place you’d normally take your time in. The space is clearly industrial, concrete walls and flooring made to look unfinished. The aesthetic is still warm though, with natural dark wood furniture and bamboo accents, Joseon era paintings and a juniper bonsai along the back wall.

To the left side of the cafe stands a bay of tall windows and the very modern, very clean point of sale. The line isn’t too long, but you can see that the pace of this place is slower by design, so maybe you’ll just round up and call it an hour late. A door opens to your left and you watch as one of the baristas steps out from a kitchen holding two black plates of colorful, carefully constructed pastries.

The line moves ahead of you, and the person behind you softly clears their throat to jog your attention.

You step closer, only one person ahead of you now.

When you hear his voice you nearly reach for your phone.

“That’s perfect,” It’s Ryu, clear as day. His voice is distinct and deep and here.

Your eyes snap up to the barista behind the counter, your body frozen stock still as you take him in, mind spinning.

“Do you want any cream?” He says to the woman ordering.

Blush lights up your cheeks and all you can think about is the video you watched the night before and his voice in your ear - Do you want my cum inside you, pretty baby?

You should leave. There’s a reason this man is anonymous on the internet, never showing an inch of his face, and Ryu isn’t even his name, it's just what you call him. He never calls himself anything in the videos, never reveals what part of Korea he lives in, never talks about his job. He doesn’t want to be found.

You’re about to turn, run, scramble away, but his voice comes again and this time you realize he’s talking to you. The man, Ryu, smiles, “Good morning, can I get you something?”

You’re frozen.

“Miss?” A little crease between his brows.

“Sorry,” You jump forwards, ignoring the annoyed huff behind you and shaking off as much of this panic as you can, “I don’t know where my head is this morning,”

“That’s alright,” He says warmly, “that’s what I’m here for,”

You can’t say anything, your mind blanks.

His eyes flick over you and then he nods, “You know, coffee? To wake you up?”

“Right!” You nod, “Sorry, yes, an americano please,”

“Iced or hot?” He asks.

Are you feeling hot, babygirl? Do you need to take something off for me?

“Hot,” You say it on a reflex but then you remember yourself, “no sorry, iced, iced please,”

“Okay, sure,” He smiles, “iced,”

You make it through payment without too much more embarrassment, apologizing again, and then you step to the side. Another barista appears, slotting into Ryu’s place so he can turn his attention to the drinks he needs to make and you take the moment to get composed.

He’s handsome, that’s a given. You expected that, but still he looks even better than your imagination conjured up, more real. He looks exactly right for this cafe too, his black hair long enough to brush the base of his neck with half gathered into a ponytail, pieces loose to frame his angular face. He’s dressed smartly too, black oversized trousers and a fitted black t-shirt, slim black boots, and an open jacket in a dramatic modern-hanbok style. You realize you’re staring the minute his eyes hold on yours and they crinkle up as he smiles. He has a birthmark, a smooth light pink flush across his eye and your heart thumps in your chest.

“Long night?” He asks you, passing off a coffee in a mug to the woman who had been ahead of you in line.

He just puts you at ease and you nod, “Something like that,”

“Ah,” He knocks out the round cake of used espresso from the portafilter as he talks, “and you look like you got caught in the rain, don’t you have an umbrella?”

“Broken,” You grimace, “it’s been one of those mornings,”

“Mm,” He nods, focusing on queueing up espresso for your americano, but while the shots pull he turns back to you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before?”

You shake your head, “No, first time,”

“Do you like it?” He gestures around with a nod of his head.

“Very much,” You smile, “it’s a great space,”

He smiles again, looking proud, “I’m glad you like it,” he says, “we haven’t been open very long, but so far people have seemed to enjoy it,”

“Oh,” You watch him pour your espresso over ice, “is the cafe yours?”

He nods, “Mine and my friend’s,”

You wish you weren’t late, you wish you were able to stay just a little longer.

“Well,” You tell him honestly, “it’s beautiful here, I’ll have to come in more often, I only work across the street.”

“Ah,” He nods, “I thought you looked familiar,”

Blush creeps up your neck.

“Did you need cream?” He asks and you hope he doesn’t notice the way your pulse quickens at his words, but he nods towards your coffee and you shake your head.

“Thank you,” You take the cup off the bar and step back, “I appreciate it.”

“I hope that helps,” He says, and then he glances behind you at the large round window, “actually, I’m sorry, can you wait one moment?”

“Sure,” You watch him duck out from behind the bar, making a quick beeline for the swinging door that leads back into the kitchen. You have no idea what he could want, there’s no way you’d be recognized by him except as a stranger on the street, and your stomach knots up.

It takes him a moment, but he darts back out, a long black umbrella in his hand, “Take this,”

“I can’t do that,” You wave a hand, “I’m only across the street, but that’s really kind of you,”

“If you’re only across the street then I know where to go to get it back,” He shakes his head, “just take it, it’s raining like crazy out there,”

He presses the handle of the umbrella into your free hand, and your breath catches in your throat, his skin brushing against yours. Your eyes flick over his rings, just the same as always. A signet with a deep black stone, a hammered silver band, a clearly vintage one on his index finger that looks like an old Catholic saint token, the finer details rubbed away with age.

“What time do you close?” You ask, accepting the umbrella.

“Seven,”

“I’ll bring it back after work then,” You tell him, “is that alright?”

He nods, “But if it’s still raining, just keep it. Bring it by tomorrow,”

“Tomorrow,” You nod.

“Mhm,” He nods, something warm in his expression, “this will have to be your new usual spot,”

Is he flirting? You’re wholly and entirely unprepared to deal with that considering the way you moaned his name last night. Something clicks in your brain at that thought though and you nod, “Maybe it will. I’m y/n, by the way,”

“Yeosang,” He smiles, “it’s very nice to meet you.”

Yeosang.

“You too,” You dip your head, “and thank you again for this,”

“Of course,” He says, “I hope this turns your morning around a little,”

You open your mouth to say something, but there’s a voice from the cafe bar that slices cleanly between your conversation, “Yeosang-ah!”

Yeosang glances back and then he sighs, just a little, “I have to go,” he tells you, “but I’ll see you again,”

“See you again,”

He’s back behind the bar before you can blink, focusing on each customer’s order. The man who called his name is grinning, and you wonder idly if he’s the friend who owns the cafe with Yeosang or just a part-timer.

With your stomach fluttering, you push out into the rain to get to work, Yeosang’s name on a loop in your brain for the rest of the day. When you get home, his umbrella resting by the door, you delete his Snapchat from your contacts and unsubscribe from his Fansly account.

Ongozisin becomes a daily ritual.

The money you used to spend on his Fansly now goes straight into the cafe, first thing in the morning before work and a last lingering stop in the evening before you go home.

On busy days you barely get to see him and sometimes you’re left just chatting with Wooyoung, his best friend and business partner. You like him too, you like the atmosphere and their kind warmth, but if you’re being honest you find yourself living for slow days. The days where you’ve timed it just right to have a little talk before the rush of the day or the closing tasks of the evening.

Little by little, Ryu fades from your mind, and the man in front of you is just Yeosang. The guy who runs your favorite coffee shop, the guy who dresses almost otherworldly, who smiles wide but only when you say something truly funny, who sometimes gets lost in his own head while he’s making cappuccinos.

He’s lovely.

Sometimes you think he might be flirting, a little more suavely and charismatic than his business partner who asked if you had a crush on him since you were coming into the cafe so much. Sometimes Yeosang adds a little extra treat to your plate of food or he adds pretty latte art to your cup if you’re staying in the cafe. That might be nothing, but it certainly might be something.

It isn’t until another day of rain, harsh pelting rain, that Yeosang appears at your table.

“We close soon,” He says, and when he sees the brief flash of concern that you’ve overstayed your welcome on your face he shakes his head, “sorry, I meant to ask, how are you getting home tonight?”

“The train,” You glance outside.

His nose crinkles, “You don’t have an umbrella today either,”

“True,” You look down at your belongings, “I didn’t check the weather,”

“If you wait a bit for us to lock up,” He says, “I’d be happy to walk you to the station,”

“Oh,”

“Or if you’re not busy,” He clears his throat softly, “I could walk you to this little restaurant around the corner?”

Flirting, then.

You smile and nod, trying to keep your eagerness tamped down to a normal amount, “Are you asking me out, Yeosang?”

He grins, “I’ve been trying to,”

Your stomach flips pleasantly, “I’ll wait, dinner sounds nice,”

His shoulders sag, a little relief in his expression and he clears away your empty cup as he says, “I’ll be quick,”

You catch Wooyoung slapping his friend's shoulder as he disappears into the back room, and before you know it you’re blushing and sitting across from this man at the restaurant down the block.

Dinner is so smooth it feels surreal. It turns out you both like the same music, and several books too, and you’ve never been on a date with a man who asked you so many questions about yourself and didn’t just talk your ear off. Dinner stretches long too, and you’re strangely grateful it’s a Friday when you finally do check the time. He has to work on Saturday at the cafe, but not until a little later in the morning, and so neither one of you really wants to call it quits.

The after dinner walk turns meandering, and then his hand is brushing against yours, knuckles to knuckles.

You don’t think of him as Ryu until his fingers brush down your back, lips close to your ear when he finally asks you. The way he does makes your body melt - I hope I’m not ruining things by asking, but would you like to come home with me tonight?

You agree before your mind catches up to itself, but every step of the walk to his apartment has your heart picking up speed. You had forgotten on the date how you met him, really met him, and your gut churns.

Do you tell him? Do you lie?

Everytime he grins at you, touches you, tucks his long hair behind his ear and nods, you can’t imagine a one night stand. You could maybe swallow the truth if that’s all this was to you, but it’s not, and so you can’t.

On his block you feel the internal countdown ticking.

“You can change your mind, you know,” He offers, noticing how you’ve gone quiet, and it pulls you straight out of your thoughts.

“Oh,” Your head snaps up, “I’m sorry, I don’t want to change my mind at all, I just got a little lost in thought.”

He nods, this time finding your hand and giving you a squeeze, his steps slowing as you approach his building, “Can I ask what about?”

You nod, returning the soft pulse of his hand in yours before separating your skin from his. His eyes flick down to your hands, and then back up to your eyes.

“I have a bit of a confession,” You swallow hard, “something I think I should tell you before we go upstairs,”

“Okay,” He leans against the stone wall behind him, “is everything alright?”

“I hope so,” You nod, “I just feel like there’s something I should say now, and if it makes you uncomfortable at all, just be honest. I’ll go home, no hard feelings,”

“y/n,” His brows draw together in confusion, “what’s going on?”

You take a deep breath, taking a step back to get a little breathing room, “I recognized you when I came into the cafe that first day,”

“Recognized me?”

“Yeah,” You clear your throat, your chest feeling tight, “for the past few months I’ve been… a subscriber,”

“A subscriber,” He repeats, and for a brief flickering second you wonder to yourself if this man just looks and sounds and feels exactly like Ryu but isn’t, but then his face blanches, “oh,”

“I’m not anymore,” You shake your head, “and clearly you like your privacy, so I didn’t know how to just come out and say it, but if you’re actually interested in me and not just being flirty at the cafe then I just can’t lie to you… I don’t want to start something with a lie,”

He’s quiet, and then his eyes flick down.

It was so, so nice while it lasted.

“I should have told you sooner,” Your stomach flips and you take another step back, “and I completely understand that you’re upset, I’ll just, I won’t say anything to anyone and it was lovely getting to know you, and I’m sorry, I’ll go,”

His head snaps up, “Go? y/n, stop, slow down,”

His hands smooth down your forearms as he jumps forwards, pulling you gently back towards him. Your heart is beating so loud you can practically hear it, “I’m sorry,”

“I’m not upset,” He assures, “can we go inside to talk? I don’t want to do this in the street,”

You nod, letting him lead you through the garden gate and up towards the house, but his words pulse on a loop in your mind. You hope he’s good at letting you down easy because this hurts. You should have known it that first day at the cafe, you should have stayed away and not played with fire.

His house is small, but very nice and despite being sparsely decorated, you like it. You feel trapped in the entryway so unsure of what to do in this space, especially when you recognize the corner of his gray couch.

“Can I get you a drink or something?” He interrupts your thoughts, “I have wine, probably some soju, and a bottle of truly undrinkable Japanese whisky,”

“Undrinkable?” You blink.

“I think it’s supposed to be very good if you like whisky,” He explains, “it was a gift,”

“Ah,” You couldn’t feel more awkward if you tried, “wine, I guess?”

“Okay,” He smiles, a close lipped polite smile that doesn’t quite touch his eyes, “well, make yourself comfortable, I’ll get us a drink and then we can talk,”

“Sure,” You’re still frozen as he walks away down the hall to what you presume is the kitchen. It takes a minute to unstick yourself, but you make your way to the couch and wait.

He returns with two glasses of red wine and then he sits in the chair opposite you, not on the stretch of couch next to you.

“Sorry,” You take the wine, stomach flip flopping, “I know this isn’t how you thought the night would go,”

“Mm,” He nods, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t know what to say,” You tell him honestly.

He nods, looking anywhere but at you until he finally meets your eyes again, “You’re not a subscriber anymore?”

“No,” You tell him firmly.

“Why?” He asks, and the question hangs between you.

“When I recognized you at the cafe and you were being so nice to me,” You explain, “it occurred to me that something might happen between us, as friends or otherwise, and it just felt wrong to know you as Yeosang and then… engage with your content that is clearly anonymous and meant to be private. I didn’t want to do that without you knowing,”

He nods, setting his glass on the nearby coffee table, “I see,”

“You are keeping it private, right? I feel like you’re careful to not overshare,”

“Yes,” He nods, “no one knows.”

“Then I really am sorry,” You set your own glass aside and lean forwards, “I’m sure you didn’t want to bring your real life as Yeosang and your online life as Ryu together, I just recognized your voice immediately that day in the cafe,”

“As Ryu?” He glances back up at you.

“That’s what I…” You try to parse through it so it doesn’t sound like a parasocial affair, “fromryu, you know? That’s just what I filled in for your name, I guess,”

“Ryusang,” He nods, “it’s the Hanja spelling of Yeosang,”

“Oh,” You soften.

“Why didn’t you mention you knew me before?” He asks, but despite his words nothing in his demeanor is upset, just curious.

You take another large, steadying gulp of wine and nod, “I didn’t really think the cafe was an appropriate place to tell you that I’ve gotten off to your voice before,”

He laughs sharply and looks down, “Okay, that’s fair,”

“Right,” You murmur.

“y/n,” He sounds hesitant and you look back up to him, “can I ask you something?”

“Anything,”

“Did you come out with me tonight because you wanted to go out on a date with the guy from the cafe, or because you wanted to have sex with Ryu?” The question is direct and cutting.

“With you,” You answer quickly, and now you know exactly why he’s putting this distance between you, “you, Yeosang.”

He’s quiet, turning your words over, you can practically see him thinking.

“Yeo,” You murmur, fighting the urge to reach out to him, “if all I wanted was that, I wouldn’t have told you. But I really like you, Yeosang, and I’d like to see more of you and see where this could go, but I completely understand if me knowing this part of you is too much. If you don’t want to go any further with me romantically or as a friend, this can just be a nice date we both had,”

He nods and then says, “I have one more question,”

You wait, your stomach in knots.

“Do you have a problem with what I do?” He asks.

“I mean,” You shake your head, “I was a subscriber, so no,”

“I don’t mean like that,” He clarifies his words, “I mean in terms of a romantic relationship. I like my work, both the cafe and the content, and if we start seeing each other I’m not going to suddenly stop making porn just like I wouldn’t close the cafe.”

“I’m not asking you to,” You shift over on the couch and reach towards him, resting a hand on his forearm.

“I’ve dated a few women,” He explains, slipping his hand into yours and twining your fingers together, “this was not something any of them were comfortable with,”

“Oh,” You nod, but he continues.

“A couple of them thought it might be fun,” He adds, “but when things got more serious they expected me to stop for them,”

“I’m sorry,” You tell him quietly, “I don’t expect anything like that,”

“You don’t now,” He points out, “and neither did they in the beginning.”

You can see the way this has fucked with his head a little, the way he keeps his shoulders stiff and turned away from you as he explains, and you suppose you might react the same way if you were in his shoes.

You chew the inside of your lip as you think about how best to say this to him, but finally you manage it, “Yeosang,” you get his attention, “what you do for work doesn’t change what we do on a date or in bed,”

He turns his head a little, the only indication you have that he’s really listening.

“I have no expectation that you’re some… sex god,” You smile a little, “though my guess is that you’re pretty good at dirty talk,”

A small smile appears on his lips.

“If I didn’t like what you do for work I’d go find another guy,” You continue, “and I’m sorry if the other women you dated weren’t comfortable with it, but I’m not so shy about it. I like what you do, and you’ve helped me plenty, and there’s nothing more flattering than knowing you liked me enough to even bring me upstairs,”

“Don’t sell yourself short there,” He looks up, shaking his head, “when you said yes to dinner I thought I’d be lucky if I got to so much as touch you,”

Your heart quickens in your chest, “You, what?”

He turns his body towards you properly now, “y/n,” he says, “I like you, I’ve liked you since you walked into the cafe soaking wet and exhausted, I’ve been trying to figure out how to ask you out for weeks.”

“I think I’m dreaming,” You breathe, and he grins at your words. You clap a hand over your lips and groan, “Sorry, I didn't mean to say that outloud,”

“It’s honest,” He says, “I like that about you,”

“Well,” Your hands naturally separate as you lean back onto the couch, “then believe me when I tell you that I am fine with your work. All aspects of your work,”

His eyes flick over you, gauging how honest you’re being now, “All aspects?”

You nod again.

“y/n,” His voice softens, “what tier subscriber were you?”

It clicks in your brain that you haven’t really told him everything, all the things you know about him and his work. Little audio videos here and there might be forgivable to some women, but more might be too much.

“The highest,” You tell him, “when I say everything I mean it, the videos, the Snapchat, all of it.”

He seems to relax at that, “And if this does go somewhere,” he gestures between you both, “if we keep seeing each other. If it becomes more than a few dates,”

You nod.

“You’re alright knowing that even if we were dating and going to bed together every night, I spend my free time making people come on the internet for money,” He says it so plainly that you have to blink at him.

You turn his words over and then sigh, “There’s one thing,”

He leans back in his chair, putting a little more distance between you both, obviously braced for your words.

“I just have a question,” You ease him, “just something I should know, I think.”

He nods once, his shoulders tense again.

“Do you ever talk one on one with people?” You feel your cheeks heat, “I know you do, you have the discord, but I mean do you ever do what you do alone with someone?”

He softens, “No, no I don’t,”

“Okay,” You nod, the tense knot in your stomach relaxing, “okay, then,”

“Would that be a boundary for you?” He asks.

“I think so,” You tell him, “it’s different when you’re making a video to upload for anyone and talking to someone, at least to me,”

He nods, and then he moves, shifting from his position on the chair to your side on the couch. The nerves that were knotted deeply inside you start to unfurl, his proximity feeling like a peace offering, like an acceptance of your words.

“Subscribers aren’t lovers,” He says finally, “and some people blur that line with their content, but I don’t.”

“Then, Yeosang,” You take the opportunity to slide yourself sideways a little closer to him, “I am fine with all aspects of your work, more than fine.”

“Will you tell me if that ever changes?” He asks.

“Yes,” You make him this promise, “I like you too, all I want is to be honest with you,”

He nods, his fingers flexing on his thigh as he thinks. Finally, he swallows tightly, his skin flushing a little now that you’re almost pressed together on the couch, and he asks what he’s wanted to ask all night, “y/n,” he turns towards you, “can I kiss you?”

He’s stunning this close, enough to render you speechless, breathless. You manage a single word, “Please,”

He’s on you in a flash, and Yeosang’s lips are warm, soft and plush and as he presses into you and winds his arms around you. Your body relaxes into his instantly, the feeling of his warmth, the scent of him, rich coffee grounds and sugar infused into his skin from his work at the cafe.

His tongue probes your mouth, his breath hot as he sighs. Your body feels alight, hot and feverish and desperate from just a single kiss. You need him inside you yesterday.

When he breaks the kiss, you realize you’re half straddling him. Somewhere in the heat of the moment and the muddled fog you hitched a leg over his and his hands dragged you up against him so you’re chest to chest. When your mouths break apart, you’re still merely inches from each other and panting the same little breath of air.

“y/n,” His hands explore you slowly, moving over your skin like he’s trying to learn you, “normally I would try to keep the kink to a future date, but since you already know all of my deepest, darkest fantasies, maybe we can skip ahead?”

“Yes,” You laugh softly, “definitely,”

“But I am realizing something,” His hands find the curve of your ass, “I’m at a disadvantage here, you’ve seen my videos, but I don’t know anything about what you like.”

“You,” The word bubbles up and you flush red again.

“My voice, I’m sure you like that,” He drops it a little to emphasize the husky bedroom quality of it with a teasing smile on his face, “but what videos do you like? What were your favorites?”

He’s about to ruin you, there’s absolutely no question. Even if he was all talk you’re sure to be coming just from his words alone, but his hands, the way he touches you, there’s no doubt he has the skills to back up everything he’s ever said in the videos too.

“Now I’m a little embarrassed,” You admit, “an hour ago we were on a first date,”

“An hour ago I didn’t know the woman across the table had fucked herself to the thought of me,” He counters softly, “and we can slow down if you want but judging from the wet patch on my thigh I think you want to keep going,”

You jerk your hips immediately, angling to pull them away so you can stop embarrassing yourself all over this man after a single kiss, but his hands lock down hard over your ass and he holds your body firmly against him.

“No, no,” He adjusts his leg so that his thigh is pressed even more firmly against your cunt, “don’t be embarrassed with me,”

“Right,” You blush darker.

“I’ll tell you what I want,” He offers, “would that help?”

You nod quickly.

One of his hands shifts to lovingly stroke up and down your back as he speaks, “I want you to enjoy this more than anything. There is nothing that gets me off harder than making a partner absolutely fall apart for me, and knowing I did that for them, and I think you already know that from my content. That’s real, that’s me.”

You shiver a little and he leans up to kiss you, softer this time.

“I’d like this to be good for you,” He continues, “and honestly I already want to see you again, but in case it’s only one night for you I think we should make it count.”

The night went from nothing to everything so fast your head is spinning but you nod, surging up to kiss him with your hands pressed against his chest for balance. Your core drags along his hard thigh with your momentum forwards and you gasp a little into the kiss, your hips bucking softly on their own at the sudden pleasurable sensation. You feel something stiff and warm pressing into your belly and you feel a rush of sensation between your thighs.

“So,” He kisses you again, leaning away so he can talk to you, “tell me what videos you liked,”

“The um,” You clear your throat softly, “the guided ones,”

He smiles, “Those are your favorites?”

You nod.

“And the roleplay?” He asks.

“Good,” You nod, “everything you do is really good,”

“But the guided ones get you off, hmm?” He squeezes your hips.

You nod again, “You’re very good at what you do,”

“Guided,” He says, almost to himself, before he drags your hips up and back along his thigh, “so you like when I talk you through it?”

You rock your hips on your own this time, picking up on his cues that he wants you to grind on him, “Mm-hmm,”

“Tell me more about what you like,” He keeps one hand planted firmly on your backside, but the other starts to wonder, fingers teasing the skin of your collarbones before he cups your breast through your sweater.

“Y-you’re so comforting,” You manage as you slowly rut your body against his, “even when you’re edging me and telling me what to do, you’re just, I don’t know,”

“Is that right?” He teases softly, his fingers toying with the top button of your closed cardigan.

“Mm,” You sigh, pleasure truly starting to build inside you as you rock your clit lazily against him, “and you understand it takes time for women,”

The button opens.

“You take your time with the build up,” You sigh, finding a better position for your hands against his firm chest while you continue to rock, “and when you talk about what you wish you could do to me if you were there,”

Two more buttons part open and he hums softly, appreciatively, “You like knowing what I want?”

You nod, watching as he makes short work of your other buttons.

“Maybe I should just show you,” He slides the cardigan off your shoulders until it pools around your waist, caught on your elbows, “wouldn’t that be better than just listening?”

“Y-yes,” You sigh, your hips slowing so you can let him take the lead.

He shakes his head, pressing his hand against your ass again to keep you moving, “That’s it,”

You moan softly, fingers gripping his shirt, “Yeosang,”

He chuckles at your needy whine and brushes his fingers between your breasts, stroking up your chest, down and over the wire of your bra, and lower still over the soft flesh of your belly.

“There you go,” He smiles, “I know that feels good,”

You nod, “So good,”

“Jagiya,” His hands slide your bra straps down, letting the soft material of the mesh cups fall and reveal your breasts to his hungry eyes, “look how pretty you are for me,”

You’re close.

“Don’t stop,” He murmurs, shifting under you so that he can sit up further and press his lips to your chest, “I need you to come,”

“Yeo,” You whine, your hips sinking into a quick rolling rhythm that feels so right.

“I need to take my time with you,” He confesses, lips traveling from the center of your chest across the swell of your breasts, “but I don’t think I can,”

“I-I don’t want you to,” You moan, wrapping an arm around his shoulders to stay steady, “please,”

“I want to,” He groans, “but, fuck, y/n,”

“Yeo,” You shudder, pleasure snapping up and down your spine, “it’s not one night, it could have never been one night for me,”

He exhales a heavy breath against your skin, hands tightening pleasantly on your rutting hips.

You’re startlingly close to tipping over the edge, the bubble growing closer and closer to bursting, and you squeeze your eyes shut tightly to focus on the sensation of him, “I-I need,”

He grips you harder, “Tell me, baby,”

“I, I,” You stammer, body stumbling towards coming.

“Come on,” He says lowly, “tell me what you need, baby, I’m right here,”

A tight sound bubbles out of your mouth and you figure it out in a second, your hand winding into the back of his hair to direct his head, pushing his mouth until you feel his lips ghost over your pebbled nipple.

“Oh,” He groans, his tongue catching your nipple firmly and sending a shock down your back, “there we go, I’ve got you,”

His tongue flicks over your nipple again, closing his lips over the hardened bud to suck sharply in exactly the way you need to take you right over the edge.

“I’m,” You grip him harder, losing yourself entirely now as you grind against him for your release, “I’m so close,”

“Come,” He pants, latching back onto your breast to keep lavishing the same attention, his arms banding tightly around you to hold your shuddering body close.

Your finger tightens in his hair, he begs you once more to come, and your orgasm knocks into you sideways. You moan sharply, jerking against him as you fall apart, and you feel him start to move.

He presses fast kisses across your chest, his voice soothing, “Oh, there we go,” he sighs as he feels you trembling, “fuck, what a good girl showing me exactly what she needs,”

His words draw a groan from your lips, your head buzzing at his praise.

“Perfect,” He sighs against your chest, “you have the prettiest tits I’ve ever seen,”

You shiver, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” His fingers trace a circle around your nipple, and something in the way he’s touching you and the sound of his voice tells you everything. He’s about to tease you, edge you, make you come, and god willing he was about to fuck you. Yeosang flicks his thumb over your nipple and smiles, “Baby, I’m going to turn you over, if you want to slow down or stop at anytime you just tell me,”

“I think I’ll be,” You start to say, and then he maneuvers you quickly in his strong arms, gathering you close so he can turn you over on the couch, leaving you lying flat on your back against the cushions. You squeak and the way he pushes your legs together, quickly undoing the buttons on your trousers and pulling down the zip, and he glances up at the sound to check your eyes but finds nothing but your lazy post-orgasm smile.

As he kneels and strips your trousers off he groans, “God,”

“W-what’s wrong?” You blink, finding his eyes.

“Absolutely nothing,” He smooths his hands up and down your bare legs, “except I’m finding it very difficult not being inside you yet,”

“So come inside me,” You smile.

The corner of his mouth turns up at your words, “Already, baby? It’s only the first date,”

You process your words and roll your eyes, “You know what I meant,”

“I do,” He smiles wider now, “but you need to come again before I fuck you,”

“Not that I’m complaining about you touching me,” You gasp sharply as he hooks his thumbs under the sides of your thong and yanks it away, “but I’ve been daydreaming about your cock for months, so,”

He laughs sharply, tugging his own shirt up and off over his head as he does, “I’m flattered,”

“Shut up,” You press your thighs together and let your head flop back onto the cushions.

“Darling,” Yeosang says, kissing each of your thighs before he starts to slowly open your legs again, “how long has it been since you’ve been with someone?”

“Honestly?” You grimace, “A while,”

“And how long since you’ve had anything bigger than your fingers inside you?” He asks it so plainly, so calmly, while he widens your legs and starts to tip you open, another kiss to your inner thigh.

You shiver in his hands, “N-not that long,”

“Hmm,” He sounds pleased at that, “do you like using toys when you fuck yourself to my voice?”

“Fuck,” You gasp as his finger traces the softest line up and down your slit.

“Is that a yes?” He blows a cool stream of air across your throbbing clit and you jerk in his hands.

“Yes,” You answer quickly.

“What I wouldn’t give to watch that,” He says, kissing your inner thigh again before he continues, ��but still, I’m probably bigger than your dildo, be patient with me,”

“Oh, fuck,” You melt as he presses one finger inside your slick channel.

“Relax,” He soothes you, “just let go for me,”

You don’t know how your life is this strange, how you went from listening to this man through your headphones while you touched yourself under the covers alone at home to his fingers sinking inside you. You’ll probably wake up from this dream with sticky thighs. There’s no way this is real.

Those are the thoughts that dizzy you until he pushes two fingers flush into your heat and you moan sharply, your hand gripping down on one of the couch throw pillows. He feels pretty real.

He groans, gently pumping his middle and ring finger just to get you used to the sensation, “Feel good?”

“So good,” You sigh.

“How badly do you need to come, darling?” He asks, continuing the slow and steady thrust of his fingers.

“So badly,” Your voice is whiny, needy, entirely informed by the feverish heat spreading through you.

“Pretty girl,” He hums, “with an even prettier pussy,”

“Oh, god,” You grip the pillows harder, and he’s barely doing anything to you but your legs are already starting to tremble.

“Mmm,” His fingers begin to pulse more firmly and you feel his fingers curl, finding the spongy crook of your g-spot with practiced ease, “and you need my cock inside, don’t you?”

“Ah, yes! Yes,” Pleasure blooms through your body.

“Soon,” He promises.

You moan again as he repositions, continuing the steady drumbeat of his fingers inside you as he reaches around with his opposite hand to separate your lower lips, the pad of his middle finger now alternating between maddening flicks and taps to your clit.

“Ah! Yeo,” Your hips rock, “just like that,”

“Good girl,” He murmurs, “telling me what you like,”

A tight sensation fills your lower belly, a blossoming heat that spreads from your core up through your body in warm waves, “F-faster,”

“Mm,” His thrusting picks up speed instantly, the angle slightly adjusting as he does, “that’s it,”

The angle chance has his curled fingers pumping against your g-spot hard and suddenly the sensation drops low, almost painfully tight and sharp like you’re on the precipice of something.

It occurs to you all at once what he’s trying to do, the way he’s trying to make your body sing, and despite the rolling waves of pleasure and how close you are to your second release, you don’t necessarily want the first time you squirt to be on Yeosang’s floor.

“B-baby,” You whine, the pet name slipping off your tongue, “I’m gonna, I think, oh fuck,”

“Fuck yes,” His fingers flatten down over your clit and he rubs fast, slickly rolling over your firm bud, “let go,”

“I can’t,” You shake your head, sweat breaking out across your brow, “I’ve n-never, oh, fuck, Yeosang!”

“Come,” He commands softly, “that’s it, you come, right here, baby,”

He’s not stopping, and with the way he’s working you there’s no way you could even if you tried. In a snap your body releases hard, a sensation like nothing you’ve ever felt pulsing through your slick cunt and your legs jerk, hips snapping up as clear fluid pulses out of you. The sound that leaves your lips is wanton, broken and needy, and your ears are very clearly ringing.

“Oh, fuck,” Yeosang hums, almost to himself, rubbing fast across your soaked slit to help coax every bit of slick from your center, “oh, baby, look at you,”

Your legs try to snap shut at the suddenly sharp overstimulation, but all he does is take that as his cue to stop directly stimulating you and instead drop the warm flat of his tongue over every inch of your glistening pussy. You gasp sharply at the feeling, rolling your head forwards so that you can look down between your legs, and you moan softly at the sight.

He’s buried between your thighs, lazily licking stripes up your inner thighs and over your cunt, but slowly enough that his aim isn’t to draw you into another orgasm, he just wants to taste you. To feel you on his tongue and ease you through your little aftershocks.

“God,” You breathe after a moment, “oh, my god,”

He chuckles, kissing the top of your mound, “Was that your first time?”

You nod, still trying to catch your breath.

He groans a little, palming his hard cock through his trousers to readjust, “That’s an ego boost, I’m not going to lie,”

You manage a laugh despite your dizzy, orgasm fogged brain, “Yeah?”

“Mhm,” He strokes your thigh, “if you’re not careful I might get addicted to the way you taste when you come,”

A shudder runs through you, “You can’t just say things like that,”

“It’s not a lie,” He says, “I’d spend a whole night between these thighs if you’ll let me,”

“Mm,” You sigh, reaching down for him and brushing your fingers through his long, dark hair.

“Now?” He cocks his head slightly to the side, “If you want my mouth, you just have to ask,”

You shake your head, slowly starting to push yourself into a sitting position and slide your hips away from him, “Not tonight,”

“What more can I give you tonight?” He murmurs, running his hands up and down your bare thighs, “Anything you want,”

You cup his face, drawing him close to lock your lips on his, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and nuzzling into his nose, “Take me to bed, please, Yeosang,”

“Let’s go,” He agrees, extricating himself from your arms so he can stand and offer you a hand up.

You take it, but as you do you realize the wet puddle on the floor in front of the couch and you blush dark red, covering your mouth with your hand, “I’m so sorry,”

“For what?” He blinks at you, and then follows your nervous eyes.

“I didn’t realize,” You start to say but he interrupts you with a hard kiss.

“Relax,” He says, “if we’re lucky you’ll make a mess of my room too,”

“I don’t know how I did it,”

He laughs again, “I do,” he smiles, “now come on, I need to see you in my bed before I combust,”

He tugs your hand, leading you down the hall until you’re in a large master bedroom. Your eyes flick over the details - industrial, warm wood, dark green sheets, soft ambient lighting. You’re about to comment on it, but he flips you back around to face him and captures your mouth in another hungry kiss.

“God,” He backs you up to the edge of the bed, dropping you down and falling over you, “tell me I can have you,”

“You have me,” You pant against his mouth, all thoughts of his lovely interior decor gone in an instant when you feel the hard shaft of his cock nestled between your thighs.

“I swear next time we’ll go slow,” He grinds his hips down, rolling his length up and down your slit, only the thin fabric of his trousers separating you.

“Please,” You buck against him, “I need you right now,”

“Fuck,” His hands are hot, searching, “is that right, darling?”

“Inside me,” Your hands scramble to find his waistband, “please,”

He nods, lips still pressed against yours, and then he leans back just enough to undo his trousers and start to push down his pants and boxer briefs.

Your mouth runs dry immediately. He wasn’t wrong about his size. You have fairly large dildos at home, thick and long and perfect for reaching all the spots you need it to, but Yeosang was bigger, thicker and longer than anything you’ve ever had inside you.

“Condom?” He manages as he shucks off his pants.

You blink, tearing your eyes away from his perfect, aching cock and nod, “We probably should?”

“Right,” He doesn’t push you to make a different choice, he simply searches his nightstand for a moment and produces a foil packet.

He strokes his cock twice while he tears the packet open with his teeth, before watching you beneath him as he rolls the condom smoothly down his length, adjusting it so that it fits perfectly.

You’re trembling with anticipation, you can feel it and so can he.

“y/n,” He murmurs, leaning over you and pressing a hand beneath your back to finally unclip your bra, “I want you to do something for me,”

You nod, sliding the cardigan and bra off your body and pushing them over the edge of the bed.

He grabs a firm looking pillow and folds it in half, “Lift your hips for me,”

You lift up and he slides the pillow right under your backside to leave you propped up and open for him.

“If it doesn’t feel good,” He murmurs as he maneuvers you into the position he wants, “or if I’m hurting you at all, just tell me,”

You nod.

“And I want you to tell me when you’re about to come,” He instructs, “I need to know,”

You nod again, your stomach flipping with desire.

He licks his lips, folding your legs open a little wider and slotting himself over you. He settles with one hand on your raised hip, the other braced on the bed by your head, his knees on the edge of the mattress between your splayed thighs.

His cock finally, finally, nudges at your entrance and you grip down on the sheets below you.

“Mm,” He groans, sinking just an inch or two into your tight heat, “you’re even tighter than I thought,”

He pushes in a little more and you moan at the stretch, “Oh, god,”

“Do I feel that good, babygirl?” He teases, pushing in a little more.

“So good,” You lift your head to watch the way his thick length splits you open.

“I am bigger than your toys, aren’t I?” He rolls his hips this time, rocking himself deeper with every little thrust.

“Y-yes,” You nod, your head dropping back to the mattress.

“Can you take me, baby?” He murmurs low.

“Fuck yes,” Your hips buck up again on their own as he opens you up, nearly fully sheathed inside you.

“Just a little more,” He says, his hand tightening on your hip, “there we go, fuck, that’s it, you’re taking me so beautifully, baby,”

Tears rush to your eyes, not from any kind of discomfort, but just from the overwhelming sensation of him. You’ve never been so full, never been so deliciously stretched and had these parts of you touched, and it rushes a blush to your chest and emotion through your veins.

His fingers brush along your jaw, bringing your eyes to his, “Good tears, or should we stop?”

“If you stop I’ll actually cry,” You laugh, blinking away the hazy sheen in your eyes, “you feel so fucking good,”

“Oh,” He sighs, thrusting gently in and out of you, “what a good, good girl, you are,”

“Jesus,” You shiver beneath him.

“Yeah?” He starts to move now, just a bit more, rocking his cock at a steady pace in and out of your wet core, “You like when I tell you how good you are for me?”

“Yes,” You moan, a shock of hot pleasure spiking up from your core, “please,”

“Such a good girl letting me fuck her perfect pussy on the first date,” His voice has dropped low again, husky and direct, and you babble out a sound of pleasure as he talks, “so warm and wet,”

“Fuck, fuck,” Your eyes roll.

He collapses over you a little more, his desperate lips searching for yours and the angle deepens, pushing his cock deeper and deeper inside you with every downward thrust of his hips.

You grip his shoulders, nails digging into his warm skin, “Baby,” you pant, “your cock, oh god,”

He hums against your cheek, head falling slack as his lips find your throat, sucking your pulse points and no doubt searing his mark into your tender skin. He pumps his hips harder and you moan under him, cursing again and scrambling to hold him closer.

“Such a dirty mouth,” He nips at your neck, “are you always like this, or is my cock that special?”

All you can manage is a taught moan in response, his cockhead now continuously connecting with your sweet spot over and over and rendering you unable to string a coherent thought together.

He groans at the way your cunt flutters and spasms and he kisses you hard, fingers tangling in your hair, “One of these days I’ll feel you for real,” he pants, “nothing between my cock and your sweet cunt,”

Your back arches, your mind spinning at the thought, “Yeo,” you moan.

“Fuck,” He chokes, “the way you’re squeezing me,”

You make a tight sound, something between a pleasured whine and a sob, and his hips stutter and stop, pressing his cock in as deep as possible as he grips down on whatever parts of you he can, breathing hot and heavy against your skin.

You can’t really move well in this position, but your hips rock in tiny back and forth motions to try and keep the sensation rolling through you. He’s panting into your shoulder, clearly trying to keep himself from coming too soon, and your mind commits to an idea before you have a second to double check yourself.

“Yeo,” You tap his arm, “baby I need to move,”

He pushes off you, his cock sliding out of your soaked core and you leg your legs straighten out, “What’s wrong,”

The words are barely off his tongue before you’re sitting up, grabbing his hand and drawing him back to the bed, pushing him onto his back with a guiding hand to his shoulder. He lets you lead, watching you as you put him where you want him this time, and he smiles, eyes flicking over you appreciatively.

“I need you,” Is all the explanation you can give, and maybe with a stranger this is foolish, borderline stupid, but you know him. He’s not a stranger really, not to you.

With a feverish pulse of need inside you, you shift to straddle his hips, and with quick, sure hands you roll the condom up from the base of his cock and toss it to the side.

“y/n,” He manages, but you’re lifting yourself over him now and his hands fly up to brace your waist, “are you sure?”

“So sure,” You connect his cockhead with your slick hole and drop your hips down fast, taking the whole hard length of him inside you in one smooth motion.

It’s his turn to moan, his head dropping back at the sensation of your wet walls and he grips at you, his hips stuttering beneath you.

“God,” He bucks up into you, “you’re perfect,”

“So are you,” You rock against him, finding the perfect place for your hands on his chest, “you’re so deep,”

He moans again, and when you start to bounce up and down he curses tightly.

“J-just don’t come inside me,” You keep bouncing, a steady fluid motion in your hips that you can tell is driving him crazy, but you have to keep your head at least a little.

“F-fuck,” He groans, his jaw tightening as his eyes flick down to the place your bodies are joined together, “you’re making that kind of difficult,”

“I just wanted to feel you,” Your shaking arms buckle a little and you find yourself flush against his chest while you work his cock.

“Me too,” His hands find your ass again and he starts to direct the pace, “God, I could fuck you forever,”

A moan drops from your mouth, your hands tightening on his chest.

“Don’t stop,” He urges you, and you realize your hips slowed at his words, “you feel so good riding me like that,”

Your thighs are burning already, but you hardly care, every fast shift up and down leaves you closer and closer, “Love you cock,”

“Mm, yeah? Say that again,”

“I,” You curse as a spike of pleasure rolls through you, “fuck, I love your cock,”

“Good girl,” He grips you tight, his hips jutting up to meet you now.

Your pace falters slightly, “Please, please,”

“I’ve got you,” He adjusts just enough to hold you steady as he fucks up into your tight heat, “I’ve got you,”

You moan, dropping your head into his chest and shuddering against him, “Baby, oh fuck,”

“A-are you close, jagi?” He pants, fingers digging into your hips so hard you know you’ll have bruises.

“Don’t stop,” You beg, “please, god, don’t stop,”

He groans, keeping the pace of his thrusts and using his hands on your ass to maneuver you to meet his hips.

“Shit,” You shudder in his arms, your orgasm fast approaching, “I’m coming,”

“Come here,” He shifts you fast, rolling you up and off him and manhandling you up to your feet.

You make a surprised noise at the lack of him inside you when you were getting so close, but you don’t have to worry for very long. Before you can open your mouth he has you standing, facing away from him, and bent over ninety degrees to brace your hands on the bed.

He thrusts back inside you sharply, slamming his hips into yours and leaving you moaning and curling in on yourself, your legs starting to tremble.

“Come on my cock, pretty girl,” He palms your ass before planting his hands on your hips and using the leverage to pull you back into each of his thrusts, “you’re so close,”

Your eyes slam shut, fisting the sheets as you hang on, every sharp push of his cock driving deeper and deeper. You’re going to have bruises, you’re going to be sore, but none of it matters when he’s making you feel this good.

You sob out a moan, collapsing forward into the bedding but he holds you up, “I can’t,”

“Yes, you can,” He pants, his sweat slick skin connecting again and again with yours.

“Fuck,” You groan, “I’m almost, I’m so,”

“Touch your yourself,” He directs, interrupting your pleasured ramblings, “rub your clit for me, baby,”

You slide a hand between your legs, locating your slick bud with ease and rolling your fingers over it quickly.

“Fuck, there you are,” He groans, “that’s right, baby, come on my cock,”

The same new sensation drops in your gut, your legs start to shake and you’re fairly sure that without his sure hands you’d be crumbling.

“That’s it,” He coaxes you up, never once slowing the sharp snaps of his hips, “there you go, that’s my good girl,”

Something unravels in your gut and you come with a shout, folding in on yourself as your legs quake and your mind whites out. Yeosang wraps his arms around you, curling over your back to keep you steady, and his cock slips free so he can stimulate you through your orgasm with his fingers, more liquid pulsing out of you as he fucks you over the edge.

You’re a quivering mess, and he lets you drop into the sheets, pushing you onto your back so he can stand over you, one hand fisting his slick cock.

“I’m coming,” He groans, “w-where?”

Your hands cup your breasts automatically, and you arch up to offer yourself to him, “On me, baby, come all over me,”

Yeosang groans sharply, his hips thrusting into his tight grip as ropes of silvery white cum paint your skin, covering your belly and breasts and dripping down your chest. He’s panting, his skin flushed pink and sweat covering every inch of his toned chest.

It takes you both a moment to recover, both trembling in the same position as you try to regain your breath, but after a few moments he smiles a hazy, satisfied smile and finds your eyes, “You’re so beautiful,”

Suddenly you feel a bit shy, even despite everything you’ve just done together.

“So beautiful,” He sighs again, pushing his hair back out of his face, and then he drops to his knees.

He hushes your soft protests and this time he tastes you slowly, but with intention. After such rough, intense sex, he follows it with the softest, slowest orgasm you’ve ever had. With slow sucks and gentle licks he brings you through a languid rolling wave that softens your limbs and leaves you sleepy and pliant in the sheets.

You drift, falling into sleep too easily for a first date in a sort of stranger’s apartment.

You wake a little later to a warm sensation on your skin, and you blink your eyes open to see Yeosang sitting next you, freshly showered and wearing black sweatpants and a familiar blank tank top. He draws the wet washcloth over your skin and then stops and smiles when he sees your eyes open.

“Hey,” He murmurs.

“Hi,” You reply softly, “I didn’t mean to fall asleep,”

He shakes his head, “Don’t be sorry,”

“I think you scrambled my brain a little,” You laugh, covering your face with your hands.

“Hopefully in a good way,” He nudges you.

“Beyond good,” You look up at him, “are you kidding?”

He smiles a little wider, “Good,” he says, “I drew you a bath,”

“Oh,” Your eyebrows raise.

“I thought you might be sore,” He explains, “I know I was a little rough, I hope you’re not feeling it too much,”

You shake your head, “Just a little, but in a good way,”

He nods, “Does the bath sound nice, or would you prefer a shower?”

“Bath is perfect,” You can see that he’s suddenly a little nervous, back to the same man from your date, no trace of Ryu’s husky tones.

“Here,” He offers you his hands to help you up, and guides you towards the connected bathroom suite. It’s large, crisp and clean, and in the corner stands a large spa-like tub filled high with warm water.

“Thank you,” You murmur as he helps you slip into the cocoon of water, the subtle scent of lavender wafting up from the steam.

“Mhm,” He nods, pulling a bamboo stool from the side of the sink and setting it down so he can sit at the edge of the tub and be at eye level with you.

“This is nice,” You murmur, still finding yourself a little shy in the post-orgasm clarity of it all.

He’s quiet for a moment, his fingertips dragging over the surface of the water and then he bites his lip.

Your stomach sinks for a moment, nerves coming back tenfold at the idea that maybe he’d prefer you to go after this, maybe this is all you’d ever have. Maybe he reconsidered what you know about his online persona and maybe he wasn’t willing to take the leap.

“y/n,” He sighs, “this might be forward,”

You look up from the rippling water.

“But what do you think about staying the night? We could order some dessert, maybe keep getting to know each other a little?” He asks.

You can’t fight the smile that blooms over your face, “I thought you might have changed your mind,”

“No,” He reaches into the water to find your hand, twining your fingers together, “not at all.”

“Yeah?” You squeeze his hand.

“I’d be crazy to let this be a one-time thing,” He lifts your hand from the bath and presses a kiss to the back, “I hope you feel the same.”

“I really do,” You twist to the side, leaning over to find his mouth and lock your lips together.

Yeosang cups your cheek, deepening the kiss tenderly, his tongue sweeping against yours, “What are you doing tomorrow night, then?”

“Tomorrow?” You lean back a little.

“Let me take you out again,” He kisses you again, softly this time, “I’m probably supposed to wait a few days, Wooyoung would tell me I seem too eager, but,”

“Who cares about that?” You grin, leaning out of the bath far enough to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him, “It’s a date,”

“And Sunday?” His hands slide down your back.

You nuzzle his nose with yours, “I have a date,”

“Oh,” He says, deflating instantly.

“You might know him,” You tease, “he owns this lovely little cafe,”

He laughs, his forehead leaning on yours, “You’re mean,”

“You like me,” You peck his lips.

“I do,” He nods, “I really, really do,”

#honeyhotteoks updates #honeyhotteoks fics #yeosang x reader #kang yeosang #yeosang #ateez #yeosang ff #yeosang fic #yeosang smut

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burningembers91 · 3 months ago

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Not Who I Want to Be - Choi Su Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Thanos is tired of life, until he meets you.

A/N: I am determined to make this man likeable. Redemption story arc incoming!

Warnings: Mentions of abusive father, mentions of drug and alcohol dependency. 18+ only!

Thanos couldn’t remember the last time he’d spent 24 hours sober. He’d either been drunk, high, or both for as long as he could remember. When he was a teenager, it was a way to escape his abusive father, but the pills and drinks eventually became a crutch, one he couldn’t function without.

He still had no idea how he’d become so famous, how his music had managed to become such a hit with so many people. There were songs he didn’t even remember writing, days that were completely lost in a haze of booze and drugs. But somehow, people loved him. He was under no illusion that people loved him for who he was – he knew he was a prick. No, people loved him for his fame, his money, and his seemingly unlimited supply of narcotics.

It didn’t matter to Thanos though; he relished the attention, basked in the flirtatious attention he received from women whose names he never bothered to learn. His friends were nothing more than people desperate for fame, clinging to him in the hope he’d make them as big a name as he was.

People seemed to love his outlandish character. Every time he did something insane, his fans would go crazy for him. So, Thanos slowly became more unhinged, forgetting the little boy he’d once been, the one who’d had big dreams. He spent each night with a different woman, attending every party in Seoul. His penthouse apartment was a constant hive of activity, the people he’d picked up along the way using it as a base to get high.

He didn’t even enjoy music anymore, the words he wrote meant nothing to him. His fans constantly demanded more of him, so he worked like a dog to give them exactly what they wanted. Nothing he wrote made sense; it had no meaning, no context behind the raps. His songs were as empty as his soul; but people were eating up his words like they were gospel.

It was a usual Saturday night ritual for him to attend a club in Seoul. To make an appearance to the crowd, before getting blackout drunk. Tonight, he found himself in the throng of a sweaty crowd, so high off the pills he’d taken before coming out that he was barely clinging to existence. The usual scroungers were there, taking as many free drinks from him as they could get, posing for photos that would instantly be uploaded to Instagram for a few minutes of fame. Girls were clinging to his shirt, their slurred words ricocheting off his ears, melting into the thump thump thump of the base from the speakers to his right. He was dizzy, dehydrated and so, so fucking done with this crowd. He needed to get away, needed to breathe some fresh, sweat-free air.

Pushing himself away from his followers, he stumbled up the steps to the rooftop. It was raining, the wind pushing the droplets sideways into his face. If it was cold, his body didn’t feel the chill. It had been a long time since Thanos had felt anything. The roof was empty, expect for a figure to his left. You were stood huddled under a thin canopy, your arms crossed over your chest. You sipped periodically from a glass, shivering every now and again against the stormy night.

You were the most beautiful thing Thanos had ever seen. You seemed to light up the entire space, despite the wind and rain. Your outfit clung to your figure, accentuating your curves and leaving him breathless. You spotted him staring and offered a small smile. Half walking, half stumbling, Thanos made his way over to you. One good thing about the booze and the drugs, it gave him confidence; and he’d need a bucketful to speak to you.

“Hey girl,” he said, instantly transforming into his overly-macho, too confident persona. “You know who I am?” “No,” you simply said, taking in his tall, lean figure and bright purple hair. “Should I?” “I’m fucking Thanos, baby!” He cried, the wind drowning out his voice, making him seem as small as he felt. “Right… Sorry, doesn’t ring any bells,” you shrugged, downing the last of your drink. “Where would I recognise you from?” “My music,” he told you proudly, spreading arms so you could take him all in. This wasn’t the usual reaction he got. People usually knew he was before he’d even introduced himself, but you, you were just looking blankly back at him. “I’m award winning, senorita!” “Sure,” you smiled, “I’ll uh… I’ll take your word for it.” A clap of thunder stopped your next words, the two of you looking towards to the storm-laden skies. “We should get inside,” you said, “wouldn’t want the famous Thanos to be struck by lightning.”

Following you inside, he couldn’t help but eye your figure as you walked down the stairs. You were nothing like anyone he’d ever seen. Your indifference and unfamiliarity with him were refreshing. You weren’t scrambling to get an autograph or clinging to him in the hopes he’d buy you a drink or take you home for the night. “You here with friends?” He didn’t want the conversation to end, he didn’t want you to leave. He’d probably never see you again if you left now. “Yeah,” you nodded, “it’s my colleagues’ birthday. She really loves this place. You?” Thanos looked around, his eyes scanning the crowd for the people he knew were anything but his friends. “Yeah, baby! It’s Saturday night! It’s party night!” If he wasn’t so off his face, he’d be cringing at the way he was speaking. This wasn’t him; he knew it wasn’t. But he didn’t know how to be any other way. “Well, don’t let me interrupt your evening,” you smiled. He could tell you thought he was a joke; he knew you saw straight through his bullshit. “Wait!” He called after you. “Can I get your number”? You turned and shook your head. “Sorry, Thanos,” you smiled, “I don’t give my number to Marvel villains.” He laughed; not only were you beautiful, you were funny too. “What about your Instagram then?” You thought for a few moments, and finally agreed. Typing your account name into the search bar, you pressed the follow button. “Hey, your accounts private!” Thanos remarked, seeing the request pending written across the screen. “Yeah, it’s to stop all the weirdos from following me. You never know, I might accept. Have a goodnight, Thanos!” And with that, you disappeared into the crowd.

He awoke the next morning, his head pounding and his mouth dry. Some random girl lay next to him in bed, a bottle of vodka tipped on his side and dripping the last of its contents all over his custom-made tile floor. His memory of last night was hazy; he didn’t remember leaving the club or getting home. He didn’t remember going to bed with a stranger, but he remembered you. He remembered the way the strobe lights reflected in your eyes, the way you refused to put up with his shit. He grabbed his phone, scrolling through his apps until he found Instagram. Clicking on your profile, he couldn’t help but smile when he saw you’d accept his follow request.

A message popped up on his notification banner from you. His hands shaking from nerves and withdrawal, he clicked on it. Hey Thanos, it read, I hope you didn’t get blown away in the storm last night. He laughed, harder than he had done in months. Finally, he was excited about his day. He couldn’t wait to reply, couldn’t wait to see where this new conversation could lead him. He jumped out of bed, heading for the shower with his phone clutched in his hand. For the first time in a long time, Thanos was looking forward to the day ahead.

#squid game 2 #squid game #squid game x reader #squid game x you #thanos squid game #thanos x reader #choi su bong #choi su bong x reader #t.o.p

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loveesiren · 3 months ago

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𝖡𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗎𝗅 𝖭𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗆𝖺𝗋𝖾

Thanos x American!reader

a/n: hi my babies! so this is my first thanos (choi su-bong) fic i'm posting. however, i kind of wrote this as an aftermath of a little series i've been working on of them in the games. so, once i am done hating it and editing it, i will posit it! but i hope you guys enjoy this cute lil fluff. i suck at writing fluff tbh but i tried! xx also, t.o.p is my gwiyomiii, my honeyyyy, my angel babyyyyyyyyy! i'm so inlove with him so feel free to send requests!

synopsis: nightmares of the games still haunt Thanos a year later, but luckily Y/n will never leave his side.

warnings: language, fluff, very brief mention of sex if you squint

wc: 1.1k+

You couldn’t sleep. Insomnia had wrapped itself around your mind ever since surviving the games last year, a constant shadow in your otherwise bright new life. You had so much to be grateful for—making it out alive, the money that had saved you in more ways than one, and, of course, Su-Bong. Though, to this day, you still called him T. Your T.

Never in a million years would you have imagined living in a sleek penthouse in downtown Seoul with a man you fell in love with while playing deadly children’s games. Yet here you were, in a world that once seemed as unreachable as a dream: Thanos’ World. And you loved it.

The games had changed Thanos in ways you never thought possible. He quit the drugs, buried his oversized ego, and spent six months holed up in his apartment with only you for company. It was a metamorphosis you never expected but cherished deeply. When he finally emerged from that cocoon of self-reflection, he returned to music—his first true love. But this time, it wasn’t about sex, drugs, and wealth. His lyrics delved into the rawness of his childhood, the pain of his struggles, the weight of his dreams—and you. Always you. You were his muse.

Being with the Thanos, however, was far from simple. Going out with him was an ordeal, a gamble. Fans flocked to him wherever he went, now more than ever, since he’d announced his new album. He once thrived on the chaos, basking in the adoration of women throwing themselves at him and men idolizing him. He was a star, and he reveled in the glow. But now? Now the attention suffocated him. He avoided crowded places as much as he could, especially when you were by his side.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to show you off—God, he did. But the fear gnawed at him. What if something happened to you? What if someone hurt you? You’d already faced your fair share of vitriol when the media leaked that Thanos was dating some American girl. “American bitch,” they’d called you, throwing their venom your way in tabloids and comment sections. But the hate didn’t break you. If anything, it hardened your resolve.

You refused to let him hide away forever. When his anxiety tried to keep him tethered to the penthouse, you were the one who dragged him out into the world. You reminded him of what life outside these walls could offer, even if it wasn’t always kind. And slowly, piece by piece, you were helping him reclaim it.

You glanced over at Thanos, his peaceful face softened by sleep, his arm draped lazily over your bare thighs. Carefully, you lifted his arm and slipped out of bed, moving quietly so as not to disturb him. Padding toward the kitchen, you glanced at the clock: 2:30 a.m. Another sleepless night. You sighed, the weight of endless insomnia pressing down on you.

You set the kettle to boil, deciding tea wouldn’t cut it tonight. The staleness of the room felt suffocating. What you needed was air. Before stepping out to the balcony, you peeked into the bedroom again, reassured by the steady rise and fall of Thanos’ chest.

The view of Seoul stretched before you as you stepped outside. The city pulsed with quiet energy, its lights casting a warm glow against the dark sky. The faint scent of cherry blossoms drifted through the breeze, mingling with the night air and brushing your hair across your face. This view, this life—it was something you’d never take for granted.

Pulling out your phone, you typed a quick message to Se-mi.

y/n: You up?

Minutes passed before your phone buzzed with a reply.

Se-mi: Yeah. Can’t sleep?

y/n: The insomnia is never-ending.

Se-mi: I miss when we all lived together.

Your lips curved into a bittersweet smile. Memories of those first fragile weeks after escaping the games flooded your mind. The four of you—Thanos, Se-mi, Min-su, and you—crammed into your tiny apartment, clinging to each other for sanity. For weeks, you barely left the safety of those walls. Eventually, Thanos invited everyone to move in with him, but Se-mi and Min-su had decided it was time to go back to their families. The games had taught them how precious life was. That, and your shared space wasn’t exactly conducive to privacy—especially with how loud things could get between you and Thanos when you couldn’t keep your hands off of eachother.

y/n: I miss it too. I miss you. Shopping tomorrow?

Se-mi: You know I hate shopping.

y/n: But you love me, and T gave me his black card.

Se-mi: Spoiled brat.

y/n: See you tomorrow 🥰

Se-mi: Can’t wait ✌🏼

You smiled at her response, warmth spreading through you at the thought of reconnecting with your best friend. But the moment of peace was shattered by a sound from inside—faint whimpers carried through the air. Your heart clenched. Setting your tea down, you hurried back to the bedroom.

“T?” you called softly as you stepped inside.

No response. Only the faint cries that sent chills down your spine. You rushed to the bedside table and flicked on the lamp. Thanos was thrashing slightly, tears streaming down his cheeks, his hands grasping desperately at the empty space where you should have been.

“Fuck! NO!” he suddenly screamed, his voice hoarse with panic.

“T!” you gasped, climbing onto the bed and pulling him into your arms. “T, baby…” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

His hand found your shirt, bunching the fabric in his fist as though clinging to reality. He fought against the demons clawing at him, his breaths ragged and uneven. Finally, his eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused at first, until they locked onto yours. His lip quivered as shame filled his expression.

“Hi, baby,” you whispered, brushing your thumb tenderly across his cheek to wipe away the tears. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

“Fuck…” he sighed, his voice trembling as he buried his face in your shirt. His shame was palpable, but you held him tightly, cradling him as though the weight of his nightmares could be eased by your embrace.

“Another nightmare?” you asked softly. He nodded wordlessly, slipping his hand into yours. He hated these moments. Hated the way his past still haunted him, dragging you into his darkness. But you didn’t mind. You’d made a decision long ago: this man was worth every struggle, every sleepless night. Some may say a few days isn’t enough time to know who is your person, but when your life is on the line, time has a way of fast-tracking love.

“M’sorry…” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your chest.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, T,” you reassured him, your fingers running soothingly through his hair. “You know I’ll always be right here.”

“Promise?” His voice was barely above a whisper, raw and vulnerable.

You kissed his forehead, tightening your arms around him. “Promise,” you said, and you meant it with every fiber of your being.

No taglist yet but if you'd like to be added to future fics, let me know! :)

#squid game #thanos x reader #thanos #thanos squid game #squid game fanfic #squid game 2 #choi seunghyun #choi su bong #squid game thanos #player 230 #kpop #kpopidol #t.o.p bigbang #t.o.p #bigbang

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ksdarou · 16 days ago

Text

Momo and her sleeping problems

Words: 2403

ags : Big tits, big ass, Handjob, titty fuck, drugs

The neon lights of Seoul flashed by the car window, painting the interior with a kaleidoscope of colors. I leaned back into the plush leather seat, my eyes on the traffic below as we sped through the city. The cool evening air whispered through the crack in the window, carrying with it the distant sounds of laughter and music. As the manager of Twice, one of Korea's hottest K-pop groups, my life was a never-ending blur of schedules and deadlines. But tonight, all I could think about was the sweet embrace of sleep that seemed to elude Momo.

Momo's sleepless nights had become the topic of our backstage conversations, her dark circles a silent testament to the toll her busy schedule was taking. She'd tried everything from herbal teas to meditation apps, but nothing seemed to work. She'd roll her eyes whenever I suggested the sleeping pills my doctor had given me, insisting that she'd rather tough it out. But tonight, as we pulled up to our hotel, her yawn was so wide it looked painful.

"You should really take those pills," I said gently, hoping she'd finally give in. "You're pushing yourself too hard."

Momo sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "I'm fine," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. But the weariness in her eyes told a different story.

We stepped out of the car, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth of the vehicle. The paparazzi's flashes went off like a thousand tiny explosions, but we were used to it. Momo straightened up, her professional mask slipping back into place. She waved to the fans, her smile forced but convincing. As we made our way into the hotel, she leaned into me, her voice low.

"I can't sleep," she admitted, her voice tight with frustration. "Everything's just spinning in my head."

In the quiet of her hotel room, I could see the exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She flopped onto the bed, her breasts straining against the fabric of her gray top. They looked so full and heavy, I couldn't help but wonder if they were as soft as they appeared. Shaking the inappropriate thought away, I offered the pills once more.

"Just one," I said, my voice soothing. "It'll help you relax."

Her eyes searched mine for a moment before she sighed and took the pill, swallowing it with a sip of water. "If it doesn't work, I'm blaming you," she said with a tired smile.

As the minutes ticked by, she grew quieter, her eyes growing heavier. Soon, her breathing evened out, and she was asleep. I stepped into the bathroom for a quick break, feeling a strange mix of relief and anticipation. When I returned, she was lying there, peaceful and vulnerable. The temptation was too strong.

My heart racing, I approached the bed. Her top had slipped even further down, revealing the swell of her breasts. I reached out, my hand trembling slightly, and touched her shoulder. She was definitely out cold. The power of the sleep aid was undeniable. With a quick glance around, I made sure we were alone before I gave in to the fantasy that had been playing in my mind for months.

I placed my hand gently on her left breast, feeling the softness and warmth beneath my palm. Her breathing remained steady, her body unresponsive to my touch. I squeezed gently, feeling the firmness of her nipple against my fingertips. It was surreal, like I was in a dream. With a sense of urgency, I slid my other hand into her cleavage and pushed her breasts together, my cock swelling in my pants.

The sight of her perfect breasts spilling out of her shirt was more than I could handle. I undid the buttons of my own shirt, my breaths growing heavier as I freed my erection. The head of my cock was slick with pre-cum, and I couldn't resist the urge to slide it between her tits. Her skin was smooth, the friction heavenly as I began to pump back and forth, her softness enveloping me.

Her face was peaceful, a small smile playing on her lips as she slept. The urge to kiss her grew stronger, but I resisted. Instead, I continued to use her breasts as a sex toy, my hand moving faster and faster. It wasn't long before I reached the edge, my balls tightening. I came with a low groan, painting her cheek and the corner of her mouth with my cum. The room was silent except for our mingled breathing.

After cleaning up, I decided to take things further. With a twinge of guilt, I began to undress her, my hands trembling with excitement. Her body was even more stunning than I'd imagined, her skin like porcelain. I took out my phone, the camera ready to capture every moment. Starting with her shirt, I slowly unbuttoned it, revealing her lacy black bra. With trembling fingers, I unclasped it, her breasts bouncing free.

Her tight pants were next. I slid them down her legs, revealing matching black lace panties. I took a moment to admire her, committing the image to memory. Then, with a deep breath, I decided to go all the way. I slipped my hand into her panties, feeling the warmth and dampness between her thighs. Her body was already responding, and I couldn't believe my luck.

Her eyes remained closed, her breathing unchanged. I took a deep breath and slid my cock inside her. She was so tight, so wet, it was like sliding into a glove. I began to move, my hips pushing into her with a steady rhythm. The sensation was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. The guilt was there, lurking at the edges of my mind, but the desire was stronger.

Momo let out a soft moan, and I froze, afraid she'd wake up. But she didn't. She shifted slightly, her body adjusting to my intrusion, and then she was asleep once more. With a mix of relief and excitement, I continued, pushing deeper, feeling her tighten around me.

I didn't know how long I lasted, lost in the sensation of her body. But finally, I couldn't hold back any longer. I pulled out and came all over her stomach, her breasts, her chest. She looked like a work of art, painted in my desire. I quickly snapped a few photos before redressing her, tucking her in, and slipping out of the room.

The weight of what I'd done settled on my shoulders as I made my way back to my own room. I knew I'd crossed a line, but the feeling of power and desire that had consumed me was too potent to ignore. I'd have to be more careful, but I couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever know what had happened. If she ever found out, our professional relationship would be irrevocably changed.

For now, I had the photos, the memories, and the secret thrill of what I'd done to the girl I'd been trusted to protect. The guilt was there, but so was the excitement. It was a dangerous mix, and I knew it would only be a matter of time before I wanted more. But for tonight, I had to push those thoughts aside and focus on the job at hand. We had another packed day ahead of us, and Momo needed her rest.

The next morning, she woke up looking as fresh as a daisy, with no hint of the events from the night before. She thanked me for the pills, saying she'd had the best sleep in weeks. I couldn't help the smug smile that played on my lips as she went about her morning routine, the images from the night replaying in my head. I wondered if she'd ever suspect that her peaceful slumber had been anything but innocent.

The day was a whirlwind of rehearsals and interviews, but I couldn't keep my mind off the photos on my phone. Every chance I got, I'd sneak a peek, my pulse racing as I remembered the feel of her skin, the taste of her. It was like a drug, a secret addiction that was quickly taking over my thoughts.

As the day wound down, we found ourselves at a fansign event. The screams of the fans were deafening, but I had my own little secret to keep me going. I watched Momo, her energy seemingly restored, signing autographs and posing for pictures with a smile that could light up the darkest of days. The thought of her lying there, unknowingly used for my own pleasure, was like a dark thrill coursing through my veins.

When the last fan had left and the lights had dimmed, she collapsed onto the couch backstage. "I'm so tired," she murmured, her eyes drooping. "I think I'll just nap here for a bit."

I knew she wouldn't be able to get comfortable with her tight schedule, so I suggested we head back to the hotel. She agreed, and we made our way through the throngs of staff and security. Once in the car, I handed her another pill. She took it without question, and within minutes, she was out like a light.

Back in her hotel room, I couldn't resist the temptation to repeat the previous night's actions. Her body was once again mine to explore, to use for my own selfish desires. But this time, I didn't stop at just fucking her. I decided to push the boundaries even further, my cock still hard from the thought of her unknowing participation in my depraved fantasy.

I started by gently caressing her inner thighs, working my way up to her panties. They were damp again, and I knew she was ripe for the taking. I slid my fingers under the fabric, her legs parting slightly in sleepy invitation. Her pussy was wet and warm, and I couldn't resist sliding a finger inside her. She let out a soft sigh, but remained asleep.

My other hand went to her chest, playing with her perfect tits. Her nipples were hard little pebbles, begging for my attention. I pinched and rolled them, feeling her body respond even in her slumber. The thrill of knowing she had no idea what I was doing to her was intoxicating. I wanted more.

I reached for my phone, the screen casting a dim glow on her face. The camera rolled as I positioned my cock at her mouth, her lips parted slightly. With a gentle push, I slipped the head of my dick between her teeth, the wetness of her tongue making me groan. I began to thrust, fucking her mouth while she slept peacefully. The sight of her like this, so vulnerable and unknowingly submissive, was more than I could handle.

As the video continued to record, I watched her throat work around my length, her cheeks hollowing with each thrust. It was like watching a scene from one of my wildest dreams. I couldn't believe this was real. I reached down, tweaking her nipples as I fucked her face, the sound of my skin slapping against hers echoing in the quiet room.

I didn't last long. The feeling of her mouth, her tongue, and the thought of her not knowing what I was doing to her was too much. I pulled out, my cock glistening with her saliva. I came again, this time painting her face with thick ropes of cum. Her lashes fluttered but she remained asleep, oblivious to the depraved act I'd just committed.

The guilt was stronger this time, but I couldn't stop the rush of excitement. I quickly cleaned her up, wiping away the evidence of my lust. I tucked her in, making sure she was comfortable before leaving the room. As I closed the door, I knew I'd be back for more. The taste of power was too sweet to resist.

The following days were a blur of performances, interviews, and endless fan meetings. Yet, every night ended the same way. After ensuring she was deeply asleep, I'd indulge in my twisted fantasy, taking photos and videos of her naked body. The guilt was there, but the thrill of having her to myself was too intense.

One evening, after a particularly grueling schedule, she thanked me for the pills with a genuine smile. "I don't know what's in them, but they're a lifesaver," she said, her eyes shining with gratitude. I felt a pang of guilt, but it was quickly drowned by the anticipation of what was to come. That night, I decided to try something new.

I waited until she was deeply asleep before I began to explore her body again. This time, I focused on her ass. It was round and firm, the perfect handful. I slid her panties down, revealing her tight pink hole. I licked my lips, the urge to taste her overwhelming. I leaned in, my tongue sliding over her skin, feeling her tense slightly at the unfamiliar sensation.

I continued to lick and kiss her ass, my hand reaching between her legs to play with her clit. Her breathing grew shallow, and she started to moan in her sleep. The sound was like music to my ears. I knew she was close, and I couldn't resist sliding two fingers into her pussy, curling them to hit that sweet spot.

Her body arched off the bed, a silent cry escaping her lips as she climaxed. I held her down, my tongue still lapping at her ass. Her legs trembled, and she went limp. I pulled away, watching as her body slowly relaxed into the mattress.

The line between right and wrong was becoming increasingly blurred, but I didn't care. I had her, and she was mine to do with as I pleased. I snapped a few more photos before sliding into bed beside her. The scent of her arousal filled the air, a constant reminder of my actions.

As the days turned into weeks, our nightly ritual became a twisted addiction. The guilt was always there, lurking in the shadows of my mind, but the thrill of power was too strong to resist. And every morning, she'd wake up, none the wiser, thanking me for helping her sleep.

But little did she know, she was also thanking me for the most depraved nights of her life.

#kpop smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #male reader smut #twice smut #twice #twice momo #twice momo smut #momo hirai #momo smut

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twilightau · 1 month ago

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LOVE VIRUS; L.DH

synopsis — after a fateful encounter with a mysterious resident, you decide to follow his example and became a nurse, just to get the chance to see him again. romance, fate-like moments, you expected a lot from your first meeting after many years... just to find out he is the most insufferable jerk!

genres — first love au, co-workers-to-lovers, doctor au

pairing — lee donghyuck x fem!reader

warnings — language, mentions of death, incorrect medical descriptions, accidentally attempted suicide, sharp objects, medical setting

word count — 7,6k

[ ♡ previous part. ] — [ ♡ next part. ]

Nobody liked the ending of things. Everyone liked beginning something believing or hoping it would help them reach a specific place. Still, that certainty stops once you get the spot you only dreamt about.

Endings were never your think. Everyone liked beginnings, it meant starting on a dream, creating hope, believing in a certain goal. But it all halts it's fairytale-like meaning when you don't know what to begin with.

High school ended in less than eight days, and you were wasting time with your girlfriends in the streets of Seoul, none of you with any ambitions for the future. All you could think of was which bars to sneak into and how to convince a tired convenience store employee on midnight duty to give you a pack of cigarettes for cheaper.

Uncertainty scared you, but it was so damn frustrating to find a career path that suited you. You weren’t the smartest in class, you hated numbers, you were far from the most athletic, and frankly speaking, you hated studying in general. No one was going to accept a student with a bad rep anyway, even though most of the bad doings were done by your friends, you were just merely a bystander.

But what will you become if you cannot find the right path in time?

These wandering thoughts and ‘what ifs' were eating away at your sanity. Your drunk friend waved at you, signing you to another night of drinking all your insecurities away. You smiled at her, about to join the group when you heard a loud clatter behind you. A small elder who was collecting cartons onto his little cart fell to the ground, his frame getting smaller with each bathed breath you took.

You didn't know how you crossed the road in seconds. Your heart was still racing while you asked the elder if he was alright. You could still hear the ringing in your ear while you told him to follow your breathing pattern. He tried to grasp for something inside the cart, you leaped forward to find his bag hanging on the handle of the cart. But it was too late, the man was already out cold on the ground.

If what you felt before was anxiety, you are now in full worry. “Sir, can you hear me? Please answer me if you can?” You heard his breathing but it started to sound more labored by the second. You searched his bag for any indication but found two unfamiliar types of medicine. You were not a pre-med student and stood frozen at the realization that you did not know how to help this elder.

“Someone help! This man collapsed on the ground!” You yelled into the empty streets of Seoul at twilight. Everyone was busy zombie-ing themselves to a restaurant or club to relieve stress, the working class could not afford to save another person but themselves. You kept shouting for help, feeling the man’s pulse weakening. The sight was making your heartache.

“Are you alright?” You heard from your left, you nodded before taking the outstretched hand without looking, pulling the person down with you to observe the elder. He didn’t seem to mind, immediately getting to work. “Okay, what happened?” You told him how you found him and how long you have stayed and watched his condition.

The stranger starts looking around, grabbing the elder’s bag and rummaging through his things as if looking for specific items. It is the first time you look at the stranger, and you realize it is a handsome stranger.

The points of his curly brown hair are slightly darker, soaked in sweat as if he came running. His nose had a soft round tip and his lips were upturned, a wide cupid’s bow engraved in his upper lip. You almost start counting the moles on his face before you realize what he might be looking for.

“A-are you looking for these?” Your outstretched hands contain the two unknown tubes of medicine. The stranger looks relieved and nods. He opens the cap and you realize it is a needle instead of a pod of pills. He stabs it into the leg of the elder with a force that shocks you, but his smile reassures you ever so slightly.

“Can you call an ambulance? The number is on that utility pole, I think–” He looks at the medication bottle for a second, “Mister Hwang is going to be just fine, don’t worry.” You nod, but your hands still tremble, the adrenaline leaving your body. The stranger holds you still, “You did well. Mister Hwang is going to be okay thanks to you.” He gave you a warm smile and patted your head encouragingly.

When the ambulance arrived, the stranger took over the situation entirely. “Hello, my name is Lee Donghyuck. Please go to Neo-Seoul Medical Center, I’m a 2nd-year resident there.” The paramedic nodded and Haechan hopped onto the vehicle behind the stretcher. You watched as the back doors closed and the car drove away, the whole scene leaving you in awe.

The words he had spoken to you were still replaying in your mind, slowly woven into your heart like a design into a sweater that cannot be removed. For the first time in your life, you did not screw something up, you helped save a human and you succeeded. Haechan and the ambulance were long gone by now, but it was almost like the trail it left behind was highlighted in gold; you had found your career path in life thanks to him.

♡

Neo-Seoul Medical Center was one of the most prestigious university hospitals in all of South Korea. Standing in front of a hospital to start your career was unimaginable for you five years ago. And if it depended on your GPA back then, you’d have never been able to start a medical career at all. It helped that you had good study buddies who helped you with the selection exams as well as teachers who truly saw your good qualities behind all the natural clumsiness you radiated.

You smiled at the building once more before Chenle called your name, telling you to hurry up before you got late for your introduction week. He was one of the few close friends you made during nursing school. He was similar in the way he always went beyond for the people he cared for, but unlike you, he doesn’t always act on his emotions.

Your introduction group consists of two other rookie nurses: Ningning and Sion. You weren’t familiar with the two, but it wasn’t unknown that Yizhou was the top student during your years in nursing school.

The receptionist pointed your group towards the eleventh floor where a head nurse would appoint you each to a department.

Once the elevator door opened, you were met by an administrative nurse who told you to wait a bit. The LED screen above the reception showed that there were several surgeries being performed right now. Your eyes widened at a familiar name between them.

Lead surgeon – Lee Donghyuck – General Surgery 00:02:10:37

He has not left this hospital despite all these years. A small smile creeps up your face. Ever since you decided to study nursing, you had secretly wondered if you’d ever get to work with him. The image of the two of you rushing to help patients always helped you ground yourself while preparing for another practical exam.

A familiar mop of dark brown curls passed your daydreaming state and you were quick to react. His scent, his hair, his soft features, and his moles; it was just like you remember. You start to realize that he hasn’t moved, your hands unbeknownst to you holding onto the sleeve of his dark blue scrubs. He looks at you with confusion, about to speak but you beat him to it, almost in a hurry to tell him everything you wanted to him all these years before you lose your courage.

“Dr. Donghyuck, I– I’m so glad to see you again. Thanks to your help, I was able to see the path before me and worked hard for the past 5 years to get here. I am so happy to be able to enter the same hospital as you and look up to you as–” He holds up a hand, making you stop mid-sentence. He raises a brow and makes a clicking sound with his tongue.

“Listen, I don’t have time for this right now.” He looks at your badge and then your fellow rookie nurses behind you. “You are the new rookie?” He scoffed, rolling his eyes before continuing, “Okay. Listen up, you guys, too. Do not ask stupid questions that you could have studied beforehand, do not waste doctor’s time, and –,” he looked straight at you, “Do not talk to me unless necessary. I’ve got better things to do.” You let go of his sleeve, your cheeks heating up with embarrassment and anger. Who the hell does this jerk think he is?

“Seems the rookies have met our fellow Donghyuck” A female voice states, you look to your left to find a woman in purple scrubs next to your group. “Hello rookies, my name is Karina Yu. I’m the head nurse of the emergency department and your temporary mentor while you do the rotations. Now get out your little notepads, write down everything I’m telling you, and make sure to ask if something is unclear. The emergency department isn’t a place that goes slow and steady, if you notice something you must be fast on your feet and react quickly. Understood?”

“Yes ma’am!”

“Nurse Karina is fine, by the way.” She smiled kindly before it dropped and she started to walk and talk like it was a military drill.

♡

“Okay, this is our weekly schedule board. We have it digitally but since the emergency department is about always being on the move, it would be too troublesome to have someone look it up every seven minutes. I added some ID pictures so you guys can easily distinguish which surgeon and doctor is who.

This is Lee Mark, he is a cardiac surgeon who often handles emergency cases since he just recently switched to CS from GS. The cardiology department is on the eighth floor, but you will find him in the doctor’s room of our department more often. If you have any questions, go to him and he will answer them in detail for you.

This fellow is Lee Donghyuck, he is from general surgery and the main surgeon you will work with here. Liu Yangyang is also a fellow GS specialist and the other surgeon you will meet the most often. Both the general surgery specialists are quite strict and meticulous in their work and it shows in the way that they will hold you accountable for any mistake you make. Remember, this is not nursing school anymore, you passed your exam: now it is real.

“Yes, earlier you mentioned we will start rotations in the ER. Do all four of us start in the ER?” You ask, trying not to get too embarrassed by your little stutter.

“No, from the spreadsheet I received only nurse Yizhou and Y/N will start in the ER. Nurse Chenle will assist Dr. Lee Mark in cardiology and Nurse Sion will join neurology and assist Dr. Qian Kun until the further rotation. The four of you will rotate around cardiology, neurology, and emergency as you have chosen these preferences. Of course, if in any case, those three departments end up not befitting your best qualities, you can apply for any of the other departments you want to try out. After your introductory period, you can decide which department you want to join.” The four of you nod at Karina’s words.

“The surgeons in our team seem to be young, do we not have any senior doctors in our team on site?” Ningning asks. Unlike the way you asked your question, Yizhou remains cool and focused, her hands writing down everything she hears while her eyes are trained on everything Karina points out.

“Good question, we do have young surgeons because they are exceptionally good and adaptive to the always-changing situations in the ER. Do not let their age fool you, Mark has already finished his fellowship and is only a humble step away from his next promotion. Haechan and Yangyang are both in their last stretches as well and have gained enough trust from the Chief of General Surgery dr. Kim Doyoung to work independently on ER cases while our emergency surgeon Dr. Lee Taeyong is on leave.”

♡

The soft melody of a random R&B song plays in the living room while you clean the fog of your mirror. You look at your tired reflection, but muster up the energy to smile back at yourself. As much as today went by fairly peacefully, you can’t shake off the unfortunate encounter with Dr. Donghyuck. Was five years enough time to change an entire personality, or did your young and naive self paint him in a light he was never meant to be seen in?

“Y/N, where did you put the remote? I swear you never place it back at our designated spot!” Winter complains, already in the doorway of your shared bathroom to give you an earful about designated spots for shared items. But every word she planned to say dies down when she sees your face.

“Y/N? Is something wrong? Didn’t your first day go well?” She takes your hand and leads you to the couch, two cups of warm tea already on the coffee table. “What happened?” She asks after you haven’t answered her first question.

“It’s nothing. Just some nerves” You try to shrug it off, but your roommate keeps staring at you with suspicion.

“Babe, as a third-year nurse, I have already honed the ability to sense lies whenever I ask my patients about medication. I don’t want to play nurse when I’m at home as well. So spill, what is upsetting little spring sunshine?” You crack a small smile at the nickname; your overexcitement on the first day of moving in made the apartment owner laugh, she said a little spring sunshine will move in with the resident winter princess. Since then, Winter and you have started to call each other those nicknames to become more comfortable with each other as roommates and friends.

“Remember why I joined nursing school in the first place?” You asked, looking down at your takeout and poking in it with your fork. “Yeah, you fell in love with a resident and wanted to become a nurse so you could work beside him,” Winter answered breezily, slurping a long strand of noodle loudly as she looked for you to continue.

“Don’t make it sound like I’m doing all this over a crush! I truly got inspired to get into this work field!”

“Was anything I said false though?” You didn’t answer. “Point proven.”

"Anyway!" You try to continue the subject so the two of you won’t go down that tangent. “I met him today and he became a completely different person. I’m not saying I expected him to be 100% the same, but it is kind of sad that I couldn’t find traces of the guy who inspired me in him anymore.” Winter hums, putting the plastic fork to her lips.

“Hold up, you met him today? If you were in intro group four…and you start rotation in the ER…” Minjeong taps the crease between her brows, trying to piece the strings of information together. After a few moments of silence, she gasps at the realization.

“Your first love is Lee Donghyuck isn’t it?” You nod, the burdened expression on your roommate’s face unsettles you. “You look at me like I made a big mistake, is he in a relationship or something?”

“No,�� You felt relieved for some stupid reason. “But Donghyuck isn’t exactly the type of guy I imagined you being into. I thought you meant Mark Lee when you first talked about your crush.”

“What’s wrong with Donghyuck?”

“I want to say it’s a rumor, but I saw it firsthand once with a rookie nurse a few years ago. A nurse quit after just a week because Donghyuck gave him a hard time. Be perfect or he will lecture you until you’re about to hand in your resignation letter.” You pale at your roommate’s words, deeply regretting every course of action you took today, including entering the hospital. “But I’m sure it’s just a facade, so don’t lose hope yet!” She tries to cheer you up, but it is already too late. You have dug your own grave.

♡

As if the gods wanted to mess with you for a bit, you were assigned to assist Donghyuck’s patients. To say your first week went bad was an understatement. Karina was right when she said Donghyuck has a low tolerance for questions he gets annoyed at anything relatively quickly.

On your second day shadowing him, you noticed that he had long legs. Legs that do not wait for you and your cart to keep up. He gave you a side-eye when you eventually arrived at the right room, you also got lost because he didn’t wait up.

(“If this were an emergency alarm, the patient might have already died. Keep your head in the game, dreamer.” He mockingly taps his writing clipboard against your cart before turning around and smiling brightly at his patients. You feel like you were fuming from the ears at his act.)

On your fourth day in, you discovered a little hiding area where you could take a break without Donghyuck throwing mean remarks at you. You figured, if he can’t find you, he can’t talk bad about you.

The little box of cookies you found in a drawer was already half gone once you heard two people enter the room, a small curtain separating you from them.

“Dude, I think that Nurse Y/N might have a crush on you!” Dr. Liu said with excitement. It has been a while since romance blossomed for his friend and the littlest indication that it might happen again made him happy.

Donghyuck raised his brow, “Who?”, and Yangyang’s smile drowned away. He doesn’t even know your name? “Nurse Y/N, she is – dude?" Donghyuck shakes his head. “For real? The nurse who has been assisting you for the past four days?”

“Oh, the dreamer. I doubt she’d have a crush on me.” Maybe it was because you couldn’t see his face, but your delusion might have caught a bit of a somber tone in his voice.

“Besides, the chances of something happening between me and her is 0.00001%. Any other rookie might even be better than her.” Lee Donghyuck has proven once again that he is hard to empathize with.

(“Have you seen my chocobi cookies, by the way? I was planning on eating them but I couldn’t find them in my snack drawer.”)

You finished his nasty cookies with no regrets.

Your fifth day came around and you were doing your rounds without Donghyuck, the doctor was yet to return from a four-hour surgery and thus you ended up doing the rounds with Mark.

Although Mark was a bit too much of a talker, it was a nice change of pace compared to the GS specialist who criticized your every move.

“You just have to look through the words,” Mark said after he finally made you share your worries with him. The two of you already arrived at the third room for the current check-up round.

“I’d rather not look straight into his eyes. If looks could kill, I wouldn’t have made it past day one, dr. Lee” You slide open the door and greet the patients warmly. In the room were four patients from a traffic accident that happened on your second day. Because it happened late at night, Mark was already scheduled for a long surgery for pediatrics, causing Donghyuck to do back-to-back surgeries on these four patients.

Minnie, a high school girl, greeted the two of you with a timid smile, her eyes lingered longer on Mark before meeting yours again.

“Dr. Donghyuck is currently occupied, so Dr. Lee Mark over here is guiding me today.” You explained to the girl, the feeling that she might have a crush on Donghyuck was unbelievable but also kind of cute.

“She has been waiting to thank him since yesterday evening.” Riku, a college student, commented, earning a glare from the girl which caused him to laugh. You hum while prepping Mrs. Choi for a blood sample. After you finish filling two small tubes for the tests, she signals you to come closer.

“Dr. Donghyuck allowed her boyfriend to visit her yesterday, even though visiting hours were already over. The academy hours these days cause students to finish their studies at late hours.” You look back at Minnie, noticing a singular rose in a tiny vase next to a small teddy bear on her nightstand. The scene reminds you of a sweet youth drama.

“How is your appetite, Mrs. Choi? I noticed you didn’t eat much the last few days, if you want, I can alternate a few things on your menu plan to help get your appetite back?” The older woman softly shakes her head. “No need, the doctor gave me some stomach medicine yesterday. I feel much better now.”

Although you added a small comment about Mrs. Choi’s appetite into your nurse log before you clocked out for the evening, you didn’t expect Donghyuck to take the note as seriously as he did. Writing up medicine for patients always required a lot more paperwork, and your seniors in nursing always recommended trying to minimize the prescriptions doctors had to make.

“I’m glad it is working out, Mrs. Choi. Let me know if you need me to adjust anything, alright?” The lady smiled before turning to Mark. “The other doctor and nurse Y/N make such an interesting duo, don’t you think? They remind me of my first love.” You were already halfway through the room to check on the last patient, the comment made you stop in your tracks a second too long. Mark laughs, “What was your first love like Mrs. Choi? I wonder how Donghyuck and Y/N compare to it.”

You try to focus on the teenager’s stats, Jisoo is also seemingly intrigued by what Mrs. Choi has to say about her first love and late husband.

“We were like opposites. Chan was always driven by his ambitions, he never knew when to stop and enjoy the slow and steadiness of the world. After we met, he used to tell me how I re-taught him how to live life.” Mrs. Choi’s gaze was fixed on the window, but you knew that she was also holding back tears, it was evident in the way she spoke about her late husband.

You finish up Jisoo’s check-up before returning to Mrs. Choi’s bedside, squatting down and giving her hand a gentle squeeze. “He sounds like a love worth spending a lifetime with, Mrs. Choi.” Her gaze turns to you and you can see the glossiness of her eyes. “Thank you.” She whispers before lying down again, Mark and you bid the other patients goodbye before leaving the room.

“You handled that situation well, nurse Y/N,” Mark says after a beat of silence. You give him a sad smile, “She lost so much in the past few days, dr. Lee. If I can lighten that pain for even a moment, I will.”

“You live up to that speech dr. Nakamoto gave on your second day, huh?” You smile, thinking back at the random visit of the pediatrician. He was looking for a specific person (you later figured that person to be Mark) but got thrust into giving the rookie nurses a motivational speech by nurse Jaemin.

(“I don’t think I’m in any position to give a speech, dr. Na.” Yuta eyed the nurses with an awkward laugh, making Jaemin, the ER doctor, challenge him further. “These nurses will rotate into your department soon, anyway. Besides, I doubt you’d come all the way down from the tenth floor to disturb us in our busiest hours, right Dr. Nakamoto?”)

Doctors treat illnesses, nurses heal patients.

Although he probably said those words without much thought behind them, you found new meaning behind those words. Sure, ever since working with Donghyuck, many of your rather superficial motivations disappeared into thin air. But Dr. Nakamoto’s words were a good reminder that Donghyuck wasn’t your only reason.

It’s patients like Mrs. Choi, those who don’t only suffer bodily injury or illness, but also have a wound to the heart that needs healing. The surgical scars will eventually fade, but without genuine and continued support and care, a patient might carry painful memories for a long time. To you, soothing their hearts for even a moment was a reward worthy of suffering through the nursing program, and even Dr. Donghyuck’s never-ending remarks.

♡

The taste of Winter’s cooking was one you could never quite get enough of, the girl was always in her element in the kitchen and it was evident in her food. Tonight you were also accompanied by Karina. Although you already knew Winter had invited a friend over, it didn’t quite dawn upon you that the nurse friend she mentioned from time to time was going to be the head nurse of your department. The awkwardness from your greetings earlier still lingers ever so slightly in the back of your head, but you try to pay it no mind. It did help that none of you talked about work, rather giggling away with every sip of wine as you talked about your college adventures.

“You know, I think you will do well in the ER, Y/N. If you can handle someone as cold as Donghyuck, I don’t doubt that even the most enraged Karen will get to you.” Karina says in between hiccups. Winter is already leaning on her arm, slowly drifting off with occasional mumbles while Karina keeps rambling on about random thoughts she has.

You weren’t a heavy drinker, but luckily Winter had opted for wine (the two women had already finished a few shots of soju before you came home) which you were able to handle.

“I think Donghyuck truly has a stick up his ass like he knows the ER is heavily understaffed and yet he is driving any nurse he sees away.” Karina huffs, another large gulp of red wine.

“It’s one thing to feel entitled because you’re a good doctor, but it’s another to assume every nurse to be at that level from the start, right Y/N?” You try to pry the wine glass away from her hands, but she downs the entire glass before you can.

“Karina, are you going to be okay?” You watch as she stands up and points her finger at the decorative succulent on your dining table. “This plant is dying, it’s withering away.” It was a fake plant.

“I will call a cab for you, Karina. Where do you live?” The woman seems to acknowledge the time and her condition, already stumbling into your hallway to grab her shoes. You follow behind her with her belongings. She laughs a little too loud at your questions and points upstairs. “I’m alright, Y/N. I’m your upstairs neighbor!” She chirps happily as she spreads her arms in the air before blacking out. Great.

The trip is anything but easy: the elevator decides to take everyone else to their respective floors before arriving at the sixth floor, and of course, Karina keeps wiggling in your hold while the other residents keep side-eyeing you in your pajamas.

Since she didn’t quite tell you which unit she lived in, you had to walk past each front door like a creep with Karina’s arms nearly killing your neck. None of the unit numbers 601-604 had her surname on it. You were praying that you didn’t have to go all the way down the hall to unit 610 before you finally read her name underneath unit number 605, right next to Lee Donghyuck’s name.

You froze, trying to process what this meant, but Karina had already woken up and was loudly banging on the front door of unit 605. You were torn between leaving her here, but she didn’t quite look sober enough to stand steadily.

The door opens after a few loud bangs from Karina, an annoyed – nothing new there – Donghyuck opens the door. His hair was damp and he was wearing grey sweats and a black shirt, a towel around his neck, and black-framed glasses adorning his face – definitely new. It takes everything in you to not admit he looks like a cute nerd in those glasses.

He was about to hurl a mean comment. At this point, you are pro at recognizing this. Donghyuck stops when his eyes settle on you. He raises a brow, and you only reply to his wordless questions with a sheepish smile.

“Your girlfriend had dinner over at our place, sorry. I put some hangover medicine in the pocket of her jacket for her to take in the morning. See you tomorrow, Dr. Lee!” And you ran away, accidentally pushing Karina into Donghyuck’s arms, but you weren’t going to stay there a second longer than needed.

Even though you thought you were pretty sure that you didn’t like Donghyuck anymore, the new information that he lived upstairs with his girlfriend still left a bitter taste in your mouth.

♡

You were transferring your notes into the nurse logs when Karina entered your little cubicle. “Hey Y/N, are you busy?” You shake your head, moving to the side so the head nurse can comfortably stand in your little workspace.

“Normally I wouldn’t talk about personal affairs during working hours, but I wanted to apologize for my behavior yesterday. I was upset at my boyfriend and when Winter said the two of you were going to stay at home and just casually drink, I couldn’t help but ask to join. I needed some company for a bit.” She starts to explain, and you start to notice that drunk Karina and sober Karina aren’t much different.

The scary image of head nurse Karina fades away as you watch her ramble, animatedly making her points with her facial expressions and hands. You smile at the sight, realizing the subtle cuteness of Karina’s true character. “It’s okay, nurse Karina. We all have ups and downs in relationships.” Karina shyly nods, “I also have a little request to make.” You let her continue.

“Please don’t tell our colleagues about Donghyuck and I living together, it’s embarrassing.” Although you were confused as to why it would be embarrassing, you promised her you wouldn’t tell a soul. She gives you a grateful smile before her pager goes off. Before you turn back fully to focus on your logs again, Karina calls your name. “You can just call me Karina when we are alone. I think we are way past the formalities after what happened.”

Karina disappears behind the doors and your polite smile falters slightly. You wonder why Winter and Mark didn’t warn you about the relationship between Karina and Donghyuck, feeling stupid that you were so open about your admiration for the man in front of people who knew he was already off the market.

It wasn’t like you were full-on pursuing him, but it does hurt to know that his type and you were so far off, evidently marking that 0.00001% to be true. Karina was extremely pretty, smart, and good at her job. Sure, she was a rambler and loud drunk, but she easily carried herself in confidence.

A soft cough pulls you back from your thoughts. Donghyuck leans against the wall, handing you his clipboard. “I saw you were filling out the logs, can you upload this chart to Riku’s profile?” You wordlessly take the papers and start typing, expecting him to leave after he says what he needs, but you don’t hear any footsteps. Before you can ask, he starts speaking again.

“She’s my cousin.” His words were rushed and Maeda Riku’s chart had already taken most of your attention, making the only sound coming out of your mouth a confused ‘huh?’.

“Karina, she is my cousin. I’m not dating anyone. That’s what I wanted to tell you yesterday before you ran off.” If someone told you you would see an awkward Donghyuck less than two weeks into the job, you wouldn’t believe them. The man had a sharp tongue and – just like his cousin – carried himself with certainty, attitude, and incredible skills that steadily established his dominance in the department. But for some unknown reason, he was avoiding eye contact and fumbling with something in his pockets in front of you.

“Oh.”

“I gave her the hangover cure, it helped.” He added after way too many seconds, still fumbling with his white coat pocket. You give him a weak smile, not knowing how to act in this strange situation. The air was not tense like it usually was, but it was far from comfortable.

“I got you the same one.” His hands were too fast, but the bottle on your desk and his empty pockets prove that he had been fumbling with the hangover medicine all this time.

“Thank you…” The act of kindness (?) made you speechless.

“You were reaching for your head a few times while doing rounds. It’s disturbing my work and the patients. If you can’t handle alcohol, don’t drink.” And the Lee Donghyuck you knew has ruined the moment again.

“I don’t think I deserve scolding when your cousin ended up like that.” Your remark earned a half-hearted scoff from him. You hated the way your heart started beating like your younger self again.

“Just drink it and get ready to join me for your OR testing.”

♡

The biting winter air felt like tiny pricks against your exposed skin, but you remained seated on the cold wooden bench while hugging your bottle of water tightly. Your OR testing didn’t go wrong, but it didn’t go smoothly either.

It wasn’t necessarily what Donghyuck said, but it was the way that he said those words to you in a room filled with your peers and other colleagues. He was complaining about how handling different tools wasn’t just about speed, but also about precision, how you were too hasty and could cause dangerous accidents. How he wouldn’t tolerate it if it were to happen in his OR and how you weren’t going in there anywhere soon.

It hurts that just when you finished painting him as an awful person, he started to make you doubt him again, causing his words to twist as painfully as they were the first few days as his assisting nurse.

You weren’t a big fan of crying, it felt like losing control over your feelings, but you couldn’t help it when you’re so deep into your self-pity party.

“Nurse Y/N?” The voice of an uncertain Minnie makes you look up, staring into the eyes of an equally teary-eyed teenage girl. You try to wipe away your tears in a hurry to attend to the girl, but she just hands you a handkerchief with a sympathetic smile.

“You know, crying does make everything a bit better, don’t you think?” She asks through a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. You breathe in some more air, feeling better despite being spotted by one of your patients. The two of you don’t say much at first, sitting in a comfortable silence while staring at the few white dots in your pitch-black sky.

“Boys are stupid.” She suddenly says, catching you off guard.

“Why would you say that?”

“They just are, I think girls cry more often because of them than any other reason.” She explains nonchalantly, making you grin at your words.

“Can’t disagree on that.” You mumble.

After a while, you returned inside to finish one last welfare round before switching out with the night shift nurses. You greet Karina as you pass the nurse station, she holds you back by your arm. “I had a word with Donghyuck about what happened during testing, are you alright?” Admittedly, you were still a bit mad at his choice of actions, but you couldn’t blame him for correcting you on something you did wrong.

“I will get over it, but thank you for looking out for me.” You grabbed your necessities and walked through the dimmed hospital corridors, making your way quietly through the resting areas of your patients. Most were already asleep, some mumbled soft words while you gently checked their stats and some even bid you a good night before turning around to sleep.

Once you made your way into room 4, you expected Minnie to have returned when you opened your curtain, but her bed was still empty. You frown, remembering how she mentioned how cold it was and that she should quickly return and sleep the night away.

After a few confused moments at her bedside, you notice the small but important details surrounding her little sleeping space.

The rose she received days ago bore no petals and the little teddy bear was stuffed inside the small trash can. The conversation from before replays in your mind, and you take out the handkerchief she had handed you.

You recognize the handkerchief was part of a goodie bag for a small promotion the hospital held once in a while. The words 2023 on the embroidery make you speed walk towards the storage room where older items were kept for PR.

The storage room wasn’t a huge mess, but it was evident that someone had roughly opened the stored tissue papers and used a few. Your heart ached, thinking how the young girl must have cried in here, feeling lonely and betrayed.

Without thinking, you put out your pager and send out a notification for a missing patient, running towards the terrace where you last saw her. You kept calling her name, heart hammering in your chest as different thoughts spun in your mind.

Different nurses and medical staff on the floor start spreading and calling out for Minnie, everyone equally worried for the young teenage girl.

You end up on the eighth floor, briefly informing Mark before rushing off into another hallway, feeling more and more anxious with each passing second. You hear a click from nearby and rush towards the sounds, opening the door to a balcony wordlessly as you freeze, Minnie’s hands on the railing and a devastating look in her eyes.

“Minnie–”

"Don't!" Her voice shakes as she puts one leg over the railing. “I don’t want to hear about how young I am, how much life I have to live. What is the use if no one will love me?”

“Why would no one love you?” You ask softly, still stuck in place, afraid that one wrong move will make her do something irreversible.

“Because I’m permanently broken. Because I have a scar that will never heal. Because I will have to return to the hospital every few years.” Minnie wasn’t directly looking at you, she was staring down the levels, the tears in her eyes dropping down eight floors.

“But it will heal, Minnie. Both your scar and your life.” You carefully take a step, noticing how she doesn’t flinch at your movement. “Right now, you are in a very tough battle, wanting to look the prettiest for a boy you like, don’t you?” She is quiet.

“And having him see you in a hospital gown, having him not see the best version of you, it hurts, doesn’t it?” She closes her eyes, whispering a small and shaky ‘yes’, but you heard her.

“I used to think like that, too. I used to think that once I meet the love of my life, I have to be perfect already so that he will fall in love with me.” Minnie doesn’t react, even though you are certain she knows you’re closing your distance slowly.

“But I found out, quite recently, that I don’t want to be perfect to be loved. I want him to see me at my weakest, and see how I fight my way through my weaknesses. Don’t you want to show him that you are a fighter, too?” Minnie looks up at you, although she doesn’t say it, her eyes tell you everything you need to know.

“Thank you, Minnie. Give me your hand and I’ll help you down slowly, is that alright?” She nods, giving you a hand before turning around. The action makes her foot slip and she slides off the railing with a scream. You lunge forward, holding her hands as tight as you can.

“It’s okay, trust me, I will not let go.” You grunt, trying your best to lift her, but she is too heavy for you to pull up alone. “Somebody, help!” You shout out in between reassuring words for Minnie. You feel her trying to climb up, causing her grip on yours to loosen. You shout for help again, begging the skies to help this little girl. You were fighting a rough battle with exhaustion, using every fiber in your being to keep the hold on the girl’s hands.

You start to lose grip, you shout out for help one more time before you feel a warm body against you, arms surrounding yours and holding onto Minnie’s forearms.

“I got you” Donghyuck speaks to you softly before raising his voice for Minnie to hear. “Minnie, I will count to three, and Nurse Y/N, and I will pull you up. I need you to use your legs to climb up, okay? Everything is alright. We got you.”

You finally look at him and he nods counting to three before you gather all your remaining strength to lift Minnie. The three of you land on the ground of the balcony, most of the landing softened by Donghyuck embracing you both.

Minnie holds onto you tightly, crying into your chest as she keeps mumbling apologies. You close your eyes to keep your tears in, soothing the girl with strokes through her hair. “Everything will be fine from now on, Minnie. You are a fighter, remember? You will show everyone that you are a fighter, okay?” Donghyuck stands up, typing on his pager before the medical staff comes through the door with a wheelchair, taking the shocked teenager from your arms.

You are still shaken from everything that happened in the past 10 minutes, your legs and arms have completely given up after all the adrenaline wore out. Donghyuck wordlessly helps you on your feet. “Let’s go, my shift ended as well. I’m taking us home.” His voice was soft again, just like when he told you that he got you in your most fearful moment.

He tugs you forward, but you don’t budge causing him to shoot you a questioning expression. “I can’t walk anymore.”

You didn’t have any ulterior motives when you said those words, but getting a piggyback home from Donghyuck did feel nice.

It still felt odd, you were sure a week ago that you hated his guts, but now and then, he made your heart flutter like five years ago. The thoughts confused you, making you unsure about how you should act around the man. Avoiding him wasn’t an option for now, although you knew your rotation in the emergency department was coming to an end soon.

“You have potential.” He suddenly speaks as your apartment complex comes into sight. “You aren’t as fast as Nurse Ningning or as knowledgeable as Nurse Chenle, but you notice the small things about patients.”

“I doubt small things matter as much as accuracy and knowledge in this work field, Dr. Lee.” You mumble into his shoulder.

“You might think so, but I know for a fact that if you didn’t notice those things, we might have lost a lovely person today.” It was hard to find the right words to say, so you stayed quiet and let him continue.

“Your attentiveness saved a life, Y/N. Don’t ever think any less of yourself as a nurse.” Normally, you’d assume he is saying this to mock you, but even without seeing his face, you know he said those words sincerely.

“Thank you for finding me, Dr. Lee.” You say after he steps out of the elevator on the fifth floor. “It’s hard to miss you when you still shout like an endangered teen girl.” Your heart skips a beat.

“So you remember me?” You don’t know why you’re holding your breath, but you are.

“I didn’t at first, but after all the hints and pieces I got from why you joined the nursing program, together with what happened today, I just followed the string of information and realized that young girl was you.”

He has stopped in front of your apartment and you try to hurry off his back before your roommate sees you, but he doesn’t let you go as smoothly as you thought. Your roommate seemed to have sensed you because the door swung open. Winter looks at you, your arms around his neck, and then Donghyuck himself. Before she can open her mouth to say anything, you rip yourself from Donghyuck’s hold – ignoring the immediate absence of his warmth – and wave him goodbye, slamming the door in his face and shushing Winter.

“Girl, you act fast.” Minjeong throws you a smug grin.

“Please don’t even start, Winter” Unfortunately for you, her grin only widens.

The two of you continue to argue, unbeknownst to you, Donghyuck was still outside, listening to your little arguments with a chuckle. He stops himself from mumbling how amusing your reaction was, the word ‘cute’ almost escaping his lips. His footsteps start echoing again after your voices fade away, heading home in high need of some back pain-relieving patches.

any like, reblog, comment and feedback is appreciated! if you'd like to be on the taglist of this fic, let me know through an ask or comment on this work ♡

#nct dream x reader #lee haechan #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #nct au #nct scenarios #nct x reader #haechan fluff #haechan angst #mark lee #liu yangyang #nct dream imagines #nct fluff #nct angst

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linoxpudding · 1 month ago

Text

Breakup Pt. 2 - Lee Know

summary: three years after the break up, you meet him in a life threatening situation

pairing: lee know x reader

word count: 3018 words

genre: angst, hurt/comfort

warnings: mentions of accident, injury, unconsciousness, broken ribs, blood, emotional distress

a/n: wow my longest fic till date, based on the poll results, here is the second instalment of the breakup series

PART ONE

Masterlist

Felix Ver.

*images are taken from pinterest*

~°~

Three years ago, you had no choice.

The threats, the hate messages, the constant barrage of cruel words—it had become unbearable. You had tried to endure it, for him, for yourself. But every day, you saw the pain in Minho’s eyes as he watched you crumble under the weight of their words.

He begged you to stay.

"I’ll leave the band. Just stay with me. I don’t care about anything else."

His words still haunted you.

But you knew he cared. You knew he loved his members, his career, his dream. He would have resented you one day. So you made the choice for both of you. You couldn’t let him do that. You couldn't be the reason he gave up his dream.

So, you walked away. And Minho let you go, even though it shattered him.

*******

Now, three years later. Your life had finally settled into something normal. No cameras following your every step. No hate comments flooding your notifications. No sleepless nights wondering how much longer you could take it before you finally broke.

But normal didn’t mean happy. Not when you still felt the emptiness he left behind. Not when your heart still ached for something—someone—you told yourself you had to let go. You had spent the last three years convincing yourself that leaving Lee Minho had been the right decision. That the loneliness was better than the suffocating pressure of being his.

That you had done what was best for both of you.

Then, you saw the news. And everything shattered.

"Breaking: Stray Kids’ Lee Know involved in a car accident—"

Your heart stopped.

Your chest caved in.

Your lungs forgot how to breathe.

Your stomach is twisting with nausea.

No, no, no. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

You fumble to open Twitter, your breath coming in short gasps as you type in his name. And then you see it.

#GetWellSoonLeeKnow

#PrayForLeeKnow

#StayStrongMinho

Thousands—millions—of tweets flood your screen.

Videos of the accident scene. Reports of his injury. Photos of the ambulance.

Your vision blurs. Your hands go numb.

Hands trembling, you begin to open your contacts to type a message to a number you hadn’t texted in three years. As you opened the contact, your last conversation with Bang Chan appeared on the screen—

You: Tell Minho I’m sorry.

The last reply you had received from Chan was him pleading for you to reconsider, to give Minho another chance.

Now, with your heart pounding, you tapped on his contact and typed a desperate message.

You: Chan, please tell me he’s okay.

Seconds felt like hours before your phone vibrated.

Chan: Y/N… it’s bad. Really bad.

The blood in your veins turns ice cold. Your fingers shake as you type.

You: Is he—?

You can’t even finish the sentence. Your mind refuses to go there.

Chan: He’s alive.

You nearly collapse from relief. But then—

Chan: But it’s serious. Chan: He hasn’t woken up yet. You: Where is he? Chan: Seoul General Hospital.

And then you’re moving—grabbing your coat, your keys, your phone—your body acting on instinct, fueled by nothing but pure, suffocating terror.

You don’t remember getting in the car. You don’t remember the drive. All you know is that you need to get to him. Now. Before it’s too late.

*******

The hospital smelled like antiseptic and dread.

Your legs carried you through the hallways on autopilot, your heart hammering so loudly you could barely hear anything else.

“Y/N.” Chan softly called out.

You turned to see him standing near the waiting area, his face pale, eyes heavy with exhaustion. Your eyes skimmed over the familiar faces of people who had once been like family.

Stray Kids, his brothers, they were all there. Silent. Huddled together in quiet devastation.

“How—” Your voice cracked. “How bad is it?”

Chan exhaled slowly.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” he took a shaky breath, “he has a head injury, a broken rib… a lot of bruises.”

Your knees nearly gave out.

Chan reached out instinctively, steadying you. You collapsed against him, sobbing into his shoulder.

“I c-can’t—” Your voice cracked. “Is he—”

“He’s a little stable,” Chan murmured, his hand soothing over your back. “But he hasn’t woken up.”

A fresh wave of grief crashed over you.

“Take me to him,” you whispered.

Chan pulled away, nodding, taking your hand gently.

“This way.”

And then you saw him.

Minho. The love of your life.

Lying in that hospital bed. Unmoving. Pale. His face was covered in cuts, a bandage wrapped around his head, wires and IVs connected to his body. Your breath hitched in your throat.

This wasn’t the Minho you remembered.

The Minho you knew was strong. Untouchable.

But this Minho?

This Minho was breaking you.

A sob escaped before you could stop it. And suddenly, you were at his bedside, reaching for his hand, clutching it tightly.

“Minho,” you whispered, your voice cracking. “I’m here.”

No response. His fingers were cold. Too cold.

“Please,” you choked out, tears slipping down your cheeks. “Please wake up.”

Nothing. And the weight of everything—three years of distance, of heartbreak, of trying to live without him—crashed down on you all at once. You bowed your head, pressing your forehead against his hand.

Tears blurred your vision as you gently laced your fingers with his.

Chan exhaled softly behind you.

“I’ll give you some time.”

You barely registered him leaving, too focused on the unconscious man before you. Your thumb brushed over his knuckles, voice breaking, “I never stopped loving you.”

The words fell from your lips before you could stop them. You swallowed, the lump in your throat growing.

“I thought leaving was the right thing,” you whispered. “I thought I was protecting myself. But I was just running.”

A tear slipped down your cheek, “I should’ve fought for you.”

Silence. Only the soft hum of machines and the distant chatter of nurses. You closed your eyes, pressing a trembling kiss to the back of his hand.

“Please wake up, Minho,” you pleaded, “I can’t—” your voice cracked. “I can’t lose you.”

“I was wrong,” you whispered. “I thought leaving was the only way to protect you.” A shuddering breath. “I thought I could live without you.”

You let out a broken sob. “But I can’t.”

“So please,” your grip tightened. “come back to me.”

Silence.

*******

It has been almost three days.

You never left his side. Chan brought you food, Hyunjin made you go home to shower, but every time you returned, Minho was still unconscious.

You met Minho’s parents for the first time after the breakup. His mother gasped when she saw you, her eyes widening in shock before softening into something warm.

"Oh, Y/N…" she whispered. And then she hugged you.

You stiffened for a moment, unsure if you even deserved this, but the warmth of her embrace overwhelmed you.

"We never blamed you," she murmured. "We understood. We knew how hard it must have been for you." She pulled back slightly, brushing a tear from your cheek with a mother’s tenderness. "But we always loved you."

Your heart twisted. "I’m so sorry," you choked out.

She gave you a small, sad smile. "Don’t be."

Then, Minho’s father stepped forward, giving you a firm, fatherly side hug, a strong hand resting on your shoulder. "It’s good to see you again," he said simply.

You swallowed thickly.

You had expected resentment. Anger. But instead, all you found was understanding.

And for the first time in years, you wished—God, you wished—you had met them again under different circumstances.

Chan found you beside Minho on the second night, curled up in one of the chairs, staring at the floor and holding Minho’s hand. He sat beside you with a sigh, handing you a bottle of water.

“You look awful,” he muttered.

You let out a weak laugh. “Thanks.”

Chan leaned back, studying you. “You still love him.”

Your fingers tightened around the bottle.

“…I never stopped,” you admitted.

Chan exhaled through his nose, nodding slowly. “Then why did you leave?”

Your throat burned. “Because I thought it was the only way to keep him safe.”

Chan scoffed. “Safe from what? Loving you?”

You blinked up at him.

“You leaving didn’t protect him, Y/N. It destroyed him.” His voice was quiet but firm. “I’ve never seen Minho so broken. He never moved on. He never even tried.”

Chan continued, “Minho... he was wrecked when you left. He was angry, hurt, devastated—every possible thing. And the worst part? He never let himself hate you for it.”

You shut your eyes, a sharp pain twisting in your chest.

“He told me once,” Chan continued, his voice quieter now, “that he realized he was being selfish. That even though he wanted to chase after you, he knew he had to let you go. Because you needed peace. And he loved you too much to take that away.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes.

Chan sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Maybe it’s time you stop running.”

You swallowed hard, your heart beating faster.

Maybe it was.

*******

The next day, you were dozing off when it happened.

A soft shift. The rustle of sheets. A weak inhale.

Then—

“…Y/N?”

Your eyes flew open.

Minho’s gaze was hazy, unfocused, but he was awake. He was awake.

A sob escaped your lips as relief flooded through you. With trembling hands, you quickly pressed the call button, your voice shaky as you called out, “H-He’s awake!”

Within seconds, the door burst open, and a nurse rushed in, followed closely by a doctor.

“You’re awake, Mr. Lee,” the doctor said, his voice calm but urgent. He quickly moved to Minho’s side, shining a small light into his eyes, “Can you hear me?”

Minho blinked sluggishly. “…Yeah,” his voice was hoarse.

The doctor nodded in approval before checking his vitals. “Do you remember what happened?”

Minho was silent for a moment, his brows furrowing as he tried to recall. “Car accident…?”

“That’s right. You suffered a concussion and a fractured arm. Do you feel any dizziness or nausea?”

“A little,” Minho admitted, shifting slightly, only to wince when pain flared up in his side.

“Careful,” the doctor warned. “Your ribs are bruised, so try not to move too much.”

Minho exhaled slowly, nodding. “How long…?”

“You’ve been unconscious for three days,” the doctor answered, adjusting the IV drip. “Your condition has been stable, and waking up is a great sign. We’ll continue to monitor you, but for now, try to rest.”

The nurse made him drink some water.

Minho gave a weak nod, his gaze still sluggish. The doctor turned to you then, offering a small, knowing smile. “He’s lucky to have someone watching over him.”

Your throat tightened, but you forced yourself to nod. “Thank you, doctor.”

With a final check of the monitors, the doctor stepped out, leaving you and Minho alone again.

Silence hung between you.

“…Why are you here?” His voice was rough, barely above a whisper. But it wasn’t just exhaustion that made it sound weak. It was hurt.

Your heart clenched.

“I—” You swallowed hard. “I saw the news. I had to come.”

His eyes scanned your face, searching. But this time, they weren’t hazy at all. They were filled with heartbreak.

“Three years,” he murmured. “It took three years and an accident for you to come back.”

Tears welled up in your eyes. “I thought I was doing what was best for you.”

Minho exhaled shakily, looking away. “And did it work?”

Your breath hitched.

“No,” you admitted. “It was hell.”

Silence stretched between you. Then you softly said, "I still love you."

His head snapped towards you. Tears slipped down your cheeks. “I never stopped, Minho.”

His chest rose and fell unevenly. His eyes glistened, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something—but then, with a broken breath, he reached for you.

You barely had time to react before he pulled you into him. His grip was desperate—arms shaking as they wrapped around you, holding you so tight you could feel his heartbeat against yours.

“Be careful,” you worriedly said, he still has body aches after all.

He buried his face into your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin.

“…I thought I lost you forever,” he whispered, voice thick with emotion.

You clung to him, sobbing into his hospital gown. “I’m so sorry, Minho. I should have never left.”

His fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater, his body trembling against yours.

“You broke me,” he murmured, voice raw. “But I still love you.”

A choked sound escaped you. “Minho—”

He pulled back just enough to cup your face, his thumb brushing away your tears. His own eyes were wet now, his expression open, vulnerable.

Then, before you could say another word, he kissed you.

It was desperate, shaky—filled with three years of pain, longing, and love that never faded.

You melted into him, your hands fisting the front of his gown, as if letting go would break them all over again.

When you two finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing hard.

“You’re staying this time,” he murmured, more a plea than a demand.

You nodded, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m staying.”

*******

The hospital room felt smaller now with everyone surrounding Minho. After three days of restless waiting, Minho was finally awake.

His parents had been sobbing hard when they saw their son’s eyes open finally, his mother gently brushing his hair back while his father squeezed his hand in quiet relief.

The boys all shared a group hug after a mixture of teasing and scolding, masking their overwhelming concern. They had spent sleepless nights here, waiting, hoping.

And then, one by one, they left.

Now, it was just you.

Just you and him.

The door clicked shut behind Seungmin, leaving a comfortable silence between you.

The hospital room is quiet now, save for the faint beeping of monitors and the distant hum of voices outside. You’re curled up in the small space of Minho’s hospital bed, your head resting against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

His arms are wrapped around you, holding you as if you might disappear if he lets go. His fingers draw absentminded circles on your back, his warmth seeping into your skin, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

“I really thought I lost you,” you whisper against his hospital gown, voice thick with lingering emotion. “I thought I’d never get to do this again.”

Minho exhales softly, his chin resting on top of your head. “You almost did.” His voice is quieter than usual, raspy from exhaustion, but the underlying pain is there. “You left, Y/N. You just... disappeared.”

You shut your eyes tightly. “I know. And I regret it every single day.”

Minho lets out a shaky breath. “Three years.” His grip tightens slightly. “Do you have any idea how many times I reached for my phone to text you? How many times I saw something and thought, ‘Y/N would love this’?”

Tears prick your eyes again. “I thought about you every day,” you confess. “But I was scared.”

Minho shifts slightly, tilting your chin up so you’re looking at him. His gaze is softer now, but there’s still something raw in his eyes. “Scared of what?”

You swallow. “That I’d hurt you more by staying than by leaving. That I’d ruin your career, your life.”

Minho stares at you for a long moment, then exhales deeply. “I was so angry when you left,” he admits, voice thick with unspoken emotions. “Angry, hurt, upset—every possible emotions. I wanted to hate you, but I couldn’t. And after a while, I realized I was just being selfish.”

Your breath catches. “Selfish?”

Minho nods. “I wanted to keep you, even when you were struggling. I wanted you by my side, no matter what. But if being with me meant losing your peace, then... I had to let you go.” He pauses, swallowing hard before continuing. “But even then, I never stopped loving you.”

Tears slip down your cheeks. “Minho...”

“I’ve been single all this time,” he confesses, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “Not because I couldn’t move on—but because I didn’t want to. I kept telling myself that maybe, if the band contract ever ended, I could find you again, and we’d have a chance.” He gives you a weak, self-deprecating smile. “Realistically, I knew you might’ve moved on by then. But I let myself live in this fantasy world where you were still mine.”

A soft sob escapes you, and you shake your head, gripping his shirt tightly. “I never moved on, Minho. I never dated anyone either.”

His eyes widen slightly, surprise flickering across his features. “You didn’t?”

You shake your head again. “No. I couldn’t. No one could ever be you.”

Minho lets out a shaky breath, his expression crumbling before he pulls you into a crushing embrace. “God, I love you,” he whispers into your hair.

You cling to him just as tightly. “I love you too.”

For a while, you just lay there, wrapped up in each other. His heartbeat is steady beneath your ear, his fingers stroking through your hair, lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t felt in so long.

Then, after a few moments of silence, you murmur, “You know, your arms will go numb if you keep holding me that tightly.”

He huffed out a soft laugh. “Let them. I’m not letting you go.”

Minho’s arms wrapped around you, holding you even more tightly, grounding you. His fingers tangled into your hair, his breaths uneven against your shoulder.

"Don’t leave me again," he whispered, his voice raw.

You clung to him. "I won’t."

A shuddered exhale. A soft, lingering press of his lips against your hair.

"You’re mine, right?"

You buried your face against his chest, whispering, "I’ve always been yours."

Minho exhaled, his body genuinely relaxing for the first time in three years.

And this time, you weren’t letting go.

#lee minho scenarios #skz x reader #skz au #stray kids #skz #lee know x reader #lee minho x reader #lee minho angst #lee minho imagines #lee minho fic #lee know fic

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hoshifighting · 9 months ago

Text

Producer!Woozi x Celebrity!Reader

— Synopsis: You and Woozi have admired each other's work for a long time. Now, he has the opportunity to produce an album with you. Working on an album for a worldwide artist like you brings him immense joy... and turn-ons. — WC: 4.8k — WARNINGS: Smut, studio sex (Universe Factory), oral (f.receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, fingering, clit stimulation, g'spot stimulation, aftercare, reader fangirling over Woozi shirtless in Ruby's M/V mentioned.

Your name is splashed across big screens from Times Square to the Grammy Awards. Music didn't just enter your life; it crashed in, loud and powerful, sweeping you off your feet. It became your everything.

You went from singing in front of millions of people to strumming your guitar alone in a poorly illuminated room, lost in your own world. Music was your passion, your escape, and your purpose all rolled into one.

With that passion came endless opportunities. You were constantly on the move, traveling from one country to another, meeting people you once only dreamed of being in the same room with. You found yourself breathing the same air as your idols, sharing stages with legends.

Friendships blossomed, some fast and fleeting, others deep and lasting. The world knew your name. Your songs played in every state, on every continent, bridging gaps between different cultures and bringing people together.

Those cultures left a mark on you too.

You soaked in the richness of each place, each new experience shaping your music and your perspective. You remembered your early days, the hunger for inspiration, the late-night searches for new artists.

One night, you stumbled upon a webcam live stream with a bunch of boys in a neon green melona room. You laughed and loved watching them, their energy infectious even through a screen. You became a fan, following their journey as you built your own.

But here's the thing about being a superstar: time is never on your side. Your schedule was always packed, and despite being in contact with some of the Seventeen members through DMs and mentioning your admiration for them in interviews, meeting them in person was a challenge. You were in Seoul for a tour once, and they appeared on your show, but there was never enough time to truly connect.

Now, after years of hectic schedules and fleeting encounters, you finally had a moment to breathe. You were working on a new album, and for the first time in a long time, you had the opportunity to switch things up. Your usual producers were fantastic, but this time, something different was calling you. An opportunity was waiting in South Korea, and it had your heart racing with excitement.

You, your manager, and the company representing the group had been in talks for months, working out the details. The goal was clear: to collaborate with Woozi, the musical genius from Seventeen, on your new album.

When your team informed Woozi that you had just arrived at HYBE, his palms began to sweat. He never imagined he’d get to work with someone of your caliber. The fact that you specifically wanted to work with him made it all the more surreal.

As you walked through the HYBE building, your assistant and one of the staff members gave you a tour. You were almost giddy with excitement. The walls were lined with photos and awards, the air buzzing with creativity. When you finally approached the recreation area and spotted Woozi, his cheeks turned a shade of red. He was nervous, but seeing you smile so brightly at the sight of him sent a sense of relief through his system.

You were genuinely happy to see him.

As you step into the recreation area and see Woozi standing there, your cheeks flush a deep red. You can’t contain your excitement. "Woozi, I'm so happy to see you," you say, extending a hand, unsure if a hug would be appropriate.

He senses your shyness, and, in a moment of genuine openness, he breaks through his own reserve and gives you an awkward hug. It's brief and a bit clumsy, but it’s sincere. As you pull away, you swear this is the happiest moment of your life.

"I’ve admired your work for so long," you say, your eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. "Your music is incredible."

Woozi shakes his hands in front of him, a shy smile spreading across his face. His long hair swings slightly as he responds, "Oh, no, really, it’s nothing compared to what you’ve done. I'm honestly just honored to be here with you."

You laugh softly, feeling a bit more at ease. "Are you kidding? I still remember hearing your solo for the first time and just being blown away."

Woozi's cheeks tint pink as he looks down, scratching the back of his head. "Thank you, that means a lot coming from you. I remember when we all watched your first big performance. We were in our green room, and we were all just in awe."

You grin, recalling that exact moment you first saw them. "I remember that! I was so inspired by you guys. It’s amazing how things come full circle, isn’t it?"

He nods, his eyes meeting yours with shyness "It really is. I never thought I’d get the chance to work with someone I looked up to so much." Woozi chuckles softly, breaking the silence. "By the way, I saw your post on Twitter about wanting to visit the Universe Factory—my studio."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you cover your face with your hands. "Oh my God, you guys see my tweets? Oh nooo!"

He laughs, a sound that's both comforting and infectious. "Yeah, they're hard to miss," he admits. "And I may have received a few screenshots of your reaction from 'Ruby'."

You gasp, mortified as memories of your tweets flood back. You remember typing frantically about needing a defibrillator when Woozi appeared shirtless in the music video. "Oh no, those tweets. I can't believe you saw those."

He’s grinning. "It's okay, really. It was kind of sweet to be honest. We all had a good laugh about it."

Peeking through your fingers, you sigh. "Well, now that my embarrassment is out in the open, I guess it’s only up from here, right?"

Woozi grins, a twinkle in his eye. "Absolutely. Besides, it’s nice to know we have mutual fans of each other’s work. It makes this collaboration even more special."

You nod, recalling how your fanbase and Seventeen’s had always gotten along so well. “Our fans really hit it off, didn’t they? It’s like they’ve been rooting for this collaboration all along.”

Woozi smiles and gestures for you to follow him. “Come on, let me show you the Universe Factory.”

Walking into his studio, you’re immediately struck by how incredible it looks. Purple lights cast a calming glow over the space, and the view from the windows is breathtaking. Everything, from the colors to the high-tech equipment, is perfectly arranged. You can tell he put a lot of effort into making this place special.

“Wow, Woozi, this is amazing,” you say, your eyes wide with admiration. “I always saw photos of your studio, but in person, it’s even better.”

“Thanks, but it’s just a studio.” Woozi’s shy smile returns, but there’s a sparkle in his eyes. “I wanted it to be just right for when you got here. I spent the whole week cleaning and moving things around. Even used some scented sprays.”

You laugh, feeling a snugness in your chest. “You didn’t have to go through all that trouble for me, but I appreciate it.”

He shrugs, his smile widening. “I wanted everything to be perfect.”

Woozi shows you some of the instrumentals he’s been working on, and they’re incredible. The beats blend seamlessly with the lyrics you sent him, and you can already hear the potential for something amazing. He’s practically buzzing with enthusiasm to hear how your voice will mesh with his music.

“Let’s get you in the recording room,” Woozi says, leading you to the booth.

You put on the headphones and glance through the glass at Woozi in the control room. As you start warming up your voice, he watches with a small smile. You can see him scoffing lightly, clearly amused by your funny warm-up techniques.

He presses the intercom button. “I’m definitely going to use that later.”

You sulk playfully, giving him a pout. “Come on, don’t make fun of me.”

He laughs, the sound filling the control room. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just cute the way you warm up.”

Rolling your eyes but smiling, you turn your focus to the paper in front of you. Woozi cues up the beat, and you start with a rough draft, feeling your way through the melody. Even in this initial take, Woozi can’t help but feel impressed. Your voice is powerful, yet it fits perfectly with the track.

You glance up occasionally, catching Woozi’s eyes. He gives you a thumbs-up, his appreciation evident even through the glass. As you continue, you find yourself getting lost in the music, and Woozi’s focus never wavers. When you finish, you look up to see him grinning widely.

“That was just the warm-up?” he says, pressing the button again. “I’m really excited to hear the final version.”

You laugh, feeling a rush of confidence. “Yeah, just the warm-up. Wait till you hear the real thing.”

Woozi nods, eyes gleaming with joy. “I can’t wait. Let’s do this.”

You start to sing for real now, fully immersed in the music. The lyrics flow smoothly, and your voice dances effortlessly over the instrumentals. When it comes to a tricky melisma, you frown slightly, pausing to ask Woozi through the intercom;

"Which tone should I use for this part?"

Woozi, equally focused, listens intently as you demonstrate two different versions. Both sound amazing to him, and he takes a moment to think. He taps his chin thoughtfully before pressing the button. "Try the second one, but start a half-step higher and then slide down smoothly."

You nod, absorbing his suggestion. You take a deep breath and try it his way. The moment you hit that melisma, sliding down effortlessly, the note hangs in the air. Woozi’s eyes light up, and he gives you an enthusiastic thumbs-up from the control room.

As you're in the middle of recording, Soonyoung suddenly appears in the studio, his presence bringing an unexpected burst of energy. You catch sight of him through the glass and wave enthusiastically, a big smile spreading across your face. Soonyoung returns the gesture, his excitement palpable even from a distance. He settles on the couch behind Woozi, watching the two of you work with keen interest.

Woozi presses the intercom button and gives you a nod. "Try going a bit higher for the adlibs."

You nod and sing the section, hitting the high notes while looking at Woozi for confirmation. He listens intently, his gaze dark in focus. “You did so good. That was perfect.”

You can hear Soonyoung’s voice from the back. “He never praises us like that.”

Woozi turns in his chair, giving Soonyoung a deadly glare.

Soonyoung, unphased, grins and stretches as he stands up. “Alright, alright. I know when I’m not wanted,” he says dramatically, walking toward the door. Just as he’s about to leave, he pauses and turns back. “But after you’re done recording, we’re taking you to dinner Y/N. No excuses.”

You give him thumbs up. Feeling the warmth of their camaraderie. Woozi shakes his head but smiles, turning back to you.

“Ignore him. Let’s finish this up. You’re doing great.”

After skipping through some tracks, you find yourself sitting in Woozi's incredibly comfortable chair, fiddling with his equipment. The buttons, dials, and sliders are all so intriguing, and you can’t help but feel like a kid in a candy store, discovering new settings and features.

Woozi watches you from a few feet away, arms crossed, a smile playing on his lipsㄧHe knows you’re no stranger to studios and equalizers, but he loves seeing the joy in your eyes as you explore his setup like it’s the coolest thing in the worldㄧHe wonders if your producers ever let you have this much hands-on control.

“Hey, Woozi, how do you tweak the master mix settings here?” you ask, looking up from the console.

He steps forward, moving behind you. His arms come to rest on either side of the chair, effectively caging you in as he leans over to type on the keyboard.

“You just need to go into this menu,” he says, his voice low and calm. He types swiftly, his fingers dancing over the keys. “Then, adjust the settings here. See?”

You nod, trying to focus on his explanation, but the closeness is overwhelming. You can feel the warmth of his body, his head so close to yours.

It’s hard to concentrate when you’re not even breathing.

His voice is soft and steady, his breath warm on your skin. You watch his hands move expertly, typing commands and making adjustments with practiced ease. Your heart is pounding so loudly, you’re sure he can hear it.

“And here, you can add some reverb” he continues, “See how that changes the sound?”

No, not when he’s this near.

You nod, feeling a bit dazed. He tells you to try it yourself, and you reach for the adjustment, your hand hovering uncertainly over the controls. Woozi lets go of the mouse and places his hand over yours, guiding it to lower and raise the equalizer. His skin is soft and warm against yours, and the contact almost makes you melt on his chair.

“Like this,” he murmurs, gently moving your hand with his. “Just a little adjustment here and there.”

You can hardly concentrate on the settings, your mind fixated on the sensation of his hand over yours.

You turn your face slightly toward his, and he looks at you, the proximity between you almost intolerable.

Your eyes lock, and for a moment, the world outside the studio fades away. His gaze is intense, filled with something that makes your breath catch in your throat. Woozi’s hand squeezes yours lightly.

You can feel your pulse quicken. His eyes flicker to your lips for a brief second before meeting your gaze again. The moment stretches, neither of you moves, both caught in the electric current that seems to have taken over the room.

Finally, Woozi clears his throat, breaking the spell but not the connection. "There," he says softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You’ve got it."

As you try to focus on adjusting the settings, Woozi leaves your hand on the side of yours, allowing you to make the changes yourself. You manage to make the adjustments, and as the sound fills the room, Woozi's voice breaks through the silence. "That's it. You're doing great." he praises.

You swear if he praises you again like that, you’re going to fucking wet his chair. You don’t even notice that you’re biting your bottom lip, too lost in the horniness.

Woozi’s words echo in your mind as you try to focus on the task at hand, but it's hard to concentrate with the way his body looks in the black shirt he's wearing. The fabric clings to him in all the right places, emphasizing his toned physique.

Every movement he makes with his hands, seems deliberate and calculated, and you can’t tear your eyes away.

You force yourself to push the distracting thoughts aside, but it's a losing battle.

Your gaze remains fixated on his hands as he places them on the border of the desk, supporting his body. His shoulders brush against the back of your head, and you can feel his presence looming over you. It’s as if he knows exactly what’s passing through your mind.

He brushes a hand over your shoulder, the sensation lingering even after he presses it between his hands in a gentle massage. You feel his lips tentatively brush against the corner of yours.

Caught off guard, you melt into his touch, your fingers intertwining with his as you lean into the kiss. His lips are soft against yours, a perfect match to the warmth of his touch. But when he catches you melting against his hand, he doesn't pull away. Instead, he turns the chair to face him, his hand sliding behind your neck to pull you closer.

His kiss deepens, and you respond eagerly, your hands sliding to each side of his face before tangling in his hair at the back of his neck. The kiss is desperate, as if you’ve both been holding back.

But when you finally break apart, gasping for breath, you realize that you can’t resist any longer. You get up from the chair, his hands desperately grab your waist, pulling your bodies together

The way he holds your waist makes your tank top bunch up between his fingers, his palms feeling your belly's bare skin. You whimper against his lips, "Hmm, Woozi..."

He pulls back slightly, "Jihoon," he corrects gently, "Call me Jihoon."

Your stomach flutters at the intimacy of calling him by his real name. "Jihoon," you repeat softly, savoring the sound.

He smiles, a soft, almost shy smile that makes your heart skip a beat. Then he leans in again, kissing your cheek, your jaw, and your neck. Each touch of his lips sends you on cloud nine, making you arch against his chest, your hands gripping his bicep for support.

"Jihoon," you murmur again, the name feeling more natural on your lips each time.

His hands move up your sides, sliding under your tank top, his fingers warm against your skin. He pulls the fabric up, and you lift your arms, allowing him to remove it completely. The cool air of the studio contrasts with the heat of his touch, making your nipples harden.

He takes a moment to admire you, his eyes roaming over your body "You're beautiful," he whispers.

You blush, feeling a little shy under his gaze. "You too," you reply, reaching up to touch his face, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

He smiles and pulls you closer, his lips finding yours once more. This kiss is deeper, more urgent, as if he's trying to pour all his feelings into it. You respond with equal fervor, your hands exploring the planes of his chest, and the muscles of his back.

Jihoon’s hands move to your waist again, his fingers brushing the waistband of your jeans. He pauses, looking at you for permission. You nod, your breath hitching in the process.

He unbuttons your jeans, sliding them down your hips and letting them pool at your feet. You step out of them, standing before him in just your underwear. He takes a moment to admire you again, his eyes dark with desire, a little hidden under his long bangs.

You reach for the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head. He helps you, tossing it aside. Your hands explore his bare chest, feeling the warmth of his milky skin, the steady beat of his heart.

This time, his hands roam more freely, exploring every inch of your body. His touch is gentle, yet possessive, as if he's trying to memorize every curve, every contour. After all, he doesn't know when he'll be able to touch you like that again. That is, if there is a next time.

You respond in kind, your hands moving over his body, savoring the feel of his muscles flexing under your fingertips.

He guides you toward the couch, his lips never leaving yours. You lie down, pulling him with you, your bodies molding together perfectly. He kisses his way down your neck, your chest, his lips leaving a trail of saliva in their wake.

"Jihoon," you moan, your hands tangling in his hair as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking gently. The sensation numbs your mind, making you arch against him.

Jihoon makes you relax on his couch, but you suddenly become very aware when his fingers slide your panties to the side, moistening his fingers with your lubrication. He opens his eyes to watch you squirm as your pussy sucks his finger inside without effort. His cold finger fits perfectly inside you, and you can feel him teasing to put another one. You clap a hand over your mouth to stifle your moans.

He laughs softly, taking your hand off your mouth. "The studio is soundproof. You can moan as loud as you want."

You mentally thank him because with his fingers now perfectly entering and leaving you, a loud moan escapes your mouth, and the sound of your wet pussy isn't discreet. You're loving the intense gaze he has on you, like you're about to be devoured. He tries to kiss you, but you can only moan as he fingers you.

Jihoon curls his fingers on your g'spot, repeating the motion again and again. You let out a strangled moan, squirming under his touch. "Don't do that, or I'll mess up your sofa," you warn, your voice shaky with pleasure.

He looks at you from under his bangs, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I don't care about the sofa," he murmurs, pressing a hand on your lower belly to intensify the curl of his fingers.

The added pressure makes you scream, "Please, please!"

Jihoon smirks, his fingers moving faster inside you. "Please what? Tell me what you need," he demands, his voice commanding.

"Please, Jihoon, I need more," you gasp, your body arching against his hand.

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "More of what? My fingers? My mouth?" he asks, his tone teasing.

"Both," you whimper, feeling desperate for more of his touch.

Jihoon chuckles, his lips brushing against your ear. "Greedy, aren't you? But I'll give you what you want," he promises, his fingers curling and pressing against your g'spot with relentless precision.

You cry out, your body trembling. "Jihoon, I'm going to—"

"Do it," he whispers, his calm raspy voice making you bite your bottom lip. "Come for me."

Your hands clutch at the couch as Jihoon's head moves from above you to between your legs. The moment his tongue touches your clit, you can't hold back, and you come almost immediately.

He stops for a moment, just to admire the sight of you arching your back on his couch, his fingers deep inside you, all wet as you roll your hips on them, moaning in his studio, naked. He never thought it would happen, but he isn't complaining.

You discover he's stronger than you thought when he holds your hips down to keep you in place before he devours your pussy. You roll your eyes at the sensitivity and the sight of his fangs tickling your skin, making you giggle between moans.

The scene is completely sinful. You prop yourself up on one elbow and hold his hair up to see his face, flushed but with closed eyes, all concentrated on giving you pleasure. You find it incredibly cute, and you can't help but praise him.

"Jihoon, you're doing so good," you murmur, your voice trembling. "You're so focused, it's amazing."

In response, he sucks your clit inside his mouth, making you pull his hair a little. He hisses softly, and you quickly apologize. "Sorry, I didn't mean to—"

He looks up at you, a playful glint in his eyes. "It's okay," he says, his voice slightly rough. "I like it."

You can't help but moan louder as he resumes his attention to your clit. His fingers continue their relentless rhythm inside you, and you feel the pressure building again.

"Jihoon, please," you gasp, your hips bucking against his hold.

You gasp, and Jihoon stops, making your head fall back as you whine, your orgasm interrupted. He kneels on the couch, lowering his sweatpants and underwear to his thighs. You shake your head, saying, "I want you to take it all off."

He smiles, obliged, then comes completely naked over you. You spread your legs for him, wide, and he slides his cock between your folds, eliciting a whine from you. Still supporting yourself on your elbow, you grab his hair, pulling it slightly, earning a moan from him.

As your tongues wrap around each other, his cock slides inside you, and you open your mouth in a silent moan, your back plopping on the couch. He moans at the sensation of your gummy walls wrapping his cock, sucking him in welcomely. He also smiles, finding your reaction endearing.

Jihoon rolls his hips slowly, letting you adjust to the fullness of his cock. The slow stimulation draws moans from your lips, and you gasp, "Not only do you make amazing music, but you fuck so damn good too."

Jihoon lets out a genuine laugh, his breath warm against your skin. He hides his face in the crook of your neck, so shy, and you pull him back, wanting to see his eyes. He glances at you, amusement shining in his gaze.

"You really know how to flatter a guy," he chuckles, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

You laugh with him, the sound mingling with the intimate atmosphere around you. "It's true," you say, your voice lighter.

Jihoon shakes his head, still smiling, but the moment of levity shifts as he feels your walls tighten around him. His smile fades into a look of intense pleasure, his face contorts, and he starts to moan, the sound vibrating through you.

"Oh, God," he groans, his hips picking up a rhythm that makes your breath hitch. "You feel so good."

The sounds of skin slapping, your moans, and the low hum from the computer rendering the music become the backdrop to your intense session with Jihoon. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, and your hair spreads wildly across the couch. He can feel your wetness around his cock, spreading to his thighs and the couch. You brace yourself with one hand on the couch's arm, your lips plump and sensitive from the kisses and bites.

Jihoon closes his eyes, focusing solely on the sensation of your pussy. If he keeps looking at how much pleasure you're experiencing, he might come too soon. But you can already sense his cock throbbing inside you.

"Open your eyes," you urge him, catching on.

He opens them, sulking a bit, and you give him a devilish smile. You lick your fingers, sliding them down your body to circle your clit, doubling your pleasure and his. His mouth falls open at the sight.

"Fuck, nooo..." he mumbles, watching your every move.

You revel in the sight of his abs flexing, showing that his orgasm is near. Sensing his impending climax, Jihoon pulls out, giving himself a moment to regain control. When he's ready, he slides back in, making you arch your back and curl your toes, triggering your orgasm instead.

You smile at his audacity, and he grins, seeing that his tactic worked. "F-fuck you… I'm cumming, Jihoon," you warn, closing your eyes as the pleasure builds.

He speeds up his hips, making you stop breathing for a second before a deep moan escapes from your chest. You feel yourself clenching and unclenching around him, your body shuddering as you reach your peak. Panting hard, Jihoon pulls out just in time, spilling his cum on your belly as he strokes his cock. His body trembles, and his eyes lock with yours, his bangs falling over his forehead.

Jihoon takes a long look at your spent body, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "How about a nap before dinner?" he suggests softly.

You close your eyes and nod, feeling the exhaustion settling in. "Right..." he murmurs, getting up from the couch.

You miss the warmth of his body immediately and let out a small whine. He chuckles, "I'm coming back," he assures you as he grabs a box of Kleenex and brings some tissues to clean you up. Gently, he wipes your belly and between your legs, his touch tender.

"I'm glad we finished some songs," he teases, his eyes twinkling. "You don't look like you could continue... at least not today."

You scoff, too tired to come up with a witty response. Jihoon starts dressing you, carefully slipping your top back on, your panties, and leaving your jeans off so you can nap comfortably. Once you're settled, he dresses himself quickly.

From the corner of the studio, he fetches a thin blanket draped over a poltrone. He covers you with it and then lays down beside you, pulling you close.

"You really wore me out," you murmur, a hint of amusement in your voice.

He grins, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "Likewise," he says. "But it was worth it."

You let out a contented sigh, feeling more relaxed than you had in a long time. "I can't wait to hear how the songs turn out," you confessed, your voice growing dreamier with each passing moment.

Jihoon hummed in agreement, his fingers resuming their soothing motions on your back. "Me too," he murmured. "But for now, let's just enjoy this."

And so you did. Wrapped in each other's arms, you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, you snuggle into him, the steady rhythm of his breathing lulling you towards sleep.

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jiminomenon · 2 months ago

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bratty beginnings

pairing: model! yu jimin x assistant! female reader

word count: 851 words

summary: in which, y/n moves to seoul with nothing but hope, only to face rejection after rejection. when she lands a job as the assistant to infamous model yu jimin, she quickly learns that dealing with jimin’s bratty attitude is harder than it seems. but when y/n unexpectedly fights back, everything changes—including jimin.

from my series: the devil wears prada

a/n: ya’ll please send ask/requests for this story, or even thoughts.

the train ride to seoul felt like a dream, the kind that y/n wasn’t sure she wanted to wake up from. the provincial district she had called home for years was now just a blur outside the window, replaced by the towering skyscrapers and neon lights of the city. y/n clutched her suitcase tightly, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and fear. seoul was big, loud, and overwhelming, and y/n had no friends, no family, and no job waiting for her. just a dream and a whole lot of hope.

the first few days were a blur of job applications and rejections. y/n had applied everywhere—cafes, convenience stores, even a sketchy-looking karaoke bar—but no one wanted someone with no experience. the rejections piled up, and so did the doubt. maybe coming to seoul had been a mistake. maybe she wasn’t cut out for this.

but then, like a lifeline, she saw it: a job posting for an assistant position. no experience required. good pay. it sounded too good to be true, but y/n was desperate. she printed out her resume, put on her best outfit, and headed to the address listed.

the building was sleek and modern, all glass and steel, and the lobby was filled with people who looked like they belonged there. y/n, in her slightly wrinkled blouse and scuffed shoes, felt out of place. the receptionist gave her a once-over before directing her to the 15th floor. the elevator ride felt like an eternity, and y/n’s reflection in the mirrored walls looked as nervous as she felt.

when the doors slid open, chaos greeted her. people rushed back and forth, shouting orders, carrying racks of clothes, and balancing trays of coffee. in the center of it all stood yu jimin—karina. even in the midst of the madness, she was impossible to miss. tall, striking, with an aura that commanded attention. she was arguing with a stylist, her voice sharp and cutting.

“i said no pink! do you not understand basic instructions?”

the stylist stammered an apology, but jimin was already turning away, her eyes landing on y/n. she raised an eyebrow, her gaze sweeping over y/n with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

“who are you?” she demanded, her tone making it clear she expected an immediate answer.

“i-i’m here for the assistant position,” y/n stammered, holding up her resume like a shield.

jimin plucked it from her hands, scanning it with a bored expression. “no experience. great. just what i need.” she sighed dramatically, tossing the resume onto a nearby table. “fine. you’re hired. don’t make me regret it.”

y/n blinked, stunned. “just like that?”

“just like that,” jimin said, already walking away. “you start now. keep up.”

the first few hours were a whirlwind. jimin was every bit as demanding and bratty as the rumors suggested, barking orders and criticizing everything y/n did.

“this coffee is too cold,” she snapped, shoving the cup back into y/n’s hands. “fix it.”

“why is this taking so long? are you incompetent?”

“do you even know how to do anything right?”

y/n’s patience was wearing thin. she had taken enough of jimin’s attitude, and something inside her snapped. when jimin threw another insult her way, y/n turned to her, her voice steady but firm.

“you know what? i’m not scared of you. i’ve had enough of your attitude. i get it, you’re a big shot model, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat people like garbage. i’m here to do a job, not be your punching bag. so either start treating me with some respect, or find someone else to boss around!”

the room fell silent. everyone stopped what they were doing, their eyes wide with shock. no one talked back to jimin. no one. the stylist who had been yelled at earlier looked like she was about to faint, and the photographer nervously adjusted his camera, as if preparing to capture the moment jimin exploded.

but jimin didn’t explode. instead, she stared at y/n for a long moment, her expression unreadable. then, to everyone’s surprise, she chuckled. it was a low, amused sound, and it sent a shiver down y/n’s spine.

“well, well,” jimin said, a smirk playing on her lips. “looks like you’ve got some fire in you after all.” she stepped closer, her eyes locking with y/n’s. “fine. you’ve got the job. don’t make me regret it.”

and with that, she turned and walked away, leaving y/n and the rest of the room in stunned silence. the stylist let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding, and the photographer muttered something about needing a drink. y/n, meanwhile, stood there, her heart pounding, unsure whether she had just made the biggest mistake of her life or the best decision.

but as the days turned into weeks, y/n realized that maybe, just maybe, she had found her place in seoul after all. and maybe, just maybe, jimin wasn’t as bad as everyone made her out to be.

#aespa karina #karina #karina x reader #yoo jimin #yu jimin #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader #yu jimin x reader #yoo jimin x reader #kpop x reader #kpop gg #kpop gg x reader #model! karina #bratty! karina

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noonecareslol · 2 months ago

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˖ ִ ೀ 𝐀 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐄𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐏𝐭 𝟐

Hwang In-ho x Fem! Reader

Summary: When the games aren’t in session, and In-ho is lonely, he finds himself in the first row at the ballet. Watching you. After you entered his life, everything changed. His secret is becoming harder to hide, along with his love.

TW: Channeling my love for older men. Age gap (reader is 25 In-ho is 49). Just FLUFF with SMUT! In-ho learning how to love someone again. Quite literally head over heels for you. Size kink if you squint.

WC! 3k Part 1! -> here!

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

You were twelve when you started to dance.

You had been walking with your friend, heading to a convenience store when you saw it.

“Limelight Dance Studio”

However, it wasn’t the sign that caught your attention. Or the big beautiful building that looked like it belonged in a fairytale. What caught your attention was the woman walking into the studio.

Her hair was in a tight, slick bun, and her loose jacket covered her torso. Her pointe shoes were clutched in her hand as she rushed in, pushing past the door as she headed toward her class.

That day you went home and marched straight up to your mother, a flier clutched in your tiny hands. She said no at first, practically shattering your small heart. But without you knowing, she spent that month saving every cent she could, surprising you with a pair of ballet flats and admission to the dance studio.

From then on, your life centered around ballet.

At 17, you finally transitioned to Pointe after years of training. And once you laced the ribbons, you were unstoppable. Every time you were on stage, you were in your element. Glowing with potential.

Dancing is where you thrive. It’s where you belonged.

You studied abroad at Juilliard for four years, becoming the perfect ballerina you had strived to be. And when you returned, the Seoul Ballet Company practically begged you to dance for them.

You accepted the offer calmly, but deep down the little girl who had fallen in love with dance was screaming. You have finally achieved your dream.

You were perfect. Life was perfect. It was fulfilled, and you didn’t need anything more.

Right?

You had your fair share of relationships, but nothing ever serious. Not when your life centered around ballet. Your career was always the main reason your relationships ended, but you couldn't care less.

Men didn't make you happy, dance did.

And you knew that for a relationship to work, you would have to find someone just like you. Busy, determined, focused, perfect.

One night, after many glasses of wine, you realize your standards are extremely unrealistic.

Which, they are.

So you decided to give up on dating.

But often, when it’s late at night, you find yourself lonely. You thought about getting a cat, which you had been excited about. But your bitchy landlord didn’t allow it. So instead, you found comfort in watching old movies.

They came on after dark. The black and white glow illuminating your small living room. You would come home from practice, tossing your bag by the front door before jumping onto the couch. Snacks in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and your eyes glued to the flatscreen. You would stay up late, watching Audrey Hepburn explore Rome or enjoy a breakfast at Tiffany's until you fall asleep.

You’d wake up at 8:00 am, sluggishly getting ready for the gym before chugging your espresso. You’d work out, maybe some pilates or weight training, then grab some lunch. Sometimes you would come home and take a nap, sometimes you would hang out with friends, but often you found yourself lounging by the cafe.

People watching had became your favorite activity.

You’d sit in the uncomfortable metal chair, your chicken salad sandwich sitting untouched on the table in front of you, and you’d watch as people went about their day.

The cafe was placed across the street from a tall building full of luxury apartments, which you bet probably allowed cats. Yes, you were still bitter about that.

One specific day, when you were sitting in the familiar metal chair, you found yourself watching someone intently.

He was quickly walking down the sidewalk, carefully dodging people as he carried a brown bag full of groceries. You gasped as a stranger ran out in front of him abruptly, knocking his belongings to the floor.

You scoffed as the person he’d crashed into walked past, not even offering to help. And your feet almost moved on their own as you walked straight over to help him gather his groceries.

Little words were exchanged, “Thank you.” “You didn’t have to do that.” “Have a nice day.” You assumed he didn’t pay much attention to the interaction.

But you did.

There was something so captivating about him. Something so endearing that captured your attention, something you couldn’t quite describe.

Since then, you often hoped to see him again.

You just didn’t expect to see him in the front row at your ballet.

That was a surprise.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

“Pspspsps!” You rubbed your fingers together, bending down to the ground, “Come here, Elisabeth. Pspsps!”

The fluffy white cat came around the corner, eying you with skepticism as you motioned her to approach you. She was a sassy girl and didn’t fully trust you yet, but that didn’t bug you.

She was honestly intimidating.

You smile widely as she walks towards you, happy to finally make a connection with her. But as she walked past you without even a glance, you sighed, watching as she planted herself in front of your boyfriend's feet.

You stood up and rested your hands on your hips, "She'll love me one day." You watched as she rubbed against In-ho's legs, a quiet purr causing a small smile to form on your lips.

She is intimidating, but she sure is cute.

In-ho keeps his gaze on you, watching how you slightly pout at Elisabeth's adorable nature. His heart flutters, something that's becoming increasingly common in the last five months of your relationship.

It has been five months since your ankle fracture, which is now completely healed thanks to In-ho's firm instructions to rest. You honestly think he just didn't want you to leave his apartment, but you weren't complaining.

Five months since your shared kiss that ultimately changed both of your lives. You moved in after about three months, which turned out to be a great idea, despite everyone saying it was too soon. When he first brought up the question, you were skeptical. But as soon as he mentioned an in-unit washer and dryer, you took the key.

Your mother was concerned at first, especially about the age gap. But you brushed it off. In-ho was quite literally perfect for you, as were you for him. Age didn't matter to you when you both completed each other's heart.

The first thing you did when you moved in was decorate. Not his entire apartment, obviously, but you did go to Home Depot and buy a few plants.

Cat-safe, of course.

Once your ankle healed, you went back to dancing. And, just like before, every Friday In-ho would watch you practice. Though he doesn't sit in the back anymore, he sits front and center.

After your practice, he always gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers, tulips. He would take your bag with his arm around yours, and you would walk to your apartment together.

Life was, simply put, perfect.

It was bliss. A happiness that was only obtained when you brought down your walls and let a stranger in. A stranger who captured your heart, mind, and everything in between.

When you first discovered his collection of old films and music, you could've sworn you fell in love with him just then. You knew you were perfect for each other already, but the shared interest solidified that.

Nights aren't lonely anymore. Not when your bed is shared by the man who you adore, and a fluffy white cat who is determined to sleep with you.

His arms are wrapped around you, your back pressed to his chest as he holds you tight. His head nuzzled into the back of your neck as he snores, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine as you dream.

Your legs are tangled, intertwined under the covers as your hearts beat the same rhythm. Your hands are wrapped on top of his, the feeling of being in his arms familiar and comfortable. It would be impossible to sleep without each other, you both knew that.

So when In-ho sits you down on a warm June night and explains he has to leave for a work trip, you cry. I know, it's dramatic. But you had spent the last five months in each other's presence. Holding each other, kissing each other, making love on the very bed you sleep in together. Where you went, he followed. Where he traveled, you joined.

You needed him. He was the air that filled your lungs, giving you breath. He was the blood that flowed through your veins and pumped your heart, giving you life. He was your soul, your mind. He had you wrapped around his finger, and you knew it.

Vice versa, you were his whole being. He based every decision around you, around your future together. He's made sacrifices you couldn't even imagine. He went from letting the games be the center of his life, to you being the center of his universe.

You were all he could think about.

Important business meeting about the upcoming games? Forget it. In-ho is at home making Kimchi with you, having forgotten all about it.

Meeting with the V.I.P's? What meeting. In-ho is too busy indulging in his desire with his tongue deep in your core, a hand clamped around your throat.

You were his sole purpose on this earth. Where you walked, flowers bloomed behind you. Wherever you went, the sun would shine. In-ho felt he didn't deserve you. No, he knew he didn't deserve you.

He never told you that though. Of course, if he did, you would smack him upside the head, "Seven days? Where are they making you go?" You cried into his shoulder, your body resting on his lap as he sat back on the plush couch.

His heart breaks a little at the sound of your cries, his thumb brushing away the tears that fell, "I just have to host this private game. I'll be back so soon, I promise." Your cries didn't change, his shirt dampening as you snuggled deeper into his chest, "I will call you every chance I can. I promise."

You looked up at him, giving a pathetic sniffle as you spoke, "When do you leave?" You sit up fully now, straightening your top. He rubs his big hand over your arm, watching as goosebumps trail behind.

He looks up at you, a hand fiddling with your exposed bra strap, "Tomorrow morning." He sighs as he watches a pout form on your pretty mouth, his thumb brushing over your lips.

"What do I do while you're gone?" You pull his hand from your face, holding it in your own as you play with his fingers.

In-ho hasn't failed to notice how his pants tightened since you've been sitting innocently on his lap, your hips slowly rocking as you sobbed into his shoulder moments ago. You knew it too. The second he played with your bra strap, the emotion in the air changed from angst to lust.

And if he was going to be gone for seven days, might as well enjoy the night, "Come here." His voice was low and demanding as he took his hand from your grasp, taking a hold of your side.

Your mouth parted as his hand moved down, softly caressing every curve of your perfect body. Though his eyes stayed peering into your own, watching your reaction to every touch.

He smirked as you gave a breathless gasp, his hand pinching your hip as you slowly grind your hips down. His hard cock rubbing against your desire raises an all-too-familiar feeling in the deep of your stomach.

Wordlessly, his hand comes behind you, laying you down on the couch as he stands up. Towering over your body as he unbuttoned his shirt, your eyes trail across every inch of exposed skin.

He moves between your legs, his hands coming to your face as he pulls you into a needy kiss. Your hands find his back, your fingers rubbing, digging into his skin as he fucks your mouth with his tongue.

He pulls away, breathlessly moving his hands down to the hem of your shirt. You watch with lustful eyes as he tugs your top up and over your head with one swift motion. His hands find your bare skin, pinching and squeezing your sides with hunger in his dark eyes.

Heat pools between your thighs, your hand sneaking under your panties as In-ho unhooks your bra swiftly. He leans back, taking you in awe as he trails his eyes over your body.

He gives a small laugh at the sight of your hand slowly fucking yourself, "Tsk, as much as I love seeing you do that, you will have seven days to do it. Tonight, you don't have to do a thing."

Your eyes snap open as he dips his hand under your panties and over your own, moving your hand up to your parted mouth. He pushes your hand towards your lips, a smirk evident on his own as he puts your delicate fingers inside your pretty mouth.

He sighs as you taste yourself, the heat becoming unbearable between your goose-bumped legs, "See how sweet you taste? Do you see why im starved all the time?" He kisses your jaw between his words, his hands slipping off your bottoms, your panties gone with it.

He stands again, tossing your clothes into a pile, his bottoms going with it. He towers over the couch, intimidating you like he did all those months ago.

You sit up, your small hands delicately reaching up and leaving tiny bolts of electricity on his abs as you trace down. You take your thumb, wiping the precum from his sensitive tip. His head falls back just from that touch alone, and as desperate as he is to see your lips swollen and wrapped around him, he remembers his promise.

You lean down, your lips centimeters away from his length when his strong hand pulls your chin up, "You aren't doing a thing, remember?" You whine, his strong arms laying you back down on the couch.

He comes between your legs again, lifting your hips up as he traces his cock between your pussy. The sound of your slick fills his ears, and a small "fuck" falls from his lips. It takes everything in you not to buck your hips, the need becoming irresistible as he lines himself up with your core.

He takes a hand and lifts your face, desperate to see your pretty eyes as he fucks into you. As he sinks in, the familiar feeling of ecstasy overtakes him as he stretches you.

He sets a rhythm, fucking you as he stares into your eyes, your eyebrows raised and mouth agape as your hips meet with a slap. His free hand comes behind your waist, supporting your legs as you meet his thrusts.

In-ho didnt fuck.

He made love.

And that shit was passionate as fuck.

His eyes never left yours. Not once. Not even when he places a hand on your stomach, feeling the bulge of his cock deep in your womb. You, on the other hand, writhed beneath him. Your moans filling your shared apartment, mixing with the pornographic sounds from In-ho,.

Your head sank back into the couch, your hand coming to hold his own as he quickened his thrusts. His other hand that supported you moved to your clit, pressing and rubbing perfectly over your sensitive bud.

If there was one thing about In-ho, it's that he's determined to make you cum with him.

Every. Single. Time.

So when his hand reaches your clit, you know he's close, "In-ho, please- god. Please don't stop." You didn't yell or scream. Your voice was sultry, full of desire.

He throws a head back at your words, his warmth spilling deep into your womb with one final deep thrust as you clench around him. You meet him, finding your own ethereal as you reach your climax.

He whines with his thrusts as he slows down, emptying into your tight core, "When... when I'm gone." You furrow your eyebrows, catching your breath as he pulls out of you, "This next week, when I'm gone."

He lays with you on the couch, pulling you to lay on his chest, "Whenever you need me, I want you to use your pretty little fingers and fuck yourself while you think about this moment." You blushed, despite just taking his cock only a moment ago.

He brings his hand to your face, his thumb parting your lips, "Can you promise me that?" Your eyes slightly water, remembering why you were even crying in the first place.

"I promise." Your voice was a whisper, smiling up at In-ho as he kissed your forehead. You take a deep breath, realizing just how much he means to you. Just how much you need him.

If only you knew.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃 𓈒 𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

An: I actually wrote most of this during my mom's colonoscopy LMFAO. Also, guys imma be so fr with you, I'm so tired lmao. But here! The long-awaited part 2 which is basically just fluff to smut lmao. I've never been one to really write part twos (I hate feeling like I HAVE to write because then it turns into a chore) BUT I actually enjoyed writing this one. Im gonna work through my requests and also please join my taglist! Love you guys!

@sxmmerchxldblog @bohemiandelilah @nicki-lovesolderfictionalmen @menabuser16 @speedymagazinewhispers @nellabear @marymun @orihime188 @nanascupid @fnl9zer @chasinghxran @crystalizia @auspicious-lilana @machipyun @cdej6 @namelesslosers @lovelymindescape @macnbriee @rosegracewood09@gurjxxpp11 @shadow-tumbler @veiledsaint @rosyflowerss

#hwang inho x reader #hwang in ho #in ho x reader #squid game #squid game x reader #squid games #hwang in ho x reader #in ho #001 x reader

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angelseraphines · 3 months ago

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ೃ⁀➷ white mustang ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢

╰┈➤ cho sang-woo x single!mother!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you were a single mother raising a four-year-old daughter in the bustling, unforgiving city of seoul. life had not unfolded as you once fantasized it might, instead, it had cornered you into a relentless cycle of poverty and struggle. you had married young, filled with hope and naivety, but those dreams were shattered when your husband abandoned you shortly after you announced your pregnancy. unable to bear the duties of fatherhood, he not only left but also cast you out of the home you once shared, leaving you to fend for yourself and your unborn child.

˚ ༘♡ your own family, steeped in tradition and pride, turned their backs on you as well. they viewed your divorce as a mark of shame, a stain on their honor. the fact that you would raise a child without a father was, in their eyes, an unforgivable disgrace. they refused to take you in, forcing you to seek refuge in whatever options you could find. eventually, you found work as a sales assistant at a small boutique, where the pay was barely enough to scrape by. minimum wage stretched thin over endless expense, formula, rent, utilities, and it quickly became apparent that even the bare necessities were a luxury. in a moment of sheer desperation, you began taking out loans amounting in tens of thousands of won, well aware you could never repay them. the interest piled up as fast as the bills, but the loans kept your daughter fed and clothed, albeit barely. you hated yourself for it, but there were no other choices that didn’t feel impossible.

˚ ༘♡ your home, if it could be called that, was on the less fortunate side of a narrow street lined with aging apartments and cracked sidewalks. the peeling paint and broken railings were a daily reminder of your circumstances. yet, even amidst your despair, you couldn’t help but notice the contrast a few blocks over, a wealthier stretch of the same neighborhood, where sleek cars parked outside magnificent homes and prosperity seemed to flourish. it was during one of your daily walks to the bus stop, your daughter’s tiny hand clutching yours, that you first noticed him.

˚ ༘♡ cho sang-woo. a man who seemed completely out of place in your reality but belonged so effortlessly to the better half of the neighborhood. his polished suits, sharp gaze, and air of quiet confidence spoke of success and power. you didn’t know much about him, only the whispered details you overheard at the local convenience store. he was a former student of seoul university, where he graduated at the top of his class, and he now worked at joy investments, one of the most prestigious firms in the city. he lived in the nicer part of the street, a place that might as well have been a world apart from yours.

˚ ༘♡ for weeks, your paths crossed without words. you would see him on the way to work, his brisk stride purposeful and somehow detached. you’d clutch your daughter’s hand tightly as she skipped beside you, her laughter a rare mirthful mark in your otherwise gray days. sometimes, you wondered if he noticed you at all, or if to him, you were just another melancholic face in the crowd. but there was something in the way his eyes briefly wandered to yours, a swift, barely noticeable moment of acknowledgment, almost imperceptible but not absent.

˚ ༘♡ a month passed without much change. you worked long hours at the boutique, came home to your daughter’s laughter echoing in the small apartment, and fell asleep each night with exhaustion pressing against your chest. spring had arrived, softening the chill in the air and filling the streets with blossoms and a sense of renewal you couldn’t quite feel for yourself. still, you tried to give your daughter a taste of joy, taking her for walks when time allowed, letting her skip along the sidewalks as if the world weren’t so cynical.

˚ ༘♡ one bright afternoon, the kind that made the city’s grime seem almost picturesque, you saw him again. cho sang-woo stood ahead, unmistakable in his dark business suit. the clean lines of his attire and the polished leather of his shoes seemed to set him apart from the bustling, chaotic world around him. his square-rimmed glasses caught the sunlight, and his expression, though composed, held a trace of warmth when he noticed you approaching. he lifted a hand in a brief wave and nodded. “good morning,” he greeted, his tone polite but personable.

˚ ༘♡ you returned his nod with a soft smile, your daughter tugging lightly at your hand. “good morning to you as well, sir,” you replied, your voice calm, though you felt a twinge of surprise that he’d acknowledged you.

˚ ༘♡ your daughter, far less reserved, beamed up at him, her youthful cheer impossible to contain. “hello, sir!” she exclaimed with a giggle, her small voice cutting through the hum of the city.

˚ ༘♡ he stopped in his tracks, the corners of his mouth lifting in a genuine grin. “how old is she?” he asked, his gaze shifting to your daughter, who looked up at him with wide, curious eyes.

˚ ༘♡ “four years old as of last month,” you replied, brushing a hand over her dark hair with a hint of pride you didn’t bother hiding.

˚ ༘♡ he adjusted his glasses, the gesture quick and practiced, before replying, “she’s a clever child. you’re blessed to have her.”

˚ ༘♡ his words, spoken so simply yet with unmistakable sincerity, stirred something in you. “i tell myself that every day,” you said quietly, your fingers tightening gently around your daughter’s small hand.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t seem rushed to leave, lingering as though the conversation mattered more than wherever he was headed. his questions were unintrusive, small talk about the weather, the flowers blooming along the street, and whether you’d been in the neighborhood long. you answered politely, aware of the contrast between his world and yours yet struck by how easily he spoke to you.

˚ ༘♡ after a few minutes, he glanced at his watch, a subtle flare of responsibility returning to his expression. “i’d better get going,” he said, though there was no impatience in his tone. “it was nice talking to you.”

˚ ༘♡ “and to you,” you replied, dipping your head slightly.

˚ ༘♡ he offered your daughter one last smile before walking away, his pace measured, his presence lingering even as he disappeared down the street. you watched him for a moment, then turned back to your daughter, who was already pulling you toward the park.

˚ ༘♡ from that day on, whenever your paths crossed, he made a point to stop and speak with you. at first, the exchanges were brief, a polite inquiry about your day or a comment on how quickly your daughter was growing. but as the weeks passed, the conversations stretched longer, even when his crisp attire and leather briefcase suggested a packed schedule. he would pause, leaning slightly toward you as he spoke, his words carrying a kind of attentiveness you hadn’t encountered in a long time. those encounters, swift as they were, began to carve a small space of solace into the otherwise monotonous routine of your days.

˚ ༘♡ one quiet afternoon, as you were tidying up after a long day, the phone rang. you glanced at the screen and saw sang-woo’s name flashing. you hesitated for a moment, unsure why he was calling, but you picked up. his voice on the other end was casual yet warm. “would you like to grab dinner tonight? nothing fancy, something simple,” he said, his tone friendly enough to put you at ease.

˚ ༘♡ you smiled softly, though he couldn’t see it. “i’d like to, but i can’t leave my daughter home alone,” you replied, your words tinged with regret. her well-being was always your priority, and you weren’t in a position to make exceptions.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t hesitate to reply. “then bring her along,” he insisted without hesitation. “it’ll be fun for all of us, and i couldn’t think of leaving her out.”

˚ ༘♡ his sincerity made it hard to say no. after a brief pause, you agreed, telling him you’d meet him shortly. your daughter, wide-eyed and excited, picked the dinner, a feast of fried chicken and tteokbokki. it wasn’t what you considered a balanced meal, but sang-woo laughed softly when you voiced your concerns. “an occasional indulgence won’t hurt,” he reassured you, his tone effortlessly convincing. “besides, it’s my treat tonight.”

˚ ༘♡ when you arrived at the small, bustling eatery, your daughter clung to your hand while her gaze darted around, taking in the brightly colored menus and the sizzling platters on nearby tables. sang-woo was already seated, waving you over with a welcoming smile that made you feel momentarily lighter. he pulled out a chair for you before settling back into his own seat, engaging your daughter with playful questions about her favorite foods and games. her laughter filled the air as he entertained her, his natural charm putting her completely at ease.

˚ ༘♡ as the meal went on, you found yourself relaxing, enjoying the rare treat of good food and pleasant company. when your daughter noticed the arcade machines near the back of the restaurant, her face lit up with excitement. before you could say a word, sang-woo reached into his pocket and handed her a coin, encouraging her to go play while the two of you stayed behind. it was then, as you sat alone with him, that the evening took a turn you hadn’t anticipated.

˚ ༘♡ leaning in slightly, his expression grew more thoughtful. “can i ask you something personal?” he began, his voice measured and quiet. you nodded, unsure where he was going with this. “are you seeing anyone right now?”

˚ ༘♡ the question caught you off guard. you hesitated, but there was no point in pretending. with a quiet sigh, you opened up about your past, your brief, ill-fated marriage, your ex-husband’s abandonment, and the struggles that had followed. sang-woo listened intently, his gaze steady, never betraying judgment or discomfort. when you finished, he offered a small, empathetic smile and reached across the table, his hand brushing yours lightly. “you’ve been through so much, but you’re doing a wonderful job as a mother,” he said, his words sincere. before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek, quick and discreet, ensuring your daughter didn’t see.

˚ ༘♡ the gesture left you momentarily speechless, your heart racing in a way it hadn’t in years. cho sang-woo was everything society valued, handsome, intelligent, and successful. yet, you couldn’t ignore the gap between your worlds. a single mother scraping by on meager wages didn’t belong in the same orbit as a man like him, no matter how kind he was. you told yourself he was simply a good friend, someone who offered comfort in a lonely existence. but the truth was harder to dismiss, and the growing fondness you felt for him remained long after that night.

˚ ༘♡ weeks later, the strain of your financial troubles bore down on you more heavily than ever. the debt had spiraled out of control, and every day felt like a losing battle to stay afloat. you were walking home one evening when a sharply dressed man approached you, his presence almost unsettling in its precision. he introduced himself with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes and held out two small folded squares of paper. “care for a game of ddakji?” he asked, his tone cheerful but with an undercurrent of something you couldn’t quite place. “if you win, you’ll get one hundred thousand won. if you lose, i get to slap you.”

˚ ༘♡ desperation clouded your judgment, and against your better instincts, you agreed. the first few rounds ended in failure, each slap stinging more than the last. but you persisted, driven by the thought of what that money could mean for your daughter. finally, with trembling hands and a burst of determination, you flipped the paper correctly. the man handed you the cash with an unsettling smile and then extended a business card. “call this number if you want to win more,” he said, his words lingering in your mind as you walked away clutching the money.

˚ ༘♡ that night, after tucking your daughter into bed, you stared at the card for what felt like hours. the temptation was overwhelming, and in the end, it won. you called the number, your voice shaking as you gave your name and address. within minutes, a sleek black limousine pulled up in front of your building, its windows tinted so dark you couldn’t see inside. stepping in, you barely had time to settle before a strange chemical filled the air, and the world went dark.

˚ ༘♡ when you awoke, the surroundings were unfamiliar and unnerving. rows of bunk beds stretched endlessly across a vast room, the walls painted a distasteful shade of green. you looked down and saw the plain jumpsuit you now wore, the number 017 stitched onto the fabric. confusion and fear gripped you, but one thought rose above the chaos, your daughter was at home, and you had to survive this for her, to give the life she deserved.

˚ ༘♡ the goal of winning was your aspiration when the first game began. at first glance, it seemed absurd, red light, green light, a relic from childhood memories long buried beneath the weight of adulthood. the vibrant, oversized doll at the far end of the field seemed almost laughable in its stillness, its painted smile eerie but harmless. but that illusion shattered when the first player was eliminated. the sound of the gunshot echoed through the air, followed by the horrifying sight of their lifeless body collapsing onto the dirt. the cheerful voice announcing the rules continued without pause, as though nothing had happened.

˚ ༘♡ panic erupted among the players. shouts of disbelief and terror filled the air as dozens bolted toward the exits, frantic and desperate to escape. one by one, they were struck down, their bodies littering the field as if caught in an invisible storm. the realization hit you like a physical blow, this was no game. this was life and death, and you were standing in its grasp. your knees trembled under the weight of fear, and your breaths came shallow and quick. every instinct screamed at you to run, to flee the nightmare unfolding around you.

˚ ༘♡ “the doll’s eyes are motion sensors. don’t move.”

˚ ༘♡ the voice came from behind, quiet but firm, cutting through the chaos. you turned your head slightly, careful to avoid triggering the sensors. it was cho sang-woo, his expression as composed as ever, though his voice carried an edge you had never heard before. his presence shocked you, why was he here? he had a prestigious job, a beautiful home, a life far removed from the misery that had led you to this place. what could have driven him to join this horrifying spectacle? but there was no time for answers. survival demanded your complete attention.

˚ ༘♡ you fixed your gaze on the doll, its head swiveling unnervingly to scan the players. the melody began again, and with it, the rules of survival. move forward, stop immediately, stay frozen. you forced yourself to take small, deliberate steps, resisting the overwhelming urge to sprint. each time the doll’s head turned, you froze, your body taut with fear, your heart pounding so loudly it seemed deafening. every second stretched into eternity, every step forward a test of willpower.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo crossed the finish line seconds before you, his figure stoic as he turned his back to the field. you pushed onward, your focus unyielding, until you finally crossed the line with seconds to spare. the tension in your body snapped, leaving your legs weak beneath you, but you remained upright, clinging to the knowledge that you had survived, for now. you glanced toward sang-woo, hoping for some acknowledgment, but he avoided your gaze entirely, turning away as if you were a stranger.

˚ ༘♡ once the last player stumbled through, the harsh blare of a horn signaled the end of the game, and the survivors were ushered back into the dormitory. the atmosphere was suffocating, the air thick with tension and fear as the reality of what they had just endured began to sink in. the sight of so many bodies lying lifeless on the field haunted you, but there was no time to grieve, no space to process. the masked guards stood silent and menacing, a constant reminder that you were trapped under their watchful gaze.

˚ ༘♡ as the players murmured among themselves, questions and disbelief rippling through the crowd, one of the masked guards stepped forward. his voice was distorted through the microphone, chilling in its detachment. “to remind you why you are here, we will reveal the amount of debt each of you owes.”

˚ ༘♡ the room fell silent, a collective tension building as a screen lit up on one of the walls. one by one, the players’ faces appeared, alongside staggering amounts of debt. gasps and whispers spread as the numbers grew larger and larger, each amount more crippling than the last. when your face appeared, the sum displayed made your stomach churn, a figure so vast it felt insurmountable, nearly half a billion won, a reflection of every foolish decision you had made to keep your daughter fed and housed.

˚ ༘♡ but the room truly stilled when cho sang-woo’s face appeared on the screen. his debt was six billion won. the air seemed to grow heavier as the number glowed on the screen, an incomprehensible weight tied to the man who had always seemed so polished, so composed, so untouchable. a few players exchanged shocked glances, but sang-woo’s expression didn’t waver. his face remained unreadable, a mask of calm that betrayed none of the turmoil he might have felt.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop staring at him. six billion won? how could someone with his education, his prestigious career, have ended up in such a dire position? questions swirled in your mind, but the icy tone of the guard’s voice broke through your thoughts. “this is what brought you here. this is what you must fight to overcome.”

˚ ༘♡ as the screen darkened, the room buzzed with subdued murmurs. the revelation had shifted the atmosphere, exposing the cracks in the carefully guarded facades of those around you. it was a stark reminder that no one here was truly secure, no matter how confident or composed they appeared.

˚ ༘♡ murmurs of confusion and disbelief filled the air. then, to your astonishment, sang-woo stepped forward and initiated a vote to end the game. the announcement caused a ripple of hope, and soon the vote began. by the narrowest margin, the majority chose to leave. the thought of returning to your daughter filled you with relief, even as unease lingered in your mind.

˚ ༘♡ back in the outside world, you clung to the brief sense of normalcy that returning home provided. your daughter’s laughter was a salve to your frayed nerves, but the relief was fleeting. the reality of your situation hit like a tidal wave when you opened the door to find loan sharks waiting, their demands sharper and more insistent than before. a stack of bills sat ominously on your table, a chilling reminder that leaving the game hadn’t erased your debts. it had only delayed the inevitable.

˚ ༘♡ when the sleek black limousine returned, you didn’t hesitate. you kissed your daughter’s forehead, returned her to the care of your elderly neighbor, and climbed into the car, your resolve hardening. the gas filled the air once again, and the world faded into unconsciousness. when you awoke, you were back in the same vast dormitory, the green jumpsuit hanging from your frame like a prison uniform.

˚ ༘♡ to your surprise, and perhaps dismay, sang-woo had returned as well. he stood apart from the crowd, his expression carefully neutral, as though he had already resigned himself to whatever horrors lay ahead. you couldn’t help but feel a pang of curiosity and frustration. what could have brought him back to this nightmare? but his presence, as unsettling as it was, also brought a sliver of comfort. at least one person here wasn’t a complete stranger. whether he acknowledged you or not, the fact that he was there, breathing the same air, enduring the same fate, made the unbearable feel slightly less isolating.

˚ ༘♡ as you climbed through the maze of brightly colored block structures on your way to the second game, the oppressive silence among the players was broken only by the occasional scrape of shoes against the smooth surfaces. the atmosphere was suffocating, each person wrapped in their own thoughts of survival. as you reached the next passageway, you caught sight of sang-woo walking a few steps ahead, his broad shoulders unmistakable even in the dull green jumpsuit. you quickened your pace, weaving around other players until you came up beside him.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo?” you called out hesitantly, unsure if he even wanted to be acknowledged. “it’s good to see you.”

˚ ༘♡ he turned to face you, his expression weary, his sharp features softened by exhaustion. his glasses were gone, leaving his face bare in a way that felt unfamiliar. the hollowness in his eyes made your heart ache, a stark contrast to the composed man you once knew. “it’s good to see you as well,” he said quietly, though his tone carried an undercurrent of shame. his gaze drifted downward, as though he couldn’t bear to meet your eyes for long.

˚ ༘♡ you hesitated, unsure whether to press him further, but the words poured out before you could stop them. “sang-woo, i had no idea you were in so much debt. i thought…” you faltered, the unfinished sentence hanging heavily in the air. you couldn’t bring yourself to say it aloud, the claims you’d heard about client embezzlement and loans swirling in your mind. surely, he wouldn’t have stolen money from his workplace? the man you thought you knew wouldn’t sink to such levels, or so you hoped.

˚ ༘♡ his lips pressed into a thin line, his expression tightening. “we can talk later, alright?” his voice was calm, but the subtle edge warned you not to push further. he looked away, focusing on the corridor ahead, his discomfort palpable.

˚ ༘♡ before you could respond, the masked guards appeared, their presence commanding immediate attention. one of them stepped forward, his voice cold and distorted as he barked instructions. “players, form a line in front of the four doors, triangle, circle, star, and umbrella.” the straightforward simplicity of the directive only heightened your unease. no explanation was given, and the purpose of the shapes remained a mystery.

˚ ༘♡ you watched as sang-woo leaned toward the group of players he had been speaking with, his voice low but audible. “we should split up,” he suggested. “i’ll take the triangle.” his tone was measured, but there was something deliberate in the way he spoke, as though he knew more than he was letting on.

˚ ༘♡ you stepped closer, offering him a faint smile. “i’ll take the star,” you said, trying to inject a bit of optimism into the tension-filled space.

˚ ༘♡ his jaw tightened visibly, and he shook his head, the motion slow and deliberate. “no,” he said, his voice firm. his friends had already dispersed, blending into the lines forming at the other doors, but he didn’t move. his gaze locked onto yours, unflinching.

˚ ༘♡ “why not?” you asked, confused by his sudden insistence.

˚ ༘♡ he hesitated, the pause stretching long enough to feel significant. “i think you should stick with me,” he said finally. “for a woman, the next game could be dangerous, and you might need protection. choose triangle with me.”

˚ ༘♡ there was something in his tone, persuasive as it could be, that made it impossible to refuse. though his reasoning unsettled you, you nodded, falling into line behind him as the players shuffled forward. your eyes scanned the room anxiously, searching for any clue as to what lay ahead.

˚ ༘♡ when the game was finally revealed, your stomach sank. the guards handed each player a thin tin containing a piece of dalgona candy. the shape on the door you had chosen corresponded to the delicate imprint in the sugar, triangle for you and sang-woo. the instructions were chillingly simple, extract the shape from the brittle candy without breaking it. failure meant elimination.

˚ ༘♡ as you stared down at the candy in your hands, your breath hitched. the triangle, though angular and sharp, was mercifully the easiest of the shapes. your fingers trembled as you picked up the needle provided, its point glinting under the harsh overhead lights. you glanced at sang-woo, who was already at work on his candy, his face an unreadable mask. you offered him a small, grateful smile, relieved that his advice had spared you a more complicated shape. he acknowledged it with a weak nod but didn’t look up from his task.

˚ ༘♡ the room was filled with the sound of quiet scraping, interspersed with the occasional crack of breaking candy and the deafening gunshots that followed. each failure sent a ripple of fear through the players, the stakes of the game becoming all too real. your hands shook uncontrollably as you traced the edges of the triangle, the needle’s tip scraping against the delicate surface. beads of sweat formed on your forehead, and you had to remind yourself to breathe.

˚ ༘♡ finally, with painstaking caution, you lifted the triangle free from the candy, the edges intact. relief flooded through you, though your hands continued to tremble as you approached one of the masked guards. holding up the completed shape, you waited for his acknowledgment. “player 218, player 017, pass,” the voice from the speaker announced, devoid of emotion.

˚ ༘♡ as you and sang-woo stepped into the expansive player quarters, the dim lighting and echo of murmured conversations created an atmosphere that felt dreadful yet oddly subdued. the space was filled with rows of bunks stacked high, each one occupied by players whose expressions ranged from numb exhaustion to quiet fear. you glanced around briefly before turning your attention to him, your gratitude bubbling to the surface.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo, you saved my life,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. the words carried a weight you couldn’t ignore. “i wouldn’t have had the precision or patience to cut out the star. thank you for convincing me to choose triangle.”

˚ ༘♡ he paused mid-step, his shoulders tensing ever so slightly as he turned to look at you. his expression was calm, but there was something unreadable in his gaze, a flicker of thought he didn’t voice. you tilted your head, your curiosity piqued as a question formed in your mind. “did you know it was going to be dalgona?” your voice held both curiosity and suspicion. he was intelligent, brilliant, in fact. it wouldn’t have surprised you if he had pieced together clues that no one else had noticed. but then again, if he had known, wouldn’t he have told his friends?

˚ ༘♡ his lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, he looked almost reluctant to answer. “i didn’t,” he said finally, his tone measured and deliberate. “it was a lucky guess, i suppose.” but there was something about the way he said it that left you unconvinced. his words felt too crafted, too careful, as if he were guarding a truth he wasn’t ready to share.

˚ ༘♡ before you could probe further, he shifted the conversation, his gaze tender as he looked at you. “come on,” he said, his voice quieter now. “you look like you’re about to collapse, and i can hardly stay upright myself after how draining that game was. let’s try and relax our nerves.”

˚ ༘♡ you nodded, the tension in your body loosening slightly as his words pulled you away from your thoughts. together, you made your way to an unoccupied bunk in one of the quieter corners of the dormitory. as you sat down, the fatigue of the day hit you like a wave, the adrenaline that had kept you going during the game now fully drained from your system.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo leaned against the metal frame of the bunk, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. his face was pale under the fluorescent lights, and the dark circles under his eyes betrayed how much the game had taken out of him. for a moment, the silence between you felt almost comfortable, a reprieve from the chaos that had defined the day.

˚ ༘♡ “you know,” you said after a while, your voice barely above a whisper, “i don’t know how you stayed so calm out there. i felt like i was going to fall apart the entire time.”

˚ ༘♡ he let out a low breath, not quite a sigh, as his eyes shifted to the floor. “i wasn’t calm,” he admitted. “i was terrified, but fear doesn’t help you survive. you have to focus, no matter what.” his words were matter-of-fact, but there was an edge to them, a glimpse of the pressure he carried that he rarely allowed others to see.

˚ ༘♡ you studied him for a moment, your gratitude mingling with a growing sense of unease. there was so much about him that remained a mystery, layers of calculation and restraint that made it impossible to fully understand what he was thinking. but for now, you were too tired to dwell on it.

˚ ༘♡ “thank you, sang-woo,” you said again, your voice softer this time. you meant it, not simply for his advice during the game, but for the quiet sense of stability he brought in a world that felt increasingly unmoored.

˚ ༘♡ he gave a faint nod, his lips curving into the barest hint of a smile. “get some rest,” he said, his tone gentle but steadfast. “tomorrow will probably be worse.”

a/n: can you all tell my favorite character is cho sang-woo? don’t worry, part two of the hwang in-ho x wife series will be out soon! let me know your thoughts! 🤍

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smutoperator · 10 months ago

Text

Art of Escape

Kim Minjeong (Winter), Fukutomi Tsuki x Male Reader

Tags: ahegao, boat sex, creampie, cum licking, doggystyle, dream girlfriend, facial, kissing-and-fucking, (a little) lesbian, mating press, passionate sex, (lots of) oral sex, prone bone, public sex, pussy eating, riding, threesome, voyeurism

Word count: 5155.

Hyundai Yacht Seoul Club, May 9th, 2024

It was just a regular morning for a rich dude like you, anchoring your boat at the Hyundai Yacht Club, completely unaware it was about to host an event for a major brand. As you got there, a blonde girl caught your attention.

Once the event was finished, you approached her. "What's your name?" you asked. "I'm Winter," she said. "Are you sure? Because you're hotter than summer," you told her. "You're not the first to tell me this," she said.

Your first attempt seemed to have backfired, but Winter quickly opened herself up. She was very cute and witty, and you two were quickly talking a lot. After a while, you made an invitation to her.

"Want to ride on my boat?" you asked Winter. "Oh, I would love it," she told you. You detached the boat from the pier and set sail on the river, quickly leaving your boat on autopilot to spend time with Winter on the yacht's main deck. You two had just known each other but were already hugging and kissing like longtime lovers.

"It's so beautiful in here," Winter said about the view. "But is it more beautiful than you?" you asked her, making Winter blush. Her pale skin turning red made her look even prettier. Little did you know, she was about to get much bolder.

"Can I take your pants off?" She asked you, who at first hesitated. "Nobody will see it," she said. Indeed, after the yacht had set sail, you two were just a pair of dots that could barely be seen from the river's banks.

"Let me suck that cock," Winter said to you. Who didn't know such a cute girl could be this naughty? Getting a public blowjob wasn't a fantasy you had on the top of your list, but surely it was quickly rising up your rankings as Winter slowly wrapped her lips around your shaft, kissing and licking it while slowly bobbing her head down it. Her very calm pace of sucking your dick made every licking she gave it even better, as she took her time to run her mouth all over your length.

"I love your taste," Winter said as she kissed your tip. You just gave her free reign, amazed at her great cocksucking skills. Her cute smile contrasted with her sexy tongue, which was making killer moves on your pecker. "Oh, my love, you're so good at that," you told her. "Because I want to have it all," Winter replied.

Winter continued to suck your cock in the middle of the river, not caring about the surroundings. As a matter of fact, if a boat spotted both of you, even better. The cute girl turned into a naughty slut when no one was looking. Her mouth was full of cock, just the way she liked it. But little did she know she had company alongside her on the yacht itself.

"You seem to be enjoying it, Minjeong unnie," Tsuki said out of nowhere. She had followed Winter and you to the boat and was watching her sucking your cock for a couple minutes. "Who is she? Also, Minjeong? Didn't you tell me your name was Winter?" you asked. At the event in the yacht club, you were so focused on Winter that you forgot there was another girl beside her at the event.

"Her name is Tsuki; she was at the Polo event with me. And yeah, my real name is Minjeong; Winter is just the stage name." Winter explained. "So, are you a model? Actress?" you tried to guess. "Well, not quite; we are singers," she continued. "I wish I had seen her there, because she's very cute as well," you told Winter. "So, Tsuki, do you want to join us?" you asked back.

"You didn't even have to ask," Tsuki replied. "Come here and try it," Winter said to her. "Wow!" Tsuki was impressed by the size of your cock. "She's good, isn't she?" Winter asked you. "Very good," you replied.

But more than Tsuki's abilities to suck cock, what impressed you the most were her facial expressions while doing so. They were a treat on their own. The way she rolled her eyes and moved her facial muscles with your cock in her throat was something else. You weren't aware it was what made her famous in the first place, so it was fairly new to you to see a girl sucking cock while making such crazy expressions.

Tsuki, let Winter have your cock again. Even without it in her mouth, she kept doing her crazy moves, especially while licking your shaft to the side. Her and Winter shared a kiss with your tip right in the middle of it, making you go crazy. "That's such a dream," you told them.

After a couple more minutes of cock-sucking, Winter and Tsuki stripped themselves naked and started kissing each other. You watched them before you took your clothes off yourself. "You like that?" Winter asked as Tsuki gave her a big smile. The two kept the kissing going, with Winter now moving her mouth all over Tsuki's neck, which made the Japanese girl pull off another hot facial expression.

"She's so tall and pretty." Winter praised Tsuki's visuals as she now kissed her bare tits. "So beautiful," she said, massaging Tsuki's boobs further, a move she was very well-versed at after doing it so often to Karina in Aespa's dorm rooms.

"I'm getting so horny massaging her tits," Winter tells you. "Me too," Tsuki says right after. "Me too," you say, but it takes too long, as the girls are back into kissing each other under your watch.

You soon join the fun, surprising Tsuki from behind as you run your hands into her body. "Ready to share her?" Winter asks you before commanding Tsuki to lay down on her back.

Tsuki spreads her legs and lies down, showing off the fat outer lips on her pussy. "Such a pretty pussy," Winter tells you as she bends over. "I wanna taste it," she says, diving down the Japanese girl's folds. Tsuki rolls her eyes and keeps doing her facial expression show. "Let's try it together," Winter kisses you as you take your first dibs into Tsuki's clit.

Winter moves into kissing Tsuki's thighs, letting you take care of her pussy by yourself. Tsuki starts to moan as she now looks like an anime character with their eyes closed. But things get even hotter as a trio of lips now share a kiss: yours, Winter's, and Tsuki's pussy.

You and Winter move your tongues together along Tsuki's folds, paying special attention to her clit. Tsuki just moans as both of you move your tongues up and down her folds, blowing the air from your noses into her insides. Never in your wildest dreams did you think you would be kissing such a beautiful girl while licking another's cunt at the same time. This feels like heaven on Earth.

Winter and you trade blows eating Tsuki's pussy. It turns out Winter's oral skills aren't just applicable to cocks; she really knows how to eat a pussy well, feasting all over Tsuki's meaty folds, making them throb and pulse each time she licks them. Winter does it so well that you make sure to kiss her as soon as she is done, trying to taste as much as you can of Tsuki's pussy flavor in her mouth.

Minjeong spreads Tsuki's pussy lips further for you to tongue the Japanese girl even deeper. You two keep teaming up as Tsuki's moans grow louder. "Wow, I've never had my pussy eaten like this before," Tsuki says. Winter is clearly the star of the show; her kissing and tonguing of Tsuki's pussy are otherworldly and drive the Japanese girl wild.

"I think he wants some attention too," Winter says, letting Tsuki stand up to kiss you. Minjeong is truly selfless, putting her partner's pleasure over hers. Tsuki and her team up on your cock once again, but Winter goes straight to your balls, letting Tsuki take your shaft all by herself. Groans come out of your mouth as they prove to be a killer combo, with Winter even trying to match Tsuki's ahegao antics while engulfing your testicles.

"Fuck," you curse for the first time as Tsuki deepthroats you and gives you a big smile, bobbing her head without needing to use her hands to work on your shaft. Down low, Winter is just amazing, heating up your balls perfectly while letting Tsuki lick your shaft like an ice cream.

"I want it too," Winter says in a rare selfish act, snatching your cock away from Tsuki. I can't blame her. That shaft is just too big not to get a good taste of Minjeong's sexy mouth. Winter is really horny, her nipples already fully erected as she fulfills her public sex fantasies staring at the amazing views from the Han River.

Winter clearly brings some extra heat compared to the first time sucking your cock. Tsuki smiles as she watches Minjeong go full slutty for your big dick, kissing you while massaging your balls. Winter stays focused, showing off how well she has perfected the art of oral sex. On and off the stage, Winter is a real ace.

"Wow, she's so hungry," Tsuki says as she takes another turn on your cock. Winter doesn't rest, though, going right back towards more ball-licking. "Oh my God, you two are killing me," you tell them. "Glad you like it," Winter says.

You passionately kiss Winter's cock-flavored mouth. She truly feels like a girl who's from another universe, sent by some mystical creature that wanted to bless you. It doesn't hurt that she has a hot, sexy friend as well.

"Let's take it together," Winter says as Tsuki and her team up to lick your shaft. The girls get their mouths close to each other and lick your snake like a pair of snakes poisoning their prey. Tsuki moves down to your balls while Winter keeps licking that hard pole. Even the birds want to watch them work on your cock as a few land on your yacht, just as the two beautiful girls increase their pace of sucking.

"Suck that cock," Winter tells Tsuki using a soft voice, pushing the Japanese girl's head down that dick before doing it herself. The two keep taking turns getting your cock covered in spit. Until Minjeong finally tells her next move.

"I want it inside me," Winter says to you. "Ohhh, you're really horny today, unnie," Tsuki says right after. "Come to me," you tell Winter, putting her head on Tsuki's belly, who assists you by inserting your cock right at Winter's pussy.

You groan the moment you get inside Minjeong. Her walls are ultra tight and squeeze you right from the beginning. You slowly push it up as Tsuki fingers Winter's pussy. "Get deeper inside me," Winter demands. "Let me see that big cock penetrating my pussy," she continues.

"Put it all in. Fuck me," Winter says. She's so cute giving you those commands; her nipples are fully hard as Tsuki rubs her hands on them. You two quickly develop great chemistry as you passionately fuck Minjeong, as she sexily moans every time your cock bulges under her skinny belly.

"It feels so good," Winter moans as you get deeper inside her tight pussy, picking up the pace as you share kisses with Tsuki before moving down to kiss Winter herself. "I love your cock," Minjeong tells you, who never thought missionary fucking could be this hot.

"I want more; take it deep in my pussy," Winter cutely commands. You happily oblige, as if you were using the keys to open the gates of heaven every time you stretch her out. The clapping noises emanate from her body as you fuck her faster and harder.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," Winter keeps moaning as you go even deeper. "Yes, fuck me," she moans again as Tsuki rubs her. You get addicted to her pussy. "You like it?" you ask her. "Yes, I love it so much," Minjeong replies. Everything about her is so genuine.

"Fuck that pussy, ahhhhh," Winter demands. You are amazed at how cute she still looks, even with that long cock deep in her cunt. Winter becomes fully submissive to your cock as you now pound her in a mating press. "Ahhhh, such a big, big cock," she says, emphasizing your size.

"Ahhh, make my pussy cream," Winter orders to you. Her juices can be seen at your shaft every time you pump out of her hole. You take her balls deep as she praises your cock every time you hit it in her cunt. "Ahhhh, you're so deep inside me," she continues.

"Keep going, all the way in," Winter says. You fuck her harder than ever. "Yeah, yeah, just stretch that pussy," she continues. You can't focus on anything except pounding it. Tsuki becomes just an afterthought in the background as your eyes are all on Minjeong. And more than your eyes, your cock is hyperfocused on destroying her tight pink pussy.

Winter's walls squeeze your cock just as you kiss her beautiful lips. You can't resist anymore, and you paint her insides white. It feels like you fucked her for over an hour, but you could barely last for five minutes inside her tight pussy.

But Minjeong isn't done. "I want to cum all over that cock," she tells you, making you put your cock back in her cream-filled pussy and quickly regain your erection. "Make me cum, baby," Winter tells you, who slowly fucks her pussy as a mix of cum and juices coats your shaft, with Winter getting closer to orgasm as Tsuki rubs her perky little tits and kisses Minjeong's moaning mouth.

"Faster, baby," Winter says as her voice gets more and more out of breath. She fingers herself and starts cumming nonstop as you kiss her while burying your big cock deep in her pussy. The warmth of her wet insides filled with your cum is such an amazing feeling that you make sure to enjoy every second of it.

"And now me?" Tsuki asks as you finally pull out of Winter. "My friend can't wait," Minjeong comments. "I'm very horny, just like you," Tsuki says. "Then come here," you tell her, after giving Winter's pussy a final kiss.

Tsuki gets on all fours as you and Winter rub your hands over her body, paying special attention to her cute butt. "Put your dick inside me; I need it," she says. After a little tease, you grant her wish, with just the feeling of your tip inside her cunt making Tsuki moan.

You and Winter share kisses as you slowly thrust inside Tsuki's pussy. Once again, Tsuki pulls off an incredible show with her facial expressions. But Winter's smile as you fuck her friend is just as good. You let Winter have a taste of your cock, now mixed with her juices and Tsuki's. Winter savors it for a good 30 seconds before putting your shaft back inside Tsuki.

Tsuki closes her eyes and moans even harder as Winter puts her tongue in the Japanese girl's asshole. "Fuck my pussy and eat my ass out, ahhhh" is all Tsuki can say in between more and more moans. "You like it?" Winter asks Tsuki. "Yes," she replies, struggling to even say those simple words as you put extra heat in her pussy.

Winter lays down in front of Tsuki, letting her friend finger her perfect pink pussy. "Come here, baby," Tsuki tells her, pushing Winter's body further close as she dives into Minjeong's pussy. Just as she does it, you pick up the pace much further. Tsuki smiles as your cock makes her pussy cream and her mouth makes Winter's do the same.

"That's so fucking good," Tsuki says as you pump her pussy harder and make her tits jiggle. "You look so pretty getting fucked like this," Winter tells her. She buries her face in Winter's pussy even further in response. "Hmmm, you like that big cock inside that pussy, don't you?" Winter asks. Tsuki answers positively, but it gets muffled by her mouth being all over Minjeong's folds.

"She's such a good girl, being the perfect sleeve for that cock," Winter says about Tsuki to you. "Ahhh, fuck," Tsuki moans as Minjeong does it. You rub your hands all over Tsuki's ass, giving it a little tap. "You like to be slapped?" you ask her. "Hmmmm," Tsuki says.

"Make her pussy cream; slap her hard," Winter orders you, who obviously follow. Tsuki's pale skin is built to get slapped; you love how quickly her ass turns heads. "Ouch!" she screams as you tap her sensitive and cute ass. Winter and her share kisses as you pound Tsuki hard and deep.

"I've never done something like this before," Winter tells Tsuki as she massages her tits. "Me too," Tsuki says, already out of breath as you keep fucking her. "Show her who's in control; get on top of her," Winter orders you, ready to get much spicier.

You mount on top of Tsuki while your cock is still deep in her pussy. "Oh, fuck," Tsuki says as she's about to get turned into a submissive cocksleeve. You and Winter kiss each other as she enjoys watching Tsuki get plowed. But no one enjoys it more than the Japanese fucktoy, who smiles and makes a lot of naughty faces as you manhandle her cunt.

"YEAH. OH. OH. OH. OH." Tsuki moans. "Fuck her like she's your bitch," Winter keeps demanding. You hammer Tsuki like a bull while staring at Minjeong's beautiful and lustful eyes. Tsuki just closes her eyes as her pussy gets utterly destroyed. "OH MY GOD," she says as you pound her to submission, looking now at the perfect sight of her body on all fours while Winter licks her chops, wishin she was at Tsuki's place.

"Put it back; I want more," Tsuki asks when you give her a little relief. She rests her head on the boat's floor as you keep plowing her, fingering herself as she approaches her orgasm. "Yes, yes, yes," Tsuki says in a barely audible manner, her mouth fully open like the one of an onahole.

But you just can't stop fucking that juicy and tight Japanese pussy. Winter gives Tsuki's head a little kiss and then asks her, "Ready to cum?" Tsuki can't even answer as she looks at you, fucking her like a toy and wishing you could do this to her forever. "Keep going like that," she says, but her voice is so weak now that you barely hear it.

"I'm gonna cum," Tsuki whispers, but loud enough for both of you to hear. Winter loves when those words come from her mouth, making a shocked expression of her own. "Make her cum," she just says, smiling as she watches Tsuki close her eyes and open her mouth to the fullest as her pussy creams all over your cock. With it still deep inside her, you give Tsuki short but fast thursts. "HMMM. HMMM. HMMM. HMMM. HMMMM," she moans, reaching her orgasm with your cock hitting all the way into her cervix.

"Oh God," Tsuki says with a big smile on her face as she stares at you. But Winter is quick to give you another kiss as you slow down until you pull out of Tsuki. "Come here to taste it." You stand up and tell both girls as they get on their knees, ready to worship that cock. Winter arrives first on the scene. "Let me taste your pussy," she tells Tsuki, sucking your big cock without using her hands. Tsuki then follows suit as the two sloppily bob their heads on your prick before placing it in between their mouths.

"Stay like this," you tell the girls, who smile at each other. Winter is the happiest one, as she looks behind and sees you getting ready to take her pussy again, this time from behind. You line your cock up against her entrance so perfectly that you don't even need to use your hands to adjust. Minjeong closes her eyes as her pussy gets slowly stretched out.

"Ahhhh," Winter moans with a sexy smile on her face. You take it slow as her moans get more prolonged with each thrust you give her. "Tell me about it," Tsuki asks Minjeong. "It's... so... big," it's all she can say. But it's the truth after all, as she enjoys your nine-inch monster stretching her out in a prone-bone position. "Ok," Tsuki tells her in such a manner that you can tell she's bragging about taking it like a champion just moments ago.

Winter kisses Tsuki as your cock gets deeper and deeper inside her. You're very passionate, not wanting to hurt your beautiful lover. "Even full of dick, you still look so cute, Minjeong unnie," Tsuki says. She's telling the truth. Winter is truly capable of being the cutest girl in the world, no matter what she's doing.

Winter gets surprised when you finally commit to getting into the depths of her cunt. "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhhh," she lets out successive moans. But you stay deep inside her as Minjeong's walls clench around your cock. "Oh, my God," she says. You don't even need to thrust inside her anymore; your meat and her cunt are perfectly interlocked now. It's like the sword in the stone myth, and whoever manages to pull you out of Minjeong will be crowned king.

"This is so good; you're so tight," you tell Winter. "I'm curious to see how your friend takes it," you continue, moving sideways to take on Tsuki next. "She's ready for you." Winter says this as you two kiss each other again.

Tsuki softly moans, as she's next in line. The slow pumps you give her already make her roll her eyes. Winter smiles as she stares at Tsuki, who's struggling to take your cock deep in her pussy. "Yesss, ahhhhh," Tsuki moans as you start clapping against her cheeks. Winter, as the dream girlfriend, gets all the kisses. Meanwhile, for the slutty Tsuki, all she gets is pounding after pounding from your hard cock.

You quickly increase the speed, brining a lot of heat into Tsuki's pussy, her body getting pressed to the floor at each thurst. Winter never thought of herself as a voyeur before, but she really enjoys watching her friend get plowed. "Ohhh, God, fuck," Tsuki says as you pin her completely to the floor, stretching your hands to grope her perky tits.

"YESSS, AHHHH, AHHHH," Tsuki moans under Winter's watchful eyes. At this point, Minjeong is licking her chops, amazed as she watches both of you engage in a torrid sex session. Tsuki is really the perfect fucktoy to pound against the floor of your boat, as she covers it with the juices leaking out from her pussy. "You're hitting her so deeply; I love it," Winter says. Tsuki can only laugh to hide how she gets increasingly sensitive and throbs harder at each new thrust you give her.

"So deep, I like that," Tsuki says as you get completely on top of her, all while sharing kisses with Winter. Her eyes roll, and her tongue sticks out as you make her cum. "That's so good, oh yeah," Tsuki says, barely able to feel her legs now. You even give her a double massage: your hands press her shoulders up top while your meat presses her cunt down low. Even after she cums, Tsuki wants more. "Go back, please," she tells you, who obliges and gives her a few extra thrusts into her throbbing vagina, kissing her and Winter when you're finally done.

"I want something from you girls now," you tell them. "One of them is riding my cock while the other sits on my face," you say. Tsuki kisses you and quickly offers the pussy you just destroyed for you to savor. Winter dives into your cock and warms it up for the ride of her life. The Japanese girl gets the early pleasure, as you are already licking her folds before Winter can even position herself to get impaled by your monster cock.

Winter starts riding your cock, and you feel blessed. The view. The girls. The sex. This day couldn't have gone more perfect for you. It feels like heaven to have two girls using your body as a way to please themselves to the fullest.

As you tongue Tsuki's pussy harder, Minjeong increases the pace of her ride. Their moans blend with each other, and you can't tell which one is getting the most pleasure. But by the way their folds gush all over your tongue and cock, you can tell they are having a lot of it. Tsuki runs her hands over Winter's pale butt as the snow girl gives you such a hot ride that it could make your cock melt. "You're working on this cock so well," Tsuki says, impressed at Minjeong's riding skills.

Winter spreads her cheeks as she lets you thrust upwards against her tight pussy. Every time you get to hit her cervix, she lets out an out-of-breath moan, and her asshole involuntarily winks. Loud noises come out as the hips of both of you clash against each other. Minjeong doesn't hold back, meeting your thursts full of enthusiasm and moaning the loudest she's done so far.

The riding keeps going on as Minjeong shows no signs of slowing down. Out of all positions, cowgirl might be her favorite. She loves the feeling of taking control and stuffing herself full of cock, and she seems to be easily winning the battle now, bouncing on your pole at full speed and enjoying when Tsuki pushes her further down and impales her to the max against your cock.

More time passes by, and Winter keeps going on with her cock-riding show. You and Tsuki basically forget about anything, taking all your focus away from watching the Queen Minjeong ride spectacle. Winter feels flaunted as all eyes are on her, giving all her effort. She is truly the living proof of the planet getting warmer than ever, because you've never seen a hotter Winter than the one on top of your cock.

Tsuki gets out of your face to take a privileged seat at Winter, making your cock melt. The Japanese girl masturbates herself as watching Minjeong get impaled proves to be a massive turn-on for her. "Ahhhhh, ahhhhh, ahhhh, Oh my God, Oh my God," Winter manages to outdo herself in cuteness once again, coming up with the softest moans you've seen. Tsuki watches all of it, all her fingers now deep in her cunt. Both she and Winter closed their eyes at the same time and even managed to say the same words together:

"I AM. CUMMING.".

Winter's legs get weaker as she rests her body on top of yours, only to be surprised by a gush of squirt coming off Tsuki's pussy. You're so addicted to her pussy you don't pull out at any moment, kissing Minjeong as her face gets within your range and giving her waist and butt a little massage. Winter finally pulls out, staring at Tsuki creaming herself, and then gives the Japanese girl the final command.

"Finish him," Winter tells her, getting your cock wet for one final round of pussy pounding. Her heavenly mouth almost makes Minjeong fulfill her own command by herself, as you have to pinch yourself not to cum. Tsuki saves you at the last second, offering you her tits and mouth for you to kiss.

Tsuki gets a taste of your cock before she sits on it. Doing so in reverse cowgirl, she tells who the audience of her cock-riding show will be: she wants to do it looking at Minjeong's beautiful face and show her first and foremost her best facial expressions.

Winter pushes Tsuki's hair down to get a better view of her face as the Japanese girl finally takes a sit on your prick. Tsuki rides it as Winter stares at her stretched-out pussy. You two put on a great show for Minjeong to watch as Tsuki runs her hands all over your shaft while bouncing on it. Winter stays with one hand fully attached to her pussy, the other rubbing your thighs to get you even closer to the edge.

You grab Tsuki's waist, trying to tame her, but she barely flinches. Fully committed to the mission Winter gave her, she rides you even harder, massaging your balls to add some extra spice. Winter aides her, licking her chops as she sees some sticky liquids straight out of Tsuki's cunt coating your shaft.

"Fuck him hard, make him cum," Winter keeps ordering as Tsuki gets your cock inside her all the way down to your balls. You start losing control and plow upwards against her pussy, making splashy noises when you hit her deep, as her cunt is extremely wet now. Tsuki opens her mouth to the fullest every time you hit her cervix, her ahegao getting crazier the more cock she takes.

Tsuki turns into a moaning mess as you two fuck like crazy animals. Winter can't believe what she's seeing, making shocked expressions as she watches you stuff Tsuki's cunt. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, I'M GONNA CUM," Tsuki says as her legs close and she starts orgasming, expelling your cock out of her pussy. "Put it back, put it back," she demands, her voice completely lost at this point. Tsuki masturbates herself as she creams all over your cock.

"Wow, that's beautiful," Winter says as Tsuki opens her legs back up. Minjeong places her hand over her lips and licks her chops as the intense pounding gets replaced by a passionate fucking, with Tsuki making one final wish.

"I want to see your cum covering all of my face," she tells you. As soon as you pull out, you start jerking off to Winter and Tsuki faces side by side. It doesn't take long before blasts of semen come out of your dick and paint Tsuki's face white as she sticks her tongue out in glee after you grant her wish.

Winter quickly comes up and licks the cum from Tsuki's face as the two swap it in their mouths in front of you. "Thanks; that was amazing," Minjeong kindly says. "I can't wait to rock your boat again," Tsuki completes.

The girls get dressed as you bring them back to where it all started. As they leave your boat at the yacht club, it seems like another typical fashion event for the brand they were endorsing.

But the truth is, in that day, Kim Minjeong and Fukutomi Tsuki mastered the art of escape.

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I'd like to give a shoutout to @haiabd as they wrote a very similarly themed smut also featuring Winter and that boat event from last month. We went with slightly different focuses and partners (I picked Tsuki, they picked Chaewon, their smut features anal, mine doesn't). But every time something like this happens, I mention the other author. In the end, I wholeheartedly agree with them when they started their story saying: "These Winter pics are so good so I had to write about them", so I did the same.

#winter smut #tsuki smut #aespa smut #billie smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

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