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cloudtransprncy · 4 months ago

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ITZY Yuna x Male Reader | 5k words Part 1 out of ? Tags: PWP, Blowjob, Size Kink, Cock Worship, Mutual Horny Chaos, 2nd Person POV, Yuna Is Down Catastrophic

She said glasses and earrings were a cheat code—so you tested it. No big deal. Just an experiment. But the second Yuna opens the door, she short-circuits, and next thing you know, she’s on her knees. I guess it works?

The car is parked in your usual spot, tucked away from the main road where the streetlights don’t quite reach. It’s summer.

The air outside warm enough that the windows are cracked just enough to let the night breeze slip through. Chill R&B hums from the speakers, blending into the comfortable silence between you and Yuna.

Yuna’s lounged back, slides kicked off, feet propped up on the dashboard like she owns the place. Her phone screen flashes in quick bursts as she scrolls TikTok, fingers moving lazily while she sips from her boba. Cropped pink tank, low-rise jeans that hang just right, a couple of delicate rings on her fingers—casual but calculated, effortless, she knows she’s hot and she owns it.

You’re half-watching, half-zoned out, fingers drumming absently against your drink. Not thinking about how good she looks. Or trying not to.

Then she speaks, totally unprompted.

“Glasses and earrings are such a fucking cheat code for guys.”

You blink, slow to process. “…Huh?”

She doesn’t even look up from her phone. “Like, if a dude who’s my type pulls up with that? Whip it out already, I’m on my knees.”

You choke on your boba. Cough, nearly die, and have to thump your own chest to recover. “You’re a slut”

Yuna finally spares you a glance, completely serious. “I’m sooo serious. Glasses? Hot. Earrings? Hot. Together? Killy me now. Instant buff.”

You recover, rubbing your throat. “Any guy?”

She scoffs. “Obviously he has to be cute, I’m not gonna suck off some rando that's ugly and gross.”

You stare at her, a mix of disbelief and amusement creeping in.

Yuna shifts, folding a leg under her and turning fully towards you, sitting up. Her tank top rides up just slightly, exposing a sliver of skin, but you don’t look for too long. She leans in like she’s about to tell you the secrets of the universe. “Like, okay, hear me out.”

You sigh, playing along. “K, I’m listening.”

“The glasses just make the guy look smart, but like, not too smart. Unless he’s a nerd, but you get my point.”

“Suuure.”

“The earrings? Hot. Earrings are just hot. Like, I wear earrings. I’m hot.”

You stare at her, unimpressed. “I don’t get it.”

She waves a hand, exasperated. “Like, hot but not too hot, smart but not too smart. ya get me?.”

You squint. “But what if the guy’s ugly?”

She pauses, then scoffs. “See, that’s where it’s tough, ‘cause the buff only works if you’re already cute, ya know? Or like… almost hot.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You saying some guys are almost hot?”

“Yeah, bro, like some guys just need to hit the gym, dress better, get some earrings.”

You just give her a look, telling her you don’t really get it.

Silence lingers for a beat. Then she shrugs, says it so offhandedly you almost don’t catch it. “Like, you’d actually be hot if you tried.”

Your brain stalls. “…What?”

She doesn’t look up, just sips her boba. “You heard me.”

You’re still blinking. “No, repeat that.”

A slow, shit-eating grin spreads across her face. “Nope.”

“That felt personal.”

“It wasn’t. But if you feel attacked…”

You scoff, sitting up slightly. “I literally gym, and you gotta admit I dress nice.”

She finally looks at you, eyes dragging over your plain black tee and gray sweats, unimpressed.

You gesture vaguely. “When I go out.”

She snorts, shaking her head but doesn't disagree. “Yeah, aight.”

You narrow your eyes. “You’re basically saying I would be hot if I wasn’t ugly.”

Another shrug. “That’s not what I’m saying, but if that’s what you’re hearing…”

You laugh it off, shake your head, shift the conversation elsewhere. But Yuna? She sits with it, lets the words settle.

The idea is planted.

She doesn’t bring it up again, but it lingers. Her gaze flickers to you when you’re not looking, her teeth pressing lightly into her bottom lip like she’s trying not to think too hard about it. Then, just as quickly, she shakes it off, scrolling her phone with a little too much focus.

A week later…

The drive to Yuna’s place feels normal—same streets, same turn signals, same playlist humming low through your speakers. But today? Today’s different. Today, you’re running a test.

You grip the wheel with one hand, glancing at yourself in the rearview mirror. Glasses on. You always needed them, just never wore them. Now? Gentle Monster frames, clean, sharp. A flex, but a subtle one.

Earrings? Left ear—a small silver star stud. Right ear—a tiny dagger earring. A balance of soft and sharp. Like you weren’t thinking about it, but also? You were.

Your fit? Casual but intentional.

Black compression shirt, snug and sculpting but not obnoxious. Grey wide-leg sweats, laid-back and effortless. Fresh kicks, spotless with no creases.

It’s intentional, but not try-hard. Like you just threw shit on, but somehow, everything fell into place.

You exhale, tapping your fingers against the steering wheel.

Let’s see if she notices.

You knock. A shuffle of footsteps inside. The door swings open.

Yuna stands there, the striped pajama set hugging her tiny waist, sitting snug on her hips, showing just enough skin to be lethal. The fabric stretches over her curves, hinting at the toned stomach underneath, the kind of body that looks soft but still tight in all the right places.

Her red hair falls in messy waves, catching hallway light like she planned the whole damn lighting setup. Even "just hanging at home," her skin glows with that I-woke-up-like-this perfection you know for a fact takes at least three serums to achieve. Light makeup—because of course she wouldn't be completely bare-faced—just enough to make her eyes wider, her lips fuller, slightly glossed and parted in what starts as a greeting but dies somewhere in her throat.

She was expecting movie night. Takeout containers. Stupid debates about whether pineapple belongs on pizza. The usual safe routine.

Instead, she gets you. Version 2.0.

Her entire body freezes. Processing.

Her eyes make a deliberate journey: glasses, earrings—that small hesitation when she notices they're mismatched—down to how your shirt remembers every gym session you've been putting in, lingering just a beat too long where your sweats hang low, then back up to your face with the slow-dawning realization that you've weaponized her own words against her.

She straight-up blue-screens.

Her weight shifts subtly, thighs pressing together like she's trying to create pressure where she suddenly needs it. Her fingers flex at her sides, curling then uncurling like she's physically restraining herself. The sharp inhale is audible—chest rising, lips parting before she catches herself. A full system restart happening in real time.

"What. The. Fuck." It comes out flat, almost accusatory, like you've committed a personal offense.

You can't help the smirk. "What?"

Yuna's eyes narrow, flicking to your earrings again with something dangerously close to hatred—not for the accessories, but for how effectively you've played her. Her jaw works, tension visible as she grinds her teeth. The mental battle is written across her face: pride versus want, restraint versus impulse.

"You're a fucking bitch," she mutters, the words carrying more heat than venom.

Your grin widens, victory sweet on your tongue. "Hmm? Didn't catch that."

No verbal response. Just the sudden, almost violent way her fingers hook into your shirt, yanking you inside before kicking the door shut with enough force to rattle the frame.

Her grip on your wrist is tight—too tight to be casual, not tight enough to hurt. She pulls you down the familiar hallway, the same path you've walked a hundred times before, except now your heart hammers against your ribs like it's trying to escape. This isn't movie-night Yuna leading you to her bedroom to argue about Netflix choices. This is something else entirely.

The words barely form in your mouth before your back hits her mattress, the air rushing from your lungs in a soft "oof." Suddenly everything is different. Same room—same fairy lights strung across her headboard, same pile of clothes heaped on her desk chair, same vague scent of vanilla and something distinctly her—but the air feels electrically charged, dense with potential.

She climbs onto you with feline precision, one knee planted on either side of your thighs, lowering herself with a deliberate slowness that borders on torture. The weight of her settles against you—warm, solid, undeniable. The smirk playing at her lips is both challenge and promise, a silent I told you so mixed with you're going to regret this in the best way possible.

And just like that, the tables turn.

Your earlier confidence dissolves under her gaze. Your breath catches as she studies you like a meal she's about to devour, eyes dragging from your face to your throat, lingering on the pulse point there before traveling lower to where your shirt has ridden up to expose a strip of skin.

Pure instinct drives your hands to her hips, fingers just grazing the warm skin exposed between her top and pajama bottoms—but before you can get a proper grip, she's caught your wrists. One fluid motion and your arms are pinned against the wall above your head, chest exposed, completely at her mercy. Her nails dig just enough into your skin to send a shiver racing down your spine, a silent warning that makes your pulse spike.

"Yuna—" Her name escapes as a whine, embarrassingly breathless.

"Did I say you could touch?" The edge in her voice is new—commanding in a way that makes heat pool low in your stomach.

She leans in close again and you flinch slightly, turning your head, caught off-balance by this sudden shift in dynamic. The predatory smile that spreads across her face tells you exactly what you need to know:

You might have started this game, but she's the one who's going to finish it.

Her grip tightens. "What? You getting nervous?"

And you are. Because you don’t know what she’s gonna do next. Because your hands are pinned down, because she’s taking her time, because she’s in complete control.

"Too late." Her voice is soft as her fingers catch your jaw before you can answer—firm, controlling. She lets it hang there, the weight of her words sinking in before she tilts your face up like she’s testing the weight of you in her hands, deciding whether she wants to break you apart or take her time savoring it.

She doesn’t kiss you yet. Just hovers. Close enough that you can feel her breath—warm, teasing, curling over your lips. Close enough that you can smell her—sweet, like strawberries, something feminine and bright, but dark underneath. Something heady. Something that lingers.

"What..." It slips out soft, almost breathless, escaping before you even realize. You're already leaning in—just slightly, just enough to chase the warmth of her mouth, the phantom touch of lips that still haven’t pressed against yours.

She grins. Pulls back just enough to make you ache for it. Watching, waiting. Letting the moment stretch, letting you need.

Then she finally kisses you—hungry, consuming, impossible to escape. Her lips move like she’s starving, like she’s been waiting for this, for you.

Her hands roam without hesitation, clawing at your shirt, nails scratching lightly before pressing harder, groping, gripping, taking. She grinds down, pressing herself closer, hot, desperate, soaked through.

Her tongue slides against yours, deep, messy, filthy. She tastes like strawberries and something warmer, something intoxicating. She bites your bottom lip, sucking it between her teeth before letting go, leaving you breathless, dizzy.

You manage to get half a word out—something cocky, something desperate—but she just presses her thumb over your lips, silencing you effortlessly. "Shh."

Her smirk is wicked, teasing. "Did I tell you to talk?"

One last kiss—hard, bruising—claiming—before she finally pulls back, pupils blown wide, breath heavy, hot against your lips. Still teasing, still in control.

Her eyes flicker, dark and sharp. She lets the silence stretch, lets you squirm just a little before tilting her head, smirking. And then, finally—

“Whip it out when I tell you to.”

She shifts back, slow and deliberate, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. Legs crossed, arms folded, head tilted slightly—waiting.

“Shirt off.”

You hesitate. Her expression doesn’t change. Just one perfectly raised eyebrow.

You exhale, dragging the fabric over your head, the fabric peeling away from your skin, leaving a fleeting chill before the heat of the room settles over you. The shift makes your muscles tense briefly, instinctively flexing, your lean frame now fully exposed. She doesn’t say anything at first—just watches. Eyes dragging down, slower than usual. She’s seen you shirtless before—at the beach, when you work out together—but this feels... different. More deliberate. More assessing. Like she’s realizing something she hadn’t let herself think about before.

Her fingertips trail over your chest, nails scraping lightly as they move down. Her breathing shifts. Not a full pause, but a subtle inhale, like she’s registering something new.

She barely skims your waistband before stopping. Lips part, but no words come out. Just a beat of silence, her fingers still resting against your skin.

Then, just as quickly, she shakes it off. Moves like she never hesitated. “Pants too.”

You move to pull them down, and her hand shoots out, gripping the fabric at your waist. Stopping you. Holding you there.

She tilts her head. Smirks. “Hmm, one sec.”

She leans down, lips trailing from your chest to your abdomen, slow and deliberate, each press of her mouth sending heat curling low in your stomach. Lower. Lower. Until she’s hovering over your bulge, her breath warm against the fabric, her smirk returning as she glances up at you—waiting, teasing.

“Whip it out.”

You follow her command, fingers hooking into the waistband of your sweats and boxers at the same time. You push them down in one slow motion, the fabric dragging over your hips, your thighs, until they pool around your ankles. The cool air hits first, sending a shiver down your spine, your skin prickling in contrast to the heat of her stare. You kick them off, tossing them aside without a second thought.

Your cock, already stiff, springs free, swaying slightly before settling upright.

You expect some kind of reaction, a smirk, a comment, something. But she just sits there. Silent. Taking you in. Making you wait.

Then, the shift.

Her jaw tightens. Barely. Just enough to notice. Her fingers twitch, like she’s resisting the instinct to reach for you. A single exhale slips out—soft, sharp, involuntary.

“...Hah.”

Her thighs press together.

She blinks once, slow, expression still unreadable before she scoffs, voice flat. "You're joking."

It’s not a question. Not disbelief. It’s irritation. Like she’s pissed off that she’s this affected.

Then, before she even registers it, her hand is on you.

Her fingers wrap around the base, testing the weight. Thumb pressing into the ridge, sliding down, measuring. Her grip is firm, not teasing, not soft. Calculating. Then, she swipes her thumb over the tip, smearing the bead of precum across the sensitive skin.

The slick warmth sends a sharp jolt through you, your stomach clenching at the sudden stimulation. A shudder rolls down your spine, hips jerking just slightly—instinctual, involuntary. She hums at the reaction, amused, dragging her thumb back over the head, slower this time, watching you twitch beneath her touch.

"...You’ve been walking around with this the whole time?"

One slow stroke. Deliberate. Frustrated. Her breath hitches for half a second before she exhales through her nose, sharp and controlled. She’s working through something.

Then she moves.

Slow, deliberate, sinking down until her face is level with your cock. She spreads her knees wider, arching her back instinctively, ass lifting behind her as she dips her head down. The motion is fluid, effortless, like she’s done this a hundred times before—but not with you.

Her breath fans over the head, warm, teasing, and fuck, she’s gorgeous. But the way she’s looking at you? The way her lashes flutter as she drags her gaze from the base to the tip, the way her lips part slightly like she’s thinking about something she shouldn’t? Filthy.

Your fingers twitch against the sheets, aching to touch her. To run through her hair, trace over her cheek, press against the plush curve of her lips. But you don’t. You know better.

She tilts her head, lining it up. Comparing.

Her fingers tighten around the base, giving an experimental squeeze, jaw tensing slightly like she’s still processing the math of it all.

She hums, amused. Like she just confirmed something. Her eyes drag from your cock to your frame, mapping out the proportions. She’s smaller, you’re lean, cut where it matters. Her fingers tighten around your thigh—just slightly.

She exhales slow, shaking her head. Testing her own reaction.

“It’s almost annoying.”

A sharp squeeze at the base, like she’s making peace with it.

"You're just big enough to be fucking perfect."

She looks up at you, doesn’t blink. Holds your gaze like she’s daring you to move.

"Look at me."

You do. Try to. But the intensity of her gaze is too much, hungry, piercing, hot. Like she’s devouring every inch of you without even touching. Your body reacts before you can stop it. It’s overwhelming. Too much. You instinctively try to escape it, tilting your head back, but she doesn’t let you.

Her other hand catches your chin, dragging you back down to her. “I didn’t say you could do that.”

Your breath shudders. You swallow hard. She notices. Smirks.

Then—she stops.

She knows exactly what she’s about to do. And she wants you to watch.

Lifting her arms, she gathers up all her hair, twisting it tight, securing it with practiced ease. It’s a ritual, a performance, because she knows you’re looking. And she likes it.

The movement stretches her out, making you take in everything—the pull of her arms, the soft dip of her waist, the sleek curve of her long torso. Cinched. Compact. Fucking perfect. Her neck, her collarbones, the bare skin of her armpits exposed for a fleeting second, all of it framed just for you.

"Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking hot." Your voice slips past you.

She pauses, just for a second. A slow, knowing smirk on her lips as she glances at you.

"I know."

Your fingers twitch, instinct taking over—you reach down, wanting to stroke yourself to the sight of her.

Sharp slap.

Your hand jerks away, stinging. Her eyes flicker up, challenging. Smirking.

"I already told you—keep your hands to yourself."

Then—she leans back down, the same position, same arch. She dips her head low. Her lips purse, and before you can register it, a thick glob of warm saliva drips from her mouth, landing perfectly against the tip. She watches it spread, her thumb smearing it across the sensitive skin, coating you in wet heat before she strokes again—long, slow, deliberate.

She looks up, eyes locking onto yours, smirking like she already knows she's won. "Now sit back and let me enjoy myself."

Then—she sinks lower.

Her red hair spills over your stomach, strands brushing against your skin as she angles herself just right. The dim light catches on the messy waves, glowing warm, wild, untamed. She looks up at you through thick lashes, half-lidded, pupils blown wide, mouth parted just enough to tease you with the heat of her breath.

She’s so fucking close.

But this isn’t about you.

Her fingers wrap around the base, a slow, possessive squeeze, more for herself than for you. She exhales, lips barely parted, watching, taking you in. Her tongue swipes over her own bottom lip as if contemplating a meal she’s about to devour.

Then—she goes for it.

Heat. Wet. The first slide past her lips is tight, hot, an impossible contrast of softness and pressure. Her mouth stretches, lips plush and slick, sealing around you with a perfect, obscene suction. The wet heat of her tongue presses firm against the underside, dragging against every ridge, every pulsing inch, like she’s mapping you out with her mouth. The pressure of her cheeks hollowing pulls a groan straight from your chest before you can bite it back.

It's not careful, not teasing—hungry.

Her nails dig into your thigh as she sinks deeper, her own body reacting, thighs pressing together, chasing the heat curling in her own gut.

She doesn’t slow. Doesn’t drag it out like a game. She’s working herself up with every motion, letting herself indulge.

Another moan, this one softer, needier, and fuck, she’s enjoying this. Her tongue presses against the underside, massaging every inch she swallows. She pulls back, spit slick and glistening, gasping softly before diving back in, sucking harder, deeper.

She flicks her gaze up—not to check on you, but to see how much more she can take.

The wet pop when she pulls off is obscene, spit stretching between her lips and your cock before snapping apart. But she doesn’t wipe it away—you can tell, she likes the mess.

She tilts her head, gaze flicking up to yours, breathless, her lips curling into something between a smirk and frustration.

"Fuck, you taste so good." She mutters, voice wrecked, annoyed at how much she’s into this.

You start to smirk, breath hitching as you mutter, "Damn, you really know how to—"

But you don't get the chance.

She takes you deep mid-word, zero hesitation, lips stretching, throat tightening as she swallows you down in one sudden, slick motion. The shock rips a strangled sound from your throat, something between a gasp and a groan, because fuck, that was unexpected.

It's warm, so fucking tight, her throat flexing around you as she forces herself deeper, nose pressing flush against your groin. The wet grip of her throat clenching around the tip sends heat jolting up your spine, and when she pulls back—slow, torturous—a thick string of spit clings between her lips and your cock, stretching, breaking, dripping down onto her own chin. She watches you, gaze locked, eyes dark, sharp, daring you.

"You talk too much. And I haven't told you to open your mouth."

Her voice is wrecked, breathless, but smug as hell. She grips the base, firm, controlling, and slaps the head against her lips, wet and filthy, smearing spit and precum across them before taking you back in without hesitation—deeper, tighter, longer.

Your thighs tense. Your breath stutters. Toes curl, heat pooling low in your stomach, a wildfire spreading through your limbs. Your hands clench into the sheets because if you touch her now, you're done for.

She hums around you, low, vibrating, because she knows exactly what she’s doing to you.

Then she pulls back, spit-slick and glistening, pausing just long enough for you to feel the absence, to make you ache for it.

You think she’s about to go back in, your breath catches—but she lingers, gaze flicking up, owning the moment, letting the tension coil tighter. Then, slowly, she slaps your cock against her lips once more, her own breath shuddering like she’s just as caught up in this as you are. But this isn’t for you—it’s for her.

She dips lower, tongue dragging down your length, lips wrapping around one ball, sucking slow, wet, indulgent. She pauses for a second, breathing heavy, swallowing like she’s processing how good it tastes, how much she’s enjoying it.

Then she makes a sound—a frustrated groan, muffled, needy, like she’s annoyed by just how good you are in her mouth. Her hand never stops moving, stroking you in time with every pull of her mouth. Then the next, her tongue rolling over the sensitive skin, a soft moan escaping her, sending a jolt straight through your core.

She licks a line back up your shaft, slow, messy, like she’s savoring the weight of you on her tongue.

Your hands twitch against the sheets, fists clenched tight, every muscle in your body strung too fucking tight, resisting the urge to grab her. She notices. She loves it.

She pulls off completely, spit pooling down her chin, tilts her head up at you, lips parted, swollen, smirking.

"Hold my hair up."

Your breath shakes as you comply, fingers threading into her red waves, feeling the silkiness as they slide between your knuckles. You gather them slowly, watching the way they shine under the dim light, then bunch them up tight, pulling them together like a ponytail, holding firm.

She exhales slow, eyes flickering shut for half a second like she’s steeling herself. Then, she looks up at you—hungry, determined.

"Good. Now don’t let go."

The moment you tighten your grip, she moans, low and wrecked, like it’s fueling her. Like she’s been waiting for this.

She takes you back in.

In one go.

There’s no hesitation now. No more teasing. Just her fucking her mouth on you, using your cock like a toy for her own oral fixation.

She goes messy, abrupt, taking you deep with zero breaks, her hands working in sync—one stroking your shaft, the other massaging your balls, slick with spit, wet, filthy, relentless.

She gags. Chokes. Sputters saliva down her chin, but she doesn’t stop—she loves this.

Each time she sinks down, she stays longer, testing her limits, forcing herself deeper, moaning around you, the vibrations traveling straight through your spine. She knows exactly what she’s doing.

She pulls off with a wet, deep, gasp, sucking in air, but her hands never stop moving—stroking, twisting, milking you even as she gasps for breath.

“Shit,” she pants, her voice wrecked, her lips swollen, glistening with spit.

Her grip tightens, both hands now working together, slick and dripping, saliva coating every inch. She strokes faster, twisting her wrists, making a fucking mess of you, her mouth hovering just inches away, lips parted, panting.

Your whole body is tight, legs folding in slightly, toes curling, arms flexing involuntarily around the grip in her hair. The pleasure is too much, too fucking good, overwhelming, and if she wasn’t in complete control, you’d be thrusting up into her mouth, chasing the heat, the pressure. But she’s already forcing herself deep, hitting the back of her throat for you. No, for herself, taking what she wants.

Your grip on her hair loosens.

She notices.

She fucking notices.

Her lashes flutter up, eyes glazed, pupils blown wide, cheeks flushed—completely cock-drunk—and she lets out the softest, filthiest little whine, like she doesn’t want you to stop her. Like she needs this. More of this.

Your fingers clench, regaining control, and you hold her still.

Her moan shatters through you.

It’s wrecked, vibrating along your length as she hollows her cheeks again and sucks. Hard.

And then—she goes feral.

She spits again, a thick glob dripping onto the head, smearing it in with her tongue before slapping your cock against her lips, her cheek, the curve of her jaw. Then she leans in, sucking and slurping her own saliva back up from your cock and groin, her tongue dragging slow and deliberate—only to sputter it back down again, wetter, filthier.

The slick warmth trickles lower, dripping under your balls, pooling there as her fingers smear it across your skin like she never wants to waste a single drop. She’s moaning the entire time, whimpering under her breath, her own body tensing, thighs pressing together, like she’s getting off on the sheer act of ruining herself.

Her tongue flicks out, lapping at the sensitive tip before flattening against it, rubbing it against her slick, spit-drenched muscle like she wants to taste every inch.

Her hand never stops moving—stroking, twisting, pumping, both hands working together now, slick and dripping, her fingers sliding with ease from how fucking wet everything is.

She’s not thinking anymore.

She’s just moving, sucking, licking, moaning, lost in it. She’s devouring you.

She sinks back down, deeper, until she’s gagging again, nose flush, throat spasming. She pulls off just to spit again, rubs her own mess into your shaft with both hands before swallowing you back down like she missed it.

She stays down longer each time.

Testing her limits. Pushing past them. Letting them break.

She pulls off with a wrecked gasp, drool dripping off her chin, her hands still stroking you frantically, like she can’t stop. Like she won’t stop.

“Fuck—” Her voice is raw, strained, needy. Her lips glisten, her cheeks are damp with spit, ruined.

Next, she slaps your cock against her tongue again, holding it there, eyes locked on yours, lips parted, panting.

Waiting.

Wanting.

She flicks her tongue once. Then again.

Your whole body tenses, a choked moan ripping out of your throat before you can swallow it down. She notices instantly, smirking, lips flushed and glistening.

"Gonna cum for me?" Her voice is low, wrecked, teasing. "Gonna fill up my mouth?"

She doesn’t give you a chance to answer. She’s back down, and you know it wont be long.

She sinks down, deeper than before—deeper than you thought she could go.

Her throat tightens, a hot, slick vice around you, lips stretched wide, nose flush against your skin. She stays there, like she’s proving something, forcing herself to take it all.

Your body shakes. A helpless, broken noise tears from your throat, your fingers twisting tighter in her hair. Your entire body is locked up, muscles taut, overwhelmed, unable to do anything but take what she’s giving you.

She swallows around you—tight, pulsing—milking you. The suction drives you insane, your mind foggy with nothing but her heat, her wetness, the way she’s owning you with her mouth. Your stomach clenches, your toes curl, thighs shaking. The heat in your gut is unbearable, climbing too fast, too much—

And then—she pulls off.

Not all the way. Just enough to drag her lips, tongue, teeth back up, slow, deliberate, before sinking back down just as deep.

She does it again.

Slow. Controlled. Absolutely ruining you.

Her hands are still working—one stroking your length, the other massaging your balls, her slick fingers pressing, squeezing, keeping you so fucking close but not letting you fall.

This time, she pulls off completely.

Your cock twitches in the open air, aching, drenched in her spit, glistening under the dim light. The sudden absence is unbearable, like she just took the world’s best heat away from you.

And then—she stops everything.

Her grip loosens. Her mouth lingers inches away.

Nothing.

You make a noise—desperate, strained. Your fingers clench, stomach tight, chest rising too fast.

She tilts her head, mocking, daring, teasing. Lips swollen, cheeks flushed.

"Say it."

Your breath stutters. She’s watching you unravel, watching you need.

You hesitate.

Her fingers go completely still.

The absence is unbearable. The loss of heat, friction, her—everything.

She waits. Just waits.

Eyes locked on you, lips parted, not moving until she hears what she wants.

“You wanna cum or not?”

Her voice is wrecked, low, filthy—and so fucking amused. Like she already knows.

Your jaw locks, but your body betrays you.

“Yuna, please—I'm so close” It rips out of you, barely a whisper, shaky, ruined.

Her eyes spark. She grins.

She giggles. It’s horny, evil, delighted.

And with that, she dives back in.

Messy. Unforgiving.

Her mouth works you over, fast, relentless, sucking hard like she’s dragging the orgasm out of you. Her cheeks hollow, tongue pressing firm, head bobbing fast, sloppy, wrecking you.

Her hands won’t stop moving—both of them now, stroking, twisting, pumping, slick and filthy, drenched in her spit.

She pulls off just to spit directly onto your tip, spreading it with her tongue, letting the mess drip down your shaft, pooling at your base.

She goes back down, faster, tongue swirling, throat flexing, each motion more desperate, more demanding. The sounds she’s making—filthy, obscene, completely unashamed.

You can’t stop it.

Your hips jerk, thighs flex, toes curl, fingers pull tight in her hair.

And then—your whole body locks up.

It hits like lightning, brutal, full-body, overwhelming.

You moan—loud, wrecked, shaking.

She pulls off at the last second, her tongue stretched out, eyes locked on you, stroking you fast as you cum hard all over her tongue and inside her mouth.

Spurts of thick white streak across her tongue, her lips, pooling where she wants it.

She stays there, mouth open, holding it, letting you see it.

Then—she closes her mouth and swallows.

A loud, filthy gulp.

Like she was made for this.

She stays between your legs a moment longer, tongue flicking slow, deliberate, dragging over every inch of sensitive skin as she cleans you up, savoring it. Her lips press one last time to the tip, a lazy, lingering kiss, before she finally—finally—pulls away, her breath still hot and damp against your stomach.

She doesn’t hurry.

She stretches, rolling her shoulders like she just wrapped up a workout, sighing like she’s completely satisfied, her fingers pressing briefly into your thighs as she pushes herself up. She moves like she owns the space, like she just conquered something.

Without another word, she crawls up towards you. One hand grabs your chin, tilting your face up, making sure you’re looking at her.

She’s still wrecked, ruined—her lips glossy, chin damp, pupils dark and dripping with smug satisfaction.

"You're never taking those glasses off again."

Her other hand moves, fingers slipping up to the bridge of your glasses, pushing them back into place with the laziest, most condescending adjustment.

Like she just did fucking community service.

You’re still panting, your limbs heavy, your chest still rising too fast. And yet—a realization grips you.

You just unleashed something.

Something feral. Something dangerous.

She grins, tilting her head like she knows exactly what you’re thinking.

And then—she giggles.

That same horny, delighted, evil little giggle from before.

Like she’s already thinking about the next time she ruins you.

End.

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

AN: Finally got through this one and can check it off. I'm currently starting a new piece, one of my longer ones so it might be a while until its posted. Ill try my best to fill the next few days with more shorter moments like this one, but I really wanna focus on my longer fics with more depth. As always, room for part 2 with this.

#male reader #kpop smut #cloudtrnsprncy #cloudtsmut #itzy yuna #shin yuna #shin yuna smut #shin yuna x male reader #yuna x male reader

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woollypoison · 19 days ago

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Yuna miniseries: Bedroom warfare

Itzy Yuna x m reader a/n: go stream gwbg Word count: 10.5k

You’re looking forward to this. A rare night off, some drinks, catching up with your best friend, and finally meeting the girl who has him acting like she hung the very stars in the sky. He talks about her constantly, non-stop bragging. How she’s different, how she keeps him on his toes. You can’t remember the last time he was this into someone, so yeah, needless to say you were curious.

The roads are getting bad, snow already piling along the curbs. You should’ve come earlier, but fuck it, you made it.

You step up to the door, stomp the snow off of your boots and knock twice before letting yourself in. The second you touch the handle, time stops. The cold hits you, but it's a different kind of cold from the snow. A voice in your head screams that opening this door will certainly lead to doom.

The feeling is so sharp, so visceral, you freeze.

A warning.

You ignore it. This is ridiculous. Staying outside any longer might actually make you freeze. You push the door open.

And then you see her. The voice was right.

Yuna.

She’s curled up on the couch, leaning casually into the cushions like she’s not a demon wearing human skin. Like she hasn’t detonated a nuclear bomb of all the worst emotions just by existing in this room. And the worst part, you think, is that there isn’t a trace of any of that on her face. Just a perfectly practiced smile as she glances your way, eyes alight with smug confidence and feigned warmness. The bitch. She was prepared.

“Hey, man!” Your friend’s voice cuts through your brain’s searching for an escape route as he claps a hand on your shoulder. “Glad you made it. Roads are getting bad out there.”

“Yeah,” you manage.

Your friend smiles that big, dumb smile of his, completely oblivious to the way Yuna’s gaze hooks into yours like a knife. “Come in, man. Get comfortable.”

You step forward on autopilot, hanging your coat by the door like you’ve done hundreds of times. Yuna watches without a single crack in her facade, her body language relaxed, deliberate. As if she’s making sure you understand—play along. Do not fuck this up.

“This is Yuna,” your friend continues, gesturing proudly. “Babe, this is my best friend. The one I told you about.”

The one she already knew. The one whose hands were once all over her, whose voice whispered filth into her ear, whose name she moaned as he took each hole of hers as his, whose life she set on fire and walked away from without looking back.

Yuna smiles, tilting her head just slightly. “Nice to finally meet you.”

The fucking nerve on her.

Emotions swell inside you, a festering wound ripping open, but your face doesn’t betray it. You match her smile with an empty one of your own. “Yeah. Likewise.”

You sit across from them, forcing yourself to ignore the way she’s curled into his side, the way his hand rests on her thigh like a claim. It’s all too much.

Your friend, completely unaware of the hurricane tearing through the room sweeping up only you and Yuna, leans back with a content sigh. “She’s incredible, man. Like, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone like her.”

Yuna meets your gaze, and you’d have died if looks could kill, then smiles at your friend. “You exaggerate too much.”

“Not even,” he laughs. “I told him you were different. I mean, look at you.”

You do. She stares back at you. Right at you. Like she’s daring you to say something.

You force a smirk. “Yeah. I’m happy for you.”

The night stretches on, a slow suffocation wrapped in forced pleasantries and underlying malice.

Yuna brushes past you as she walks to the kitchen, her nails grazing your wrist just enough to feel like a scratch. It’s intentional, a silent reminder that she can still reach beneath your skin whenever she wants.

You let your expression remain neutral, but when she returns and settles beside your friend, you decide to push back. You swirl your drink in hand, voice casual but with deadly precision. “You ever think about loyalty?”

Your friend laughs, oblivious. “Deep question, man. What, you been betrayed by someone?”

Yuna knows. Her grip on her boyfriend’s hand tightens, her jaw flexing for the briefest second before she smooths it over with a small, cutesy sound. “Is that something you’re struggling with?”

A sharp retort, coated in molten sugar.

You grin, eyes transfixed on hers, where her soul would be if she had one. “Nah. Just thinking about how rare it is these days.”

She tilts her head unimpressed, expression unshaken by your taunt. “Guess it depends on who you’re with.”

Your friend laughs again, oblivious to the daggers flying inches from his head. “Damn, this is getting deep for a casual night.” Bless his stupid heart.

Yuna goes on to laugh a little too hard with one of your friend’s jokes, her fingers running over his arm as she throws a glance your way. It’s like she wants you to know. See? I can be happy without you.

While your friend isn’t looking and off to get another drink, you lean in slightly, whispering just loud enough that only her ears catch it. “So how long will it be before you cheat on him, too?”

Yuna’s smile doesn’t waver, but her eyes flicker with a quiet rage. “Didn’t know you were still this bitter. Having a hard time getting over me?”

Your friend is none the wiser, sipping his drink and rambling on about something you aren’t even listening to. He doesn’t see the silent war happening right as he returns, doesn’t feel the tension stretching thin enough to snap.

And Yuna? She sits there, composed, graceful, effortlessly charming. Like she hasn’t spent the entire night digging her nails into old wounds just to watch them bleed.

You can’t wait for this night to end.

Your friend’s phone buzzes against the coffee table, cutting through the forced, suffocating conversation. A moment of relief. He barely looks at the screen before answering.

“Hello?”

A pause. His expression shifts. It’s subtle at first, then tightening with concern.That big, dumb smile evaporates.

“What? When?”

Yuna straightens beside him, her fingers curling slightly on her lap. You watch the way her entire body goes rigid, instinctively responding to the shift in energy. The room tilts, like the balance of power is about to change. A ceasefire is called, as your common concern grows ever more concerned.

Your friend exhales sharply and runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah. No, of course. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

He hangs up, already moving towards the door.

“I have to go,” he says, grabbing his keys from the counter. “It’s my mom. She’s in the hospital.”

Yuna blinks. “Oh my god?”

The snowstorm outside has only gotten worse, and the roads are probably a nightmare. You’re sure he knows that, but there’s no hesitation in his movements. You can’t blame him, you’d be much the same. He’s already halfway to the door, shoving on his coat.

“I’ll be back soon,” he says, then glances between you and Yuna. “You two will be fine, right?”

Like hell you will.

No. No, you won’t be fine. Not alone. Not with her. Anything but that.

You clear your throat. There’s not enough time for an excuse, and you’d feel even worse using one in this situation. You try any resistance anyways. “I don’t think this is a good idea, dude.”

He frowns, halfway into pulling on his other sleeve. “What? Are you serious?”

“The roads are bad. You shouldn’t be out in this. Or I could come with you?”

“It’s my mom,” he says, like that explains everything. And in a way, it does.

You swallow any goodness you have left in yourself, attempting one final protest. “Still—”

“Please, stay here, just in case something happens. Yuna doesn’t know what to do if the power goes out. It’d make me feel more at ease.”

If only he knew half of it. But this is not the time to be selfish. He’s your best friend.

Your jaw tightens. Yuna doesn’t react, doesn’t look at you, doesn’t say a damn thing. She doesn’t need to. Everything she wanted to say, you already did. She wants you nowhere near her. But your friend was right. This was the better solution.

Your friend claps a hand on your shoulder. “Just stay, alright? Keep each other company.”

You nod in reluctant agreement. “Yeah. Sure.”

And just like that, he’s gone. The door slams behind him.

A rotten silence taints the air.

The performance shatters instantly.

The false smiles, the polite distance—it’s all destroyed the second his car pulls out of the driveway.

You exhale sharply, rubbing a hand over the back of your neck as you peered over to Yuna. “Fucking hell.”

Yuna scoffs, her arms crossed. “Yeah, I’m not happy about this either.”

She walks past you, and you hate that you recognize every little sway, tilt and strut her body makes. The controlled tension in her shoulders, the barely concealed hostility humming in her eyes. She’s coiled tight, inches away from snapping.

You don’t give her the satisfaction of speaking first. If anything you’d prefer to just sit in silence, minding your own business until your buddy is back.

“Guess it’s just us now.” She laughs. Fuck. So far for silence. It’s sharp, bitter. Venomous. “Like old times.”

Your hands clench at your sides. “Not fucking funny.”

Yuna turns to face you fully, her lips curling into something devious. “Never said it was.”

A charged tension crackles between you, thick with unresolved filth. You can’t look at her without the memories flooding back. The way she felt beneath you as you pounded her down to where she belonged. The way she used to moan your name, confessing her filthy desires and so-called love. The way she made you feel like the only person worthy of her in the whole world—before she tore it all apart.

And yet, despite it all, despite your veins burning with hatred, you can feel it. You know she’s thinking the same thing. Seeing the same memories.

The past isn’t dead between you. Far from it. It’s alive, thrashing, screaming, demanding to be acknowledged.

Yuna tilts her head, breaking your introspection. She’s studying you like a bug nailed to the wall. “You look like you want to say something.”

You exhale sharply. She’s wrong. You don’t want to say something. You want to stay silent. You have to say something. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then fucking say it.”

Your hands tighten into fists, your venomous glands activating. “You cheated on me.”

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t look guilty. Just crosses her arms and raises a brow. “Yeah. I did.”

The sheer lack of remorse in her voice sends you over the edge. You expect her to at least soften, to at least pretend like it wasn’t that bad, saving her own skin. But she doesn’t. She stands in it, owns it, like she’s daring you to throw it in her face. Daring you to do something.

She knows just how to press your buttons. It never works out in your favor, but you bite back.

“And yet I’m still the villain?”

Yuna steps forward, voice razor-sharp, knowing exactly what you’d say. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, right. I forgot. Because you think what I did was worse.”

She doesn’t agree, and the snap in her scowl all but confirms it. “It was.”

You step closer too, closing the distance between you until there’s barely a foot between your bodies. She won’t get the best of you. “You spread your legs for another guy, Yuna.”

“And you turned me into some sex trophy to fucking show off,” she spits.

She’s right, both your words serving as the flame used to light a fuse burning toward an explosion neither of you cares to stop.

Yuna’s voice drops lower, more venomous. “You think fucking me over behind my back was okay? At least I had the decency to keep it private. At least I didn’t—” She cuts herself off, centering herself before continuing. She knows her strikes will land harder if she’s calm to deliver them. “Do you have any idea how it felt?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond, and she doesn’t stop.

“I found out months later,” she says, voice quieter now, but no less dangerous. “Randomly. Just—stumbled across a conversation between you and your drinking buddies. ‘Look at her tits, isn’t she fucking unreal?’” Her eyes are burning now, the reflection of the impending explosion clearer than ever. “And they agreed. Told you how fucking lucky you were. All while I had no idea you were passing those pictures around like a fucking trophy.”

She had you dead to rights, but you didn’t care. “I was drunk.”

Her laugh is pure ice. Unamused and willing to kill. “Oh, fuck you.”

You began forming something that barely resembles an excuse. Against your better judgement. “I didn’t think—”

“That’s the fucking problem,” she snaps, stepping forward until she’s practically in your space. “You never thought. You never cared.”

You snapped back, your version of the truth different from hers. “That’s not true.”

Her head tilts again. It’s her tell for being in disbelief, her eyes dark. “Isn’t it?”

Silence. You wanted it not long ago, but now it’s suffocating.

You don’t have an answer.

Or maybe you do, but you don’t want to say it. Maybe there is some truth to you being an asshole.

Yuna scoffs at your lack of response, then turns away. You expect her to storm off, to put as much distance between you as possible, but she doesn’t. Instead, she walks to the counter, grabs the bottle of whiskey sitting there, and pours herself a bottom. She knocks it down without effort.

You frown, knowing what kind of omen this was. “Drinking already? That’s a bad idea.”

She scoffs, pouring herself another. “Yeah, you’re famous for being good with alcohol.”

You don’t respond to her accusation. There’s no point. What she did was worse anyway. “Alcohol makes you messy.”

She smirks bitterly, raising her glass in mock salute about as same as she raises her eyebrows, taking a deliberate sip. “Yeah?” Her eyes catch yours, a toned down version of the scowl she gave you when you called each other all of the worst names in the book. “And whose fault is that?”

You don’t answer.

Yuna leans her hip against the counter, swirling the amber in the glass, watching the shards of ice melt with cold despondency. It’s clear she intends to keep drinking until she forgets you’re here, only further encouraged by you telling her not to. “You know what really pisses me off?” she says, voice flat and almost bored to the point you expect her to start ranting about traffic. “You never once apologized. Not really. Not in a way that meant anything. Kept blaming us falling apart on me.”

You shake your head. Why the fuck should you have? “What would that change?”

She laughs, like she still can’t believe someone like you exists. “Clearly nothing for the better. Imagine if I forgave you and we’d still be together? God, my life would suck.”

She makes you want to punch the wall. Grab the bottle, pour a drink yourself, and then throw it across the room. Instead, you can’t help but just stare at her, the way she’s holding herself together with poison and venom and clear lack of self-awareness.

She turns, propping herself on her elbows the way she used to when you’d talk late at night, half-naked and always moments away from fucking. “You really are some kind of fucked up curse I can’t get rid off, aren’t you?” she says. “Even after the breakup. Even now.”

You move away to the other side of the kitchen. Matching the distance you clearly need, but still not being able to let go of needing to keep her in view. “You’re the one playing house with my best friend. I was fine letting it go.”

She rolls her eyes so hard you can practically hear them. “If I knew he had anything to do with you, I wouldn’t have fucked him in the first place.”

The old rhythm of the fight, the same beats, same dying breaths of your relationship are familiar. “You’re the bitch who started sleeping around before we even broke up.”

She swings her gaze at you, face flushed now, lips parted. “You want to talk about sleeping around? You were fucking half the city before I even finished moving out.”

You try to remember who, but the truth is blurry and unimportant. “That’s not the same. You know it.”

She downs her second drink, wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “You know what’s different? I never lied about what I was doing.”

You flinch, because you remember the night she found out. Her phone on speaker, your voice in the background with your friends, and her face going still and cold as she listened. You remember the way she threw your shit out the window, the way she didn’t cry until you left.

You let your voice go flat. “What do you want from me?”

She laughs, low and bitter. “Nothing. That’s the point.”

“What about you?” she asks. “Do you actually care about him, or is this fight you’re picking all about me?”

It’s a punch in the gut, and she knows it. You care about your friend, of course you do, but the truth burns in your throat: you care more about not being the one who gets to have her.

You settle for a half-truth. “He’s my friend. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

She snorts. “You always were the hero, weren’t you?”

You let that hang in the air, thick and ugly.

She doesn’t. Waits for you to rot in it, and continues, “You know, the thing about you is, you always want people to think you’re the good guy. Even when you’re doing the same shit everyone else does, you want a gold star for feeling bad about it after.”

You flinch. She sees it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” you say.

A pause. “Fuck you.”

She pushes herself up on the counter with ease. She was always stronger than she seemed. Theatrically crosses one leg over the other, lazily taking sips from her drink. It’s almost habitual how you reach for your phone, wanting to frame her, take another beautiful shot she’d thank you for, before posting it on her instagram. You kill that thought, but you can’t be blamed for it.

She just looks so infuriatingly good with the dim kitchen lights barely making her sheer fabric top translucent enough to cast the same checkered patterns on her skin. Her olive-green top hugs her front but leaves her hips open, with that pleated skirt riding so high on her thighs you can almost tell the full color of her ensemble. Her hair a slightly lighter color than leaves in decay, the orange a contrast to the darkness inside her, perfectly framing the soft sharpness of her face.

She’s dangerous, deadly, venomous and poisonous combined—beautiful.

She tilts her head, watching you watching her, and clicks her tongue. “You’re still pissed.”

You don’t answer. You don’t give her the satisfaction. Instead, you turn, bracing your hands against the counter, pretending like you can still create distance.

But she doesn’t let you. Instead, she hops down, her black thigh high boots clicking against the floor as she steps in your space, closing the gap you just tried to make and then some. “Are you fucking scared, or something? Going to ignore me?”

Your jaw tightens. “I think it’s the only option that doesn’t end in disaster.”

Yuna hums, unconvinced. “That’s funny. Considering every fucking disaster in my life has your name on it.”

You exhale sharply, fingers curling against the counter. “Don’t act like you’re some fucking victim.”

She scoffs. “Don’t act like you’re not to blame.”

A thick silence lingers between you, and the storm outside rages harder. Then, she lifts a hand, threading her fingers through your hair. And pulls. Hard. The crazy bitch.

“I know you,” she whispers.

Your hand shoots up, wrapping around her wrist, firm and threatening. “You don’t know shit, bitch.”

“We’re the same,” she says, and makes it sound like an insult. “We’re exactly the fucking same.” She grins, mean and razor-sharp. “And I know you still fucking want me.”

Your fingers tighten around her wrist. You should push her away. You don’t. Instead, you're caught wondering if she’s also reminded of the last time you were together, and how it started with her hands in your hair too but ended with you fucking her against the wall. You don’t prod about it though.

“I knew alcohol would make you messy,” you mutter.

Yuna scoffs, yanking back just enough to glare up at you, eyes flashing. “Oh, fuck off.”

You smirk despite everything. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Her eyes darken, rage flaring hot and immediate. “You’re the last fucking person who gets to talk about self-control.”

Your jaw locks. “And you’re the last fucking person who gets to act like you’ve got any left.”

She locks up for a moment, and then just sighs. Her hand lets go of your hair, and her other finds your free wrist. She pulls it close, you let her, and it lands right over her heart, palm just above her chest.

You can feel the way she hammers against your palm. She holds your hand there, pinning it hard enough you know she’s daring you to pull away first. She won’t let you.

“You feel that?” Yuna whispers deadly soft. “I bet I can feel the same happening inside of you right now..”

You can’t look at her, so you stare at the bruising throb beneath your palm. She’s always been like this—turning vulnerability into a weapon, making every weakness a blade. You remember the first time you saw her cry, the way she clung to you with the same desperate energy, making you dance to her tune using any beat she could.

Your fingers twitch against her skin, a reflex, a mistake. You try to cover it up. “I don’t care,” you say, but your voice cracks on the last word.

She catches it instantly, a cruel smirk ghosting over her lips. “See? You feel it too.”

You close your eyes and focus on your breathing, trying to remember what you’re supposed to be angry about. It’s so much easier when you can’t smell her. When you’re not staring at the shape of her hips, the color of her lips, the way her skin always felt warmer than anyone else’s. But she’s always been good at making things impossible.

Your breath is controlled. “You don’t know what the fuck I feel.”

Her nails dig into your wrist, her eyes burning with something hotter than her skin. “I know exactly what you feel. I know because it’s the same as me. I hate you so much I can’t fucking breathe.”

“Yeah, I fucking hate you too, Yuna.” Your voice is low, wrecked, and dangerous. “You think I don’t hate you for being a cheating bitch? For what you fucking ruined?”

She laughs, and the sound tunnels into the veins in your neck like a snake's venom. “You think I ruined you? You ruined me first.”

She lets go of your wrist. She leans in so close her breath ghosts across your lips, and you think she might kiss you, or slap you, or maybe both. Instead, she rocks back a half-step, and with a theatrical roll of her eyes, she grabs the hem of her shirt and yanks it up.

Her tits are as you remember—small, perfect, the kind of delicate symmetry that haunts your every half-drunk jerk-off to that video you promise yourself you will delete—next time, for sure. You’re fucking awful. But so is she. Fucking exhibitionist. She cups them, thumbs rolling over dark nipples already hard from the cold or the fight or both.

“Tell me you don’t still think about these,” Yuna jeers, rolling them in her palms, the motion so practiced it’s less seduction than threat. “What’s the matter?” she says. “They look so good you forgot how to talk?” Her fingers pinch at her nipples, a show for you and only you. “I remember how you couldn’t keep your fucking mouth off them.”

You grit your teeth and look away, but she’s relentless. “What, you’re too good for them now?” She leans in, voice dropping to a hiss. “You worshipped these. Licked them raw, bruised them, bit until I came. That’s the only thing you were ever good at—fucking.”

You want to deny it, to bury her under old resentment or laughter, but your hands are shaking and your throat is closing up and they just look like they fit perfectly in your hand. “They’re not even that special.” You spit it, hoping to make it true.

“Liar.” She tips her head as if considering you, then slaps her own tit, hard, the sound sharp in the silence. “Remember how you’d do this?” Another slap, harder. “You’d make me beg for it when you were mad. You’re still mad, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I remember you begging for it,” you say, voice hollowed out. “Remember you begging like the slut you clearly still are.”

Yuna chuckles, nose wrinkling and points at your twitching fingers. “God, you’re predictable. You can’t even pretend you don’t want it.” She grabs your hand, forces it up against her chest, smashes your palm flat against herself. Her nipple’s hard as glass, her skin hot, electric. “Go ahead and tell me you don’t think about these tits every night.”

You try to pull away, but her grip is iron. Or maybe, it’s the magnetism of her tits working your hands. “I don’t think about you at all.”

“You know what I think? I think the only honest thing you have is your cock.” She moves your hand, thumb and forefinger pinching her nipple the way she likes—hard—notching pain into pleasure, just enough to remind you of every night that ended like this and every morning after that didn’t.

“You still jerk off to that video of mine you shared?”

You don’t answer. You don’t have to. The silence is admission enough. But you will certainly delete it now.

She lets the shirt loose, but it catches halfway, leaving her chest bare and her stance unbothered. She leans in close, close enough that you consider kissing her so she doesn’t say what comes next.

You can’t.

She says, “I know you do. I bet you fucking need it. Bet it’s the only way you can get off anymore.” She trails a finger down your chest, slow and deliberate, then flicks the button of your jeans. “You want me to prove it?”

The words cut something open in you, and you hate her for it, hate yourself more for the way your cock goes hard, for the way your hand refuses to let go.

She sees it. She feels it in the way your hand pinches her nipple tighter every time she opens her mouth.

“See?” she taunts, voice almost gentle. “You literally can’t let go. You miss me. Miss my taste. Miss how I let you do whatever sick shit you need to get off.”

“Fuck you,” you say, but there’s no real threat behind it. No silence either.

She steps in, her hips buck against yours and her spine arches. “Go on. Do it. Get it out of your system. You know you want to. Ruin another relationship, asshole.”

You lock eyes, both scowling at each other like you want to see blood.

And then, everything explodes.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s her. Maybe it’s you. Maybe it doesn’t fucking matter.

Her mouth crashes against yours like a car wreck, all teeth and desperation and violence. There’s nothing soft about it, nothing careful. Just rage and ruin and years of hatred bleeding into something equally destructive.

Your hands tangle in her sunset hair, yanking, punishing, dragging her closer as her fingers dig into your back, nails scraping, desperate to pull you apart just as much as she’s trying to hold you together.

You bite her lip, hard enough to barely not draw blood, and she laughs into your mouth, the sick bitch, dragging you forward by the collar of your shirt until your tongues clash. She fists your hair and yanks your head back so she can look you dead in the eye, her own pupils blown wide and wild.

She tears at your shirt, buttons popping, and you’re just as ruthless—pushing her back until her ass hits the counter, lifting her by the thighs and slamming her down so hard the glasses rattle. Her laugh is muffled by your mouth, but she’s not backing down, not for a fucking second.

She yanks your jeans down in one practiced motion, and your cock springs out, hard and angry. She spits in her hand and jerks you, slow at first, then rough, just short of painful.

“Look at you,” she taunts, eyes flicking up to meet yours. “Such a piece of shit. You’d fuck your best friend’s girlfriend in his own kitchen?”

You grit your teeth, refusing to look away. “You’d let me.”

She grins, mean and triumphant, and leans in close enough her breath is hot on your mouth. “I’d let you do anything, remember?”

You don’t let her have the last word. You reach up, grab her by the throat, just tight enough to remind her what letting you get your way means. “Such a fucking bitch, getting off on cheating. You’re fucking dripping already.”

She bares her teeth in a grin, even as you squeeze, and hikes her skirt up, spreading her legs wide. “And I bet you fucking missed it. Missed ruining me.”

Your body answers on instinct. Fingers slide into her, two at once, rough and unkind, just how she liked—fuck, just how she needed it. She bites her lip, eyes rolling but locked on yours, daring you to go further. Her cunt is soaked, hot, clutching at your fingers like she’s starving. “Still a whore, Yuna,” you murmur against her jaw.

She jerks your cock harder, twisting her wrist with every pump, spit and precum making it filthy. “Still a fucking loser. You’re dripping like a teenager.”

You pull your fingers out, shove them into her mouth. She doesn’t miss a beat, her lips wrapping around them tight, eyes never leaving yours, tongue swirling like she’s refusing to grant you a single ounce of her taste. You pull away, and she smirks, wiping her mouth clean with the back of her hand. “Fucking sicko.”

You go to shove your fingers back in, but she slaps your hand away, eyes gone wide. “Don’t,” she says, voice low. “Stop pussy-footing. I don’t give a shit about your fingers.”

She wants to get fucked, and you’re angry enough to oblige her. You yank her off the counter by the hips, her boots scraping against the tile as you spin her around, pressing her front-first against the humming fridge.

Her skirt is all bunched up over her ass, and you don't give her a second to play coy, just ram yourself against her, cock hot and thick at her entrance, her cunt so wet there's zero resistance. She's expecting it, braced for it, rocking her hips back into you with a snarl like she thinks she can take anything you've got.

You slam into her like you’re trying to break her. This isn't just about pleasure, it's about taking what’s yours—about hammering every inch of her until she remembers. You palm the back of her neck and shove her cheek to the fridge, hold it there while you drive into her hard enough the magnets rattle off and polaroids slither down the door. She laughs, a shrill and gasping sound, then cuts it off with a ragged moan.

"Fucking little slut," you spit, the words pure reflex now.

She just smirks at your reflection in the metal, voice breathless and mean as ever: "Yeah, keep pretending you don't love it, loser. You always pound like a dog in heat when you're angry."

You clamp a hand around her throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to get her attention. "You belong to me. Always fucking did."

She hisses, "Then fuck like it, asshole."

She coughs out a laugh even as you tighten your grip, her body clenching around you so hard it almost hurts. Her skirt rides higher, exposing pale lines of ass and thigh, the harsh red imprint of your palm already blooming on her skin. “You missed my pussy,” she taunts, wriggling her hips, milking you with every thrust. “Probably couldn't even last a week before you started thinking about it again.”

You want to deny her, but the crackle of her body under you, the heat of her, the way her voice shakes with every ragged inhale—it’s all too fucking much. You yank her hips higher, angle her tighter, so you can slam in deeper, harder, the way she always used to whine for. Yuna makes a guttural noise, forehead pressed cold to the fridge, fingers splayed and bracing as you rut into her like the worst of animals.

She sneers over her shoulder, her hair a whip of fire, mouth ruined with spit and laughter. Her eyes dig in before her words do. “God, your best friend? That’s so fucking low, even for you.” She’s goading you, because where does she get off on? She’s his girlfriend. But the edge is real—she wants you to hurt her, to make it worse for both of you.

You do. You grab a fistful of her hair and wrench her back, her back arching as you keep her pinned and helpless.

“Admit it,” you growl against the shell of her ear. “You thought about this every day. Couldn’t get yourself off without thinking about me fucking you like this.”

She inhales, sharp like a sob, but you know the sound—it’s the edge of hysteria, the same one you still wake up with hard and guilty. “You wish. You wish I gave a shit.” She’s already close, the heat in her voice melting into desperation as you snap your hips up and in, grinding against her clit the way she always melted for.

You feel her pulse on the brink, body taut as a wire, and you want to drag it out, make her beg for every second. When you slow, just enough to keep her hanging, she shrieks and slams her boot down, catching you in the shin. "Don’t you fucking dare," she barks. "Fuck me harder, you stupid idiot."

You see red. You snap your hips forward, brutal, driving every inch home so she has to gasp, has to bite back her own noises lest she makes you think they’re for you. Her hands slap the side of the fridge, desperate for purchase. “Oh, fuck, yes, like that—don’t stop, don’t you fucking dare—” The voice is shrill, splintered, not herself at all, and you know how close she is by the way her muscles start to flutter and seize.

You lower your voice, inject it like a toxin. “You gonna cum for me? Show me how much you love being my fuckhole?”

She glares back, lips sneered and eyes wet, and hisses, “I fucking hate you.” And then, just to spite you, she squeezes around you, thighs shaking, cunt gripping so hard it feels like she’ll milk you dry. You barely keep it together.

You grab her tighter, knuckles white, palms bruising her hips, and fuck her so hard she’s got to scrabble for traction, boots slipping across the linoleum, boots that make her legs look a mile long. Her cheek and tits mash up against the freezer door, open-mouthed noises leaving her and you’re her only audience.

She’s gasping, cursing, pushing back into you with everything she’s got left. “God—fuck—you—” Each word chopped up and useless between thrusts, but you match her beat for beat.

Her cunt clamps and pulses, the heat of it slick and obscene, and you slam into her until the only thing holding her up is your grip on her hips and her toes barely reaching the floor. The wet impact of your bodies echoes in the quiet house, so loud you wonder if the snow outside could forget even after it melted.

She starts to shake, you feel her whole body shudder. You’d forgotten what this looked like—her going silent, her body wracked and raw at the precipice. You press closer, cheek to the nape of her neck, and rasp it into her ear: “You’re mine. Doesn’t matter what you say. You always crawl back.”

Her back arches, boots scrambling, and you feel her legs give one last valiant effort before she breaks, her knees buckling. You brace her up as she cums, clutching her around the waist as she spasms against you. But this time, it’s different. The orgasm goes so hard she shrieks, a high, ragged sound, and suddenly she’s gushing, the inside of her thighs slick with an impossible heat. She fucking squirts. It’s never happened before, not once, not even in your best self-congratulatory memories.

Yuna sags, legs boneless, and you let her collapse to the floor, boots folding under her as she clings to the fridges doorhandle. The slick puddle spreads around her knees, glistening wet on the tile. She stares up at you in dazed disbelief, face flaming red, every inch of smugness burned out of her for one glorious second.

She glares up at you, lips trembling, still shuddering in aftershock. “F-fuck off—” she gasps, and tries to push to standing, but her legs won’t work. You crouch down, grip her jaw in your palm, thumb digging bruises into the hollow beneath her cheek.

“Doesn’t matter who you fucked, or who you’re fucking,” you begin to degrade. “You belong to me. You always fucking will.” You jerk her head up, make her look at you, make her see it.

She doesn’t recoil. Doesn’t flinch.

She laughs. Not soft. Not amused. It’s cracked and furious and full of something sharp enough to draw blood.

“Belong to you?” she rages. “You don’t get to say that.”

Her voice is a dagger. Her eyes are fire.

“If I belonged to you, you would’ve protected me. You would’ve fucking treasured me. But no. You had to show me off to your drinking buddies like I was some shiny fucking toy—send my body around like a trophy.” She shoves at your chest, not to get free—just to drive her point deeper.

“You ruined me before I ever cheated. You treated me like a fucking prize, and then got shocked when someone else reached for it.”

You open your mouth to shoot back—but she’s not done. Her voice shakes now, but it doesn’t soften. “You ruined what we had the second you turned me into something to make other men jealous of. You wanted them to look. You wanted them to imagine fucking me. So don’t come crawling back now, acting like I’m yours.”

Your jaw tightens. You fire back. “You didn’t just let someone reach,” you growl. “You opened your legs and invited him in.”

“Oh, I fucking did,” she shoots back, eyes blazing. “But you made it easy. You made me feel disposable. So I disposed of us.” She leans in, breath hitting your mouth like fire. “And now?” she says, voice dropping into something cruel and final. “Now your best friend gets everything you lost. Gets to fuck me like this. Every day. He’ll get my moans, my body, my mess. All of it.”

She grabs your wrist, claws digging in, daring you to flinch. “And you’ll remember you had it first—and still fucking lost it. Because you didn’t keep me. You didn’t treasure me. You paraded me.”

You bark out a bitter laugh, your eyes avoiding hers. “Like you were ever something fragile.”

Her nails press harder. “I was yours, you stupid piece of shit.”

She leans in so close your foreheads almost touch.

“You want to fucking own me?” she whispers, but it hits the inside of your skull all the same. “Then you should act like you’re the only one that fucking deserves me.”

You grab a fistful of hair, knot it at the base of her skull, and feel the helpless tremor that courses through her as you haul her up onto her knees. “You need to learn when to shut the fuck up,” you growl.

She snorts, but her mouth is already open and waiting, tongue out like a dare. She braces herself, but you don’t give her time to prepare. You guide your cock right to her lips and shove it in without warning, forcing the head onto her tongue and the rest past her teeth before she can even suck in a breath.

She’s always struggled with you. Always loved to whine about your size, the ache in her jaw, the way it made her eyes water if you even hinted at holding her down and making her take it all. But she never said no.

She gags on you the way she always did, never compromising, never making it easier—for either of you. The wet heat of her tongue makes your knees shake. You want to bury yourself in her, fuck her throat until she sobs, but you don’t. Not yet. You pull until she blinks back tears, the orange strands wrapped around your fist fully tensed.

“I’m not letting you off the hook until you get it all the way down. Nose to skin,” you whisper, digging your heel in because you can, because for once, she’s on her knees in a way that feels like a win.

She faces it head on. Or rather, she tries, but even as she forces her face forward, you feel the resistance—the frantic contraction of her throat, the wet sound of her choking on you, the drip of spit running down her chin. It only makes her clamp harder, fight more. You anchor both your hands in her hair, hold her steady. “All of it,” you say. “Don’t you dare fucking stop. I want to feel you choking on it.”

God, she tries so hard, her mouth straining open around your girth, her hands clutching your thighs for leverage. She's always been so proud—‘I can take it, I can take anything’—but her gag reflex is a cruel fucking adversary, her throat clenching and rejecting even as her eyes water in defiance. She pulls off, coughs hard, wipes the spit string from her mouth with the back of her hand, and glares up, tears streaking mascara in runnels down her cheeks.

“Fucking asshole,” she barks, voice hoarse. “You expect anyone to fit a sewer pipe down their throat?”

“Never heard you complain before,” you sneer, still holding her tangled hair.

She laughs, ugly and bright. “You never asked the impossible before.”

But even in her accusation, she leans forward, tongue swiping the underside, jaw shuddering as she lines her lips up and tries again. She tongues the slit, working you over, cheeks hollowed, and lets your cock slide in, out, in—gradually deeper. She’s making a show of it. She knows you’re watching, knows you want her to suffer for it, but she’s not going to let you win easy. Inch by inch, she forces herself further, the muscles in her neck trembling as she approaches her limit.

You don’t force it. That’s the bargain. She’s the one who decides what’s possible, and she’ll choke herself out before she surrenders an inch of pride.

She gags again, pulls away, gasps for air and spit drips on the floor. Her throat is raw and angry, but her eyes are nearly feverish with exertion and a hatred so rich it could almost be mistaken for love. She clenches her fist, pounds once on your thigh like the world’s dumbest drumline, then sets her jaw and goes in for round three.

She’s determined now, nails digging into your thigh as if she could punish you for the size of your cock.

She sets a rhythm, shallow at first, more theatrical taunts than real progress, but you can see the calculation in her eyes: the miserable, obsessive math of her pride against the next few minutes of her life. She’s going to do it or die trying.

You let her. Let her fight for it, tongue killing it with spit and tenacity, jaw flexing, lips straining to stretch and seal, every slip and drool and gag making her more desperate to win. She hates you more with every motion, and fuck if it isn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever seen.

Her face is a mess, smeared makeup, cheeks wet, eyes wild and glassy, and you know without asking that she wants you to watch every second of this. Wants you to remember it. Wants to make you remember her.

After a dozen abortive half-bobs and recoveries, she leans her head back, sucks in a gasp, and glares up through her ruined lashes. “If you want it all the way, asshole, help me. I can’t do it on my own.” She wipes the mess off her chin and doesn’t blink. “Do it before I change my mind.”

You twist your hands in her hair and pull, hard as you dare, until her chin is up and her mouth is open and her eyes are locked on yours. “Fine,” you say, and you mean it. She wants punishment, wants to see what you’ll do when she gives you the green light to ruin her. What’s one more thing for her to regret about you?

The first drive in is deliberate, slow enough she can anticipate it, fast enough you know she’ll try to flinch. You bring her mouth to the crown and hold her there, thumbing at her jaw to make her open wider. She breathes through her nose, determined, hands braced on your thighs for the impact. Your cock slides in, meets the first resistance at the roof of her mouth. She gags, just once, and you ease off. You hate her, but you want to enjoy this more.

You let her retreat, let her cough and spit and wipe her lips. “Again,” you demand. She grits her teeth and sets her mouth, and you fuck into her face a second time. This time, you don’t stop until you feel that resistance, the muscular gate at the back of her throat, and you hold there, gentle pressure, waiting. She squeezes her eyes shut and tries to breathe around you, but it overwhelms her, the wet, frantic clench of her tongue and throat as she coughs against your length. You let her off, let her gasp for air, let her pride curdle into something even meaner.

“Again,” you growl once more, and she obeys, hating you for it, loving the feeling of it. Third time, she nearly gets it, the tip pushing hard against the tight ring, but she loses her nerve and yanks back, coughing, tears streaming now. She’s a mess, mascara everywhere, spit pooling at the corners of her mouth. She’s never looked better.

She glares at you, wrestles her head back. “I’ll bite if you don’t get this shit over with, this time like you fucking mean it.”

She clamps her lips around your cock, jerks her head forward and jams you in, nose the shortest distance from your groin for a split second before her body rebels and she chokes, throat seizing, spit and pre-cum leaking out as she yanks off, retching. You almost bust right then and she can feel it. Has always had her tongue on your pulse for that.

You give her a beat to recover. She doesn’t need it. She’s already going back in, driven by spite and the need to prove herself. She works you over, bobbing shallow, then deep, using her tongue like a weapon. Every time she sinks lower, you feel it—her throat fluttering, the tight, desperate seal of her lips. She gets it halfway, three-quarters, then finally, on the fifth attempt, she rams herself down, takes every fucking inch, and stays there, nose mashed to your skin, throat shuddering and pulsing around your cock, impossibly tighter than her pussy.

Hell, it might become your new favorite hole of hers.

She can't make a sound, can't even breathe, but her eyes roll up to find yours, something giddy and hateful and victorious in them as she holds you at the hilt. The last shreds of self-preservation are gone—she's going to black out before she lets you have the last word.

You count the seconds. One. Two. Three. Her nails score furrows into your thighs, the world narrowing to a white-hot tunnel of pressure and pride. At four seconds, her whole body seizes. At five, she slaps your hip—a desperate, furious signal—and you pull her off, fast, your cock slithering out with a wet gasp that leaves her hacking and sobbing for air. But she doesn't flinch away. She stays on her knees, hanging off your thighs, eyes glazed and wet, mouth open and drooling.

You want to gloat. You want to tell her she finally did it. But the way she's looking at you, spit and tears shining on her skin, you can't say anything. You just stare at each other, panting, until she wipes her face and grins. It's crooked, half-mad, feral. “You really are stupid, huh?” she rasps, eyes wild. “You didn’t win. You just watched me prove I can take more than any other bitch you’ll ever fuck. And I’m not even done yet.”

She reaches up, slow and shaky, and smears the mess off your cock with her palm, then licks it off her hand. Every motion is a dare.

You haul her up, unable to stand the distance, and kiss her. Hard. You don't care about the taste, the mess, the bruises blooming beneath your fingers. You just want her, want to swallow her whole, want to make her stay this time. She melts into you, body limp and boneless from the fight, but her tongue is still a blade—cutting, searching, never surrendering.

The hatred between you is a living thing, snarling and slavering, but it’s got nothing on the hunger.

She breaks the kiss with a sharp bite to your bottom lip, pulling away with blood on her mouth and spite in her eyes.

“That’s all you are,” she whispers, ragged. “A habit I haven’t killed yet. A fuck I regret just enough to repeat.”

You want to slap her. You want to fuck her again. You can’t decide which.

She stares you down, dazed but deadly.

“You’re never going to get over me.” Her grin turns feral. “And I’ll still be riding someone else’s cock.”

You snort. “Yeah? And you’ll be thinking about me the whole time, and you fucking know it.”

Her lips part, ready to strike, but the words falter. For a second, there’s nothing—just the heat of your breath and the metallic taste of blood where she bit you. She stares like you’re a puzzle, or an infection. Then she shoves up from the floor, boots leaving streaks in the puddle she’d made, and stalks to the sink, not bothering to look back. The muscles in her back and ass flex as she leans over the basin and runs cold water, splashing it onto her face, hands, the insides of her thighs. She peels off the soaked skirt, flicking it into the sink. Top goes next, then the bra. She wipes her face, then turns, wearing nothing but black panties still pulled to the side and those tall, stompy boots.

She stands there for a minute, breathing hard, then turns to face you, arms crossed under her bare chest, pushing those tiny tits upwards every so slightly. "You're not done," she says, voice hoarse but level.

"Excuse me?"

She grabs the whiskey bottle, pours two fingers into a glass, and takes it back in one gulp. "Go lie on the fucking couch. Lose the clothes."

You almost laugh. "Why the fuck would I do what you say?"

She leans against the kitchen island, all hips and attitude. "Because you haven't cum yet and your cock is still twitching like it’s begging to knock me up." She grabs another glass, fills it, and sets it on the counter. "If you want to still paint my insides white, you'll go get on the couch and wait for me to ride you so hard you can't even remember your best friend’s name."

You want to argue. You want to stop this all at once the moment she mentions your best friend, but your cock’s still hard and your body’s still shaking and you know, deep down where the ruined part of you lives.

You strip off your shirt and jeans, leave them in a heap by the kitchen, and stalk into the living room, collapsing onto the couch with a resigned sigh. The cold leather against your back makes you shiver, but it doesn't matter. Every nerve is dialed up, every memory still alive in your skin. You lean your head back, close your eyes, try to remember what it was like fucking without destroying lives.

You hear the click of her boots before you see her, the slow, deliberate steps down the hallway. She doesn't bother with theatrics—just climbs right on top of you, knees pressing into the cushions at either side of your hips. Her panties are gone, tossed somewhere between the kitchen and here, and her cunt is still leaking, inner thighs glistening under the living room lamplight.

She climbs onto your lap, straddling you with that same insouciant, unhurried arrogance—like she’s measuring how long you can stand denial, how much you’ll suffer to get her. Her hands frame your face, nails tracing the ridge of your cheekbone, and for a split second her gaze softens. Not love, not even nostalgia, just a shocked recognition of how little either of you has changed, how perfectly you fit together even in pieces.

She pulls your mouth to hers, tongue hot, kiss bruising, and when she finally angles her hips and lines you up, she doesn’t let you in. Not all the way. Just the head, just enough to make you shudder, just enough to make you beg. She holds you there, hips rocking tiny, hungry circles, cunt squeezing but not taking you in, not yet.

You grab her waist, try to force the issue, but she’s stronger than she looks, core muscles locking you out. “Always so fucking impatient,” she chides, breathless. She tilts her head, hair falling over her jaw, and taunts you with a slow, sinuous grind. “Beg.”

You consider telling her to go to hell, but you’re not that proud. Not anymore. “Please. I need you.”

She rolls her hips, teasing the head of your cock against her entrance, and for a split second you see a tremor in her jaw, something tender that she shoves down the second it appears. She slides down, slow, deliberate, taking you in inch by inch until you’re buried so deep you can’t tell where she ends and you begin. It’s so fucking good, so tight and hot, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t remember why you ever thought you could survive without this.

She rides you hard, but different this time. Not angry, not punishing—for the first time all night, she fucks you like she remembers what it was to want without hate. She keeps her eyes on yours, refuses to let you look away, refuses to let you hide. She kisses you in the gaps between thrusts, little kisses, soft and hungry, and you feel something collapse in your chest.

You want to tell her to stop, want to tell her to never stop, want to ask if she remembers falling asleep in your arms, if she remembers the promise you made that you’d never let anyone else in. You wonder if she knows you’re breaking in reverse, right here, with her splitting her insides open upon you.

You reach up and run your thumb along her cheekbone. She goes still, breath caught, and for one awkward, naked moment it almost feels like you’re about to say it. That you love her. That you need her. You open your mouth.

She cuts you off with a slap to your cheek. She knows you, and knows what was about to come. “Don’t you dare,” she mumbles, staring you down. “Don’t you fucking dare, because I’ll say it too.”

You nod, silent. You both know what would happen if either of you said it out loud. It would ruin everything, all over again.

She shifts her hips, changing the angle, and it’s so fucking perfect you can see the sun rise in her eyes.

She’s so close you can taste it—the way her breath stutters, the way her body clings. You feel yourself edging, and try to warn her, but she just shakes her head, eyes wild and dangerous. “Do it,” she gasps, voice cracking. “Fucking fill me. You know you want to. I’m yours right?”

It destroys you. You lose it, hips snapping up, cock pulsing deep inside her as you cum, and she collapses down, grinding her clit against you, riding every wave. The feeling of your see spilling inside her, rope after rope bursting hot filling her up tips her over, and she spasms around you, shaking, teeth gritted, lips pressed to your neck. You hold her through it, arms locked, body pressed so close you can feel every aftershock.

You stay there, breathing each other’s air, until the world comes back.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t lift her head. Just lets herself slump against your chest, heartbeat wild and frantic. You run your hand up her back, gentle, tracing the line of her spine with just fingertips.

“Fuck you,” she says, heaving against your chest, breathing in rhythm with you. “I should still hate you for this.”

“You do,” you say, voice ruined.

She snorts, a tiny laugh, and nuzzles closer into your neck. “Not enough, apparently.”

A long silence. You think she’s fallen asleep, but then she says, so softly you almost miss it, “I didn’t even want to cheat on you, you know.”

You blink, stunned. The words don’t feel real. “You’re lying.”

She shakes her head, hair brushing your lips. “I’m not. I mean it.” Her next words are so quiet you can barely make them out. “I just didn’t know how else to lose you.”

You swallow, throat tight. “I’m sorry for giving you a reason to want to lose me. But you could have just left.”

She shrugs, a flutter against your chest. “I tried. You always came back.”

You pull her tighter, a mix of comforting and restraining her.

She whispers, “I hate what we do to each other.”

You say, “Me too.”

Neither of you moves for a long time.

Eventually she slides off of you, boots clicking as she strides to the kitchen fully naked, a fucking sight to behold, and pours two glasses full of her favorite cheap whiskey.

It’s all starting to become a little too real right now. You really fucked up.

A minute later, Yuna returns with a glass in each hand, knees a little wobbly, causing her to slosh some of the liquid on the floor as she sits beside you on the couch. She hands you a glass. You take it. You don’t toast or say anything. You just drink, side by side, with only the sound of wind and snow outside. The world is quiet, the storm outside muffling every regret and unspoken word.

“There’s no way he’s making it back tonight with this weather,” she opens up. “You know that, right?”

You nod a single time. “Yeah.”

She nurses her drink, gaze fixed on nothing, just straight ahead. “He’s a good person. You don’t deserve him.”

You smile, the taste of her still on your lips. “Neither do you.”

She laughs, and there’s no venom in it this time, just exhaustion. “True.”

You lean back, let the whiskey do its work. You’re so tired your bones feel like glass. The only warmth in the whole house is the furnace glow of her body beside you. You close your eyes.

A few minutes pass before you hear her phone buzz on the coffee table. She glances at it, then silences the notification.

You don’t even need to ask who it is.

She was right. You reach for her hand, and she doesn’t pull away. Instead she laces her fingers through yours, tight and desperate and bruising. The two of you sit there, broken and unfinished, until the world outside is nothing but a white static, and everything inside is a ruin you’re both too tired to escape.

After a while she curls against you, her head on your chest, your hand drifting across her bare back in mindless, endless, automatic strokes. You could almost imagine a different ending, a version where you both said the right things at the right times and never did the wrong things. You could almost imagine something good.

You sit together, not talking about anything that matters, because nothing left between you could ever matter again.

But when she sits on your lap, when she presses her cheek to your throat and breathes you in, you know it’s never over. Not really. Not for people like you.

You fuck on the couch again, slow this time, her hips grinding in lazy circles, your hands roaming her body like you still know every inch by heart. She comes with a soft sigh, legs wrapped tight around you, lips pressed to your collarbone.

She’s the first to speak, when you’re both breathless and spent:

“We’re fucking monsters,” Yuna whispers, and you hum in agreement, too tired to argue.

She cups your chin, angles your face to hers, and kisses you, soft and long. You think it might be over.

But instead, she gets up and heads toward the bathroom. Pauses in the doorway for good measure, poses in a way to frame her ass too good to not stare at, looks over her shoulder and says, “For the record, I still hate you. But I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

You hate her. You love her. You pour yourself another drink, then follow her.

#yuna smut #itzy smut #girl group smut #reader insert #kpop smut #male reader #reader x idol

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pshbites · 8 months ago

Text

MISS MOVING ON

synopsis › lee heeseung was tormenting your life even post break up, in interacting with you on twittter or his irritating friends on your ass but have you really moved on? OR in which heeseung thinks his ex is over him but really you arent.

pairing › heeseung x fem!reader

starring › enha hyung line, ningning and giselle of aespa, and chaewon of lsfm (side characters): beomgyu and yeonjun of txt, yeji of itzy, enha maknae line, natty of kiof.

genre › smau (social media au), fluff, crack, angst (if u squint), emotional cheating?, drinking, mentions of weed, exes to lovers, partying, mental health issues, slighty suggestive, cursing, and more.

status › completed (11/03/2024 - 01/02/2025)

playlist › miss movin on - fifth harmony. everytime - ariana grande. talk talk - charli xcx. get him back! - olivia rodrigo. boyfriend - ariana grande. bloodline - ariana grande.

taglist 1 › @leeechin @00kittenz @hmusunoo.. and more. 50/50 CLOSED!!

taglist 2 › 25/25 CLOSED!!

to join my perma taglist for ALL my works click here

a/n › HAII pshbites is back with another smau MUAHA not much else to say except just enjoy!

"think i should text my ex" - roses by jaehyun

yn fanclub & most annoying & nyu npcs

1) violation of bro code section 420.69

2) starts with h ends with g?

3) your WHAT?

4) top ten anime betrayals

5) func at sims

6) do instead of did

7) i hurd i was cancel

8) nepo babies found in the wild

9) quick scramble lame for me!

10) a WICKED reference

11) THE CROWD IS ... walking away

12) mission: HEEYN.

13) simsfunc christmas party

14) free bird

15) closure

16) mission = completed

17) heeseung haters unite

18) my boyf is a hamster

19) yn office siren era

20) mrs. moved on

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youreyeson1y · 7 months ago

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SEVEN — WE GANG FR

cw — swearing & typos

PREVIOUS < MASTERLIST > NEXT

MI'S NOTES — is that the main plot i see? 🫢 (i swear this isn't slow burn 😭)

STEAL THE SHOW. a kim seungmin smau

SYNOPSIS — kang y/n's focus was divided between the looming competition and the obnoxious and infuriating kim seungmin. his mocking and sarcastic online jabs sparked her retaliation, entertaining the university with their petty banter. but as their online repartee became routine, curiosity supplanted irritation, threatening her priorities and composure.

TAGLIST — open! (send in an ask to be added 🤍)

@babrieeee @starlostastronaut @charlieg1rl @queen-in-the-shadows @estella-novella @chocolateislife @saintcosette @yaniiiiism @gnabnahcbby @seungzmin @puppy-minnie @jeonginnieswifey @bookswillfindyouaway @keiizzx @hanniemylovelyquokka @jeonginplsholdmyhand

#—steal the show #kim seungmin #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin smau #seungmin #seungmin smau #seungmin x reader #stray kids #skz #stray kids crack #stray kids fake texts #stray kids smau #stray kids seungmin #skz seungmin #stray kids imagines #itzy #stray kids x reader #seungmin fluff #seungmin x you

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bias-fan · 1 year ago

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CASE 143 [hwang hyunjin x female!reader]

[11: confirming]

[masterlist] [previous]

synopsis: two members of two different groups in jyp entertainment are caught together at mama. rumors start to spread about choi y/n and hwang hyunjin, y/n getting more hate for the dating rumor.

a/n: ACTUALLY!!!! this is the end <3 thank you for everyone who liked this smau, i really debated on writing this. so thank you for all the love from this!!!! i love you guys so much🤧🫶

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i2sunric · 1 year ago

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PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE (l.hs)

pairing: reckless!heeseung x reader (f)

summary: everyone knows you have a strong character and are a smart woman, and nobody can explain how you ended up with someone like lee heeseung. he makes you want to rip his hair out and kiss him until he drops to his knees at the same time— because however reckless and foolish his decisions are, they’re always made for you.

warnings: crack (and angst if u squint?), mentions of jail, breaking the law. smut! (i put a warning so you can skip if uncomfortable), unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap your willy), fingering, dirty talking, p in v, doggystyle, pussy eating, sidefuck, mentions of fighting and alcohol consumption. pet names (angel, baby), heeseung isn’t very rich, starring enha hyung line & itzy’s chaeryeong, mentions of songs i like… cause why not?, heeseung is silly, not so nice comments towards reader, for the sake of the plot reader has an ass that jiggles. NOT PROOFREAD.

wc: 8.5k

published: 23rd June 2024

taglist: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @seunghancore @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries (oneshot) @cherlv @sl33pyrin @kookify @heeslut4life @heeshlove @tibamrayg @enhalxvr @heelee-01 @crimnalseung @oopshee @deobitifull @jjklvr9 @starfallia @eneiyri @artisticbirb @tinyteezer @jakesbbygirl @heartheejake @mitmit01 @p-d1ddy @IIvrhee @jakehooni @minseongsworld @samouryed @ramenoil @blockbusterhee @laurradoesloveu @koralira-kira @kireidattes @yunhoswrldddd @nyamiyan @wonxlvr @kgneptun @camprock101 @trizdoniki @cloud-lyy @rayofsunshineeee @qtnights BOLDS COULD NOT BE TAGGED.

now playing: Please Please Please by Sabrina Carpenter

a/n: i honestly don’t really like how it turned out but i didn’t want to make you guys wait any longer. the smut sucks, so sorry but lmk your thoughts! and please LiIKE & REBLOG. also, the songs i mentioned in the fic are related to the scenes so i suggest you to search the lyric on google!

Standing outside the prison, just like the way you got stood up the same morning, you rested your back against your vintage car, tapping your foot impatiently.

You weren’t even surprised when you received Jay’s phone call, informing that the reason why your boyfriend didn’t show up on your date was because he ended up in jail. Again.

You watched as his red-wine hair appeared from the back door, an officer guiding him to the exit until he left his wrists, leaving him free for moving around.

His smirk was smug again, full of fake innocence. Heeseung approached you and said in a sweet voice “Hi, baby.”

He placed his hands on your side, resting them on the dashboard of the car, trapping against the vehicle.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your sunglasses up in a makeshift headband. Chewing on your gum, you asked “What got you in?”

“Speeding,” He answered before joking to lighten up your mood “But the officer put me behind bars for stealing his heart.”

You sighed at his joke, rolling your eyes to look over his shoulder and not gaze into his bambi eyes, knowing they were your weakness.

“You’re mad, aren’t you?” Heeseung asked, lifting one of his hands to tap your chin. He turned your head so you were now looking at him again, a small pout on his lips.

You pushed his chest “Get in the car before I close your head in the door and get sent to jail myself.” You mumbled.

Before you could do it yourself, Heeseung rushed in front of you and opened the driver seat for you. Even if he wanted, he couldn’t drive since they removed his driver licence.

He’d be out for at least two months— that only made you wonder how fast he was actually going.

‘Everytime’ by Ariana Grande started playing from your self-made CD’s and Heeseung smiled softly as he took in the lyric.

“Come on, baby.” He said as you pulled out of the prison and started driving back to his apartment “I know you’re mad—“

“Mad?” You scoffed “I’m infuriated.” You said, and your harsh tone emphasised your range.

Heeseung let out a small sigh, “Baby…” He placed his hand on your thigh, and you shoved it away.

Still, like an annoying mosquito, Heeseung placed his palm back on your thigh “Don’t be mad at me, mh?”

“Do you know how embarrassing it was to get yet another call from Jay that told me he got you bailed out of jail?” You said, looking at him as you reached a stoplight.

“I don’t like it that you make your friend spend so much money for your stupidity.”

He ran a hand through his hair “It was for a good cause.” You rolled your eyes “Sure it was.” You focused back on the road when the light turned green.

“And I don’t know how embarrassed you were— Jay’s loaded anyways, let him use his money on me.” He pinched your thigh, only earning a worse pinch on his own.

“Ouch.” He massaged the flesh you pinched, probably spotting two half moons from your nails “Feisty I see.”

The drive continued silently, just him trying to lighten your obvious bad mood and you purposely ignoring his remarks.

You pulled on the side of the road, letting Heeseung get out of our vehicle. He rounded the car and was about to open your door when you locked it.

He frowned and knocked on the window “Angel?” He asked, leaning forward when you rolled down the window, smiling ever so innocently.

“Yes?” You said, putting your sunglasses back on your face “What is it?”

“You’ll park and come over, right?” He laughed, something that turned awkward after being met with your serious face.

“Y/N?” He asked again and you sucked on your middle finger, flicked him off before pulling away into the road, driving away from him.

Heeseung tried to jog towards you but your foot on the accelerator was pressed down enough that you left the tire’s sign on the ground.

“What the hell.” He scratched the back of his head and shrugged, knowing well that you needed time to cool off.

Sometimes, you wondered if your pressure wasn’t too high from how much mood swings he made you feel in such a short time span.

The same evening, Heeseung chose to fill his stomach with just some chips he found in his cupboard, trying not to choke himself by drinking a coke.

Not very healthy, but low cost. — not really since even some cans of coke started costing a lot, damn inflation —

He took his phone out of his pocket and dialled his best friend’s number, waiting for him to pick up.

“Heeseung?” As his cheerful voice with a thick Australian accent was heard, Heeseung started “Bro, I’m in the doghouse again.”

Jake fought not to laugh at his tragedies and said “What the hell did you do this time?”

“Do not judge.” He balanced the phone on his shoulder and moved to place his very nutritious dinner on the small table in the living room. “But I may have gone to jail again.”

Jake let out a sigh, “You’re a fucking idiot.” He muttered “Why did you go in?”

“Speeding.” Heeseung answered, sitting on the sofa with a loud thud.

“Jesus.” Jake sighed “I suppose Y/N’s all pissed now, uh?”

He flicked on the tv and munched his chips “She’s infuriated, and that’s an understatement.”

Jake pinched the bridge of his nose “You’re in a whole lotta trouble.” He then questioned “What was so important you had to speed so much?”

“Her, bro.” Heeseung answered, “I was late for our date, like, a huge fucking amount late and let’s say I didn’t think before pressing the accelerator.”

“You’re screwed.” Jake commented, “Had I been her, I would’ve broken up with you a long time ago.”

Heeseung frowned, “Don't say that.” He changed channels, not very useful since his TV only had two working channels, blaming the aerial on the rooftop that got damaged after a bad storm.

“It’s the third time you’ve been a ent to jail.” Jake pointed out “For foolish mistakes.”

“I know, I know.” Heeseung sighed “But speeding isn't even a crime if I don’t run over anyone!”

The boy on the other line laughed at how he tried to defend himself "It’s still a crime." Jake pointed out.

"But yeah, you didn't run anyone over, and for that the city should be grateful." He said, before chuckling. “But your girl definitely isn't."

Heeseung rubbed his jaw and took another bunch of chips “Apart from admitting I am a fucking douchebag, what do I do to amend myself?”

Jake thought for a moment before replying “Well, girls usually like gifts. You know, something cliché, roses or chocolates, that kind of stuff.”

“Roses are expensive.” Heeseung thought, “And so is chocolate.”

“How much money do you even have?” Jake sighed “Not a lot, oh—“ He stopped himself “I also have to phone Jay and thank him for bailing me out. Again.”

“Jay is too good to you.” The Australian chuckled “Back to your crappy plan, what are you gonna give her?”

Heeseung took a sip of coke and let out a small burp, at which Jake commented with a quiet ‘Disgusting’, “I’ll steal some flowers on the way.”

“Dude, your gee ef is already pissed off, do you really think giving her stolen flowers is going to win her heart back?” He asked.

“Just go buy them like a normal person, don't steal them, you're gonna dig yourself into an even deeper hole."

Heeseung let out a distressed sigh “Alright, If I still have money after buying those expensive flowers, should I take her out on dinner too?”

Jake chuckled at his best friend’s struggle “Yes. You totally should.”

Heeseung nodded, staring at the old cartoon displayed on the Television. The main character, with long, red hair put in two braids seemed oddly familiar.

Seriously, he had already seen her, and not only in her cartoon whose title he didn’t remember.

And then, something clicked inside his head “Oh my god!” He exclaimed, almost making Jake go deaf.

“You’re the smartest person on earth, thank you man, kisses to your sexy brain.” And then he hung up.

Uh uh baby. Mission ‘Win Y/N’s heart back in full classy with a sprinkle of glitter’ activated.

♡.

“Hi, baby.” Was the first thing that met your hearing when you opened the door.

There stood your boyfriend, you debated whether to let him in or shut the door in his face, but as your eyes scanned his body you noticed he was dressed rather nicely— Was his button up even ironed? Unexpected.

“These are for you.” He cut in, showing a bouquet — actually, there were only three — of tulips.

“What did you do there?” You asked as you noticed some bad scratches on his hands, dried blood on them.

He handed you the flowers, which were nicely put together with pink paper, matching the colour of the petals, and stepped into your apartment.

Your house wasn’t that fancy, you weren’t the wealthiest person in town either, but it was a big contrast with his lapsing one.

It was nicely tidied, everything had its place and nobody would’ve dared to break its order. Not even Heeseung’s clumsy hands.

“I wanted to get you your favourite flowers,” Heeseung smiled, turning toward you when you closed the door behind your back and smelled the tiny bouquet.

“But tulips have become so expensive nowadays, so I had to steal some from my neighbour,” He sighed “Her pussy cat gashed me when I put my hand near the vase.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his story, carefully placing the flowers on the table and taking his wounded hand, examining it.

“Let me treat it.” You said, walking to the cupboard where you kept your first aid kit “Don’t worry, it doesn’t even—“

At the side eye you shot him, Heeseung knew better than arguing further and just shut his mouth “Yes ma’am.” He said, sitting down on the chair.

You began to gently treat the scratches on his hands, teasing him by adding more pressure than you should. A little payback for how he angered you.

“Why are you here, by the way?” You questioned, tip toeing to reach the cupboard and put back the first aid kit.

Heeseung’s figure hovered behind as his hand softly reached for yours, taking the aid and placing it on the higher shelf.

Fucker, that way you’d either have to ask him to take it down or climb the counter. Knowing how prideful you were, you’d stick with the latter.

“To take you out for dinner.” He replied, the warmth of his body replaced by emptiness as he stepped away “As an apology for standing you up yesterday.”

You crossed your arms on your chest “I’m still mad at you.” Heeseung nodded “Fair, you have all the rights.”

He sighed “But please, let me take you out.” He walked closer and placed a tentative hand on your arm, when he saw you didn’t budge, he let his hands caress your sides “Grab your bestest dress and let’s have a night out, mh?”

“Bestest isn’t even a word.” You rolled your eyes. “Only children use it.”

“It is when I use it to say that you’re the bestest thing in my life.” Heeseung beamed and you cursed yourself for being so weak for him.

Playing hard to get wasn’t a choice, because no matter how stubborn you were or how clumsy he was, he always found the right words to make you fall head over heels for him.

“I have to take a shower and get dressed, and also do my hair and make up.” You murmured and Heeseung smiled, “I’m a patient man.”

You raised a brow at his very much uncorrect statement “Alright, maybe you should start right now.” He gently turned you around and pushed you toward the bathroom.

You sighed and walked in, locking the door when you heard his voice from the other side “Oh and baby? You need to drive, they took my licence, remember?”

♡.

When Heeseung entered your car and heard ‘Fake As Hell’ by All Time Low and Avril Lavigne, he knew he was in deep trouble.

You had this strange habit of listening to songs that matched your mood of the day, usually chilly and sad when it rained and upbeat when the sun shone.

And, well, punk when you had a storm going inside.

It was a habit he found cute, one he learnt from observing you and your behaviour and probably the only one aware of it.

Like how you scrunch your nose and grimace when he says something you don’t like, or how you tend to throw your head back when someone — preferably him — makes you laugh.

Heeseung knew all your little details that you probably didn’t even notice yourself.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the clear side glances you gave him, he cleared his throat before speaking.

“Did you change something in your makeup, angel?” He asked, even if angel wasn’t really the pet name to match your feisty attitude.

He was also glad that you let him inside your car and kindly drove the both of us, because if you wanted, you would’ve made him walk to the date location.

Your gaze softened a little as you focused on the road ahead of you “Yes.” You stated, surprised that he even noticed “I changed the lip combo.”

“You look good with this combination as well.” Heeseung said, careful with his phrasing “Even if I’m foreseeing it’ll get smudged by the end of the evening.” He added with a wink.

You tsked, “I don’t think you deserve to be the one to smudge it.”

His gaze darkened slightly. “I really hope no one else will get to do that.”

You smirked, “Where are you taking me?” You asked even if you were the one driving.

“Wendy’s.” Heeseung smiled, “I know, not fancy or worth enough for such a beautiful person like you, but affordable for a bad person like me.” He added, “And I know you like it.”

You didn’t think he knew that it didn’t matter where you went as long as he was present, where you could have him in sight and check if he did something wrong.

How unhealthy it was, you had grown anxious whenever he wasn’t with you, blaming the fact that he always ends up in trouble without supervision.

“Alright, stud.” You smiled back, speeding just enough to reach the nearest fast food chain “Let’s have our long awaited date.”

The ride was filled with small talks and funny conversations, mostly initiated by your boyfriend, and in the blink of an eye, you reached Wendy’s parking lot.

The side of town wasn’t that famous, just a couple of people stood outside, smoking cigarettes while in the nearby motorbikes parking lot were some old bikers, sipping what you thought was coke.

You didn’t mind them, even if they didn’t give you nice vibes. Heeseung grew confident enough that you wouldn’t reject his touch and wrapped one arm around your waist, tugging you closer.

The dress you chose hugged your curves ever so sweetly, the contrast between black and red making you more seductive.

When you showed up out of the bathroom, you half expected him to call you off and tell you to change; instead, he said you could wear whatever you wanted because he could fight— and that was what worried you.

You smirked and wrapped an arm around his waist as well before slipping it inside the back pocket of his jeans.

Heeseung chuckled “Trying to cop a feel, angel?” He asked, a smile plastered on his face when he finally had you in his arms.

“Yes, baby.” You playfully squeezed his butt through the fabric “Best cake ever.”

“I like this cake better.” Heeseung said as he leaned slightly back to lightly smack your ass.

“Hey!” You walked forward from the impact, laughing “No, how can I blame you.”

“Gosh, I’m starving.” You said, turning around to walk backward, trusting him enough to know that he’d tell you if you were to walk over something or someone.

“Let’s fill our tummies with burgers!” Heeseung exclaimed, beaming down at you, the sound of your heels echoing as you reached the entrance that was close to the motorbikes parking lot.

“Oi, look at how it jiggles.” Heeseung’s neck almost snapped as he heard the comment from a nearby voice. He saw how those creepy as hell bikers were ogling at you, their eyes trailed on your exposed legs. One of them even licked their lips “Bet it bounces so well.”

“You got a problem, buddy?” His voice was dark and he looked past you, his nose up, being territorial.

Oh no. You knew that gaze so well, it was the one he had when he failed to control his pent-up anger.

“Hee—“ You tried to say but he had already walked past you, standing in front of one of their bikes “Nah, no problem.” One laughed “Just thought we’d compliment your lady there.”

Heeseung's eyes narrowed, his irritation growing.

He clenched his fists, trying to keep his anger under control. "You better watch your mouth.” He warned.

One, a little younger than them, chuckled, clearly unfazed by Heeseung’s threads “Not our fault she’s hot,” His smile was smug “Just thought we’d appreciate her from afar.”

He then eyed you up and down, making you shiver under his gaze. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend.

He took a step closer to the bikers, fists still clenched. "I'm not going to tell you again," He growled, "Keep your comments to yourself, or you're going to end up with a black eye."

“Heeseung,” you took his wrist in your small hand, rubbing your thumb on his knuckles in an attempt to sooth him “You promised you’d behave, remember?” Your voice was ever so gentle.

At your words, his gaze softened and he looked behind his back “Yeah.” He whispered, “But baby, they said—“

“I know what they said.” You were quick to interrupt him “But I don’t care, can we just ignore them and enter the building? We’ll be fine.”

He stayed silent a few seconds, clearly trying to calm himself down. His clenched fits slowly relaxed and he nodded “Alright, let’s do that.”

He took your hand, intertwining your fingers with his and bringing you behind his back, as if to protect you.

Your gaze made the enormous mistake of meeting the biker that complimented your jiggly backside and he made a slapping gesture in the air.

A gesture that wasn’t, at all, ignored by your boyfriend who quickly charged at him “Alright fucker, you searched for it.”

His fist connected with the biker’s jaw, twisting his face to the side. He shook his hand, knuckles bruising from the impact.

The other bikers lunged at him, their fists flying.

Heeseung managed to duck and weave, dodging most of the blows. But eventually, one of them was able to land a punch to his stomach, causing him to double over in pain. And another hit connected on his face.

You gasped at the sight, “Stop!” You cried out, not knowing how to intervene “Please, stop it!”

Despite the pain, Heeseung straightened up and lunged at the biker who had punched him, tackling him to the ground.

He wasn't prepared for the sudden attack and fell hard, the wind knocked out of him.

You knew that darkened gaze, it was the one he had when his brain completely shut off and only left room for his angry, ranged feelings.

“No, Heeseung!” You gasped “Get off him.” You tried to get close but just the sight of the bikers around your boyfriend, all ready to attack made you flinch.

Heeseung gave the biker a set of hooks and punches, connecting with his jaw and nose. You heard a vague crack sound and silently prayed that he did not just break his nose.

Your chest heavied up and down, breath troubled from the panic.

You turned around just to see that some people began to gather by the entrance of the hallway, phones in their hands as they filmed the scene in front of them.

Your eyes widened and you quickly approached Heeseung, ignoring any other angry men around you “Let’s go.” You said, taking a hold of the hand he was about to use to punch the biker underneath him.

Heeseung blinked faintly, looking confused but allowing you to make him get up and leading him into one of the hidden hallways behind Wendy’s.

“Hey! Where do ya think you’re doing?” One of them shouted, probably jogging behind you but your feet never faltered.

“Run faster.” Heeseung gasped, taking your hand in his, taking the lead and finally ducking behind a bin.

You both squat down, panting as you tried your best not to make any sound.

You looked at your side, Heeseung’s cheekbone was bruised and his eyebrow bleeding from a minor cut.

Your gaze was full of worry and disappointment. “I can’t believe you started a fight.”

Heeseung grimaced as he touched his cheek “I didn’t start it, they searched for it by making such remarks on you.”

“You threw the first punch.” You frowned “That means starting it.”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his messy hair. “I know, I just saw red and acted on impulse.”

You looked away and silence filled the air between you two. Waiting some minutes for things to calm down, and you took a sigh of relief when you heard stretches of bikes, driving away.

“Let’s go home.” You said, getting up from the floor, needing to support your weight with the wall.

“What about dinner?” He asked, getting up as well “You don’t want to enter?”

You whispered “I’m not hungry.” and made your way to the parking lot, where you left your car.

Heeseung understood that the situation was critical when, as you entered the car, you turned off the music, leaving only the sound of the tires on the road and the ticketing of turn signals.

Feeling a pang of guilt in his chest at the way up he had upset you so much you didn’t even want him to feed you, he reached for the small drawer where you kept all the CDs.

He took the one full of songs he liked and that you kept there, in case he wanted to listen to them whenever he used your car.

He put it in the console and shuffled the song until the right one came, he leaned back against the seat, gulping down nervously.

You heard the notes of ‘LIPS’ by jxdn playing and your breath hitched when you focused on the lyric.

Heeseung was playing the same little game you’d done since you started dating, or even before, when you tried to give him signals through the lyrics of your favourite songs.

You noticed him sneakily glancing at you, trying to take in your reaction.

He placed a hand on the one you had on the shift gear, and relaxed when he saw you weren’t going to reject his touch.

Because even if your brain screamed to leave him, your body seeked his comfort.

♡.

As soon as you got to your apartment, you rushed to take the first aid kit which was, obviously, on the highest shelf in the cupboard.

Heeseung, silently approached you and took it down for you, offering you a warm smile you did not reciprocate. Not like he thought you would.

You walked from the kitchen into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed. It was already past eight PM and the room’s only source of light was the moonlight coming from the window.

Not wanting to get up from the bed to turn on the light, you just waited for Heeseung to join you.

He sat beside you, not too close but also not too far, enough for you to be able to clean his wounds freely.

You took a cotton stick and the disinfectant out, gently pouring it on the cotton and then placing one finger under his chin to guide his head.

The single touch sent shivers down Heeseung’s spine, glancing to your face as you treated him ever so sweetly.

It was in moments like those that he saw just how wonderful you were. You cared for him, so deeply you would do anything to have him by your side.

Even if it meant ignoring the red flags shooting up.

Then, once again. It was the turn to treat his hands. His knuckles were bruised, dried blood you didn’t think belonged to him coated his skin.

With a small sigh, you ignored the wince that left his lips as you tried to clean it the best without water.

Heeseung studied your face, disappointment written all over, frown knitting your brows.

His heart was as heavy as the air surrounding the pair of you, making it harder for him to talk.

Not long after, you were done and closed the first aid kit, throwing inside the dirty cotton sticks.

Gulping down, he whispered “Baby.” The pet name was enough to make your skin fill with goosebumps “Talk to me.”

His hands twitched, as if he wanted to reach for you but couldn’t. And it physically hurt him.

“I get why you did it, I really do.” You explained, “And I’m glad that you tried to defend me, ” You sighed softly “I don’t want you to get in trouble or fight because of me.”

“It’s never ‘because of you’, baby.” He murmured, his arms wrapping around your waist.

“I know you asked me to behave and I shouldn’t have used my fists.” His lips brushed against the shell of your ear. “But I couldn’t let them talk about my girl like that.”

His thumb traced lazy circles on your stomach, trying to relax your stiff body. “You don’t deserve to hear such things said to you, ever.”

“It hurts, you know?” Your voice was merely a whisper “Having to stand and watch you do all these foolish things.”

Heeseung slowly pressed your back flush against his chest, his lips placing small kisses behind your ear lob. Trying to take your mind off it.

“Heeseung.” You said, voice a little like a thread “Mh?” He hummed, ever so innocently.

One hand trailed down your stomach until the hem of your dress that had rode up your thighs when you sat down.

“Come on, angel.” He purred, “Let me show you how sorry I am.”

You didn’t even have time to let him off because his lips started placing open-mouthed kisses all over your neck, knowing how sensitive you were there.

He shifted so that you were sitting between his legs, you could feel his heartbeat on your back. It matched yours, pounding fast.

SMUT WARNING

Heeseung slowly pried your legs open, enough to make your dress lift and your panties to show.

His attention shifted from your neck to your clothed mound, his fingers teasing you.

You scoffed, “I don’t want to see you.” You stated, trying to do your best to show him that you weren’t enjoying what he was doing.

Shame on you, he knew your body language more than how a book lover knew all the characters of his favourite book.

“You don’t need to see me for me to make you feel good.” He whispered in your ear “Are you seeing me now?” Heeseung asked, his fingers tracing lazy rubs on your clit.

Your body jerked slightly, making him sneak one arm around your waist to keep you steady.

“Answer me, baby.” He purred and you bit your bottom lip, determined not to give him.

Heeseung chuckled darkly and slipped your panties to the side, taking your slickness in his fingers, already dripping wet. Still, you made no sound.

Not satisfied and wanting you to let him do what he does best. Heeseung pushed one finger inside of you, making you gasp out.

“That’s what I thought.” He whispered, his finger moving in and out of you, occasionally rubbing against your g-spot.

“Mh..” You hummed softly, the sound sending heat to Heeseung’s cock that you could feel him press against your arse.

He left wet, kitten kisses down your jawline when you rested your head back on his shoulder, the feeling of him too pleasurable to keep acting like a brat.

“My baby.” He cooed, adding a second digit into your wetness, filthy sounds echoing through the room’s walls.

You moaned and gripped his forearm, trying to steady yourself as your body jerked on its own.

“Mh? There?” Heeseung asked, his finger brushing against a certain spot that had you moaning out loud.

“Uh uh.” He chuckled, “Found it.” He kept brushing and curling his fingers to stimulate your sweet spot until you clenched.

Heeseung slowly rutted his hips on your back, his pants now too strained and tight, beyond uncomfortable.

You felt him, his length so evident and hot even under the lays of clothing.

“Please, Hee.” You mumbled, head fizzy “Fuck me.” His movements faltered. His plan for the night was to just pleasure you, even if he could use a hand at that moment.

“Are you sure?” He asked, “I just want to make you feel good.”

You grew impatient, your mood already pissed from his previous behaviour “And I want you to fuck me, hard, can you do that?”

Heeseung let out a breath, almost pained as he tried to think straight.

“Do you still not want to see me?” He asked, his voice quiet and husky. Dangerous even.

You nodded, despite the sweet feeling he was providing you, you feared that seeing his cocky grin would make you put another bruise on his face.

“Got it.” He removed his fingers from your pussy, licked them clean and manhandled you.

He turned you so your chest was pressed against the mattress. He knew better than to make you wait, so he unzipped your dress, letting it fall open.

He helped you out of it, making you stay on all fours on the bed “Still don’t want to see me?” He asked and you groaned, shaking your head.

“Too bad.” Heeseung murmured, unclasping your bra “I won’t get to see your pretty face when I shove my cock deep inside of you.”

His words had you shiver, slickness pooling on your panties.

Heeseung smirked and threw your bra on the floor before doing the same with his own clothes.

His fingers pushed your panties to the side “You like it, mh?” He murmured, slowly pressing the tip of his already hard cock between your slick folds “You like it when I fuck you?”

With his hard length pressing against you, your head was clouded with desire and primal urges, so strong only when you were with him.

“Yes, Hee.” You whispered, arching your back to make his cock grind against your pussy “Like it. Need it.”

“Fuck.” Heeseung breathed out, pulsing for you, trying his hardest not to lose control.

In one swift thrust, he had already put half of himself inside of you, making you cry out in both pain and pleasure.

“So good.” He breathed out “Always feel so good.”

Your back arched as he slowly pushed all of his cock, filling you to the brim. His mushroom tip hit your cervix with each thrust, making your legs shake.

Your hand reached behind to spread your pussy even more, trying to take him all, needing to feel him inside of you.

It wasn’t the sweetest of sex, but having him taking you made you feel a deep connection. It was something you shared only with him, an intimacy between the two of you.

Heeseung pushed your back by your ass, slowly thrusting, trying to make you adjust to the intrusion.

When the hand that was stretching you went to grasp his waist, trying to get him to move faster, Heeseung was happy to comply.

You wished you could see his muscular body, the way his jaw ticked and his chest clenched tight when he rutted his cock, shoved into your deepest part.

You let out soft moans, your head falling on the bed as the constant hit of your sweet spot made your eyes roll.

“S-so fucking tight.” He groaned, slapping your ass-cheek “Aren’t you baby?” You moaned in return.

He gripped your hips, grip bruising as he thrusted inside of you at a desperate speed “Feels good?”

You grasped the sheets underneath you “So good.” Your voice came out broken.

Heeseung hummed in response, his hips never slowing down as he tried to provide you pleasure and chase his high at the same time. But he didn’t want it to end so soon.

He wanted— no, he needed to have you unravel underneath him, make your legs shake and have you screaming his name.

He wanted to take you hard enough to make you forget all the pain he brought you.

When he felt himself twitch inside of you, dangerously close to his release, he pulled out, earning a complaining moan from you.

Heeseung’s smug grin was still plastered on his face as he dove back between your thighs. He gripped your ass-cheeks, spreading your wet folds and licked a long stripe.

Your body arched into his touch, hum rolling down your tongue.

He licked again, then another time, teasing your clit until you were a whimpering mess.

“Still don’t want to see me, angel?” Heeseung asked, briefly thrusting his tongue in your pussy.

Not answering, you pulled away from his grasp and laid down on the bed sideway, finally taking a glimpse of his face.

The moonlight shone from the window, illuminating his bruised and slightly-puffed face. Heeseung’s chest was heaving up and down, matching yours, his cheeks flushed and his gaze so soft. Enamoured over again, even.

You smiled gently at him and held your hand out for him to take. He quickly complied and took your hand as he laid beside you, his chest flush against your chest once more.

Ignoring the painful stretch of your neck, you turned your face to look at him and he was quick to pull you into a heated kiss.

Guiding his leaking cock into your entrance, he gently entered you, making you gasp.

Taking advantage of your parted lips, his tongue slid past your lips, moving slowly against yours, savouring the taste of you.

His hands roamed over your body, one of them moving to tangle in your hair while the other squeezed your breast, teased your nipple.

His pace was steady, sending waves of pleasure to your body. Your own fingers went to draw lazy circles on your clit, making you clench around him.

“Fuck.” Heeseung breathed out on your lips, twitching inside of you “Stop clenching like that.”

You hummed, biting gently on his bottom lip as the sweet sensation of both his cock and your rubbing sent you close to the edge.

Heeseung could feel it, how you clenched around his length and how your moans got louder.

“I’m gonna cum too.” He whispered, his nose brushing against your cheek “Just a little bit longer.”

Your free hand went to cup your boob as he kept pinching your nipple, making you arch your back.

“Hee.” You breathed out, “S’close.”

“I know, angel.” He hurried his thrusts, the sound of the bed creaking filling the night air “Shit— pussy so warm.”

“Where do you want it?” He wasn’t one to normally ask, but given the circumstances and the previous small ‘argument’, he thought he owed you that question.

“You can come inside.” You stated quietly “I need it— Need you to fill me up.”

“Fuck. Y/N.” He panted, both his hands grasping your body as he rutted his hips against yours, hitting your cervix with each snap.

Heeseung continued that pace until he felt his release approach, he slapped your hand away and began to forcefully rub your sensitive bud, wanting you to come at the same time.

You jerked and squirmed beside him, the feeling too good for your own body “Hee—“ You tried to warn but the knot in your stomach snapped, making you milk his cock.

“Cumming, I’m cumming.” Heeseung panted, hips faltering as he emptied his load inside of you.

Both your breaths were heavy, exhaustion washing over the both of you.

Heeseung waited for you to ride down off your high before pulling out his softened cock, reaching for the nightstand to take a tissue and clean you up.

END WARNING

You let him do what he needed, watching him through tired eyes.

Heeseung smiled softly at you, placing a tender kiss on your forehead “Sore?” He questioned.

You shook your head, taking his hand in yours. Heeseung’s thumb traced lazy circles on your knuckles.

“Stay?” You asked quietly, and his heart sank at your vulnerable state.

Nodding, he shifted back so he could hold you, cuddle you against his chest.

He wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you close. His lips brushed your ear, breath fanning your skin.

“Good night, stud.” You whispered tiredly, your eyes already heavy.

Heeseung smiled, tugging you closer “Good night, angel.”

♡.

It didn’t take a genius to realise that Heeseung had, in fact, messed up. Quite a lot, actually.

Not only had the video of him beating the shit out of the biker gone viral, now all over Twitter (he refused to call it like the letter that made him cry during maths class, the fucker that always needed to be found) and Instagram.

But also, staring at the naked body laying on the bed beside him, sheets around you, looking like a perfect angel on earth to save him, he came to the conclusion that he had poor communication skills.

He always seemed to resolve your arguments using his fingers and dick, and he hated how you just gave in to him.

Heeseung didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve your comprehension, your forgiveness neither.

He wanted to make things right, to be worthy of you. However, all his efforts seemed to just bring more chaos into your relationship.

“I love you so much.” He whispered, brushing a lock of hair out of your face “I can’t even put it into words.”

You stirred, making him retract his hand. Fortunately, you weren’t awake, your eyes were still closed and your face relaxed in the innocence of sleeping.

He needed to find a solution, one that didn’t require the cliché of a night out at a nice restaurant or flowers.

Heeseung needed to find something to win your heart back; one that would demonstrate to you that he, indeed, took you seriously.

Because Heeseung did not want a future if you weren’t in it. If you weren’t the one he chose rings for, if you weren’t their recipient.

He didn’t want a life where you weren’t the one to walk down the aisle, the one to bear his children, the one to build a family with him.

And even if you didn’t want to get married or have a mini-you around the house, growing old alongside you was already the greatest honour he could ask for.

♡.

When you woke up that morning, the last thing you expected to see was a note from Heeseung, telling you that he’d be right back at you and that there was some burnt toast in the kitchen from the failed breakfast he tried to make.

Trying to take your mind off the clumsy man who occupied it all the time, you decided to hang out with your best friend, Chaeryeong.

Sitting at a nice café and taking aesthetic pictures to post was a great distraction and therapy.

And, of course, you found comfort in your best friend, telling all the things she wasn’t aware of and that happened since you two last saw each other— which unfortunately was a long time ago.

“Did he really punch them?” Chaeryeong’s mouth fell open as she took in all the information “Like… he tried to fight a whole gang of old hags that were ogling at you?”

You nodded, pinching the bridge of your nose “Some fuckers even took a video and it spread all over internet.”

“No way.” She said, shocked “Let me see.”

You took your phone out of your pocket and started searching for the video on X. You handed her your phone and waited for her reply.

“Damn baby.” She smiled, “That right hook was strong.”

You widened your eyes “Chaeryeong.” You said, sternly, “I’m being serious here.”

“Sorry, sorry.” She gave you your phone back “Honestly, if my man ain’t like that, I don’t want him.”

You gave her a side eye and Chaeryeong chuckled “Y/N, he defended you from those bikers, he wasn’t afraid to stand up for you.”

“I know.” You looked down at your half-empty cup of coffee “I really appreciated that. But I also don’t want him to get into any more trouble.”

“Yeah, well.” Chaeryeong grimaced “He isn’t a saint, but his actions are clear, as messed up as they are, they’re all for you.”

“I’m just…” You closed your eyes “So confused and so tired.”

She pouted and took your hand in his “I’m so sorry.” She said, sincerity lacing her words “I don’t really know how to help you.”

You just gave her a reassuring smile and stared at your coffee to block out your unhappy thoughts.

“Listen, girl.” Chaeryeong said after a few minutes of silence “Why don’t we go to your favourite pub tonight? The vintage one.” She suggested.

“Let’s wear a pretty dress, order some strong liquor and just shut off anything else.” She raised a hoping brow.

You debated whether to rot in your bed and try to figure your feelings out or ignore them for a while and think about them later.

“Alright, yeah.” You nodded, smiling at her “Let’s do that.”

However, you failed to notice the message she received before asking you to hang out and the cunning grin on her lips.

♡.

Chaeryeong was right, you really needed a girls’ night.

You missed getting ready with her, just listening to music and helping each other doing your makeup.

You just missed her.

Though, you missed a certain wine-haired boy more.

You hadn’t seen him since the night before, where he cuddled you to sleep only to make you wake up in an empty bed.

And even if you didn’t want to admit it, it hurt. Fairly.

Suppressing any thought of him in the deepest part of your mind, you took Chaeryeong’s arm and went into the pub.

Well, it wasn’t a normal pub. There were no blinding lights nor loud music.

It was calm, collected and people’s chattering was quiet, just enjoying the atmosphere and the antique music.

You took place at an empty table where Chaeryeong led you, in front of the small stage.

Ordering a Martini and feeling content, you just talked about anything with your best friend.

Everything was going smoothly until the lights suddenly turned off, leaving only the stage’s ones on.

“Is there a special stage today?” You whispered to Chaeryeong who just shrugged, even if, once again, you failed to see the smile on her face.

A man walked up to the stage, he put down his suitcase and removed his jacket.

The man walked to the centre of the stage where the microphone was and the light showed him.

A man— No. Your man.

Heeseung stood there, red wine hair perfectly styled, grey jacket with a white shirt and equally grey pants you knew he couldn’t afford.

Your eyes widened at the realisation and you heard a soft chuckle beside you.

Oh, that was why Chaeryeong wanted to hang out “Just keep watching.” She incited.

So you did, your eyes finding Heeseung like they always did.

Gentle music started playing and his voice was amplified by the microphone. You knew that song, it was one of your favourites, ‘this is what falling in love feels like’ by JVKE— He remembered.

Heeseung removed his jacket, his voice was as sweet as honey, matching his usual scent.

He walked around the stage and did silly gestures, always maintaining eye contact with you.

Unconsciously, you smiled back at him, proud of how he was singing in front of such a crowd.

Usually, he’d be so shy of his singing, only doing it under the shower or to lull you when you had trouble sleeping.

You sighed softly, a pang in your heart at the feeling of loss. It hurt, even just being angry at him hurt.

The music slowly stopped and he threw a rose on the small table, which you caught and smelled it.

It was fake, making you chuckle softly and you swear you saw Heeseung’s whole demeanour relax.

All the people there to enjoy his small stage clapped and whistled, clearly mesmerised by his sweet voice.

“Alright, thank you.” Heeseung chuckles softly, the smallest shade of blush colouring his cheeks.

He takes the microphone in his hands “Honestly, dressing like my grandpa, shout-out to him,” He gave two small punches to his chest and then pointed at the crowd, where his grandfather clearly wasn’t “Wasn’t in my plans for the night.”

The small crowd laughed “But I happen to know a girl, this girl loves these places, full of old and dusty things.” He looked around and then his gaze settled on you, a small smirk on his lips.

He paced around the stage “And, thanking whoever is to thank, she also happens to love me.” The crowd raised a choir of ‘woo’s.

“Or so, I hope.” He paced on the other side “Because, you should know that I have this thing for f— messing things up.” He winked at a kid sitting near the stage “Keeping it PG rated.”

The crowd and his parents giggled, and so Heeseung continued walking, stopping in the middle of the stage and settling his microphone back to its place.

“I am no perfect man, alright? I know I have so many flaws, but the one I hate the most is the tendency to break her heart.” ‘Boo’s echoed in the whole room.

“Deserved it.” He placed a hand on his heart and continued his speech, under your still-shocked gaze.

Heeseung wasn’t an extrovert, he preferred not to talk to people who weren’t his close friends— but seeing him talk so freely about you on the stage with at least twenty foreign eyes on him, made your heart melt.

He bit his bottom lip nervously “I have no idea how she saved me. How she saw some good in such a wrecked person, because that’s what I am.” His eyes were full of vulnerability when he locked them with yours.

“In our two years of relationship, I felt so many emotions I didn’t even know existed!” Heeseung smiled softly “I started being less selfish, and think more about her.”

“I still remember that time when she wanted to dance.” His eyes lit up at the memory “In the middle of the night, but my place isn’t big, so I moved the furniture, trying to make enough room for me to swing her around.”

You giggled, recalling the moment and Heeseung gave you a knowing look “The person who lives in the house down mine came to complain and I also got a slipper on my head— but, hey! My girl wanted to dance.”

His girl. It was wonderful how just two words could ignite a fire in you.

“Y/N.” Your name resonated in the whole pub “I don’t want to be the reason of your tears, I want to dry them,” His bambi eyes were serious, boring into yours with so much unspoken affection “I want to be the person you go to when you’re sad, not the one you try to avoid.”

Heeseung took a deep breath and you swore you saw his hands tremble “I’ll be a better man, someone you can be proud of. Someone worthy of you.”

Oh dear. He looked just like a little boy searching for his parents’ approval. “Can I get a last chance to prove myself?” He asked, pointing at you.

Everyone in the room turned to look, eyes fixed on your figure.

You shrugged “Nah.” And a general gasp filled the room. Heeseung’s face fell, hope dissipating from his body.

Deciding that you had toyed with him enough, you got up from your chair and jogged to the stage.

Heeseung widened his eyes and he let go of the microphone to catch you as you threw yourself at him. Your arms around his neck, his hands holding your waist, confusion still written all over his expression.

“Silly.” You smiled up at him “Of course, I’ll give you one chance.” You pointed a threatening finger in his chest “But it’s the last one, you act like an asshole one more time and we’re done, you got it?”

“Thank you.” His voice was filled with gratefulness “Thank you, thank you!” Heeseung exclaimed, burying his face in the crook of your neck, spinning you in the air.

You giggled happily, “Stop.” You laughed when you felt butterflies in your stomach.

All the people at the table, comprehending Chaeryeong and the little boy, erupted in a choir of ‘Kiss’.

Heeseung put your feet back on the ground, his eyes moving from your own to your lips.

You nodded slowly, giving him the consent he needed. He crashed your lips together in a gentle kiss, sparks flying and your hearts connecting once again.

You pulled away “How did you do this?” Your fingers grazed the grey blazer “And where did you get this?”

Heeseung chuckled, licking his lips that lingered with the taste of you and your lipstick “We have to thank Jay for this.” He looked around the stage “And, well, my grandpa for his nice and dusty clothes.”

You chuckled and threw your head back and lord, if it wasn’t the sweetest sound Heeseung had ever heard.

“I love you.” You said, stunning him “Still?”

“Always.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck and tip-toeing to reach his lips once more.

“Breaking news, angel.” He smiled on your lips “I happen to love you so much too.”

You squealed happily and kissed him, feeling the fire of passion igniting your body, burning your bones, dooming you to the pain and suffering called love.

But it was in that moment that you realised you would gratefully accept such pain if it came from Heeseung. Because, however reckless he acted, all of his dummy decisions that got him into trouble were made for you.

“I’ll find a better job.” He murmured, licking your bottom lip, “I’ll make money, buy a nicer house where we can live together.” One hand went to tangle your hair in his fingers “And then I’ll buy you a ring.”

“With a diamond?” You joked, making Heeseung chuckle “With whatever you want.”

Feeling as if the air was being taken out of your lungs, your heart pounding so fast and chest heaving up and down, you swore you’d stay by his side with another kiss.

Ignoring the crowd’s cheers, you tilted your head to deepen the kiss and Heeseung’s tongue slipped inside your mouth.

And that was the clue to close the curtains.

THE END.

3K notes · View notes

gangplanksorenji · 9 months ago

Text

Magnitude

Pairing: LE SSERAFIM’s Chaewon x Male Reader ft. ITZY’s Yeji

Word Count: 13,912

A/N: Hallo again Orenjideul! I don't know what or who possessed me to write this yet here we are. Thanks to @kooyabooya for betareading and the insights! Enjoy reading and hope you like this one! god this is the longest i've ever written i would need some nice hibernative lobotomy right after.

A sequel to Pulchritude

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

“Wait, this feels good—what’s happening?”

You’re in this lucid state, feeling everything is written to your own fate—you have the pen, writing your own story onto your own book yet this one feels different, and it’s more than this reality.

You break into this trance, cracking the code and guess what, the culprit was just a meter away, and down to your southern peripherals.

A faint blur distracts you from your drowsy state, far from regaining the peak state of your senses as you involuntarily call her name and hear her little chuckle. You wouldn’t expect waking up to such a delightful sight and moreover, making yourself closer to the edge.

“Hope you didn’t mind this—sorry for waking you up…” Yeji’s gaze shoots a primal instinct up in your spine, an instinct somewhat close to arousal as you quickly regain your senses to assess the situation that’s been happening.

“Hah—you’re clearly in need, Yeji.” Your voice feels raspy that usual and it’s no surprise. She smiles while still maintaining her eye contact, knowing that there’s no world she wouldn’t agree with.

You’re in a vulnerable state, laying down as she audaciously coursed its way towards your nether region and it was clear what her need is. You could only succumb onto the pleasure she brings in every flick, twist and inevitable kiss. Her mouth never fails to amaze you and with such overwhelming factors with her expertise, it didn’t become long before your hands found the ginger blur and surprisingly, she stopped you from a leverage that just made everything fall down into utter deprivation.

It is the best of both worlds: shooting up gratification up your spine and inability to handle the situation better through a defenseless state, her body poised to assert control over you.

“No—not now—” Yeji’s hands were fast enough to stop you, and you could only utter a symphony of moans, mouth slightly agape as she continued her prowess. “—relax and let me do the work for you.”

Those words latched with lust and it illuminates on those very eyes of hers. You know this will be a long day full of secrets and surprises and for sure, it will be.

---

It’s probably the addiction that settles within her, unable to make herself deprived from the taste of you and you just succumb to her control, feeling every nerve in you invigorated with her pleasurable maw.

She takes it all and it earns a moan coming out of you, Yeji gleefully taking it as a signal to even elevate the experience and god, she doesn’t disappoint. She glides her mouth all throughout your length, glistening it with her spit and slobbering over it like it’s her last meal. There’s something about the way her pace compliments her techniques—not too fast, not too slow and focusing on how you derive pleasure, not hers.

You’d never get tired of this.

“God—fuck, that’s great Yeji…” You moan and she takes it as a compliment, dancing her tongue all over that insatiable muscle, never withdrawing and ultimately pleasing.

You run your hands throughout her ginger hair, opting for leverage for her immaculate display of talent as she pulls up another trick that makes you weak—fondling those balls dying for a release.

She releases, and drives her attention onto those, suckling each one as she strokes your cock, making it hardly stiff and it throbs with the cool air the room permeates. You uncontrollably elicit streams of groans and pleas, calling out her name as the pleasure is stimulating you up to your limit and thankfully, you’re able to cope and fight.

“I’d need to start off the day with one hell of a breakfast.” You heard it loud and clear, and she’s not going to play, making up for the sluggishness she's shown earlier, taking you hard and fast and that was your breaking point.

You can’t even acknowledge everything she probably said as your sensitivity increases, feeling her simple touch could break you at any given moment. Her rapidly bobbing picture falls a little blur to you, just totally focused on succumbing onto the pleasure and you fall down deeper into the abyss, her in full control.

She looks at you, seeing your eyes closed, mouth able to just repeatedly groan makes her smile evidently even with your length fully plunged inside her tight throat. Her hands work like magic, around your spit-sheathed length, putting you up in a spell where you’ll ascend in no time and you can’t fathom how she’s great at everything like this—it’s heavenly sinful and rightfully wrong, because you could just feel her mouth parting away from your head and you don’t want it to end like that.

You surely hit the jackpot meeting a girl like Yeji, perfect in every inch and ultimately talented in various ways, mostly regarding the intimate scope of things but you could just assume there’s more to know about this girl.

She gives you another chaste kiss, making you shudder in response as she utters a proposition you can’t properly decide, and it’s not helpful with the way her hands glide with such a moderate pace and the constant fondling of those balls that’s needing to be drained.

“I have options for you—thinking really opportunistically here, y’know?” Yeji’s elbows rested onto the mattress, laying onto her stomach as she didn’t stop her strokes, eyes gazed onto yours as she demanded an answer. “Would you want me to finish you, right down my throat or… ride you until you spill everything inside me—your choice.”

You’d die for a woman like her riding you like it’s her last, feeling that weight on her slam against you as she does all the work but you can’t miss out of that heavenly mouth of hers—she possibly have sucked you for god knows how long but it’s your drug that you can’t get enough.

Even with a clouded mind, the verdict was clearly decided without any hesitation.

Partly missing out of her expected tarnation with her walls clenching around you for like the third time, you utters words that seals the deal. “Your mouth, Yeji—can’t get enough of it.”

It was crystal clear and she didn’t waste time parting her lips against your swollen head again, clearly hungry for your taste as she enthusiastically thrusted herself with a pace unparalleled than before, full on the throttle. Her hands rests onto your thighs, a leverage for a greater velocity she’s evidently consistent of, not turning back as she knows how you’re getting closer to the promised land.

“Such t-talent you have there, Yeji—fuck!” And it was predominantly factual, your compliments simply fueling her for more as she works both her hands to stimulate whatever she can—those aching balls, ticklish touches and her tongue dancing around was a great element of utter gratification.

You melt under her touch, completely indulged to the pleasure as her eyes widen, feeling your persistent throbs a sign of your nearing orgasm and she doubles her efforts, hollowing her cheeks to emit a vacuum that elevates the pressure, driving you onto the edge with pace. With her commendable performance breaking your reservoir loose, you call out her name and this time, it’s different and it’s primal call for your utter need.

“Yeji—Yeji, I can’t t-take it any longer…” She knows this and she utilizes your exasperated state in bliss, not even responding to your words as she plunges her mouth deeper, nose flushed onto your abdomen as you groan beautifully. The signal was a carnal call of delight, releasing every spurt down her walls as she gags repeatedly because of it, fighting the urge to withdraw but was unsuccessful in the end. She chokes a little, coughing a little of your cum before her fingers catch it, not wasting a single drop and tasting it with a face so sullied it makes it even harder.

Her idyllic visage showing her ultimate work being a complete mess wins it all, and her day has never been better and it’s just the start of it.

“Thanks for the ‘breakfast’ you gave me—its taste never fails…” Of course it never does, fingers licking signifying utter satisfaction on Yeji’s end.

You know she swallowed it all, like the good girl that she has been all throughout the time you’ve met her. She continued cleaning you off, tongue swirling in every centimeter aiming to tidy the mess she made as her constant slurps derives the sultriest moans in you. The sensitivity is on the roof as her touch is kryptonite and with your softening cock, she knows her business is now over and let the both of you appreciate each other’s beauty for another time.

“You’re crazy at that, Yeji.”

Yeji chuckles, smiling sincerely enough to make you in awe as her crescent-like eyes accentuates her striking and beautiful face. “I just can’t help it—I already missed the taste of your cock.”

You shake your head and laughed a little, her words making you feel butterflies as the feeling are mutual, but you needed to really start the day in an acceptable fashion and can’t stay all day fucking each other’s brains out.

“You know what, Yeji? Let’s actually get some real breakfast.”

“Yeah, you’re right…” She stands up, and away from the bed as you follow, raising your shorts up as the both of you get yourselves ready for another day, sun greeting you out as it shines once you open the window.

You never thought this would be such a riled-up start, yet you won’t complain if it’s the Hwang Yeji that greets you, the first thing your eyes would see.

---

It was surely such an exhilarating way to kick off your day, commencing her with the sloppiest morning blowjob (maybe minus the morning, it’s actually the sloppiest she’s ever been, and even your whole life) and a delectable breakfast, and it’s worth remembering as she earned her place. Hence the invigorating and promising fragments of an experience meet the inevitable obstacles, your own endeavors and your mind going in circles around it and it’s time to kill the cat for that curiosity, as they say.

You just end up on her balcony, frantically uncomfortable about the fact that she’s still not texting you—you’d say you overthink too much, but it’s a natural state of mind when it comes to being cognizant.

“Come on, come on—pick up the damn phone…” You let out breaths of impatience, tapping your foot as the constant ringing of the phone in your ear puts you in an anxious situation.

You can’t possibly wait for more hours until it’s the afternoon or whenever the sun sets because of anticipation and desperation. You walk around in circles around Yeji’s balcony as the constant ringing still lingers onto your eardrums and eventually, it ends up not in your favor.

“Why won’t she just answer my goddamn call—”

“Hey!” Yeji gleefully calls you behind the sliding door, slightly ajar as she seems worried with your agitated demeanor. “You should probably just give up on who you’re calling to—it’s been like seven minutes?”

“Yeji, this one is important.” Your voice is stern and composed but it wouldn’t break her thoughts of interrupting you.

“More important than me?” You heard her loud and clear, merely a meter away from her and that tone just exudes the spell you can’t quite fight: submission and breaking your temptation.

As much as it hurts to say that both sides are as important as it is, your soft side tends to prevail, sugarcoating a response that wouldn’t hurt her. “Both are, Yeji but like, now is not the ti—”

She closes the door gently, then inches closer towards you with a reassuring stare and caresses onto your shoulder “Come on—don’t stress yourself that much…” She then motioned herself onto your back as your eyes followed her movements, gazed fixated onto hers as her mouth inches near to your earlobe, whispering words of abstaining yourself to further tension. “Because you know what can happen if you are overdoing yourself too much and it won’t be great for you.”

She has a valid point and you’re in this state of recollection with her words of wisdom. Her slight massages on your back with her hands eases up the built-up pressure you’ve had since minutes ago and with a quick conclusion, you know she is right. “Yeah, hah… you’re right—I’m just—I just want to know what’s up with her.”

“Her?” Yeji’s seductiveness quickly fades from a piqued expression, curious about who you are calling and who she is. “Who’s her? Is it your girlfriend? Oh fuck—I’m sor—”

“Hey, hey, it’s fine.” You stop Yeji with your reassuring tone, gesturing to calm her down and there’s nothing to worry about. Such a roller coaster of events unshackled within seconds and with the tables being turned, you can’t help but feel to let off a little chuckle, and it’s even ignited with Yeji’s furrowed eyebrows and worried face of hers. “It’s really hard to explain, y’know? But just don’t worry that much about her, okay?”

“Yeah, okay… Also—” She nods before that, then Yeji’s countenance shifted onto an evident curiosity, feeling that her nerves are connecting the dots too well. “Was she the girl I saw you with at the bar yesterday?”

You almost forgot that you would totally steal glances with her at that time, luckily all being unnoticed by Chaewon (if she even cared if you caught glances with her coquette nature yesterday). You’re impressed with her adaptability to assume things that’s almost right, and there’s nothing to lie about with the given skill of hers.

“Yeah, she’s her. It’s nothing much though—we’re literally just friends.” It's a double-edged lie that you’d live with anyday, mostly on these times without a favorable conclusion to enclose onto a selected status. Like you said, her role in your life is pretty complicated in ways you can’t even explain and you won’t make yourself a burden to dissect every detail to Yeji.

Even if you had the chance, you won’t really bother to.

You dismissed the current topic and just continued to admire her pulchritude. Your stare could melt her as she smiles with a genuine lace of joy, then kissing the nape of your neck as she opens up about an experience. “Yeah, okay—I’m sorry though ‘cause like, you’re too hot to the point that I can’t resist you.”

Looking over your shoulder, her siren eyes probably does wonders over you and with that stare, you just can’t help but do the same. “The feelings are mutual, Yeji.”

You then face her and cupped her cheeks, initiating a torrid kiss that was fueling your desires over her, and they won once again. She quickly reciprocates and deepened the kiss, feeling such entanglement that yearns for need and gives out such pleasure. Your hands involuntarily seeks its way onto her waist, and her hands onto the back of your head, feeling the tension growing before pulling out of her embrace, breaking the trance which earns a definite whine escaping her lips.

“Why’d you pull out?”

“Sorry, Yeji—” As much as it hurts to stop, you would want to as there are more endeavors important than this, and you’ll hope she understands it. “—I’ll meet someone this afternoon and I gotta go home and get myself ready.”

Yeji lets out a sigh, her hot breath brushing on your nostrils as she meets you eyes one more time, glowing with sincerity and understanding about the possible situation. “I don’t need to bother you for more time then…”

You smile, relieved she won’t bear much of a nuisance to make you expound your reasonings. “Sorry again, Yeji—I’ll call you whenever all of this is over.”

Yeji paints a sly smile, the latter sending her limbics into delight and anticipation, knowing that you’ll be connected with hers as soon as you can. “Yeah, sure—just don’t stress that much, hm?”

It’s perplexing with such a thoughtful development over the span of hours since you met her, maybe of the reasons rewarding enough to be cherished or the intimate inkling deepening within the second. You fix your jacket, nodding reassuringly as you waved goodbye and mouthing the words See you soon before you close the sliding door.

As you were leaving her room and out of her place, you can’t help but think of what you’ve done with her yesterday and earlier this morning. With an emotion unparalleled from ever before, you let out little laughs and words of still and evident bewilderment.

“She’s insatiable, it’s crazy.”

---

Thankfully, there wasn’t anything distracting you while driving your way home, not even the fact of a mental battle on keeping both hands on the wheel, eyes on the road while a slobbering mess is between your legs (this was supposed to happen and this was just a delusional imaginative outcome, but to your defense, you weren’t ready for such a risk costing more than what you could fathom).

Preparing yourself for what’s bound to come, you take some time to reflect on what you’ve been into—a mess worth indulging in, barely able to clean it up since the second it was ruined. As you were spraying that strong-scented perfume up the collar of your polo, your attention was diverted onto the buzz of your phone which to no surprise, is her.

kim_chaewon at 1:57 - “Meet me at the hotel where I told you to go and say the room number I told you to go, under my name, to the concierge. 4 PM, sharp and don’t you dare be late.”

Glad you have enough time for preparation but deep inside, you’re a bit conflicted on why she would send such vague details and tell them late. Well, it’s maybe of the twists and games she loves to play against you, and you won’t be surprised if she does call you and say something stupid—

“Ah shit—” Chaewon is calling you, and you knew this was going to be part of a well-written plan of hers. You know how things can boil down into the toxic pit of selfishness and need, and you can’t quite escape her leash because of you being the puppet under her string and it’s incredibly unhealthy—you want her, no, you fucking like her and her attitude wouldn’t stop you from proving her why you’re worth something more than what she’s used to see.

“You better stop calling on times like that—you know I’m still on my beauty slumber, tch.” Chaewon’s irk laced within her voice through the phone is evident and it was nothing less than expected. You gulp nervously as she lets her temper out within the phone and knowing it’s becoming too annoying, you wouldn’t sip your mouth and let her be as commanding as she is.

“Chaewon, I just wanted to ask you about it!” You raise your voice, fed up as Chaewon falls silent. You count to three, then swallow, feeling the instant regret with what you’ve done. “God, I’m sorry but you can’t keep me hanging on a thread like that.”

“What are you even trying to prove? I’ve already texted you about it, didn’t I?” It is true, but you’re trying to point out things that will probably develop her uphill and knowing her skull is as hard as titanium, your words aren’t able to penetrate through her brain to register and listen.

You can’t fathom why you liked her in the first place, feelings probably mutual as it was deemed to be such a wicked relationship that’s even confusing. She wasn’t yours, yet but it’s only a matter of time before a verdict comes up, marking Chaewon as your territory and yours only. The roads you’re tackling stresses you out, considering how you grew something with Yeji and how divergent these are, making you suffer yet your mind yearns for both of them, can’t quite compute and let go of the other.

You are the problem, but they’re a drug you can’t quite stop to take.

You fall silent and Chaewon asserts her dominative approach with your lack of response. “See? You should trust me sometimes; I wouldn’t fail you as much as you don’t fail me. See ya’ later, I’ll even make myself appear prettier than what you think…”

The latter is true—even if she doesn’t say so, her beauty is off the charts, alluring at its best—and somewhat, the former should be reconsidered for a while. Even with an unreadable mind that Chaewon possesses, it’s natural to be skeptical with her ways of controlling you (somewhat) but sometimes, you have to think optimistically and trust her. You’re just gaslighting yourself into thinking that she’s maybe right in every way, even if it means to dive you into a risk.

You faintly say your goodbyes as she hangs up immediately, letting out a breath as you’re punishing yourself for such a minimal act of regret. “Well, I shouldn’t have done that but this should be fine…”

As you should, it’s not a big deal on her end possibly and she’s not that kind of an immature, selfish woman that would take your little outbursts like something as a threat.

---

The staggering heights of the buildings around made such a metropolitan experience complete, and it’s even elevated with the luxurious ambiance the hotel exudes as you went inside it, the lobby doing wonders to enthrall its guests.

You wouldn’t really waste time being in awe with the glamorous chandelier or the exquisite art the tiles have because you have a goal in mind: meet her at the designated time, not a second off or sooner.

You roll off your sleeve, fixing yourself by a little as you advance towards the front desk, approaching the concierge as he meets you with a smile in which you subtly appreciate.

“Hello, excuse me—yeah. Room 018, for Ms. Kim Chae-won?”

His eyes widened, even enthusiastic as he was more eager to help you as soon as he heard the number of the room. “Oh yes sir, a presidential suite? I’ll just check the room again for further security and… may I get your name?”

You then say your name as you wait patiently, the concierge tapping onto the screen multiple times after he informs you that you’re now able to access the room.

“And you’re set, sir! Here’s the card and that will be on the 40th floor.”You then thank him as he gestures a bow, uttering the words Enjoy, sir as you take the elevator hurriedly, tapping the buttons and getting in it as soon as they open.

You’re not going to sugarcoat it—you’re nervous. Feeling it onto an extent underlying anticipation more than the deterioration of confidence. It was a natural instinct when discovering new heights, and you reassure yourself with that given fact within the second you’re a floor higher. It was quick, less than a minute since there wasn’t a stop and you could only sigh as the elevator dings and opens.

You traverse down the corridor as the signs help in which way the rooms are. Left then right, walk a couple of steps and there meets the lair of the vixen—the room where anything could possibly happen, every achievable outcome that could possibly come into life.

You knock at the door, signaling your presence as you unlock the door with the card the concierge gave you, and there she is, at the other end, in all black of an outfit, facing opposite from you as the dark bob accentuates elegance and sophistication, before spinning her chair and welcoming you.

Chaewon looks at the time on her phone, raising an eyebrow as she leisurely nodded. “Not too bad for you, hm? Take a seat, please.”

You then walked your way inside, aiming to sit on the couch as soon as she glared with a subtle gesture of her head, uttering something, “No, sit here—beside me.” Her index finger points onto the tall stool at the center table besides hers and you advance towards it, then facing her, your eyes scanning every inch of her impeccable features.

This kind of wardrobe is new to your eyes, and it’s a sight to see a refreshing set of fashion that was clearly unfamiliar at most times—you’d say she’ll almost let a skin on her exposed whenever she dresses up and will almost make herself look hotter than hell. You’re always vocal when complimenting her and you wouldn’t impede such flowery words from spilling out of your mouth. “God, Chaewon, this fit looks great on you—it truly is.”

She smiles with your words, you eyes telling the truth as she stares at them and of course, this is the best way to start the day with her. “Of course I do—” She proceeds to make a move, standing up, drawing herself closer to you as her eyes dart towards your chest and onto your eyes, letting you know how much she appreciates you being here even though it’s barely vocalized. “You look great too, honestly.”

Chaewon’s close—dangerously close, inches away as you drown onto those alluring eyes of hers, getting lost into the dark abyss it holds and your next move wasn’t surprising to say the least: your hands making its way towards the hem of her blazer, and onto her slender, tight waist as her hands stop you, lips parted as she shook her head lightly, enough to bring you the message. “Well, that’s reserved for later—”

“How so? We’re already here—”

She interrupts you with an audible shh, smirking enticingly as her disposition is clearly ambiguous, and you can’t quite tell where she’ll indulge you. “You’re still up to my test—we’re still not done and you’ll have your reward when you’ve proven yourself.”

“Prove myself? Aren’t those enough of a statement?” You’re in little disbelief, shaking your head as you feel your efforts yesterday weren't enough and she knows it.

Speaking of that, you should probably ask her about what you’ve done yesterday, assuming she might have eyes on you secretly that you weren’t aware of. You’re probably deluded to think about how she could do that to you but yet again, Chaewon’s that kind of girl.

Possibly set aside these thoughts and snap yourself into reality with her words. “I’ll just say it again—we’re still not done, am I right?”

You sigh, embracing defeat as her point is valid and true, and you won’t break the rules nor a promise between both parties. “You’re right, Chaewon, okay?”

“Of course I am.” Hubristically speaking, she knows she is right, even if you admit her confidence was doing the talking. She then distances herself from you, seating on her stool, picking some grapes for her plate as she munches on them, then inviting you to join her. “Help yourself here; grapes, juices, water or some biscuits—anything that can treat your hunger.”

You’re in little disbelief and hypocrisy, unsure on what she’s implying “What? I’m not that hungr—”

“Hey—” Chaewon shows a discontented demeanor, knowing lying through your teeth wouldn’t help you nor defend anything. “—if your stomach ain’t yearning, screaming for it to be fed then I wouldn’t say that otherwise.”

She draws the plate of grapes towards you with her hands, raising an eyebrow, signaling you to get some and help yourself. You wouldn't say another no because she knows you’ll be lying again, so you picked a couple and tossed one in your mouth, feeling the sour and sugary essence of the fruit revitalizing you, little by little.

“You’ll need energy for later—” Chaewon says, as she takes a sip from her glass full of some blueberry juice, looking at you with a seductive intent. “—and this—this will be a long day, for both of us.”

You’re clearly in the mood to set up a fire between the both of you, imagining the possible futures within both your accords—mostly Chaewon’s, but you won’t be bothered by that. “For now, you gotta help me shop for a—”

“Wait, Chaewon—” With all the introductory endeavors set for the both of you, you interrupt her with simple words that have been ringing in your brain since yesterday. “—may I ask you a question?”

Chaewon scoffs a breath, eyes interested with what you’re going to ask her. “Go on.”

“According to the text yesterday, how did you know?” It was straightforward, a little vague but she got what you’re asking her. It’s flummoxing knowing how she can act like a prophet but in reality, it wasn’t, and you’d like to know the reason behind such an act.

“Ahh—that?” She sips again, exhaling a fresh, fruity breath as her tone is more vibrant but still laced with her usual elegance. “Well, it’s a simple trick up my sleeve and I know you wouldn’t find suspicion through it.”

You scrunch your eyebrows by a little, a little confused on what she’s implying but you thought of a concept. “Did you just wait for me outside? What does this me—”

“Well, here’s the thing: I pretend to leave the bar and you didn't even notice if my figure was behind the door as soon as your eyes darted for someone. I watched from a distance, disguising myself against the flickering lights the stage provides and the dimness of the surroundings—” Chaewon leans into you, closer as your lips are inches against your ear. “—and I watched the both of you.” And then after that voice of her tickling you slightly, sending shivers down your spine, she leans onto her stool, but not enough for her to fall—just balanced.

“That’s all? Could never know you can be such a voyeur—”

“Not really and yes, I like watching people go all out while I just sit there and let them unveil their true nature. Well—” Chaewon clears her throat, fixing her blazer and she isn’t done, her doe eyes hypnotizing you, making you listen under her dulcet voice. “—I saw the way you talked to her, those subtle glances and fun between your words was enough to make a conclusion—you passed the test. As soon as the both of you got up to your seats, went up to the balcony with god knowing what you'll do to her—oh…” She gets up again from her seat, facing you closer with her head slightly raised and there her breath tingling against your lips, brushing against your nose. “I know exactly what you would be up to. I wouldn’t waste my precious time watching you even from afar and let yourself be redeemed with what you can do.”

Your eyes are just fixated towards her, earning a little gulp from your throat due to her intimidating demeanor. “You’ve impressed me ever so slightly… And let me ask a question in return.”

Still inches away from her, you would just embrace what she’ll ask as you’re not in any authority to decline what her lips may escape. “What is it?”

“Did you fuck her?”

A question enough to stun you, reek fear within your skin as you can’t decipher her—it’s your kryptonite: her nuanced emotions unable to make your wonders be applied in certain situations. Was this still part of a test? Did she read your brain easily to come up with an assumption too right? It is an aligned possibility, these questions will be answered by her, and it’s for you to embrace it.

“Fuck… her? Why would you think I f—”

“I asked you a question—” Chaewon sips another desirable amount of that liquid, before smashing the glass a little too hard on the marbled table that made you feel a little nervous. “—didn’t I?”

Yes. Chaewon asked a question and all you need to do is answer it, plain and simple. You can’t dodge the mere thought of detouring the topic or even at least acting oblivious—the little shivers on your bottom lip says otherwise, and the defensiveness of your tone doesn't help with your persuasion. “But h-how are you even sur—”

“Okay, you don’t need to tell me anything anymore and don’t worry—” Chaewon’s hands caresses your waist, feeling a little tingle up onto your groin as her touch enables you into a reassuring plane, fending off the stress out of your body as the latter words falls right onto your ears. “—I won’t even be mad if you did it because I know you did and god, she’s pretty and sexy. Sometimes, you gotta be studied, y’know?”

Chaewon is steps ahead of you, as lying was too obvious to be kept shackled. You’re still unsure, feeling a little tick in your brain saying that she’s maybe just playing games with you and her emotions aren’t as sincere as you thought it would be as soon as she said those words.

“You’re not mad? Or anything?”

Chaewon sighs, a stoic expression paints her face as you find her deceiving and confusing. “So you admit that you fucked her, hm?”

“I didn’t say that I—” Chaewon’s fed up with your lies and she had to do something if she wanted to make a word for herself. Shutting you up with her hand, your eyes widen as you try to writhe, but you know that’s putting a nail to your coffin, and just being immobilized is the way to brush this off. Her disappointed and infuriated stare towards you earns another struggling gulp from you, which she took it down as a sign of asserting her dominance.

“Another lie, I’ll make you see who the fuck I am.” It was churlish and candid, and you just nod in response, fearful that another volcano may spew out its anger. She smirks in total control, as she releases her hand onto your mouth and impressively, she returns onto her intimidatingly stoic and sophisticated demeanor, then continuing what you interrupted earlier. “Shall we explore and shop, hm? I’ll even treat you if you want…”

Of course, all you can do is nod and utter, “How could I resist that?” in which she likes and it’s genuine with her smile.

She’s right in every way—this day would be long for the both of you and you’re ready for what's about to come.

---

Expensive bags, new shoes, fashionable clothes, exquisite dinners and kilometer-long walks around the malls could never go wrong and all so right. It was a time well-spent between the both of you as it’s been a while since you’ve had some wholesome moments with her, even just in the slightest bits of it.

This was just the tip of the iceberg because she has more in store for you, and a great way to end the night is in another place where it concludes down into madness, and it’s just the best of both worlds.

“Really? In another club, Chaewon? We’ve been onto something like this yesterday…” You’re a bit disappointed it will all end up on this note, probably walking out with a drunk-dazed state and the absolute predicament: you having to carry Chaewon out because of such a drunken state you can’t tell.

Let’s just hope this thing of hers never meets that fate.

“Hey! It’s pretty great here honestly—I heard their snacks are top-tier, so I wanted to try it and let me tell you, yesterday was a bar, not that.” Chaewon corrects you and persuades you with all her might and you, a puppet, can merely do anything to reject her advances and honestly, she’s maybe up to something you can’t quite tell.

“Same thing, Chaewon—”

“Hey it’s not! Also—” Chaewon tiptoes a little, brushing her lips oh-so close onto your earlobes as her breath whispers, “—I wanted to try something, in correlation to my final verdict.”

Well, if this is what it takes to prove yourself, then maybe you just need to embrace it.just need to ride with her highs.

“Let’s get in—I already reserved a seat for us both.” You then follow Chaewon, showing an actual identification card to the bouncer and traversing towards the dim hallway where the fun begins, and it’s already lingering within your eardrums with the ebullient sounds of such music.

You anticipate with what she has in store, in full trust under her own accord as here it goes, an adventure of a lifetime.

---

You wouldn’t say an adventure, moreso, a memory but this one is audacious, risky and adventurous. Chaewon’s advancements towards elevating an experience is merely a branch in boredom, but rather, a connection towards amusement—her brain somewhat makes up such exhilarating events to be experienced, most likely in ways unorthodox to others.

The common noise didn’t get your sense preoccupied, taking onto the mouthwatering cheese-flavored nachos, crushing two pieces of it and licking your fingers due to its flavorful taste, then averting your eyes towards Chaewon as she calls your name. “What is it this time?”

“Enjoying the food, hm?”

“You know, Chaewon?” You fix your seat as the boisterous music distracts you slightly, a little bothered but that doesn’t faze the fact that she’s heard things right. “You’re right as I think about it—the food here is delicious. You seem to be enjoying your drink a lot, huh?”

Chaewon chuckles a little as she covers her mouth, flipping her hair as her features astound you, elegant even with her subtle actions. “Of course, a tangy and sweet cocktail could always go right—no doubts.” She then takes a hurried sip, the concoction hitting just right as she feels refreshed and satisfied. As the both of you are comfortable eating, a thought in your brain ignites, a shard from the earlier remarks that was left unattended until this very second.

“You said you wanted to try something, right, Chaewon?”

Her pupils dilate, lips slightly parted as she places down the glass down the table, and piques her total attention. “Oh well, about that…” She places down her purse on the table, crossing her legs as she shifts onto her smug behavior, confidence seeping out in every breath she exhales. “We gotta take this somewhere else—somewhere no one can see us.”

Those words alone were a fragment of utter lust and anticipation and you can’t miss that out. Her aphrodisiac tone was enough to invite, moreso her gestures that concluded the start of an act.

You smile, a slight one laced with expectations defying heights. “Lead the way then and I’ll show you something too.”

You’ll let her but you’d like to finish anything first so you’ll have enough energy left in the tank, if it goes the other way you’ll expect.

---

It’s probably the climax of the music that was faint on both your ears, the room sequestering the background noise enough to avert your attention towards her. You take a moment to scrutinize her features, every inch a candy to your own liking.

Your hands finally ran onto her waist, caressing it a little as you eye on her with such admiration. “This outfit is just too good for you, Chaewon.”

Chaewon chuckles, and the both of you meet eyes as she replies with your piece of a broken eulogy. “You’ve said it for like ten times—you really liked it, huh?”

You shook your head, letting her know there’s more for her to be aware of. “No, Chaewon—I fucking loved it—everything—I won’t shut up about this.”

“But you can make me.” Her breath shudders once you hold your other hand onto the hem of her pants, feeling the curve of her butt inviting you to fondle it deeper but you resist, just how she wanted for now.

“I’ve always wanted to say this for a long time now and for your final test…” Your eyes scintillate in lust and excitement, feeling her words will line up to the thoughts you’re thinking. “Break me.”

Break her.

Seven letters, two words, numerous implications that can underlie an ambiguous approach that could always defy expectations. Here’s the thoughts you managed to come up with: either she wants you to break her in half (metaphorically) with your cock or break her usual classy, sophisticated demeanor.

Both can be applied, and it’s up to your own accord since you know you’re in control right now, Chaewon slowly submitting to you.

And it wasn’t even a second before she couldn't resist herself—you’d just feel her swollen lips meeting yours, entangling into such fervor no one can match. The taste of her lips is succulent and you're addicted to it—the apple-flavored does wonders, but it’s mostly the fact about the delightful chemicals messing up with your brain, optimistic and yearning for more.

Her arms rest on your shoulders, as yours caresses her waist, feeling every inch of her porcelain skin and how smooth it is everytime you caress it. It was a little platonic at first, but when you reciprocated deeply, you know there’s more than that and she knows it.

It hurts, but she needs to pull out to catch her breath and to clear her headspace because this wasn’t part of her plan—it was evident she got carried away, her actions tell those otherwise.

“Why the fuck do you always kiss me so good?”

You laugh, an evident hubris on your face that she found slightly annoying but there’s nothing she can do. “Maybe I just can’t help it that I’m kissing the Kim Chaewon. ”

A name worth remembering, and you absolutely will as she’s a remarkable and paramount part of your life now.

“Shut up—can’t fucking wait to feel you inside me—” She’s impatient, vocally frustrated as you’re not fulfilling her desires. You always know how she always gets what she wants, having authority to make everyone her puppet but this time, the tables will be turned in your favor and you’d be smiling standing on your own ivory tower. “—what are you waiting for?”

“Patience, Chaewon—patience…”

“The hell do you mean patience—ow!” A harsh spank brings sting onto her, enough for her to feel and for anyone to hear but it’s muffled thanks to the clothing of her pants that you’re dying to undress. “Look at you—spanking me hard now, huh?”

“Yes.” You’re imperative and stern, gaining authority over her slowly as she’s starting to snap herself to reality. “And I wouldn’t hesitate to do so because I know you like this.”

You know she does, even loving it as it starts with her biting her lower lip with such a slap was enough for a conclusion.

“God, I always liked this, y’know?”

“Getting handled in a restroom?”

“Not exactly that—” She inches closer towards you again, looking from left to right as her actions draws attention for you to be all ears. “—it’s mostly the fun of a risk—risking to be caught while I get pounded into oblivion.”

You sigh, a sinister smile curling your lips as this fetish of hers is somewhat amusing, to say the least. “You wouldn’t mind getting caught? Let the world know how much of a slut you can be?”

Here’s the thing: you’re trying to prove a point here, risking a reputation for the people who don't know you is somewhat important in a way, knowing how privacy can still be important so you’re skeptical of the repercussions of her own lustful nature.

“Don’t worry—” She tilts her head slightly, flashing a genuine countenance which reassures you slightly even with your venomous words that unleashed your other corrupted side. “—all of these fall down into a clandestine ending—just the both of us, nobody else, just us.”

Well, you’re pliant under her spell and you’d like to make her taste with your own medicine yet with all of these, you’re easily persuaded by her. There’s no other way to start such a spectacular act with her words of a green light. “At least getting your cock wet would do such a wonderful thing, won’t it?”

You hitch a breath, agreeing on what she’s about to show as you trust her expertise. “Of course, now do your wonders, Chaewon.”

She pauses, raising an eyebrow as she is probably hesitant with your profounded commanding nature. Of course she’s not used to this, but you’ll love to make a blissful introduction that lets you know that you’re deserving.

“At least undress yourself for m—ow, ahh, what was that?” It wasn’t a spank this time, rather an aggressive grab onto her wrists, which caught her off-guard. She didn’t retaliate nor glare at you and it was surprising, since her expressions were far from what you expected: showing a faux class, eyes glistening in lust and fading of her so-called sophisticated demeanor.

“You do it, Chaewon, but not here…” You point to the vacant bathroom stall for further privacy, and as much as she doesn’t care about it, you wouldn’t agree to her terms and had no choice but to follow your own accord.

She looks onto her shoulder, smirking as she knows where this can end. “Want it tight and confined, huh?”

“Hah—of course—” It's probably your guilty pleasure, a thing that should be addressed more often with her as it has its own advantage in favor of you, and you’ll enlighten her about it. “—so it won’t be much of an effort to handle you.”

Chaewon’s apparent shock at your shift of attitude impresses her, and she can’t wait to see what you can show her. “Oho—then let's get started.”

---

It’s rightfully confined, still enough for the both of you to move and her dexterous hands never fails you, undressing the clothing hastily and onto the cold floor. As her hands traverse its way onto your boxers, she asks for a favor in which you find bold considering the given circumstances. “Please hold my purse—”

“No.”

“No?”

“No—you find a way.” She looks up, annoyed with your own authority and the tone that’s laced with it—like you said, you'll get her used to her own doing, her own medicine. She reaches down to the floor to place her purse, only for her wrist to get caught up at the last second, informing her own what she should follow. “You’ll warm up my cock while holding that, is it clear?”

She rolls her eyes, finally grasping the situation as you get up off her nerves yet you didn’t care, not when she wanted that beast inside you for god knows how long. “Fine, whatever you want—yes…”

With only a single defense ready to be worn out, you fix your posture and prepare yourself for the inevitable. The tent only grew larger as she caresses it with care, dainty fingers tracing the outline as you voice out your frustration immediately. “Fucking undress me, Chaewon.”

It’s probably the first she’s been treated like this and this wouldn’t be the last—you’ll let her know how you work your expertise, wonders in the highest of ceilings.

She complies, nodding as her hands yanks your boxers off and god, the sight—it’s possibly imprinted in her brain even though the mental image of your length is deeply buried within the depths of her mind.

You moan, the swollen head meeting the cool air permeating in every corner as her hands made your breath shudder in response. “Now suck it.”

You have the vaguest of clues to open up a reliable reasoning—how is she this obedient under your accord when her touch falls you weak on your knees? It’s contradictory and it’s wonderful, a sight worth remembering as your spell falls effective at her end, parting her lips onto your leaking head that would matter at any given moment.

It’s agonizing, torturous and whatever-the-fuck of an abundance of euphemisms you can come up with and it’s gratifying, up your deepest nerves. Her tongue darts and swirls around the mushroom tip, earning moans that you won’t bother shackling and with a given encouragement, she dives deeper as her pace is more evident. She’s talented and gifted, like what she always said between a sexual tension and she doesn’t lie—her lips enough can make a statement, what more about the set of lips—

That’s stored for later but for now, you need to savor the moment until it lasts.

A talented mouth paired with a dancing tongue is almost lethal, making you unable to think straight as she’s way ahead of your league—possibly in a good way, and you’d like to adapt with her skillful oral intermission.

Yeji and Chaewon could rival each other in terms of technique and pacing, and clearly, Chaewon’s sets of skills was far from the rest and it doesn’t help that she’s taking you deeper, spit covering all over your length as she pulls out, feeling the hint of repugnance that she most likely despises.

“God—fuck, it’s so messy—” Her hurried slurps marks her apparent modesty even in the engagement of such a sinful act and you didn’t care about it—as selfish as you sound, the pleasure your experience should come out in priority. “—you’re ruining my lipstick mar—gwah!”

It wasn’t a struggle fulfilling your desires, not when she’s talking as your cockhead rests between the muscle of her tongue—she gags a little with your profound harshness as she’s evidently caught off-guard with it. She glares and you don't care (again), not when she ups the ante, pace driven with unbridled lust and little-to-no care about the mess she makes.

“What a fucking mouth you have, Chae—” Grunts, moans and subsequent groans leaves your lips as the pace was just right, swirling her tongue as she thrusts herself deeper. The inevitable drool seeping out of her mouth and it dripping onto her pants is the cherry on top—her mouth is just heavenly and perfectly soiled, just how you liked it.

This wasn’t part of the show, on how messy she is—no, this was a pleasurable accident, clearly written thanks to your own accord. She locked her eyes on you, hollowing her cheeks, bobbing frantically and god, the sight is immaculately sinful as every second that passes feels surreal.

Possibly, you’re thinking selfishly right now and unable to register some sort of concern and why would you be? This is what she wanted anyways, and you won’t stop her until she’s an indistinguishable, sullied mess of a woman between your legs.

She grips your thigh harshly with her right hand, a leverage as she impale her throat with more of you throbbing length. She’s hungry and slobbering over it and the sight was enough for you to meet an unparalleled demise which you would love to happen in the latter stages. Her technique sets up the standard of a spectacular blowjob and you would reckon she’s the best of them all—she could totally rival Yeji, and your judgment couldn’t be reliable since it’s too biased with her mouth hugging your cock tightly.

She takes you in, whole, nose buried onto your abdomen as gags are apparent and to her own experience, she managed to tame it as she displayed her talent once more. Tears flow down her cheek with her own actions, ruining the makeup she probably spent an hour on but it didn’t matter because it’s gradually turning you on.

“God—f-fuck, that’s just great there, Chaewon.” Her patterns of pleasuring you are somewhat predictable and audacious, clearly deprived of your taste as she alternates from taking you all in and her oral expertise.

All great things must come to an inevitable end, despite how successful it became and you can feel it within you.

Chaewon releases her mouth out of your succulent cock, panting as her face is flushed red, the vicinity of her mouth a seeping mess that compliments her pretty visage. “Fuck—I can’t get enough of your cock, y’know that?” Of course it’s rhetorical as she repeatedly slurps on your shaft, standing up to the words she spilled.

As much as it hurts to put an end to this show of hers, it would be a great decision as you’re dying to live up to the main climax of events that would be surely worth both of your time.

Well, you guess she likes to dance while she party, but this would be the last dance for the day, for now.

“Chaewon…” You call out her name, falling deaf on her ears as the music of her slurps and slobbering outpowers it. You’d like to make her hear the message loud and coherently, clearing your throat and raising your voice. “Chaewon!”

Her pace gradually slows down, hindered with your voice as she pulls out and meets eyes with you again, back to her unbothered demeanor even though it’s all sullied with her spit and her makeup due to the tears she made. “Dying to fuck me, hm?”

“Get up.” Not even acknowledging her question, you’re straightforward with it, your words enough to build up an answer because she made you feel this way. “Hands against the wall, bend over and don't do anything stupid.”

She’s ready to comply even though there’s doubt permeating all over her—she hates being commanded yet this is her guilty pleasure and you’re glad being on the front row of such a rare find. Rhapsodies of anticipation glisten on her eyes as soon as you meet them into a distant contact, and you just know how much she’s liking this. You detest the confined spaces, the limited movement impossible to experiment on things but this an exhilarating challenge and you can’t wait to start it.

“That should be my line—ow!” Her voluptuous butt gets another spank in which she deeply appreciates despite her glare towards you as she looks back, onto her shoulder. You drool with a magnificent sight of her backside accentuated thanks to the tight, black pants she wore, caressing each side of each which earned a moan coming out of Chaewon’s mouth.

“Strip it out, p-please.” She’s pleading now, desperate for your touch and clearly breaking that class that’s in her. There’s no class in such a sinful circumstance, and Chaewon knows it well, not giving any fuck is she got to be the messiest she’s ever been.

You tease her, darting your fingers slowly to the edge of her ass, tugging the clothing that made her elicit a small whimper, and then teasing your index finger near her nether region. The heat it emanates makes your cock throb, imagining how spoiled she’s been under her garments.

She’s utterly frustrated, gritting her teeth and losing her patience by the second. “What the fuck are you doing—ow!”

“I’m in control here, Chaewon—” You lean on her after another spank, letting her know that all she needs to do is obey as she’s powerless against your own control. “—and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

Her breath quivers, a sigh right after as she’s enlightened enough to shut herself from complaints for the time being. “Okay, j-just fucking strip me please—god, please—ow!”

Another one, striking her twice as hard within your own volition—a choice to punish her repeated protests. She whimpers with your roughness, feeding pleasure through the pain and as much as you don’t want to agree with her, you need to have a sight of those delectable ass and thighs of hers that’s been dying to be touched by you (possibly).

Finding the zipper of her pants, she yelps with your cold touch meeting her skin and as much as she wants to help you, she rests her hands completely onto the wall because there’s nothing that she can do but to embrace the unstoppable force.

You could only think of the numerous complains she has on her mind right now, and you’re going to fuck it out of her—you live up to a promise, marking your words.

Finally, you peel the clothing off, smoothly undressing it and down to her ankles as you mentally drool over the meal that’s served in front of you.

Your fingers course its way onto her radiating heat, earning an inviting moan as she’s too easy to read now. “Fucking wet, huh? I knew you’d always be like this around me.”

Chaewon struggles a little due to the pleasure streaming down within her but manages to articulate words with even the hint of elegance and vulgarity. “Who wouldn’t be this fucking wet if it weren’t for that big dick of yours, hm?”

You feed your ego—she’s right, factual as it's evident whenever she sees your promised treasure being savored by her.

You peel off that black-laced thong of hers as the sight of something unexpected surprises you: you could see a black-colored buttplug buried into her ass, the crystalized tip just hanging out nicely and this sight just made everything worse for the better.

You push down onto it, slightly earning a guttural moan from her as the amalgamation of pain and pleasure mix harmoniously, derived and taken wholeheartedly. “Feeling kinky, huh, Chaewon?”

“You k-know me—ahh, fuck, that’s great!” You continue teasing her with the plug, and the other doing an exquisite job between her folds which just puts her in a position of no-return. Clearly there’s no return in her current state: desperate, horny and weak, something that no one could ever take a sight of except you—maybe, only you can make her shift into this kind of façade and it’s outstanding.

“Just put it in, please—ow! Hmph…” Her body fully recoils with your strike, feeling more of that pain because of her exposed white, pristine skin that you’ll love to spoil.

You would warn her but you know that she knows that she’s making these pleas and a disturbance to your authority intentionally to draw more spanks that just makes her folds wetter, and you can feel it with its constant squelches.

You can’t tease her long enough because of your growing deprivation and frustration on your side, so with a single hindrance towards a climactic turn, you open your lips to mutter a consent. “You ready, Chaewon?”

“Of course I’m fucking ready for you—ahh—ah, god, oh!” The green light was said sooner, and you waste no time with the given opportunity. Albeit, this wasn’t more of an opportunity, but rather a necessity as this was planned beforehand and there’s no surprise with that.

No surprises but you just had it earlier—what a woman you are Kim Chaewon.

You plunge it deeper, almost up to the hilt as you draw back and slam again, the sounds resonate around the stall which nobody would probably care about. You grip her hips, stabilizing control as you continue your pace. “Chae—this pussy is something else.”

She moans in response, unable to think coherently yet she manages to still come up on an articulate response. “It shouldn’t be surprising a-anymore—you always love the way my walls hug around that big cock of yours.”

It’s mesmerizing to say the least—her words feel like a switch in you, flicking and activating something when the time comes and you love every second of it. You continue your pace, ramping up as time ticks and so is your harshness. You tend to alternate between spanks and thrusts, making her clench tightly around you and wince in pain, biting her lower lip to fight the sudden surge of emotions.

Her repeated cries and encouragement go well together to cook up a fuel that’s raging you to display your fullest potential—each thrust makes her yelp and moan uncontrollably, concerned with the fact that someone may come in and suspect such an activity inside the restroom.

That didn’t stop you though, hammering her tight cunt like it’s your last and slapping those cheeks to ignite her masochistic side—you love the sight of a reddish mark imprinted on her skin, signifying your rapid harshness that will mark until the end of the day.

“Fuck me just like that—just—fucking—that, oh, oh!”

“Have I proven myself enough, Chaewon?” You need that answer out of her, let her know how worthy you are and how she can find nobody like you and possibly, you probably need to rail her harder than usual with a flabbergasting response.

“You haven’t make me cum yet—it’s n-not even close yet—”

“Then why are you leaking like a faucet right now? Care to explain?” She can’t grasp the fact that she’s head over heels on you right now, and her denial is soon going to punish her for the time being, but for now, barrage of spanks will do, resulting in a rosy-pink hue imprinted on her porcelain skin that favors up to her own liking.

She continued to moan with your repetitive thrusts, aiming to fuck that egotistic and hypocrisy out of her and let her mind think of you and you only—maybe it’s working, ever so slightly with the constant submission she’s indulging in. You grasp her hips hard enough to probably bruise her, gripping on it in every thrust you do as she orchestrates such a symphony of moans that fuels you to go further.

You’re remarkable with your performance, she knows it and with her defenses crumbling down one by one, she would voice how much she loves this.

“Your—cock, fuck! So good!”

It wasn’t surprising, to say the least. She’s borderline screaming at this point as you hammer your length in her, up to hilt. The blazer probably doesn’t help with your concurrent thrusts, an annoying bit to your end and knowing how much better the sight is with most of her skin exposed, you pull her and command her to undress it and off on the floor, if she doesn't care.

“But w-why? This blazer is expe—”

“Do I look like I give a fuck?” You slap those red cheeks of hers, earning a whimper and a slight writhe on her end, whining about your wants and you’re utterly selfish to see more. She finds your hostile behavior attractive because deep inside, Chaewon waited for this for so long that she never would click her interests. “Fucking remove it—I want to see more of you.”

Chaewon sighs between her moans, placing her purse down to the tank of the toilet as she struggles a little bit due to your recklessness. “F-Fuck—whatever you say…”

She’s swift with her movements, effortlessly removing the nuisance of clothing and off to the floor. You marvel with those sharp shoulders of hers as you latch onto the visible skin, peppering it with kisses as you hiss onto her ear, “This cunt of yours, Chaewon—is perfectly tight.”

She’ll never get tired of your addiction to her tightness, vocally or physically because it’s all that you’ve ever wanted. You continue with your pace, slick covering your whole length and some dripping onto the floor until something unforeseen meets the both of you, and it’s surely a humiliating experience being exposed as one.

The door creaks as the both of you hear multiple people laughing and singing along, and your reflexes work like a cat, quickly shutting up Chaewon’s mouth with your hands as you stop with your movements, burying your cock up to the hilt.

Chaewon’s eyes are wide, flushed as your sudden movements make her retaliate a little and let out muffled moans. Her frame reels within your control and you didn’t like this, not when you’re in the edge of risky predicament—they are just a step closer to unveil how much of a slut Chaewon is and how you’re completely wrecking her, and you’d love to make it just exclusive between the both of you, behind closed doors.

Luckily, the lock says ‘occupied’ as the penultimate defense against a force worth intimidating. You grit your teeth, leaning in to her ear as you jeer, “You fucking slut—this is what I’m fucking afraid of—you better shut your mouth and not do anything stupid.”

Chaewon would want to fight you, complain or hurt you just to get what she wants but probably, the switch inside her flickers, only nodding as she struggles to breathe with your hand still covering her mouth. You move your hips leisurely as Chaewon lets out another set of muffled moans, feeling your length inside is enough to meet her own breaking point and you’d love to restrain her sinful sounds between the both of you.

The ebullient sounds of the people inside the restroom sends your senses elevated, fully aware of how you can derive pleasure as silent as possible and you’re grateful that every noise reverberating around the vicinity of where you are at outpowers the sounds of sex happening inside this confined bathroom stall.

You’d never know such risk would make everything exhilarating.

“I may or may not like this place more now, Chaewon.” You whisper behind her ear with such unfathomable intent, ferocious about the situation as she desperately moves her hips in tandem with your slow thrusts, your hand handling her in place and making your hands as a makeshift cuff around her wrists.

You can feel her nostrils desperately blowing heat and air, aiming to get as much oxygen to release her emotions all throughout your manhandling. You wait for a bit as you stop, keeping your length buried inside her, observing the situation down to its last, minute details. They walked, laughed and seconds right after, the door creaked open and shut, releasing your grip on her mouth, Chaewon catching her breath as she gasped for air.

“Why—hah—why t-the fuck would you do that?” Chaewon angrily asks you, and you hold her in place with another slap on those reddened buttcheeks that just made her whine for the umpteenth time.

“Because I want to? And also—” You moderately fuck her, then leaned onto her delectable back, licking the sweat off and peppering it with kisses as her walls grew wetter, knowing that she would be close. “—you’re dying to cum, aren’t you?”

Chaewon is silent but her moans, resonating as you didn’t like her inability to respond to you. “I asked you a question, didn’t I—”

“Yes! Yes, just—please, let me cum—”

You won’t stop her, not when you gradually thrusted deeper and hard, her velvety walls inviting you to do so as you can sense her nearing climax, giving everything you can within the last seconds and—

A blissful scream escapes her lips and god, this is a sight.

You pull out within the last second, only to see Chaewon spewing liquid after liquid, onto the floor, spoiling her pants a little and yours. It probably hit her like a train, feeling weaker as she pants in pleasure and sensitivity, her legs leaving her tight frame precarious yet your strength held her to stay still.

“Gosh—you fucked me so well, huh?” Her pride still ensues even in an post-orgasmic state, and you wouldn’t break a sweat getting it off on her with your cock completely ravaging her again as she continues her words. “Aren’t you dying to cum, too?”

Of course you are, and it’s clearly mutual and rhetorical, but you’ll let her know your own gravitas. “Of course I am but I want it somewhere else.”

It was left behind, completely forgotten but not this time, as your fingers went onto her glistening buttplug, pushing it down as her legs shuddered in response. You thrust the given material deeper as she winces in pain and moans with pleasure.

Chaewon knows the message well and it’s surely obvious—her little laugh of victory was enough of a statement, and you’ll live enough to fulfill that.

“Of course you always wanted to shove something deep in that hole—probably dreaming, drooling, manifesting—what words should I even u—ow, what the fuck?”

Her garrulous nature is a bug in your ear, clearly annoying yet you marvel with her ability to speak eloquently given the condition—maybe you haven’t fucked her enough to get her drunk with your cock and you can’t lie, she’s a tough woman to break.

As much as you don’t want her words to register through you, you can’t help but agree with her, reading you like a book and is aware of your eyes constantly eyeing her ass as you’re wrecking her folds into oblivion.

You carnally need her, primal instincts taking over you totally.

“Can you just shut your mouth for one second for fuck’s sake?”

“No. Why would I—ow!” Another is what she gets as you point out something straightforward, clearly yearning for more of her.

Your hands caress that bent plane of her body and then her scrumptious ass, uttering words that are ultimately ravenous. “Do you have any lube? I’m dying to fuck this tight ass of yours right now.”

You’re feral and she knows it all too well. She opens up her purse, and you’re shocked to see a small bottle that contains what you think is pivotal for the latter stages. Chaewon looks over your shoulder, handing you the bottle as you grab it swiftly and immediately avert your eyes onto that plugged puckered hole desperate for such intimate action.

It would be cruel to hand such deprivation towards her just to tease her waiting butt, not when you’re corrupted mentally to do such things no one else would think of.

And you give in, wanting the awaited climax to be worth a memory imprinted in you and hers.

Chaewon wiggles her ass, inviting you to do the unspeakable as you tell her you’re going to remove that plug, easing her anal muscles and there goes the main event. She whines, needy and compliant for you and knowing the methods of yours is empirically derived onto experience (mostly just observing her), you immediately get onto work.

You squeeze a reasonable amount onto your fingers, lathering it onto your entire length, not leaving a single inch untouched and her waiting hole, clenching as soon as you inserted your fingers in and permeating those walls with aiding lubrication.

Her moans are as pure as honey, sweet and tangy unlike her personality—a duality balancing her as a person and not going to lie, that dynamic is a guilty pleasure.

As you were about to insert your length, Chaewon uttered the words Stop as you ultimately did, piqued on what she had in mind and clearly in the mood to let this through.

“It’s getting uncomfortable here—want you to fuck me against the mirror—”

“Right outside this stall? What if someone barges in—” Interruptions, interruptions, interruptions. Of course, anything could be considered as a risk at this point as you feel your heart skip a beat, feeling this could be the worst and the best experience of your life—best of both worlds and utterly balanced, as someone may say.

“If you don’t want to, then I’ll call this as the end of a note.”

“Fuck no.” It was audacious coming from you as you don’t want this opportunity to be wasted, not when you’re just numerous steps ahead from your victory.

“Say it…” Chaewon’s voice is seductive and it’s making you pliant, akin to your nature earlier which made you think of a choice that’s obviously having an answer in her favor. “Say it to me…”

You lean and your words spit truth. “I’m going to fuck you against that mirror, gape this slutty, tight ass as I make you beg for more.”

Chaewon’s chuckle of triumph falls audible on your ears, and you’ll comply with her needs easily. “Good, now don’t get me waiting.”

---

It is euphoric to say the least, an ounce of energy equals surges of pleasure could never go wrong. This idea of hers can’t help just to aid you, making you even harder and your pace quickening as you pound her harsher against the sink.

You’d watch her expressions of lust any day, alongside her frame getting railed with a vision on both sides.

“God—I—your cock! Oh fuck!” This is just one of the sentences she utters that isn’t anywhere near being coherent, and thankfully you can listen to her moans instead of her bratty blabberings that result into nothingness. She wants you to be rough onto her puckered hole and you’re entitled to do so, simply because you can easily control her frame right now with your arms in authority onto hers.

You can sense her legs about to give out, enervated with your constant pounding that puts on a smile on your face, knowing your efforts are getting somewhere and she knows you’ll take advantage of this. The tightness of her snug hole provides is something remarkable—the way it hugs around your shaft hurts and wrings out pleasure, and it couldn’t be any better.

“So—fucking tight, Chae—god!”

“Stretch me out more, p-please—fuck me s-silly—ahh!” It revolves around those sets of words: continuous praises of her ass and your whole length inside it. You release your control of your arms onto her, now gripping her buttcheeks harshly enough for a leverage to opt for a better pace. You hiss as you withdraw and bury more, feeling that inevitable surge of gratification all over you as she aids you with her relaxation of her anal walls.

You don't care if someone barges in, not even thinking to lock the door and if that does happen, let them have a seat for what will be the greatest performance you’re about to execute.

You can feel that it’s easing up and with her green light, it won’t be a difficult decision to wreak havoc onto that excruciatingly tight yet pleasurable asshole.

“God, please—fuck me until I can’t w-walk—oh shit—fuck!”

She’s a mess in distress, totally within the submergence of your astounding prowess as you bring out an onslaught of thrust, still wincing with her tightness and that didn’t stop you. She cries for you, arms almost giving out with how she grips the sink and with this state of hers, it’s a must to take this mental picture, her expressions shown onto the mirror as a cherry on top.

You throb persistently in every thrust you do and she can feel you getting near but there are words that strokes your ego, making you hubristically out of anyone’s league, matched with hers.

“Gosh—hah—hah, I—oh, l-love your cock so much—holy shit, I’m gonna cum so hard!”

You spank and her walls restrict in regards to your own actions, making you groan with her unparalleled tightness that surely rivaled her pussy. “Cum all over the floor—I’ll help you out, Chae.”

Removing your grip onto her hips, you didn’t waste time rubbing her clit, even inserting fingers onto that sullied cunt of hers and you can feel how wet and near her anticipated orgasm is.

It wasn’t going to take longer than what you expected—clearly close and to the point of no-return, you thrust your fingers in tandem with your thrusts, earning a guttural moan (mostly a scream at this point) from Chaewon and there she goes, fully sent onto the state of a blissful trance.

She’s tighter than earlier and you can feel it, clenching repeatedly as she pants and catches her breath because of such stimulation. Picture this: Chaewon extending her weak arms onto the edge of the sink, both holes clenching as she chases her orgasm and another fountain of that colorless liquid spurts onto the floor. She squirm under her climax, legs relentlessly shaking as you hold her in place, continuous with the extension of her high as she lets out cry after cry for more but to no avail, not all things lasts forever.

She rode the high and recovered quickly, pleading you to continue ramming your length into her and to constantly be rough on her, knowing she could take it well. “Don’t s-stop fucking me—fuck me until you paint my insides white.”

She’s struggling for a bit, groaning as you never backed down nor increased this pace—it is just right, ultimately filling her up to the brim and mixing up her insides, as someone would say.

Your cock is persistently throbbing for god knows how long, dying for an euphoric release as sweat drips down on her back, opting to lick in an inch yourself closer to your own high (maybe some praise onto that skin of hers would elevate you into an heavenly ascension). Knowing how dangerously close you are, you become a primal instrument of lust, relentless and selfish with your movements as every oscillating movement sends the both of you into overdrive.

You didn’t utter a word yet an audible moan as you bury deep inside her, painting her inside white as she clench with the warmth it brings, a stream of subsequent saccharine moans leaving her lips as after you’ve spilled everything inside her, you pull out slowly and you’ve probably broke her.

The both of you exchanged breaths as you can see her snug hole drip some with your orgasm, completely lost in the trance as she snaps you back to reality, words invigorating you as a person and your senses.

“Oh s—shit… You’ve fucked me so well—” Chaewon’s legs shudders, sore from the fucking she took as she reaches for the buttplug and gave it to you. You know what to do with the plug you have in hand, inserting it inside her puckered hole that’s probably stretched out thanks to you, and she can’t help by gleefully smile, her blissful visage clearly a sunshine between the darkness you’ve unveiled and the dim lights the restroom provides.

“It would be a waste if I’ll just let your load drip on and spoil my pants, y’know?”

You’re mute and clearly exasperated, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall as Chaewon turns around, facing you as she’s evidently limp and your eyes quickly lock onto hers. “Got nothing to say?”

You part your lips, a breath escapes as you utter, “I never knew this idea would work—you’re crazy for this.”

Chaewon laughs as she lifts her pants up on her waist, wearing and then fixing her blazer as she faces you close, “Of course I am—now let me clean you off.”

She did her wonders and you let her take over. You’d mentally imprint this onto your brain (you’ve said this for like umpteenth times) and will never forget this moment.

But a single question arises in the midst of all of these highs: Did you earn your spot?

Only she can answer that but you’re confident you’ve passed, her holes clearly being spent locks the supposed deserving final decision.

—

It’s crazy how all of these events unfolded probably in less than a day, unable to fully register these and assess every detail because it felt surreal and too fast. You stand by it, feeling these were too good to be true but as much as you want to snap back to reality, you are walking down victorious, all within your hand’s reach and that’s all that matters.

It’s deep of a night, you’re just driving towards the hotel now after such an exhilarating day and your focus is averted onto two things: reminiscence and the road ahead.

You’re playing with the risk of death but that would be slimmer than zero—driving is just in your blood right now, and this wouldn’t be much of a sweat. Chaewon and you are in an awkward silence, looking at your peripherals to see her on her crossed legs, looking at the distance.

You’re utterly curious about her final conclusion and it’s looking like she won’t say anything so you’ll take matters into your own hands.

“Did I do well, Chaewon?”

She’s the one who’s dead silent—you know it felt ringing onto her eardrums, so when she hasn’t responded for at least five seconds you know she’s ignoring you.

“Hey, Chaewon—”

“What?” Her tone is raised up, sulking and sharp, oblivious to where her newly profound attitude is coming from. A speculation is probably because she’s incredibly tired and her usual grumpy attitude is now being a part of her mood swings. You can’t blame her if that’s the reason behind her demeanor—who wouldn’t be tired when you’ve walked for like kilometers, shopped and had the filthiest sex in a public environment known to man so you empathize.

Guess the speculation is deemed incorrect.

“What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, I just hate how you fucked me so good earlier…” She’s brutally honest and upon that conclusion, you derived a concrete reasoning and that was the shattering of her ego.

“Well, thank you I guess—but how about—” Chaewon wails as you advance with your words and she knows she accepted defeat and handed the crown onto you—you clearly broke her apart, even got her real feeling hidden as she acts unorthodox to her natural self.

“Okay, you earned it! You did a great job with that, okay, happy?” Even though her words laces as a mock and truly insincere, you can tell she clearly enjoyed that session of yours and you don’t need to wring it out on her and would inadvertently tell how much she loved every second of that.

“Woah—Ms. Kim Chaewon is getting grumpy again, huh—ow!” She slapped your thigh as luckily, it wasn't enough for you to lose control on the wheel or something worse. You chuckle with her sulking attitude and you can’t help but find it adorable (even though she is) and even if it means to tease her rapidly.

“Yah, shut up! But honestly though…” Chaewon fixes herself, eyes onto you as she speaks up with sincerity and none of that bitchy attitude because she knows how you deserved it. “You clearly passed this test and it shows—I could never scream like that if it weren’t for that big dick of yours.”

She’s brutally honest and you love it, everything is factual and earns that little smile curling up on your lips. You smirk as your other hand finds itself towards her clothed thighs, caressing it and earning a yelp coming from her. Thankfully, she did acknowledge your actions, holding you hand as your hubris grows exponential by the second. “I’ll be grateful to fuck you that hard, anytime, anywhere.”

Chaewon’s mouth lets out a gasp, a little shocked by your latter words. “Anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

You’re clear with your words and you’d let her know your commitment.

You traverse down the streets, swift with it as you stop once you get near the hotel the both of you are staying in possibly for a night or two, and she takes this opportunity to lock her gaze onto yours and it feels magnetic. Chaewon sighs deeply, and this time, with a smile imprinted on her lips and then the verdict comes after. “Well, I guess it’s official—you’re mine now.”

You don’t know where this will end and you’re playing a cat and mouse game here: what if Yeji knows about this? Regarding that, would you even confess if given the chance when Chaewon’s all over your place? Does Chaewon really consider the facts about yesterday’s circumstances and knows how this will play out?

Behind all of these questions, the truth is what follows: you’ve made this mess by yourself and you’d just know what the future may hold onto you—the angel and the devil clashing into you will tell the tales and build the roads you step on.

But right now, you’ll savor this euphoric night and it’s probably going to be better with her corresponding words sealing the final deal. “Welcome to our world—my world. We’ll have fun—so much fun...”

Fuck, what have you done, and not going to lie, you’re excited on what may happen next as this was just the tip of the iceberg—and this iceberg is a deep one, in all likelihood.

#itzy smut #itzy x male reader #yeji smut #yeji x male reader #hwang yeji smut #le sserafim smut #chaewon x male reader #chaewon smut #kim chaewon smut

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