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karinab00bs · 1 year ago

Text

The Plan (requested)

Karina x Tiffany x Named reader

tags: smut, threesome (F/F/M), cheating, mistress, blowjobs, dirty talk

Karina paced behind her hotel room door wearing nothing underneath her bathrobe.

She was unsure if he was coming but she hoped he would.

She needed to get laid tonight. She was so damn horny that she started touching herself a few minutes ago. She stopped short of her orgasm when she realized she wanted to cum with his dick inside her.

Soon enough, there was a soft knock on the door. Karina quickly opened it and her heart quickly leapt in joy as the handsome face of her boss greeted her.

He quickly entered her room and captured her lips. Karina pushed the door closed and returned his kisses with equal fervor.

He slightly pulled away as he eyed her hungrily from the toes up to meet her eyes. "Did you wait long?"

"I almost came without you." She unapologetically stated.

He smirked. "I'm sure you realized that it's better to come with my cock buried deep inside you."

She nodded fervently as her gazes sought him. He saw her desperate need for him that he couldn't help but feel his cock twitch. He looked down at her body and saw her cleavage that was beckoning him to go ahead and reveal them.

He untied the knot that was barely holding together her bathrobe. The drapes dropped and displayed her nakedness in full view. His mouth watered upon seeing her brown, perky nipples as well as her huge breasts. His palm quickly grabbed her mound, massaging it softly and slowly.

His mouth gaped as his other hand touched the other mound, focusing on her perky nipples instead. He rolled her nipple between his index finger and thumb.

She took in a sharp intake of breath as his fingers pulled, rolled and flicked her nipples. "You love my breasts, don't you?"

"Oh, yes. Don't worry. I love your ass and pussy just the same." He sneered as he once again felt his cock go harder.

She smirked. "You don't love your cock in my mouth?"

He laughed. "I like it. You're damn good at giving a head."

He once again kissed her, this time exerting more force and pushing his tongue inside her mouth where her tongue waited and danced with his. They hummed in delight as their kisses turned wilder. He stopped playing with her breasts and grabbed her face instead.

He thrusted his tongue up the roof of her mouth, then swirled it around, occasionally wrestling with hers. He then stopped with his tongue action and instead focused on her lips.

He tenderly nibbled her lips, pulling on them occasionally then softly pecking them. His switch from rough to tender left Karina's knees weak. He always knew what her body wanted.

Once they pulled away, he reached for his belt. She watched him carefully as he unbuckled his belt then threw it on her bed. His fingers unbuttoned his pants then unzipped it after. Once his pants hit the floor, he got out of it on one foot then lifted the other to remove the pants and throw it over to where his belt was.

Karina wasted no time and removed her robe as well. She then sat naked on the end of the bed. She hooked her finger inside his boxers' and pulled him closer. She held her breath as she slowly pulled his boxers down to reveal his big, hard, and erect cock.

Karina’s pussy throbbed at the sight of it.

His cock always did wonders inside her mouth and pussy. His cock always left her body a quivering mess and each time they fucked, Karina couldn't help but keep on wanting him again and again.

In fact just seeing him in the office wearing a sleek suit paired with his well groomed hair and his handsomeness was enough for Karina to be turned on.

She wrapped her fingers against his erection and aligned it with her awaiting mouth. He grunted as his cock felt the wet sensation of her mouth and tongue.

He continued removing his jacket, tie and undershirt as Karina’s mouth pleased him. Karina is good at giving blowjobs and she has a damn good gag reflex.

Karina is the junior assistant of his executive assistant so she often sees her boss, interacts with him and sees him in action. He was a fascinating man - that wasn't who she was expecting. She thought he was callous, controlling and mean but he wasn't totally like that.

He was kind and encouraging to his employees. He is demanding and bossy but what type of boss isn't? Maybe it has something to do with age - he might have realized that degrading employees yields no result. However, incentivizing and encouraging them boosts their morale and performance.

Speaking of age, the man Karina is giving a blowjob is more than a decade older than her. She is currently twenty-nine and he is forty-two. He is also married but despite his age, the man's build and looks were clearly younger for his age.

Her head bobbed as her mouth and tongue slid up and down his full erection which is now wet with her saliva and his pre-cum. She licked his cock after pulling away then grasped the hilt of his cock with her hand, stroking up and down his thick and long erection.

Karina wondered whatever possessed her to be the fuck buddy of her boss. But it was definitely the mind-blowing sex that made her stay and continue this affair.

Karina was not new to sex. She has been sexually active since her first boyfriend after college. But out of all her ex-boyfriends, no one was able to pleasure her as good as Sam.

Sam.

That is the name of her boss, the man she is having an affair with.

Maybe the fact that he's older and much experienced than her ex-boyfriends who were more or less close in age and are not experimental when it came to sex.

"Karina.." He called her name softly like a whisper as he cupped her cheek. "I want to be inside you."

Karina stopped her hand job and nodded her head. She wanted him inside her too. She wanted to be fucked so bad, writhe and scream in pleasure, and feel his hands and lips all over her body.

Karina positioned herself on the right side of the queen size bed. His belongings were on the other side but it would probably end up on the floor sooner or later.

Sam kneeled facing her open thighs. He grabbed his cock and stroked himself for a while as he bent down to lick her wet and dripping pussy. His other hand reached for her slit and coated his fingers with her wetness. He rubbed her clit with his thumb in circular motions. Slowly, his tongue licked her slit up to her clit.

"Fuck." She gasped as his tongue descended her slit and made its way to her hole. Then he brought his tongue back to her clit, suckling on it lightly. "Shit.. Stop it or else I'm gonna-"

He listened to her plea and stopped licking her pussy. He didn't need to perform much foreplay because she was already dripping wet and ready for the taking.

Sam continued stroking his cock as his eyes feasted on the young, attractive woman underneath with her legs wide open and pussy awaiting his cock.

Karina is damn beautiful. He was attracted to her the moment she entered the company. It didn't help that she was always by his side as his assistant's aide.

This affair started during a party that their company organized. Karina was instructed by her other boss, Sam's EA, to assist him to his car since he was drunk while he went to search and call for a driver.

She did as told. She brought him to his car and had him sit at the back. She was about to leave but he drunkenly asked her to accompany him for a while.

So she did. They both sat at the back seat waiting for the on-call-driver to arrive. Sam then admitted to her that she's very beautiful, sexy and that he's attracted to her very badly.

He wasn't able to hold back so he kissed her. Then she kissed him back. Then before they knew it, Karina was giving him a blowjob.

The next day, Sam offered to drive her home. They ended up fucking inside her apartment.

That was how it started. They were so sexually and physically attracted to one another that they couldn't end their affair. It continued on despite Karina having a new boyfriend and of course despite Sam's happy marriage.

He told Karina he often fuck his wife too which made her jealous because she told him she broke up with her boyfriend because he sucked at sex.

In other words, Karina became a full time mistress and she didn't care.

"Fuck me, baby." Karina called as she parted her pussy lips with her fingers. "I'm ready for you."

Sam aligned the pink tip of his throbbing dick into her hole before sliding inside easily. She was so wet for him that he didn't have a hard time getting inside her.

The moment he moved his hips and thrusted his cock in and out of her pussy, Karina's moans began to fill the room.

"You love my pussy, baby?" Karina pursed her lips together as her body jiggled every time he thrusted into her. Her breasts bounced along with her body, much to his pleasure.

"You know that I do." Sam grunted, increasing his pace.

Karina's cries grew louder as Sam's thrusts became more powerful. The tip was reaching her sweet spot and her walls were clenching around his dick tightly.

"That feels so good, baby." Karina whispered as her hand slithered down until she reached her pussy.

Her fingers found her aching clit and started rubbing it. Waves of pleasure filled her senses as Sam's penetrating game continued in a slow and deep pace while her fingers flicked and rubbed her clit in circular motions.

Sam's dick always left her craving for more. Sex with him is fun, pleasurable and addicting. If it wasn't so damn addicting in the first place, Karina would never have an affair with a married man.

Not only is sex with Sam awesome, he is also sweet, tender and caring. He always looked out for her in the workplace. He defended her whenever male colleagues tried to make a move on her or put her down with misogynistic remarks.

He had bouquets of flowers anonymously sent to her in the office and her apartment during her birthday a few months ago along with a sweet birthday greeting card where he expressed his gratitude and love for her.

Yes, he loves her even though Karina knows he loves his wife too. Tiffany, his wife, is everything to him. She remembered that time when Tiffany got in a slight fender-bender, Sam freaked out in the office after hearing the news then quickly left to check on her.

Karina also remembered that time she saw them made out inside his office when she accidentally opened the door thinking no one was there.

Sam is very vocal about his love for Tiffany. She overheard him talk to his EA, Karina's other superior, that they had a slight fight so he would take her out to dinner that night to apologize and then have a hot make up sex.

Or those times when she just waited for him to finish signing the papers with one hand while the other held his phone as he talked sweetly to his wife.

However, Sam's love for his wife did not deter Karina's feelings for him. She didn't care what would happen. All that mattered for her was the sex and his affection. Even if she didn’t have his heart, she had the rest of him.

Sam's arms hooked the underside of her legs to lift and spread it even wider. He momentarily stopped moving his hips although he remained buried inside her as he grinded his hips in a circular motion.

"Yes.." Karina breathed out as his buried dick hit against her sweet spot. "Don't stop. Keep on doing that. I'm so close, baby."

Sam grunted as he continued grinding into her slowly and passionately. He lowered his torso so he could capture her open mouth. He slipped his tongue inside to meet hers.

They were momentarily interrupted when his phone's ringtone was heard. His lips remained on hers and his dick remained buried inside her pussy but his hand reached for his pants to fish out his phone.

He broke the kiss and looked at Karina tenderly. "It's Tiffany. Can you promise to be quiet?"

"What will you give me in return if I do what you ask?" Karina dared him with the sultry look in her eyes.

"What do you want?" Sam conceded.

Karina pondered for a while before looking at him full of lust and desire. "I want you to fuck my other hole and I want you to stay with me tonight. Cuddle me to sleep."

Sam smiled tenderly at her before nodding. He never spent the night at her place because he had to go home to his wife so cuddling with Sam is very limited.

Thank goodness they are on a business trip in Thailand. It just so happened their rooms are connected unbeknownst to Sam's EA who is in the other room. Their first business trip had Karina booked in a connecting room with Sam by accident. They had no knowledge it was a connecting room but it turned out well since they managed to slip inside the other's room without prying eyes.

Karina bit her lips as a signal that she will be silent. Sam answered the phone after.

"Hey, sweetie." Sam greeted his wife sweetly.

Despite talking to his wife, Sam slowly moved his hips and resumed fucking Karina in a slow pace.

Karina covered her mouth with both hands as she struggled to remain quiet. She isn't the silent type during sex so she is definitely struggling right now.

Sam's thrust is slow yet deep. He slid out right at the tip then slipped back in until he was fully inside her. Sam loved the way Karina's pussy walls often tightened around his cock. It was as if she never wanted him to pull out and remain buried inside her.

"Yeah, the party just ended. I just got back to my room." He told his wife as he continued his slow thrusts.

"I told Eric and Karina to rest an hour ago. I just needed to socialize with the prospect. I think he liked our proposal." Sam recalled with a pleased expression.

His free hand roamed and found Karina's breast. He cradled it with his palm at first before his fingers slowly rubbed her nipple.

"I miss you too, baby." He replied to his wife. "I really wish you were here."

To be with his wife at this very moment is indeed his wish. His mind couldn't help but imagine fucking Karina while Tiffany watches. Then she would touch herself while listening to Karina's moans and watch Sam's cock ravage her pussy.

He and Tiffany has done many and different kinds of things during sex. Toys? They have utilized it often. Rough foreplay and sex? They often did that. Sex in public? They did that too. Anal and fisting? Oh. That's their favorite.

The only thing they have yet to try was a threesome which Tiffany often suggested.

A threesome with Karina would be great. To fuck his wife, the love of his life, and his mistress, his current obsession, would mean the world to him.

"Tiffany.." He whispered. "I really miss you."

Karina buried her feet against the mattress to anchor her body against his increasing pace. His dick was filling her to the brim while his fingers were pulling her nipples which drove her closer to the edge. Sam knew how to please her despite his mind currently somewhere else.

"I know you're tired so I'll call you tomorrow morning. I know you need to rest." Sam said tenderly. He knows his wife is stressed because earlier tonight she called him with a problem in the company since she's looking after it while he's away.

"Yes, I understand." He automatically smiled as he listened to her sweet talk. "I'll talk to you tomorrow."

He hummed as he listened to her I love you. "I love you too, baby. Good night. Dream of me."

He threw his phone on top of his clothes once their conversation was over as he lowered his face towards Karina's.

"You were a very good girl." He sneered, impressed that she didn't make a noise.

"I wanted that cuddle." Karina revealed.

Sam grinned. "Let me reward you with your first orgasm for tonight."

Sam kissed her tenderly before his hips increased its pace. His thrusts became faster as his cock penetrated deeper inside her pussy.

"Sam!" She exclaimed his name many times as each of his thrusts repeatedly hit her sweet spot.

She could feel her climax happening as her walls clenched around his cock. "I'm coming!"

Sam hastened his pace as her moans got louder and louder. Her shrill cry echoed in the room as she came messily across the sheets.

"Oh, Karina." Sam mumbled as he buried himself inside her, exploding his seeds into her womb. "That was wonderful, baby."

"You came a lot." Karina muttered. "Your seeds are inside me. It's so hot."

Sam kissed her lips yet again as he came down from his climax. "I want to fuck you again."

Karina cupped his face and kissed him fully on the lips. "I'm yours."

Sam smiled happily as he flipped her so she's now positioned on all fours. He stared at her pussy glistening with his cum and hummed in delight.

He aligned his cock against her entrance yet again then slipped back inside as he started their second round.

Next day

Karina woke from her sleep with a slight pain in her sex and her ass. She and Sam went for more rounds last night which left her a mess. Then they went to sleep with Sam cuddling her from behind. She always loved being the small spoon because the big spoon makes her feel protected.

Karina smiled as she felt the arm draping over her tummy. She moaned a little when he stirred in his sleep and pulled her closer to him which sent her butt pressing against his hard dick.

Karina smiled even though her eyes remained close, loving the way his body molded with hers. She once again closed her eyes to resume her sleep because her body was still sore and she was still tired after everything they did last night.

A few minutes later, Karina went back to dreamland. Sam, however, stirred awake the moment he heard his phone dinged. He probably got a text message.

He opened his eyes fully and smiled at the sight of Karina next to him. Her left breast and left thigh were exposed since the sheets covering her body fell as she laid on her side.

Sam slightly hovered his fingers on top of her exposed boob then gave it a little squeeze. Karina moaned in her sleep, instinctively reacting to his touch despite being unconscious.

"You just woke up and the first thing you do is touch her."

Sam followed the soft voice and saw his wife Tiffany sitting at a stool that faced their sleeping figures. She was holding a business magazine in her hands.

He smiled tenderly at her as he released his hold on Karina's boob. "Do you want to see me touch myself then? Just a word of warning, I'm hard as fuck."

Tiffany rose from where she sat and plopped down the magazine on the table. "Are you?"

Sam's breath was caught in his throat as Tiffany walked toward him in an alluring manner. Her hips swayed side to side, leaving her loose but short skirt fluttering about and displaying a lot of skin. It was partnered with a tube top that hugged her body perfectly, showcasing her curves and her breasts.

She looked like a woman in her early twenties with the way she dressed today although she is in her forties like Sam already.

The young look is probably derived from an inside joke amongst the two of them– that he likes younger women. This was proven when he started his affair with Karina.

She stopped her step until she reached the side of the bed. Sam removed the sheets covering him and sat properly in order to face Tiffany. His nakedness is displayed in full glory that Tiffany's gaze immediately noticed his hard cock.

He wore a lovesick expression, eyes staring at Tiffany. "You look beautiful, baby."

Tiffany placed her palms on top of his shoulder. Slowly, she carefully slid her hands up his neck until she cupped his face. "Did you miss me, baby?"

"I did." He slightly turned his face to place a soft kiss on her hand. "I missed you so much." He put his hands behind her ass and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I was thinking of you last night while I was fucking Karina."

"I'm sure you were." Tiffany smirked as she bent down to peck his lips. "I heard everything last night."

He nodded while sporting a devilish grin. "I intentionally didn't drop the call last night."

"Yes. I enjoyed touching myself last night. Too bad you weren't there to see me cum." She did play with herself last night.

After she put the phone on loudspeaker, Tiffany immediately discarded her clothes. She took a few sextoys from the bedside drawer namely a vibrator, a butt plug and a lubricant. She first lubricated her ass hole which made inserting the butt plug easier. Then she fingered herself as she listened to Karina's moans and squeals.

Every time Sam would compliment Karina or talk dirty, Tiffany would imagine him talking to her instead. She pictured him on top of her, fucking her ass with ferocity. Unable to hold back and craving her first release, Tiffany turned the vibrator on and inserted it inside her wet pussy. She muffled her noise initially but as the vibration rocked her walls and her fingers rubbed her clit, Tiffany came with so much power.

She realized that she needed Sam. Doing it alone is not the same. And so she ordered her secretary to book her the earliest flight to Bangkok.

Tiffany peared over Sam to check out Karina's sleeping figure. "She's young, pretty and hot. She's perfect for you."

Sam hummed. "I agree. But I think she's perfect for the both of us."

The corners of her lips curled up as her dream was finally realized. She planned for this to happen. She deliberately asked Hyunmin, Sam's EA to hire his own assistant to lighten his load.

She then handed him a portfolio who turned out to be Karina. Tiffany met her during their company's hiring process and immediately noticed her beauty. When she whispered to Sam who was sitting next to her praises about Karina's beauty, he agreed and even admitted she looked hot and attractive.

That was when Tiffany got the idea. Sam never really found any other woman attractive beside Tiffany so hearing his admission made Tiffany conceive a crazy plan.

She wanted Sam to seduce Karina and make her fall in love with him to the point that she will listen to whatever he wishes. Like for example, having a threesome.

At first Sam didn't like that idea. He loved Tiffany and he found it distasteful to have sex with someone else other than his wife. But Tiffany convinced him by saying that they have tried everything they wanted and dreamed of during sex except having a threesome.

Tiffany assured him that she won't be mad because she wanted this. She also ordered him that whatever he did with Karina, he had to do it with Tiffany as well to make it fair.

So that night when Sam and Karina first hooked up inside the car while he was drunk and he received a blowjob from her, he went home and Tiffany gave him a mind shattering orgasm using her lovely mouth.

Every time he went home after his sexual encounter with Karina, Tiffany waited for him to fuck her too.

"She loves me, Tiffany." He whispered in a soft tone. "I.. I don't want to hurt her."

Tiffany looked at him warmly as she cupped his face. "I know. Then let's make her our permanent third wheel."

Sam finally smiled as a big worry was taken off his shoulders. He got up as he tenderly cupped her small face with his big hands. Tiffany gazed at him passionately as her desire threatened to boil over.

He kissed her fully on the lips while her fingers automatically combed through his hair. Her lips moved in unison with his as she swiped her tongue across his lower lip. She then pushed it inside his mouth until it wrestled against him for power.

Sam gracefully submitted to his wife, letting her dominate him albeit only for today. Tiffany smiled, loving the way he succumbed to her ministrations. It was his signal that he would let her order him around.

Her hand guided his head down so he peppered wet kisses along her skin from her jaw to her neck until he reached her shoulder blades.

"Take my clothes off, baby." Tiffany whispered.

Sam pulled away and grabbed the ends of her top and removed it without difficulty. He threw it on the floor as his fingers found the back of her skirt. He unhooked it expertly without looking and Tiffany shimmied it off her body.

Down in her underwear, Sam ogled her with burning desire. Her milky white skin sparkled due to a thin layer of perspiration. Sam watched as Tiffany removed her bra. His eyes feasted on her breast immediately, earning a satisfied smirk from Tiffany.

As soon as Tiffany removed her satin panties, Sam pounced on her and the momentum sent her standing near the chair she occupied earlier. Sam greedily cupped each of her breasts, eliciting a surprised moan from her.

"I'm not in the mood for foreplay, baby." She told him with bated breath. "I'm fucking horny. I need you inside me."

"What do you want me to do?" He asked in a gentle tone.

Tiffany let out a small smile, liking how Sam is letting her lead him. "Take a seat and let me ride you."

Sam obeyed, sitting on the love seat. He liked it better than the other seat with the backrest because he can move more freely. He looked at his wife who stood in between his legs. He unwittingly held his breath as she slowly lowered her body. She held his cock upright and aligned it perfectly at her entrance. Using her other hand, she spread her folds with her fingers before lowering herself entirely on his dick.

Sam groaned in pleasure the moment they were joined. Tiffany arched her back and threw her head to the side as she closed her eyes to savor his entire length. Compared to Karina who had her fair share of lovers, Tiffany's first love was Sam and he was also her sole sexual partner. Her sexual awakening happened when her then boyfriend Sam accidentally touched her chest when they were playing during one of their college incursions.

Ever since then, whenever they made out, Tiffany's body would feel like it's been set on fire. Eventually, her desire could no longer be contained so she invited Sam for a vacation once their sophomore term ended. Tiffany gave her virginity to Sam during that break which eventually started their active sexual life.

"Fuck, Tiffany.." He cooed as she slowly rocked her body. His gaze found her tits that bounced each time she moved up and down. One of his hands reached for her left breast while the other held her hips, guiding her movements.

He squeezed her breast, eliciting a sensual moan from his wife. He leaned forward to pepper kisses along her collarbone, pausing at the base of her neck to suckle some skin. The pulsating point he licked and sucked made Tiffany's inside churn since he knew perfectly well where to pleasure her.

He trapped her nippled in between her thumb and forefinger. He would tug or pinch it then would just rub it teasingly. He groaned in pleasure when Tiffany stopped moving, burying his entire length inside her. She started gyrating her hips instead, earning throaty moans from him.

"Tiffany.." He called as she expertly rocked her pelvis. She moved her hips in circles as her walls clenched his dick tightly. "Fuck. Your pussy's squeezing me so tightly, baby."

Tiffany smirked as she met his burning gaze. She opened her mouth and he quickly covered it with his. Lips tugged her bottom lip then shifted on the upper one. He then pushed his tongue inside, fighting a dangerous battle with her own. His teeth nipped her bottom lips, biting her with slight pressure.

"Ahh.. Sam.." She moaned as he swiped his tongue over the lip he bit. Then he pushed his tongue inside her mouth again, swirling and twirling it around the hot cavern. Their kiss was sloppy but needy, both of them longing for each other despite being in each other's presence.

They just couldn't get enough of each other.

"Fuck me, baby." Sam broke the kiss as he breathed on her face. "I'm very close. I want to cum inside you."

Tiffany nodded. She slowly moved her hips up then slammed back down. Her pace increased as the slapping of skin slowly filled the room. He looked down and watched as her pussy took his entire length. She would raise her hips until the tip of his dick remained then would slam her hips down until she was riding all of him.

Sam bent his head to capture her other nipple as his fingers busied itself with her other nub. He swirled his tongue around the erect nub before sucking it with passion. He then trapped the bud in between his teeth then slowly nipped and pulled.

"Fuck!" Tiffany cooed, throwing her head back as she hastened her pace, riding him up and down. "That felt so good, baby."

Sam smiled against her skin as he resumed sucking her nub. He once again nipped and pulled it with his teeth, earning another moan from Tiffany. His hand that was playing with her other nipple slowly descended down her pussy. Tiffany's body shivered as his thumb started rubbing circles around her clit.

"Tiffany. I have been fucking you for almost two decades and you're still tight as fuck." He groaned as his dick slammed in and out her tight hole.

Tiffany placed her hands on his broad shoulders as her fingernails dug into his skin. "I'm close, Sam."

He nodded as he rubbed her clit more with his thumb. His insides churned as he felt his incoming release ready to explode. His hand supporting her hips now framed her face as he beckoned her to face him.

"I'm cumming, Tiff." He said as he gazed into her eyes.

She nodded, feeling her orgasm coming too. With just a few more moves, they both came undone as their gazes remained glued to one another.

"Shit, you made me cum, baby." Sam purred as he pecked her lips.

"I love you, baby." Tiffany said as her chest heaved while catching her breath. "I love you so much, Sam."

"I know. And you know that I love you too. I'll do anything for you." Sam placed a lingering kiss on her forehead.

Tiffany knew that. He loved her so much that he couldn't refuse her request to seduce Karina. He always wanted to make her happy so if getting a threesome would make her happy then Sam would gladly do it no matter how much he found it distasteful.

And so today, he's making her wishes come true. She'll finally get that threesome.

Sam got off the seat, temporarily pulling his dick out of her pussy. He then asked Tiffany to lay down on the mattress next to a sleeping Karina. He then stood at the foot of the bed then climbed up, crawling in between their bodies.

He pecked Tiffany's lips. "You're getting that threesome now, baby." She giggled excitedly.

Sam then turned to Karina. He slowly lowered the sheets covering her naked chest. Once her tits sprang into view, he peppered soft kisses around her mound.

"Hngg.." Karina moaned in her sleep.

"Wake up, sweetheart." Sam whispered against her now perky nub. He enveloped it with his mouth as his hand grabbed the other mound and gave it a soft squeeze.

"Sam.." She breathed with her eyes closed as she savored his tongue circling her nipple.

"Karina.. Let me introduce you to someone." He called gently as his ministrations continued. But Karina was way too turned on to speak.

Sam stopped playing with her mounds knowing it would get her fired up and it did because she finally opened her eyes and bolted upright to give him a glare.

"You're such a tease, Sam!" She groaned.

He just chuckled. He then pulled Tiffany up so that she was sitting like Karina. "This is my wife, Tiffany."

Karina gasped as she quickly covered her chest with the sheets. "M-Ms Tiffany! I-I... This... ummm-"

"It's okay, Karina." Tiffany cupped her face. "I know what my husband was doing to you."

Karina's eyes widened, mouth hanging open in shock. "Y-You do?"

"I was the one who asked him to get closer to you." Tiffany explained in simple terms. "I always wanted to experience a threesome, you know. And you were the perfect woman for that. You are, after all, the only woman my husband and I both find attractive."

Karina was confused with what was happening. Hearing that from Tiffany surprised her, especially knowing that she planned for her husband to seduce Karina. But it's not like Karina can be mad at her because Sam meant a lot to her.

Karina would even dare say she loved him. And she does. Ever since that fateful night inside his car, the night she first gave him oral sex, she started craving for him.

Whenever he secretly touched her ass as she waited beside him to sign the documents, a pool of wetness developed between her legs. Whenever he intentionally rubbed or accidentally brush arms with her, Karina felt heat all over her body. Whenever he whispered flirty words into her ear while wearing a poker face, Karina got those urges to drag him into a closet and just get naked with him.

Then when she was home alone in the arms of her then ex-boyfriend, Karina was left thinking about Sam. She was missing his warm touches, his deep voice, his captivating gaze and his tender loving care. She just missed his presence alone.

Eventually, Karina ended up breaking up with her boyfriend because he was bad at sex. He was becoming more irate and often said hurtful words and he also lost his temper and slapped her hard. She didn't tolerate his mistakes and violence so she broke up with him and told him to never show his face again.

Then Sam comforted him without the sex. He took her out to dinner and movies, sent her bouquets of flowers, left her love notes on her desk and gave her comfort inducing hugs. She initially wanted him for the sex but eventually fell in love with him.

"Is that true?" Karina asked as confusion remained written on her face.

Sam nodded. "You're the only woman I ever found attractive aside from Tiffany." He then cupped her face. "I don't want to hurt you, Karina. I don't want to lose you too."

"Stay with us, Karina." Tiffany added with a soft smile. "Stay with Sam."

As if Karina will say no to that. This was unexpected. She thought if his wife discovered their affair, she would order her to leave him. But instead of that, Tiffany asked her to stay.

"Are you fine sharing your husband?" Karina sounded doubtful.

Tiffany chuckled. She moved her naked body closer to Sam and gave his cheek a peck. "We can both have him, you both can have me and the two of us can have you."

Karina felt electricity run through her spine as it dawned to her what she meant.

"Well, this is going to be my first time doing it with a woman but I think I'll love it since it's you." Tiffany added with a seductive wink. "Sam did say you taste amazing."

"She does." Sam agreed. He leaned forward to plant a kiss at the base of Karina's neck. His tongue poked her flesh before sliding it up her neck. He nibbled and sucked her neck, knowing perfectly well that it was her weak spot. "What do you say, Karina?"

"Well, it's either we share you and you get to stay in my life or we don't share you and you leave my life." Karina summarized the gist of it. She then put her hands on his neck and gazed into his clear orbs. "The choice is obvious. I want you in my life, Sam."

Sam wore that handsome grin of his, leaving Karina's heart skipping a beat. She pulled his face towards her and kissed him tenderly. She slowly lowered her body when he started pushing her down. He supported himself by leaning on his elbow as his other hand trailed down her torso. The pads of his fingers trailed on her navel down to her womanhood. His fingers traced her slit as he teased a digit by her entrance.

Karina gasped for air once he ended the kiss to capture one of her nipples. "Shit. Bite it harder."

Tiffany watched with heightened arousal as her husband feasted on Karina's nipple and pussy. She felt wetness beginning to pool between her legs again. Watching Sam fuck Karina made Tiffany horny beyond reason.

"How does she feel, baby?" Tiffany breathed out as her fingers started rubbing her clit in circles.

Sam released Karina's nipples with a pop as he looked at his wife. "She feels so good, Tiffany. She tastes sweet too."

Tiffany leaned forward to kiss his lips. "Put your finger in, baby. I wanna hear Karina moan." She breathed against his lips.

Sam turned to Karina while wearing his handsome grin. "I'm sticking it in." She nodded her head as her stomach twisted in anticipation.

Sam slipped a finger inside her slick hole. Karina arched her back as Sam slid his finger in and out of her. A second digit was added, making her groan in pure delight. She pulled her legs up as she bent her knees, trapping his body in between her thighs.

"I want to cum, Sam." Karina croaked out as Sam added a third finger. She saw Tiffany's gaze shift between her jiggling mounds and her pussy which Sam was violating rather roughly.

"Make her cum, baby." Tiffany encouraged with a trembling voice. Her fingers are now rubbing her slit as she inserted two fingers inside her.

Sam rubbed his thumb against Karina's clit as he kept on thrusting his three fingers inside Karina's wet hole. Sam lowered his body so he could use his mouth to suck her clit.

"Fuck! Don't stop, please. I'm so close!" Karina cussed as one hand pressed Sam's face closer against her pussy while her other hand reached for Tiffany's breast.

"Oh, Karina." Tiffany moaned as the girl started playing with her nipple. "You're doing great."

Tiffany rolled to her side in order to get closer to Karina's face. She flashed the girl a warm smile before finally capturing her lips. Karina responded to her kiss rather well, nibbling her lips and sucking her tongue. Tiffany pulled away to plant a kiss on the girl's jaw before trailing kisses down her neck, collarbone, mound then captured her nipple.

Karina felt like she was going crazy with the way the married couple was screwing her. Tiffany was switching between sucking the flesh around her nub or nibbling her nipple while Sam kept on pumping his fingers inside her pussy.

Karina knew she was going to explode soon so she braced herself for an earth shattering orgasm.

"Cum for me, sweetheart." Sam cooed airily against her heat.

That proved to be the key to her release. Karina let a piercing cry as she came hard. She panted for air as her body shuddered in the aftermath of their first round.

"Baby.." Sam purred to Tiffany. "Why don't you do Karina a favor and clean her up?"

Tiffany stopped touching herself and Karina and immediately switched positions with Sam. She kneeled in between Karina's thighs then lowered her torso until her face was close to Karina's pussy. She took a long lick of her slit, earning shivers from Karina.

"You're right, baby." Tiffany looked at Sam with twinkling eyes. "She does taste amazing."

"I told you so." Sam looked proud. He crawled next to Karina and kissed her fully on the mouth. "Karina.. You're so fucking hot."

Karina's dark with desire eyes bore into his. "Your wife's damn hot, too."

He wore a smug grin. "I know."

Tiffany lapped up Karina's juices, licking her pussy and inner thighs clean. Seeing his wife was done with Karina, he sat against the headboard and sprawled his legs outward. He beckoned Karina to take the space between his thighs. Lying prone and facing his hard erection, Karina wrapped her fingers around it and slowly gave it a stroke.

"Fuck." He groaned.

Tiffany lifted Karina's hips so that she's now kneeling on all fours. Her tongue found Karina's slit, giving it a long lick. She then parted the swollen lips and poked her tongue inside her hole.

Karina moaned as Tiffany ate her pussy. Her grip on his dick tightened as she continued to stroke him. Her other hand held his balls, playing with it and squeezing it a little.

"I'd much prefer your mouth be wrapped around my dick, Karina." He growled in desperation.

Unable to prolong his wait since she wanted to take his cock inside her mouth too, Karina took a lick of his head. Sam's dick wasn't long but it was definitely big and thick. It always made her pussy full as if it was being stretched to its limits.

She licked his length from its head to its base. She noticed how swollen it was given how red it was and the veins popping in sight. She smirked upon hearing his desperate groan and feeling his hand push the back of her head.

"Karina. If you won't use your mouth, I will definitely punish you." His threat didn't sound like one when he kept on making sexy faces every time she squeezed his dick.

"I prefer that, you know?" She looked up at him, teasing him by putting his tip near her lips but never actually putting it in her mouth.

He held her face and bent down so he could kiss her. "You wouldn't want me to deny you of your pleasure too, would you?"

Karina's face soured upon hearing that. Sam would sometimes be a bad tease that he would prolong Karina's agony by denying her a release. Just when she was on the brink of reaching an orgasm, Sam would pull out and leave her frustrated.

Karina doesn't want that to happen again.

Deciding that she hated his punishment, Karina took his tip inside her mouth. Her tongue swirled around the tip before taking the entirety of his erection with her hot mouth. Sam watched as she bobbed her head repeatedly. She took him until the base then stopped until his tip. Then she released him with a pop as her tongue slid the underside of his cock.

"Ahh.. Karina. Your mouth is incredible." Sam groaned as she took his whole dick into her mouth yet again.

He gazed at his wife who was busy eating Karina and the latter was jutting her ass into the former's face for deeper reach. He found that view so arousing that he felt like he would reach his orgasm soon.

Tiffany licked two of her fingers then slowly inserted them inside Karina's swollen pussy. Karina groaned at the intrusion but she didn't bother releasing Sam's cock that was inside her mouth. She bobbed her head up and down as she took his whole length each time. She had better gag reflex than Tiffany which is why when she took his erection deep into her throat, she didn’t gag despite poking the back of her throat for more than ten seconds.

"Fuck.. You're doing an amazing job fucking me with your mouth." He sounded so pleased and close to the edge. "Keep doing that and I'll cum inside your mouth."

Karina looked up at him through her heavily lidded eyes, mouth and tongue busy sucking, blowing and licking his dick. She bobbed her head as she hastened her pace, taking him until the base of his dick then pulling away until the tip. Every time she took him fully, the tip of his dick would hit the back of her throat which gave her a little bit of discomfort but it wasn't the kind that she hated.

She wrapped her fingers around the base and stroked him slowly as her tongue and mouth played with the head. She could feel his body starting to stiffen as she prepared her mouth for his impending release.

"Shittt.. I'm cumming!" He threaded his fingers along her hair as he held her steady while he shot his load inside her awaiting mouth.

Karina waited until his release subsided before pulling away to swallow his cum. She thought she was getting a short rest but when he laid down instead of sitting against the headboard, she knew he was up to no good.

"Is she ready for me, baby?" Sam called to Tiffany who finally stopped eating Karina's pussy.

Tiffany nodded at him with a proud grin. "She's very wet now, baby. I think I did a fantastic job."

"I agree. You did fantastic, baby." Sam returned her smile. He then pulled Karina's wrist and made her straddle his hips. He grabbed his still hard cock and aligned it against her leaking pussy. "Sweetheart, will you ride me?"

Karina nodded as she lowered her body against his dick. She let a soft purr as her pussy adjusted to his size so she only took half of him. Then when her body started to relax, she lowered her hip completely to take all of him. Karina moaned as she slowly moved her hips, bouncing up and down and twirling her hips around.

Sam reached for his wife who was watching Karina ride him. "Baby, I want to taste you."

Tiffany beamed at him as she straddled his upper chest, facing Karina. Sam grinned at the sight of her glistening pussy that sent blood rushing to his dick. He heard Karina groan, probably surprised by the increase in his size and hardness.

"Sam.. How does Karina feel?" Tiffany asked curiously as her gaze fell on his cock slipping smoothly inside Karina's pussy.

"She feels so good, Tiffany. She's so fucking tight." He growled as Karina increased her pace.

"As tight as my pussy?" Tiffany batted her eyelashes playfully.

Sam thrusted his hips upward to meet Karina's pace. "Yeah, definitely."

Karina felt her walls clamp around his length, loving the way he filled her up and drove her crazy. Then, her gaze fell on Tiffany who looked to be enjoying her ride Sam masterfully. She leaned forward, with Tiffany meeting her halfway, and gave the older woman a hot kiss. Tiffany was very good at kissing, probably since she has more experience than Karina. Tiffany's kissing habit was the same as Sam's so Karina didn't have a hard time responding to her kisses.

Tiffany nipped her bottom lip so when Karina moaned in pain, the former slipped her tongue inside, dominating Karina's. Tiffany kissed her hungrily, needily, just like how Sam would kiss Karina after being away from each other for some time.

Karina gyrated her hips, eliciting a moan from Sam whose tongue was busy pleasuring Tiffany's leaking folds. Tiffany wrapped an arm around Karina's waist while the other caressed her cheek, deepening their kiss.

Tiffany broke the kiss in order to place open-mouthed kisses along Karina's jaw. She then descended downwards, trailing wet kisses along Karina's neck, collarbone, shoulder until her lips eventually reached Karina's nipple.

"Shit." Karina threw her head back as Sam thrusted up with more ferocity and as Tiffany started nibbling her nipples.

This couple knew how to fuck and they have chosen Karina as their playmate. With the tremendous pleasure her body is receiving and knowing her body will keep on craving for this kind of pleasure in the future, Karina knows there is no escape from the both of them.

Tiffany turned to the other nipple as her tongue poked and flicked the erect nub. Karina looked so hot and sexy as she rode Sam. It totally turned Tiffany on as the squelching sound of Karina's pussy being pounded by Sam's dick echoed around the room.

Tiffany felt her insides churn as Sam's tongue penetrated her folds. She squirmed, bucking her hips as he dragged his tongue along her swollen flesh. His fingers then parted her wet folds so he could thrust his tongue into her hole. Tiffany held Karina by the waist as she clamped her lips around her nipples. She reached below as her fingers found Karina's clit, rubbing it in circles.

"Hng.. That feels so good." Karina moaned as she bucked her hips at a faster pace. "Your dick feels amazing, Sam. And Tiff.. Your fingers– ahh!" She wasn't able to finish what she was going to say because he thrusted his hips harder and deeper, hitting her sweet spot.

It didn't help that Tiffany kept on rubbing her clit while her mouth was busy sucking the younger woman's nipple. Tiffany nipped the bud with her teeth, tugging it playfully before sucking it again.

Karina felt her release coming and she knew it was coming to her hard and violent. She hastened her pace, moaning each time Sam's hips met her movements, reaching her sweet spot. Her moans kept getting louder as the tip of his dick repeatedly hit her sweet spot. Her walls started clamping around his member as her release came like a tidal wave, sending her mind and body floating in cloud nine.

"Sam!" She shrieked as she once again came violently. She stopped riding him to take a breather. Once she got off him, his member was covered in her essence from the tip down to his balls and her pussy was dripping with her cum.

Tired and exhausted because of the pleasure she received from Sam and Tiffany, Karina plopped down face first beside Sam. She gazed intently as Sam's tongue flicked in and out of Tiffany's hole.

"Baby.. I need to cum." Sam whispered against Tiffany's swollen flesh.

Nodding her head, Tiffany got off him. Sam sat up and crawled in the middle of the bed. He grinned proudly as Tiffany laid on her back, taking the spot where he laid earlier and caressed Karina's face. He watched with a lustful gaze as Tiffany and Karina kissed tenderly.

He moved in between Tiffany's legs as his hand stroked his member slowly and painstakingly. He was still hard and he was desperate for a release. Without any warning, he slipped his thick member inside of Tiffany's leaking pussy, causing her to break her kiss with Karina in order to moan at the tremendous amount of pleasure that engulfed her body.

Tiffany opened her arms and Sam automatically leaned into her embrace. He propped his body with his elbows to prevent himself from crushing his wife with his weight. Because he lowered his body, Tiffany's perky nipples were pressed hard against his chest. Sam captured her lips as his hips hastened its pace.

Tiffany groaned each time his tip would hit her walls or her sweet spot. He would sometimes decrease his pace so he could grind his hips around much to Tiffany's delight because the pleasure it was giving her was insane.

"I want more of you, baby." She muttered. "I want you to fuck me harder and deeper. I want you to fuck me until I can't take it anymore."

"Your wish is my command." He spread her legs wider as he hooked his arms behind her knees. He pulled all the away until the tip before slamming back inside her with more force.

Tiffany was a quivering mess as Sam fucked her like there was no tomorrow. Her moans grew incessantly louder with each thrust he made. He was making her go crazy with his ministrations. Her entire body was feeling so good that she found it difficult to even raise her arms.

She grabbed the sheets into fists as she held on for dear life. Sam was like a machine, pulling out then slamming back in, filling her whole with his thick member and leaving her pussy wet beyond normal. He was an expert at making her feel so good. Twenty years into their relationship and he remains to be the only person she ever wanted with the addition of Karina now.

"Sam.. I'm fucking close." Tiffany uttered as he roughly slammed into her. Her back arched when he repeatedly hit her sweet spot, driving her to the edge. "There! Fuck me there!"

His lips found the base of her neck as he suckled on her skin, making sure that he would leave a mark that people will see. Tiffany is his and nobody else can have her. The same goes for Karina. Sam has become greedy and wanted the both of them all for himself because he loved them.

He may have just started loving Karina but he is sure that feeling and sentiment will develop as much as he loves Tiffany in due time.

He moved his hips as fast as he could muster as his thick cock penetrated Tiffany with power. She was a moaning mess, squirming in pain and pleasure as her impending release threatened to explode. Sam felt blood rushing to his dick as he also went closer to the edge of his orgasm.

"Tiffany.." He called her name as an invitation to cum with him and she grabbed his face in response to kiss his now chapped lips.

She screamed into his mouth as she came violently while he let out a throaty groan as he came inside her. His load shot into her womb yet again as he slowly rode down from the high of his orgasm. He slowly pumped into her until he came to a perfect still, withdrawing his dick from her pussy– wet with both their juices.

With a groan, he fell in between Karina and Tiffany as he tried catching his breath. He wore a big, contented smile on his face. A curtain of peaceful silence enveloped the three of them as they recuperated from the tiring sexual activity.

Soon, his eyelids closed shut due to the exhaustion. Tiffany and Karina placed their heads on top of his steady heaving chest as they cuddled him.

1K notes · View notes

w1w2 · 3 months ago

Text

The Slowest Heartbeat

Part 2 - Warming You Up

Kim Taeyeon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ca. 12k

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

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

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Rain tapped against the windows like a warning.

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

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

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

Jieun.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Former SM Idol Exposes Years of Abuse.

Corporate Giant Faces Reckoning.

Kpop’s Star Pulls Back the Curtain.

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

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

And then, Mr. Jung moved.

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

Without a word, he stepped out of the boardroom.

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

He locked the door behind him.

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

He pressed it.

One ring. Two.

Then a voice answered, soft and low.

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

A pause. Nothing but the faint sound of breathing.

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

The line went dead.

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

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

Most of the building had been cleared by now.

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

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

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

And then she stepped in.

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

Quiet, total, inevitable.

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

And yet, not a single person asked.

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

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

Her eyes moved quickly, too quickly.

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

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

“You’ve let the fire burn too long.”

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

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

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

Nobody nodded, nobody spoke.

The silence was answer enough.

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

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

“Yes, Miss Lee.”

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

The room inhaled.

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

No one knew exactly who Miss Lee was.

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

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

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

She checked her phone again. Still nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It wasn’t theatrics, it was worse.

Quiet control, presence without announcement.

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

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

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

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

Fear.

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

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

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

“She’s the advisor. From above.”

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

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

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

Taeyeon tilted her head. “Miss Lee?”

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

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

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

“Never heard of her,” she said.

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

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

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

She saw a woman step out.

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

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

Only for a second. A single, unbroken moment.

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

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

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

Taeyeon found herself holding her breath without realizing it.

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

Taeyeon blinked.

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

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

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

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

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

Who was she?

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

And then there were her eyes.

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

But she’d looked at her.

Not past her, not through her.

At her.

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

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

Miss Lee.

The name felt heavier than it looked on paper.

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

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

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

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

Nostalgia had power, iconic legacy had weight.

And right now? SM needed both.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N cut through it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Intrigue.

Not attraction, not yet, but interest.

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

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

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

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

And her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then she was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

And watched.

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

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

Inside the booth, Taeyeon paused.

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

Their eyes met through the glass.

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

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

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

Y/N understood that feeling.

More than she cared to admit.

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

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

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

Just slightly.

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

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

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

Then it opened.

Y/N stepped out.

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

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

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

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

They didn’t speak at first.

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

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

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

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

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

“What keeps you here?” she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Another pause.

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

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

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

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

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

Taeyeon blinked. “And what did you expect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A smile.

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

“Goodnight Taeyeon.”

And that was the second time she said her name.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And then the door opened.

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

Taeyeon glanced toward the entry without meaning to.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was surgical, not unkind, just direct.

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

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

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

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

The choreographer nodded, quietly. So did Yuri.

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

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

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

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

The girls ran the routine again ten minutes later.

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

It breathed.

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

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

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

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

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

It should’ve been enough, it wasn’t.

The track played again.

And again.

Still not it.

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

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

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

It was Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something about the way she said it made Taeyeon pause.

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

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

“Like what?”

“This sharp, observing. Always on.”

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

“It’s how I stay useful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Glanced back.

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

And then she was gone.

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

Hit play.

And there it was.

The ache.

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

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

Two weeks later, the spotlight shifted.

Not to the stage, but to the past.

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

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

Tonight was different.

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

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

A cocktail was offered, but she barely sipped it.

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

Y/N.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I read a lot,” Y/N replied easily.

“Did you read what color the wallpaper was?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not just curiosity.

Recognition.

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N’s.

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

Taeyeon slowed.

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

She turned back toward the building.

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

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

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

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

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

“You always say that.”

“It’s always true.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what do you want?”

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

Y/N looked down at her tea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It started as something unspoken.

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

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

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

Y/N never told her to stop.

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

But she always made tea.

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

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

Taeyeon listened.

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

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

But slowly, the walls started thinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N looked at her.

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

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

Silence stretched.

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

“Like what?”

“Persistent.”

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

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

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

“Text me the date and the address.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Come in,” Taeyeon said, stepping aside.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taeyeon smiled, leaning back a little in her chair.

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

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

“Not recently,” she murmured.

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

Y/N tilted her head. “Maybe I did.”

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

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

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

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

“What is your usual setting?”

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

She looked up, eyes sharper now, more guarded.

“Structured, predictable.”

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

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

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

And yet she didn’t leave.

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

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

Y/N nodded. “Right.”

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

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

She froze.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, without meaning to, their hands met.

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

Y/N’s reaction was instant.

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

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

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

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

Y/N froze again.

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

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

Y/N closed her eyes.

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

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

But the moment didn’t last.

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

And that was all it took.

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

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

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

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

And then she was gone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I have one.”

Taeyeon blinked. “You have a piano?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Taeyeon’s eyes met hers.

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

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

But it was a door opening.

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

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

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

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

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ze-ppe-li · 1 year ago

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𝐉𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐉𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐨, 𝐈𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞, 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐥𝐠𝐢, 𝐘𝐞𝐣𝐢, 𝐑𝐲𝐮𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐆𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞, 𝐉𝐢𝐮, 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐢, 𝐒𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐀𝐡𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐞, 𝐒𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐄:𝐔:, 𝐒𝐢𝐡𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐚, 𝐀𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧, 𝐘𝐯𝐞𝐬, 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥, 𝐊𝐢𝐦 𝐋𝐢𝐩, 𝐇𝐲𝐞𝐣𝐨𝐨, 𝐄𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐢, 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫, 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐛𝐲𝐮𝐥, 𝐇𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐚, 𝐒𝐨𝐰𝐨𝐧, 𝐘𝐮𝐣𝐮, 𝐉, 𝐓𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐓𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐲, 𝐇𝐲𝐨, 𝐊𝐰𝐨𝐧 𝐘𝐮𝐫𝐢, 𝐒𝐞𝐨𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧

Switch (top-leaning)

𝐌𝐨𝐦𝐨, 𝐉𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞, 𝐖𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐡𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞, 𝐁𝐚𝐞, 𝐇𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐮, 𝗛𝘆𝗲𝘄𝗼𝗻, 𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗲𝗶𝗻, 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐁, 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐢

Switch (bottom-leaning)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞́, 𝐆𝐚𝐡𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐌𝐢𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐒𝐡𝐮𝐡𝐮𝐚, 𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐘𝐮𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐕𝐢𝐯𝐢, 𝐇𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐒𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲, 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐚

Switch (neutral)

𝐍𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐉𝐢𝐡𝐲𝐨, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐚, 𝐓𝐳𝐮𝐲𝐮, 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐚, 𝐉𝐨𝐲, 𝐘𝐮𝐧𝐚, 𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐚, 𝐒𝐢𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐘𝐮𝐪𝐢, 𝐒𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐫𝐚, 𝐊𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐡𝐚, 𝐇𝐚𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐧, 𝐉𝐢𝐰𝐨𝐨, 𝐆𝐚𝐞𝐮𝐥, 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐧, 𝐘𝐞𝐞𝐮𝐧, 𝐄𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐞, 𝐄𝐮𝐧𝐛𝐢𝐧, 𝐗𝐢𝐚𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐨, 𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧, 𝐇𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐥, 𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐣𝐢𝐧, 𝐘𝐞𝐧𝐚, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐣𝐮, 𝐘𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧, 𝐈𝐬𝐚, 𝐘𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚, 𝐒𝐨𝐨𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠, 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐢, 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞

Bottom

𝗦𝗮𝗻𝗮, 𝗗𝗮𝗵𝘆𝘂𝗻, 𝗬𝗲𝗿𝗶, 𝗟𝗶𝗮, 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗿𝘆𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴, 𝗪𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿, 𝗡𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗦𝘂𝗮, 𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗲𝘄𝗼𝗻, 𝗟𝗶𝗹𝘆, 𝗦𝘂𝗹𝗹𝘆𝗼𝗼𝗻, 𝗥𝗲𝗶, 𝗪𝗼𝗻𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴, 𝗟𝗶𝘇, 𝗢𝗻𝗱𝗮, 𝗬𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗻, 𝗕𝗮𝗵𝗶𝘆𝘆𝗶𝗵, 𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗲𝘂𝗻, 𝗖𝗵𝘂𝘂, 𝗚𝗼𝘄𝗼𝗻, 𝗖𝗵𝗼𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆, 𝗬𝗲𝗼𝗷𝗶𝗻, 𝐉𝐨 𝗬𝘂𝗿𝗶, 𝗘𝘂𝗻𝗵𝗮, 𝗨𝗺𝗷𝗶, 𝗦𝗶𝗲𝘂𝗻, 𝗦𝗲𝗲𝘂𝗻

𝖳𝗈𝗉, 𝖡𝗈𝗍𝗍𝗈𝗆 & 𝖲𝗐𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁: 𝖦𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝖦𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗉 𝖤𝖽𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇

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alcoholfreenayeon · 1 year ago

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Closer pt.1

CW: Gn!Reader x Taeyeon/Jessica, Fluff, part 1

Word count: 2022

Synopsis: Y/N was close friends with SNSD, particularly with Jessica and Taeyeon. It was rather an open secret in the group that Jessica liked Y/N due to a misunderstanding where Jessica overheard Y/N talking, she got the impression that you weren’t interested in her. Worse still, the incident happened and you ended up losing touch with Jessica soon after. However, in that period you grew closer, much closer with Taeyeon, even moving in together last year. Fate though seems to have a different plan or perhaps it just decides to open up closed roads for you….

And as you walk around with Taeyeon, someone on the bench catches your eye, for some reason you feel drawn towards her, you stagger and take a moment to focus on the mystery person.

“Y/n? You okay what are you….”, Taeyeon falters in her question as her eyes land on same person as you. “Oh.”, her voice sounding slightly colder as she instantly recognizes her.

You make your way towards the woman, hesitantly tapping her on the shoulder, “Excuse me”….

She turns around and you get a good look at her and you are almost positive that this is indeed her, a friend you hadn’t seen in almost 5 years. But she just looks at you blankly, confused, “yes…?”

“Sorry, I just thought you were….”, Now you feel a bit stupid, was this not her, you could have sworn that….then you notice her smiling and you feel your eyes roll, a mixture of emotions flooding through.

“You fell for it Y/N”, Jessica teased gleefully. “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?”, she asked as she suddenly pulled you into for a hug.

You sigh and hug her back, unable to stop smiling as well. It felt good, it had been so long since you met her but it still felt like not a minute had passed since the two of you were sneaking about in the SM building. She pulls back from the hug slightly to look at you and for some reason that makes you a bit tense, you feel your heart beat faster.

“Ahem”, Taeyeon interrupts, her arms folded and she’s tapping her feet impatiently.

Jessica tightens her hold on you for a second before she reluctantly lets go of you. “Taeyeon.”, she notes, the friendly and happy voice she used to greet you is gone.

“Jessica….”, Taeyeon replies.

The two women glared at each other for a few moments before forcing themselves to hug each other briefly. The tension between them is rapidly growing to the point you could almost physically feel it.

“What brings you here Sica”, you ask, using her nickname hoping things will calm down a bit, you had no idea why it was tense between them so much.

“Oh…I’m just here for work you know…like yeah…you know how it is right….”, she says distractedly, “but maybe I now have more reasons”, she smiles warmly at you.

You wonder what that could mean. “Right”, you smile back. “Well, if you aren’t busy you should come back with me to my-”

“You mean to OUR place”, Taeyeon interrupts and adds very clearly. “Yes sure why not. What could be the issue with that.”

The three of you are sitting at the dining table, you are at the head seat while Sica and Taeyeon are sitting facing each other.

“Nice place you have here Y/N”, Sica says smiling.

“It’s mine too. We live together, have been for a while now.”, Taeyeon interjects somewhat smugly.

“I didn’t ask.”, Sica replies with a forced smile but the sting in her voice makes it clear that Taeyeon is winning this round.

You try to change the topic sensing the hostility and it works…for a while atleast. A couple hours pass by, topics of the old days, catching up to the current times all happen and then Taeyeon looks to the clock. “Well, WE don’t want to hold you up any longer than you want to be, don’t worry if you need to leave, it’s not a big deal. I’m sure your manager will want you back at the hotel.”

“Actually….”, Jessica begins awkwardly, “I don’t have a manager anymore….I just came on my own to do some work, maybe explore a bit but the usual place I stay at is fully booked right now. Even though they can make exceptions for me, this time it’s a bit too late for that”.

Taeyeon’s alarm bells begin to ring as she sense which direction this conversation is headed and she kicks your leg under the table, warning you not to do it. However, you instead take that as a cue to do the opposite.

“I’m sorry to hear that Sica”, you begin sympathetically as Taeyeon nods trying not to smile. “But if you’d like, you can stay here for a few days”, you offer and Taeyeon immediately stops nodding, staring dagger at you trying to send the message but you didn’t notice.

“Oh really? You don’t mind?”, Sica turns to ask Taeyeon with a triumphant smile.

“Well, actually”, Taeyeon racks her brains trying to think of an excuse, “there’s only one bed at the moment because the other room is being painted. So I guess….”.

“Someone can sleep on the couch maybe?”, you suggest.

“Well, in that case, Jessica you can just sleep on the couch”, Taeyeon says dismissively.

“Where is Y/N sleeping then? Didn’t you say they slept here”, Jessica asks quickly.

“Well…since there’s no other way, they can sleep with me-I mean, on my bed this one time I guess”, Taeyeon answers like she doesn’t want this but has no other option.

“No.”, Jessica replied in a cold tone all of a sudden.

“Excuse me?”, Taeyeon wasn’t sure she heard Jessica right, no way Jessica could show that attitude and tone to her right?

“You heard me”, Jessica said just as coldly.

Both women staring at each other in a hostile manner.

“Why not.”, Taeyeon questions, slightly annoyed now.

“Well, the two of us have shared beds before, we can do that again. Y/N can take the couch.”, Jessica replies but sounds unconvincing.

“Huh but this is my-”, you start but Taeyeon shuts you up.

“Fine….I guess that works.”, Taeyeon reluctantly accepts Jessica’s suggestion.

Later that night you were twisting and turning on the couch, missing your bed. You sigh and take a deep breath. You were staring at the ceiling slowly falling asleep when you feel a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N? You awake?”, Jessica quietly whispers.

“Hmm?” You sleepily reply. “Jes…Sica? You aren’t sleeping?”

“I did for a bit….but now I can’t…” she says quietly.

You sit up and yawn, making space for her and she sits next to you, getting into the blanket, leaning in close to you. It feels a bit weird. Like you were back in the past. You recall the movie nights and marathons you both did together. The two of you sit in silence, quietly enjoying the warmth and presence of the other.

“….you wanna watch a movie like old times?”, you ask breaking the silence.

Jessica smiles brightly, leaning into you a bit, fidgeting with her necklace,“I was hoping you would ask that.”

You smile back and soon enough you both had put on something. About an hour later, you both were just giggling and teasing each other, paying almost no attention to the movie. You try to playfully shove her to the side but Sica holds on to you and you end up falling on top of her. You both just stare at each other for a second before breaking into giggles again.

“Ahnnn…you are so mean”, Jessica pouts playfully, fidgeting with the necklace again.

You smirk and roll your eyes. “Wait….that necklace….is that…”, you observe in disbelief.

Jessica becomes quiet all of a sudden, you can just about notice her cheeks flush in the dim light and she smiles shyly, “Yeah, it is.”

You have a flashback from when you gave it to her 6 years ago on her birthday. It was a last minute gift that you got for her. It wasn’t anything fancy or anything. You didn’t even think she’d ever wear it to be honest.

“Uhm…Y/N?”, Jessica brings you back to reality and you realize you leaned in close to her. You cough and awkwardly pull away, feeling your cheeks redden.

She gets up and lays on one end of the couch while you are still on the ground, mentally punching yourself for making things awkward.

“Hey, sorry about that I didn’t realize I was….”, you stop as you realize Jessica has already fallen asleep.

You sigh and put the blanket on her carefully and go to the bedroom, finding Taeyeon sleeping.

“She looks so cute when she sleeps”, you think as you lay next to her and lose yourself to random thoughts before drifting off to sleep too.

You wince as sunlight hits your eyes, blinking unhappily before trying to turn away only to realize that you can’t turn…..because Taeyeon had her arm wrapped around you and buried her head in your back, sleeping peacefully while holding on to you. You take a deep breath and think what you can do to get up without waking her up. You think for a couple moments and try to shift a bit but she immediately stirs so you stop. You sigh and stay still. Minutes pass by and you decide you will try to get up anyway but at the last second you stop as you didn’t wanna wake her up at all. Somehow you manage to turn over, facing her. She was breathing quietly, you could feel her breath on your neck. Suddenly you had a very strong urge to kiss her forehead. It wasn’t your fault. Mostly. Taeyeon just looked really precious right now. As you deliberated with yourself, you make your choice and decide to go ahead with it. You gently kiss her forehead……then Taeyeon snuggles closer.

“Mmmm….you are so warm”, she said in her sleep.

You now feel your heart racing. Was this right, should you do this? You want to but….

The door suddenly flung open. “Y/N where did you go I had fallen asleep after we……what are you both doing?????”

Taeyeon kissed her teeth, “Jessica let me sleep…it’s too early right now….”

“Like hell I will. What are you both doing.”, Jessica demanded once again.

Taeyeon finally wakes up and looks to the door, “what do you mean, I’m….wait if you are there then….”, she turns to look at you and a look of surprise flashes through her face and it begins to redden. She pushes you away, “Y/N??? What are you doing!”

“That’s what I’ve been asking!”, Jessica agrees with her for once.

“No, girls, listen, it’s just a misunderstanding.”, you begin sheepishly.

“Explain yourself. NOW.” They said at the same time.

“Well, after we watched the movie and…ahem, you ended up falling asleep on the couch, I just-”, you began but were interrupted almost immediately.

“Wait wait wait. What do you mean watched the movie. With who…”, Taeyeons eyes drift to Jessica a flash of jealousy appears.

“ANYway”, you continue, hoping to calm things now, “Sica fell asleep on the couch so I just came to sleep here.”

Taeyeon blinks and then blushes hard, “wait does that mean that the person….”, she put her hand up to her temple, the spot you impulsively kissed.

You feel your face redden and you look away, avoiding eye contact. There’s silence now and you can feel Jessica glaring at you.

Breakfast was awkward and silent. Coincidentally all three of you finished at the same time. You were hoping that things will resolve by themselves but apparently that was too much to hope for.

“Y/N do you wanna help me paint the other room”, Taeyeon suddenly asked

“Y/N do you want to help me with some shopping”, Jessica asked at the same time.

Both girls began to stare daggers at each other but then also at you. You could feel the tension build up and you were feeling pressured now. What on earth is happening in this household.

#ask me anything #answered asks #anon ask #kpop gg #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #reader x idol #snsd #snsd imagines #snsd x reader #reader x taeyeon #snsd fluff #Jessica x reader #taeyeon fluff

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nanawritesit · 2 years ago

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Yuri Girlfriend Headcanons!

She’s your beautiful black pearl, and you tell her that every day <3

Making dinner for her every night, and she thinks you’re being so sweet except it’s really just so you don’t have to eat her cooking 😭

Pretending you like her food on the rare occasion she does cook because you love her so much

Being patient with her whenever she’s focusing on a project and blocking everyone out

However you’re also the only one who can snap her out of it when she’s neglecting herself in the process

She cries every time someone asks her about you because she just gets so overwhelmed talking about how amazing you are :)

Her talking to you about her members constantly because she takes so much pride in being a member of SNSD

Counting her sit ups for her every morning

Her dragging you to the gym with her

You mostly just end up drooling over her instead of working out (but who can blame you, you’re watching the sexiest member of SNSD exercise 💀)

And shoving herbal drinks down your throat constantly

Eating more healthy foods because of her

Basically, if you’re not already a health nut, Yuri will turn you into one

Helping her plan all her pranks on the members

What’s funny is you’re usually the mastermind, but the members never get mad at you, only Yuri who executed them (they sometimes joke that they like you more than her)

Going to baseball games together

Buying her every single Mickey/ Minnie couple item you can find, and she squeals every time you give them to her

Helping her run lines for all her acting roles

Going swimming together

Her teaching you yoga poses

Having a million pictures of her falling asleep with her tongue sticking out like a puppy

Her “kkabyul” personality never fails to cheer you up when you’re sad. She can instantly turn on her hyper side and do some dorky dances to make you laugh!

Family is very important to Yuri, so you’ll immediately be integrated into the Kwon family! She’ll even teach you to sing some of her grandparents favorite trot songs with her at lunar new year :)

You also become great friends with all her cousins

Surprising her and all her costars with coffee whenever she’s hard at work on a drama set, making her swoon

Your house is crowded with Yuri’s scented candles, her addiction has even spread to you

She loves that she gets to be her authentic self around you… with you she doesn’t have to be “Kwon Yuri of SNSD,” she can just be Yuri

Overall, dating Yuri is amazing. She’s sensitive, sweet, sexy, wants the best for you, and makes sure you know how much she loves you every single day 💞

#yuri headcanons #yuri x reader #yuri scenarios #yuri imagines #snsd x reader #snsd requests #snsd imagines #snsd reactions #snsd scenarios #snsd fanfic #girl group imagines #girl group fanfic #girl group scenarios #girl group x reader

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darkstar225 · 2 years ago

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Twice's 10th member almost gets taken advantage of by a staff ft SNSD's Tiffany as GF

A/N: Heyyy, I'm coming up with a lot of stuff for you guys so I can make up for the time I'm gone lol! Sry for taking so long to post :D I hope that my friend fullcatrebel who gave me this idea on Tumblr likes it!

The request: Hi I just want to request can you do where y/n is dating Tiffany from snsd(Tiffany is very protective of y/n) and the other member of snsd adore her(like a little sister)and one day when all of them were at the same workplace(including snsd) one of the staff tried to take advantage of y/n and she ran towards the all of the girls and they got angry and took care of it. Ps. I really love reading your book ❤️

PS: Tysm for everyone who reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

The bustling atmosphere of a shared work event between TWICE and Girls' Generation (SNSD) filled the air with a mixture of excitement and anticipation. Both groups, beloved and successful in their own right, were set to perform and collaborate for a special stage. Among the members, Y/N, the 10th member and youngest of TWICE, was in a unique position, for she was in a loving relationship with Tiffany, a member of SNSD.

Tiffany was known for her vibrant personality and a smile that could light up a room, but she also had a fiercely protective side when it came to Y/N. The other members of SNSD had come to adore Y/N as if she were their own little sister, and they had accepted her with open arms into their close-knit family.

Meanwhile, Y/N was equally cherished by her TWICE unnies, who saw her as a precious little sister and close friend. They knew about her relationship with Tiffany, and the whole group had become like an extended family.

As the preparations for the event went into full swing, TWICE's snowflake was busy with her rehearsals while Tiffany and the other SNSD members were in their own practice rooms. The maknae had been a constant presence throughout the preparations, and her talent, charm, and youthful energy had won her a special place in the hearts of both groups.

As the day of the event arrived, the venue buzzed with excitement. Fans from all over the world had gathered to see their favourite K-pop stars perform, and both TWICE and SNSD were ready to deliver a show to remember.

During a break in rehearsals, Y/N found herself backstage, looking for a quiet spot to relax. The bustling venue had been overwhelming, and she needed a moment of solitude to gather her thoughts. Unbeknownst to her, a staff member with sinister intentions had been lurking nearby, watching for an opportunity.

As Y/N moved further away from the stage, she suddenly felt a presence behind her. Before she could react, the staff member made an inappropriate advance, causing fear and panic to surge through her. She pushed the staff member away and ran, desperate to find safety.

The younger girl's heart raced as she sprinted through the backstage area. She was shaken, terrified, and tears blurred her vision. She needed to find her loved ones, her support system. She needed Tiffany, the SNSD members, and her TWICE unnies. They were like her family, and she knew they would protect her.

Meanwhile, Tiffany and the SNSD members had just finished their rehearsals when they heard a commotion backstage. They rushed to the source of the disturbance, hearts pounding with concern. When they turned the corner and saw Y/N running towards them, dishevelled and scared, their protective instincts kicked into high gear.

Tiffany - Baby!

Tiffany exclaimed, rushing to her girlfriend's side. She wrapped her girl in a protective embrace, her expression a mixture of relief and fury.

Tiffany - What happened, sweetheart? Are you okay?

Y/N clung to Tiffany, tears streaming down her face as she explained the horrifying encounter with the staff member. Tiffany's protective instinct flared even brighter as she looked over at her fellow SNSD members. Their expressions mirrored her own, the love and concern for Y/N evident in their eyes.

Tiffany turned to the staff member, her voice laced with fury.

Tiffany - You! What do you think you're doing? *glares*

The staff member stammered, realizing that they were surrounded by a group of determined women who would not stand for any harm to come to their beloved Y/N. The members of SNSD were ready to take action, and they were known for their close bond and sisterly protection.

As the staff member stuttered an apology, Taeyeon, the leader of SNSD, stepped forward with a stern expression.

Taeyeon - You should be ashamed of yourself. Don't ever let us catch you doing something like this again.

Yuri - You won't get off easy next time. We won't tolerate any harm coming to our Y/N. *scowls*

With a mixture of shame and fear, the staff member quickly retreated, leaving TWICE's youngest in the protective embrace of her girlfriend and her newfound family. As the initial shock began to subside, Y/N felt a sense of safety and comfort that only came from being surrounded by people who loved and cared for her.

Taeyeon wrapped her arms around the young girl, her voice filled with warmth.

Taeyeon - You're safe now, Y/N. We won't let anything happen to you.

The other members of SNSD echoed their agreement, and Y/N couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and support she had found within the group. She was like a little sister to them, and their protective instincts were unwavering.

Tiffany kissed Y/N's forehead and began to whisper.

Tiffany - I'll always protect you, my Tinkerbell. You're the most important person in my life.

Y/N nodded, tears of gratitude still in her eyes.

Y/N - I love you, babe. I'm so lucky to have you and all of SNSD in my life.

Just as Y/N was beginning to feel a little calmer, a group of familiar faces appeared on the scene. It was her fellow TWICE members, who had been alerted to the incident by the stage crew.

Jihyo, TWICE's leader and Y/N's mama, was the first to reach her kid, her expression filled with concern.

Jihyo - Angel, are you okay? We heard what happened.

Nayeon - We're here for you, sweet girl. We won't let anything happen to you.

Y/N's heart swelled with gratitude as she saw the members of both groups standing together, ready to protect her. She turned to Tiffany, who was still holding her close, and whispered:

I love you all. I'm so lucky to have you in my life.

Momo, one of Y/N's fellow TWICE members, stepped forward and hugged her dongsang tightly.

Momo - We're like your big sisters, Y/N, and we'll always look out for you.

As the event continued, Y/N was never alone. She was constantly surrounded by the love and protection of both TWICE and SNSD, who had become her extended family. The incident had only served to strengthen their bonds, and Y/N knew that she would always be cherished and safeguarded by the people who had become her protectors and her family. And this made her have one thought:

I’ll love my dear chosen family forever.

A/N: I’m sorry for any errors. English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there is something wrong, ty for reading <3

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othernightslikethis · 2 months ago

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AFTER HOURS

Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader.

A little anguish, age gap, bf x gf, smut

7,1k words

Kim Taeyeon wasn’t just your mother’s best friend. She was part of the fabric of your life, a constant presence that seemed to have existed forever. The aunt who wasn’t related by blood but who scolded you when you talked back. The woman who made three-tiered cakes for birthdays, who remembered the names of your third cousins and always knew what gift you wanted before even you did.

She was the loudest laugh at Sunday barbecues, the lap you ran to when you fell off your bike, the shoulder your mother leaned on when she was sad. She was there when you broke your arm jumping off the school roof, holding your hand in the hospital while your mother was busy filling out emergency forms. She was there at your high school graduation, shouting your name louder than anyone, eyes shining with pride. She was there on that holiday in Jeju, when she showed up in a wine-red bikini that made your father immediately look away, flustered. You were fourteen at the time, and you saved the photo on your phone with a heat in your cheeks you couldn’t name.

She was perfect. Untouchable. She glowed in a way you didn’t know if it was because she was too much of an adult or simply unlike any woman you’d ever seen.

And that was exactly why... she was completely off-limits.

It happened on a stifling summer afternoon, the kind where the heat seeped through the cracks in the windows and the house itself seemed to sigh, slow and lazy. Your mother had gone to visit your sick grandmother in Busan, leaving you home alone for a few days. Taeyeon showed up unannounced, a bottle of soju in hand and a vulnerability in her expression you’d never seen before.

"Another weekend alone..." she said, kicking off her shoes in the corner of the living room. The divorce was still fresh, and even though she smiled, you could see the broken pieces behind her eyes.

You offered to keep her company. Turned on the fan, put on some soft music, poured the drinks. One drink became two, two became three. She laughed more than usual, tossed her hair to the side, and let her arm brush against yours every time she said something funny.

"You understand me in a way no one else does," she murmured, her finger tracing the rim of her glass.

You don’t remember who leaned in first. Only the silence between one breath and the next, the suspended moment before the touch. The taste of her lipstick was berries and alcohol. The scent of her perfume—expensive, subtle, unforgettable—lingered on your skin. Her fingers were cold, but her hands were warm, nervous, determined. The shock in her eyes when she realised what you were doing was real. But she didn’t stop.

"This is wrong..." she whispered between kisses, even as her fingers undid your shirt buttons with a urgency that betrayed any hesitation.

"I know..." was the last coherent thing you managed to say.

That night, everything collapsed and revealed itself at the same time.

After the first time came the guilt. Thick, suffocating, like a blanket too heavy for summer. You avoided mirrors, ignored her messages, tried to convince yourself it was a mistake that wouldn’t happen again.

But then she texted.

"Are you okay?"

And the truth was: you weren’t.

The meetings started again, like an inevitable relapse. First quick coffees, flimsy excuses. A movie here, a lift there. Hands "accidentally" touching. Laughter that lasted longer than it should. Until the meetings lost any pretence of innocence.

You were sleeping together. In roadside motels, in the backseat of her car, once in her architecture office with the lights off and the blinds drawn. She moaned against your shoulder, biting your skin to keep from crying out too loud. And you? You lived for those moments. For that body, that woman, that dangerous, addictive secret.

But it wasn’t just sex. It was the way she knew you. Knew you hated kimchi. Knew you got anxious before interviews. Knew you listened to classical music when you were sad.

It was the care. The tenderness in small gestures. The dinner she cooked for you on days you didn’t want to get out of bed. Her fingers in your hair when you said the world was too hard. The comfortable silence between you.

And then it happened:

You fell in love.

It was a stupid mistake. A careless slip. You left your phone on the kitchen table while you showered. It was unlocked. A message came through.

"I can’t hide it anymore. I love you."

Your mother read it.

The silence that followed was absolute. A chasm. She looked at you as if you were a stranger. As if she’d just discovered her son was someone else entirely.

"How could you?" was all she managed to say, eyes red, hands shaking as she gripped the phone so tightly it looked ready to snap.

She slammed the door on her way out, and the sound echoed like a gunshot.

Taeyeon tried to explain. Called, messaged, showed up at the door. Your mother ignored her as if she were dead. Their mutual friends turned away. Your mother’s brother stormed in, furious, threatening to involve lawyers.

She was painted as the villain. And you as the victim. The manipulated one.

"She took advantage of you," your father said, refusing to meet your eyes.

And for a while, you believed it.

Two years passed.

Nothing was easy. You lost friends. She lost her reputation. Your mother drowned in bitter silence, and your father just avoided you. But time, stubborn, kept moving forward.

The messages between Taeyeon and your mother started getting replies. First with terse punctuation. Then short sentences. An "ok." A "got it." Later, a cold but human "thanks."

Your father still wouldn’t look at her, but he stopped making venomous jokes when you mentioned her. A small victory.

And the two of you? You moved in together. A new flat, in another neighbourhood, far from prying eyes and old memories. A fresh start. Taeyeon began smiling again, lighter, as if she’d learned to carry the pain without letting it weigh her down. You learned to cook for her. She started buying too many books and stacking them on the shelves.

On Sunday mornings, she still danced barefoot in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in hand, hair messy, spinning to the music as sunlight streamed through the window.

She danced as if the whole world had finally allowed her to be happy.

And, watching her, you knew: none of it was a mistake.

---

The atmosphere in the house had shifted—subtly at first, but now it was impossible to ignore. The walls felt colder, the rooms quieter, as if even the air carried a faint discomfort. The home that had once been Taeyeon’s refuge had become a glass prison, where everything was visible, yet nothing was truly spoken.

Her parents *tolerated* her—that was the word. They tolerated her presence, her measured words, her forced smiles. But when they looked at you, there was something different in their gaze. A glimmer of admiration—not for who you were, but for what you represented. Youth. Beauty. Vigour. And the comparison was inevitable.

Every comment, every masked joke, every prolonged silence between sentences carried an implicit message: "You're not enough."

"You're so handsome. So young... What on earth did she do to win you over?"

"She must have some secret, right? Blackmail? Or is it the money?"

"Not that she's ugly... but let's be honest."

Taeyeon heard it all. Every word cut through her chest like ground glass. She smiled, made jokes in return, pretended not to care. But her eyes… her eyes told a different story. And you saw it. Because you recognised that spark. Or rather, you remembered when it was there. Now, all that remained was the reflection of someone trying to resist drowning in emotional wreckage.

Her friends didn’t help. At meet-ups or coffee dates, their compliments dripped with poison:

"He’s a Greek god, Taeyeon. Seriously, how did you manage it? Does he like women who are... older?

"Oh, you’ve always been good at winning hearts, haven’t you? Even with that age gap. I could never."

And she smiled. Pressed her lips together. Changed the subject. But you saw how she withdrew a little more with each remark. As if she were shrinking.

Your own friends, at first, were cruel. Called her a "milf", made crude jokes, laughed at absurd insinuations about her "dominating you in bed" or "manipulating you with experience." You argued, fought, cut some of them off. Eventually, they fell silent. But the damage was already done. And Taeyeon felt it.

---

Her shift was subtle. It began with small gestures.

She still said "good morning", but without looking at you.

Still kissed your forehead, but her lips trembled.

Still smiled, but not with her eyes.

The warmth of her body, once always pressed against yours at night, began to retreat. Little by little, she started sleeping turned away, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You reached out to hold her, but she curled in on herself, as if your touch burned.

Mornings became silent routine. She woke before you and slipped away without a sound. Came home late, smelling of stale coffee and exhaustion. Her makeup faded, her gaze hollow. And when she entered the bedroom, she changed in the dark, lay down without a word, turned the other way—and slept.

You tried to talk. Tried to coax out smiles. But she pulled back. She was there… but she was gone.

And a doubt gnawed at you: Was there someone else?

But you knew Taeyeon. Knew the pain she carried from her ex-husband’s betrayal. Knew how even the smallest lie shattered her.

She wasn’t cheating.

She was crumbling.

---

The night was warm, but the bedroom felt frozen. You came home from work, showered, and lay down. She was already there, motionless. Facing away. The silence was absolute. You tried to touch her, but she only pulled the blanket tighter over her shoulders.

You stayed awake for hours, tossing, trying to understand how things had come to this.

Then you felt the mattress dip slightly. Taeyeon rose with quiet steps, as if begging the universe not to make a sound. The bedroom door creaked faintly, and she vanished into the hallway.

You waited. Something in your chest screamed that you shouldn’t ignore this.

You got up. Went downstairs. And found her.

She was curled on the living room sofa, folded into herself as if trying to disappear. Her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling.

Her sobs were muffled, desperate, as if crying in silence was her last attempt not to break completely.

You froze for a moment. The sight of her like that was something you’d never forget.

"Love...?"

She flinched, hastily wiping her face with her pyjama sleeves. Her expression was pure panic, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

"W—what are you doing awake?" her voice hoarse, weak, broken.

It was the first time in weeks she’d looked you straight in the eye. But something inside her was shattered.

You moved closer, sat beside her. She recoiled instinctively, like a wounded animal. But you took her hand—and felt it.

The tremor. The fear. The vulnerability.

"Taeyeon... talk to me, please."

She hesitated. Her lips parted, but no words came. Until the weight became too much. The fortress she’d built with such effort collapsed.

"I... I can’t do this anymore..." she whispered between sobs.

And then she broke. Collapsed into your arms as if that embrace were the last anchor between her and the abyss.

She wept with her whole body. Her hands clutched at you, fingers digging into your chest as if trying to fuse with you. Tears soaked your shirt, but you didn’t care. You just held her, pressing her close, rocking her like a wounded child.

"You should end this. I'm trying to push you away, damn it, but why do you keep coming back?"

Her voice trembled, thick as if every word were caught in a throat crushed under the weight of guilt. It was a rough whisper, fragile, yet loaded with a fierce desperation. It sounded as though she were begging to be left behind—yet at the same time, begging for you to stay.

Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned white, as if her entire body were fighting to hold itself back, resisting the natural urge to throw herself into your arms. She kept them rigid at her sides, as though trying to keep her soul from escaping her flesh.

The tears no longer came in sobs, but in silence. They had grown accustomed to flowing—two gleaming rivers down her pale skin, trailing her face like open wounds. The shirt she wore was stained in uneven patches of sorrow, as if grief had left footprints on her chest.

"It’s not fair… I ruined your life…"

Those words were whispered against you, like a confession she hated to voice aloud. She pressed her forehead to your chest, as if the weight of everything was too much to bear standing. You felt the damp heat of her tears seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and the muffled sound of her ragged breathing hitting your body like a plea for forgiveness.

Her shoulders shook—not just from pain, but from shame. From fear. And from a love so immense it hurt.

You reacted instinctively. Your hands rose slowly, trying to wrap around her shoulders, to pull her close. To shield her from the world and, if possible, from herself. But she flinched at the slightest touch, as if your affection were a burning ember rather than a refuge.

"Don’t. Don’t lie to me…"

Her voice was weak, like a breath of wind on the verge of vanishing. "I’m old, and—God… how did I not see it before? My friends were right. You’re only with me out of pity, aren’t you? You’re afraid to leave this old woman!"

That word—old—slipped from her lips like a blade, sharp and cruel. And the worst part was, she seemed to have driven that knife into herself. Her lips quivered. She bit them, hard, as if punishing herself. As if she deserved to suffer for daring to love you, for believing, even for a second, that it was possible.

"Taeyeon. You’re perfect."

Your voice cut through the air, firm, charged with a fierce intensity. You held her carefully, your fingers trembling with emotion, and gently pulled her away from your chest, forcing her to look at you. Not with brutality—but with love. With urgency.

Her face was swollen from crying. Her eyes, red like two weary suns, yet still beautiful. There was a desperate glimmer in them, as if searching for something in you—perhaps a reason to stay, perhaps confirmation that they were wrong.

And you gave it to her.

Because there, right in front of you, Kim Taeyeon was still stunning.

Stunning even with her smudged mascara casting shadows under her eyes. Stunning even with her nose red from crying. Stunning in the depths of pain, in the chaos of insecurity, in the abyss of fear. Stunning because she was her.

"Do you really think I care about age?" Your voice dropped an octave, like thunder rolling in to shield the land. "Do you honestly believe I’d be here if I didn’t want you more than anything?"

She tried to look away, as if afraid to find the truth in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let her. With a gentle touch, your thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away a stubborn tear that refused to stop falling. You leaned in even closer, closing the space between you like someone refusing any distance.

"I don’t want anyone but you, Taeyeon. Not someone younger. Not someone older. Not anyone. Just you."

Those words seemed to dismantle the defences she had built with such effort.

"One day, you’ll meet a girl your age and leave me. I know it."

Her voice came out like a lost child trying to shield herself from inevitable pain. But there was also a sliver of hope, barely perceptible—as if, deep down, she wanted you to prove her wrong.

You laughed. Low. Warm. A laugh that carried affection, but also disbelief.

"And you’ll meet someone your age and leave me."

Her eyes widened.

"What?! Of course I wouldn’t!"

You smiled. That smile she always claimed to hate because it "made you too smug," but secretly adored.

"See? That argument doesn’t make sense. Baby. I’m with you now. And you’re the one I want. Don’t let anyone—not even yourself—try to change that."

She looked at you. Really looked. Her eyes brimming with tears, but this time, with something new behind them: hope. Vulnerability. Love. A raw love, stripped of glamour, born in the mud of pain and watered with real promises.

And then she whispered:

"Then promise me. Give me a… big, big kiss."

Her voice faltered at the end, almost a nervous laugh between tears. It was so genuine, so absurdly adorable that you couldn’t resist.

Adorable. That’s what you thought.

And then you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers—not like someone kissing an insecure woman, but like someone sealing a sacred vow. A kiss without hurry, full of truth, saying everything words never could.

When your lips parted, you already knew exactly what you wanted.

Your kisses trailed down, slow and deliberate, from her mouth to her jaw, then to her neck, where you left a discreet mark—just enough to make her shudder. She writhed beneath your touch, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, as if clinging to something solid to keep from losing herself completely. Until now, you had never taken control like this—she had always preferred to be on top, dictating the pace, and only now did you understand why: she was afraid of seeming vulnerable.

It was adorable.

Your fingers unbuttoned her pyjama shirt, one by one, exposing her soft skin to the cold air of the bedroom. She arched her back involuntarily, a shiver running through her as the fabric slid off her shoulders. You didn’t let her adjust to the temperature—your lips were already wrapped around one of her breasts, your tongue tracing slow circles before sucking firmly.

She screamed.

"I-if you keep this up, I swear you’ll be sleeping on the sofa for—"

You didn’t let her finish. Your fingers found the other nipple, twisting it lightly, and her protest dissolved into a loud, trembling moan. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath quickened, and you smirked against her skin.

This was your woman.

And you would make sure she remembered she deserved to be treated like a queen.

"What’s the matter, mummy? Not enjoying yourself?"

She turned her face away, her cheeks burning with shame. At first, she had hated that name, but you’d noticed long ago how her muscles tensed less each time you called her that. How her moans grew louder. How her hips pressed against your hand whenever the word slipped from your lips.

Your kisses trailed lower, leaving a damp trail down her flawless abdomen. You could spend hours there—nipping, licking, worshipping every inch of that smooth skin. But you had other plans.

When your hands gripped the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, she hesitated, her fingers tangling in your hair in a mix of protest and plea.

"I-I can’t let you—"

You didn’t give her a choice. With one firm motion, you tore the fabric apart, relishing the satisfying sound of the elastic giving way.

"HEY, THAT WAS MY FAVOURITE!"

You ignored her. It was a lie. She had a wardrobe full of identical pyjamas. Besides, this was about something far more important.

In all your years together, she had never let you go down on her. There was a deep-rooted guilt in her, an old-fashioned belief that a decent wife shouldn’t allow something so indecent. You suspected that was why she’d rarely climaxed with her ex-husband.

But you weren’t him.

Your finger slid along her entrance, finding her absolutely soaked, and she arched her back with a ragged moan. You didn’t make her wait—your tongue found her clit in one firm stroke, and her scream echoed through the room.

"NO—YOU CAN’T— AAAAHWN~!"

She tried to close her legs, but you held her hips firmly, keeping her spread open. Within seconds, she was already trembling, her fluids dripping down your chin as she writhed, unable to form words.

She couldn’t hold back.

Her body was already at its limit, her thighs shaking uncontrollably as your tongue worked in a relentless rhythm. You knew exactly how she liked it—steady pressure, then quick, flickering strokes, just enough to drive her to the edge of desperation.

"S-stop… I’m gonna… NO, WAIT—"

But it was too late.

A hot gush spilled from her, coating your chin, your lips, dripping down the fingers still holding her open. She screamed, a raw, broken sound, her entire body convulsing in violent spasms. You didn’t stop—byou sucked, drank every drop, and she sobbed, her fingers buried in your hair, tugging wildly.

"I CAN’T… I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE… PLEASE—"

But you kept going, pushing her straight into another peak, even more intense than the first. This time, she couldn’t even form words—just high-pitched whimpers, her legs shaking, the wet sound of your tongue against her filling the room.

When you finally pulled away, she was gasping, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes glazed over. You sat up, licking your lips slowly, and she covered her face with her hands, embarrassed.

"You… you’re insufferable."

You smirked, pulling her into a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on your lips.

"So you squirt? Fuck, can you stop getting sexier, Kim Taeyeon? At this rate, I’ll have to knock you up."

She visibly shuddered at the idea, and then you grinned. Ah. So that was what she wanted? To carry your child?

Your fingers found her entrance again, this time two fingers plunging deep inside her heat while your mouth recaptured her swollen clit. She screamed, her body caught between the mattress and your dominance—completely at your mercy now.

"See how wet you get for me?" You murmured against her skin, feeling her walls clench around your fingers. "All this mess just for me… my greedy little wife."

She tried to muffle her moans with her hands, but you pinned her wrists above her head, holding them with one hand while the other continued its relentless work. Precise curls, deep thrust, the obscene sound of her slickness filling the air. You felt the moment her muscles started trembling again—she was so close…

"Come." You ordered, nipping at her thigh. "Squirt again. Now."

Your command shattered something in her. With a muffled scream, another gush burst from her, even more intense than before, spilling over your hand, dripping onto the sheets beneath. Her body jerked as if electrocuted, her eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure completely overwhelmed her.

You didn’t give her time to recover. In one fluid motion, you lifted her hips and buried your tongue deep inside her, drinking every drop as she thrashed.

"STOP! I… I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE…!" She sobbed, her legs trembling violently.

You lifted your face, your chin glistening with her. "Liar." You smirked, lining your throbbing length with her dripping entrance. "You can take so much more."

And with one sharp thrust, you sheathed yourself to the hilt, her eyes widening as one last weak spurt escaped between your joined bodies.

"That’s… that’s too…!" She couldn’t form sentences, her nails digging into your back.

You started moving, each thrust calculated to grind against that perfect spot inside her. "Say it. Say what you are."

She shook her head, resisting, but her body betrayed her—growing wetter, tighter around you.

You slowed your pace, nearly pulling out completely before slamming back in. "Say it."

"Y-YOUR… YOUR WHORE…!" She screamed, and you felt her walls begin to clench again.

That was all you needed to hear.

Gripping her hips, you fucked her mercilessly now, the sound of skin against skin, her cries, your own growls—all blending together as you drove her to the edge once more.

Until you stopped. You flipped her onto her stomach, your hands firm on her hips as you pulled her up, leaving her on all fours on the sofa. She tried to protest, but you were already sliding into her from behind, a rough groan escaping your throat as you filled her completely.

"N-no… like this it’s… too—"

Deep. That’s what she meant to say, but the words were lost as you started moving, each thrust aimed at that spot that made her see stars. Her hands clawed at the sheets, her knuckles white from the strain, as you controlled the pace—slow and cruel at first, then faster, until the wet slap of skin dominated the room.

She tried to brace herself on her arms, but you pulled her back, her spine pressed against your chest, one hand wrapped around her throat while the other slid down to rub her clit in quick circles.

"You’re not running now, princess."

She screamed, her entire body shaking, and you felt her walls pulsing around you, clenching as if trying to milk every inch. You didn’t stop—you couldn’t stop—pumping into her as she remained oversensitive, each movement wrenching another moan from her.

When you finally dropped her back onto the sofa, she was completely boneless, her breath ragged, her eyes unfocused. But you weren’t done.

You lifted her, wrapping your arms around her as you pressed her against the wall, her legs locking around your waist.

"Hold on."

She obeyed, her arms looping around your neck, and you sank into her again, **even deeper this time**, the angle perfect for wringing another scream from her.

"O-oh God… like this I… I’m gonna—"

And she did.

Another gush, even more intense than the first, spilling down your thighs as you kept moving, relentless. She buried her face in your shoulder, her teeth sinking into your skin to muffle her cries, but you wanted to hear her.

"No one else will ever make you feel like this."

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears—happy ones this time.

"You only cry like this for me, understand, you slut?"

"U-uhuh! Oh yes, fuck, I’m gonna break, baby I’m gonna..."

You laid her on her back at the edge of the sofa, her legs bent against her chest, exposing her completely as you stood, gripping her ankles. She tried to cover herself, but you pinned her wrists above her head, quickly binding them with her own pyjama top.

"Y-You’re not going to—"

But you were already inside.

The penetration was brutally deep at this angle—every stroke grinding directly against her G-spot, the tip of you hitting a place that made her eyes roll back. She tried to speak, but only a choked "Nhgn—!" escaped, her fingers twisting in the makeshift restraints.

You gripped her hips and lifted her into the air, using her thighs as leverage to slam her back onto you with each thrust—blike a medieval catapult breaking through castle walls.

"S-STOP! I’M GONNA— CUMM—"

She didn’t finish.

Her body arched violently, a transparent gush spraying uncontrollably as you kept pounding, using her slickness to slide even faster. The sight was obscene—her stomach trembling with each impact, her breasts bouncing wildly, her expression completely lost in pleasure.

Then you changed positions, untying her hands, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, your hands gripping her thighs as you pressed her against the wall. She had no support. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, her arms clung desperately to your neck, and you felt her racing heartbeat against your chest.

"Y-You’re going to drop me…"—her voice was a breathless whisper, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and pure arousal.

You answered by thrusting deeper.

She shrieked as you buried yourself in one stroke, the angle brutally perfect. Every movement now controlled not just her pleasure, but her very breath—when you lifted her higher, she writhed; when you let her slip down slightly, her legs tightened around you, begging for more.

"I-I can’t… think…"

That was the point.

You used her as you pleased—lifting and lowering her body in your rhythm, feeling her grow tighter, more desperate. When your fingers found her clit, she lost control—another hot gush spilled between you, and she buried her face in your shoulder, crying from sheer ecstasy.

You didn’t stop. Not until she trembled endlessly, her legs too weak to hold on, her entire body ruled by your movement.

When you finally couldn’t hold back any longer, you buried yourself deep and emptied weeks of pent-up seed into her womb, and Taeyeon could do little more than whimper and twitch helplessly through another mini-orgasm—this one not quite as loud.

When you laid her back on the sofa, exhausted, you realised she had simply passed out from all that overstimulation.

---

Six months ago, your life had been turned upside down—in the best way possible. Taeyeon, your Taeyeon, was finally back in your arms. After so much time apart, you had both decided to face your insecurities together, diving headfirst into therapy. And to your surprise, she was taking it seriously—more seriously than you ever thought possible. She read books about relationships, jotted down reflections in a journal, and sometimes even initiated deep conversations in the middle of the night when anxiety struck.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for the whirlwind that was her pregnancy.

When those two little lines appeared on the test, your heart nearly burst with happiness. A little girl. Your little girl. You had even already chosen a name—Ha-eun—and agreed to get married when she turned three, giving yourselves time to adjust your lives, careers, and, most importantly, for Taeyeon to feel secure again.

But the pregnancy brought with it a Taeyeon who could switch between angel and devil in a matter of seconds.

She would laugh at a silly meme on her phone, and the next second, she’d be crying because you "breathed too loudly" and it "deeply bothered her." Once, she flew into a rage because you "chewed a biscuit too aggressively," and ten minutes later, she was clinging to you, apologising while licking the salty tears off your face.

If she used to love your scent, now, all it took was you approaching her after work for her to wrinkle her nose and say in disgust, "You reek of man." And worse—if she was having a bad day, just seeing you made her nauseous. Once, you walked into the bedroom, and she literally sprinted to the bathroom, laughing and vomiting at the same time. "Sorry, it’s the baby that hates you!" she yelled between gags.

Ah, but nothing topped the jealousy. Nothing.

If you so much as glanced at the barista for half a second, Taeyeon would go icy. If you replied to a message in the work group chat—which, by chance, included a female colleague—she would scowl, her eyes narrowing like a cat about to pounce.

And the peak? When the neighbour from the flat upstairs—a 60-year-old woman —said good morning to you in the lift, and Taeyeon hit the emergency button just so you could get out faster. "She fancies you, I saw the way she smiled," she growled, while you tried to process the fact that your pregnant fiancée was jealous of a grandmother.

It was an ordinary Saturday—or at least, it should have been. You and Taeyeon had gone out for a romantic dinner—something increasingly rare, as the pregnancy left her exhausted and irritable most nights. But today was different. She woke up in a good mood, even suggested getting dressed up to go out, and you, of course, didn’t question the miracle.

The restaurant was cosy, dimly lit, with wine glasses (grape juice for her) and a menu she had chosen after three days of indecision. You were laughing, talking about baby names again—she insisted Ha-eun sounded too formal and now wanted something "cute but not tacky"—when it happened.

The waitress came to clear the plates. A young woman, smiling, nothing out of the ordinary. You, being polite, thanked her with a "Cheers, that was lovely" and a brief nod. That was it.

But as the waitress turned to leave, Taeyeon froze. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, and her hands—clutching the napkin—tightened until her knuckles turned white.

You realised too late.

"Taeyeon? You alright?" you asked, still oblivious to the danger.

She didn’t answer. Just stared at you with an expression that mixed betrayal, fury, and pure existential dread.

"You… you looked." Her voice came out in a trembling whisper, as if she were holding back a tsunami of emotions.

"Looked at what?" you frowned, genuinely confused.

"AT HER ARSE. YOU LOOKED. I SAW IT.'

You swallowed hard. No. You hadn’t looked. Swore you hadn’t. But Taeyeon was already boiling.

"Taeyeon, love, I just thanked her—"

"NO. You did that little glance. That ‘oh, what a cute little thing’ look. I KNOW THAT LOOK."

"But she doesn’t even have… an ‘ar—’"

"STOP. TALKING. ABOUT. HER. ARSE."

She threw the napkin on the table, grabbed her bag, and stood up with the trembling dignity of a betrayed queen.

"I’m leaving."

"Taeyeon, wait—"

"NO. STAY HERE. CHAT MORE WITH HER. SINCE YOU’RE SO CLOSE."

You tried to hold her arm, but she shook you off as if your touch burned.

"I don’t even know the waitress’s name!" you argued, desperate.

"OH, SO YOU WANT TO KNOW, DO YOU? GONNA ASK FOR HER INSTA NEXT?"

The surrounding tables began to whisper. An elderly couple looked on with pity. The waiter pretended he wasn’t listening, but he clearly was.

With great difficulty, you convinced her to go home. Though she didn’t look at you the entire way.

"Kim Taeyeon, What the Bloody Hell Was That?"

You muttered, irritated enough to roll up the sleeves of your dress shirt, ready for a proper row. Until you noticed her frozen, eyes locked onto your flexed bicep, biting her lips so hard they nearly bled.

And then you understood.

"Ah… So that’s how it is?" Your voice dropped to a rough whisper, deliberately slow, as a wicked grin spread across your lips. "Naughty little girls…" You undid your belt with a dramatic click, watching her shudder. "...deserve punishment. Especially the ones who make a scene in public…" A step forward, and she stumbled back against the wall. "Isn’t that right, mummy?"

Taeyeon’s eyes widened, a moan escaping her throat—loud, desperate, as if she couldn’t believe what that word did to her.

"You—!" She tried to protest, but you were already there, one arm braced against the wall beside her head, the other tilting her chin up.

"You started this." Your hot breath against her ear. "Humiliated me in front of everyone. Treated me like rubbish. And now you’re looking at me like this?" Your hand slid down her waist, firm, possessive. "So easy…"

Taeyeon tried to turn away, but you tightened your grip on her chin, forcing her to face you.

"Say it."

She trembled, lips parted, eyes already glazed over.

"…I hate you."

You laughed, darkly, and captured her mouth in a filthy, dominant kiss, your hand tangling in her hair to pull harder. She moaned again, fingers clutching your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

And Christ—if that woman wasn’t the most perfect thing when she surrendered like this…

You broke the kiss abruptly, leaving her gasping, and whispered:

"I’ll go easy on you only because of our little girl in there, understand?"

You massaged her six-month bump and smirked, finally sliding your trousers off.

"Open your mouth, you filthy whore."

"You call me a whore?"

Her voice trembled, eyes brimming with unshed tears—stubborn, just like her. A chill ran down your spine, but you didn’t back down.

"I do." Your hand moved from her belly to her chin, squeezing firmly. "My slag. Only mine."

Taeyeon’s breath hitched, lips parting. You saw the conflict in her eyes—anger, desire, submission, pride—all tangled in the pregnancy hormones that made her so sensitive.

"You... you can’t—"

"I can." You cut her off, dragging your thumb across her lips. "And you love it. Love it when I put you in your place. When I remind you that no matter how much you scream and throw a fit, in the end... you’re mine."

She shuddered, a moan trapped in her throat.

"Open."

For a second, she hesitated—stubborn to the last—but then, slowly, her mouth opened.

You grinned.

"Good girl."

"Choke on it properly, you disgusting bitch."

You shoved your cock down her tight throat, feeling the muscles spasm in panic around your throbbing head. Taeyeon gagged violently, nails digging into your thighs as spit and tears streaked her mascara-smudged face.

"That’s it, take every inch like the knocked-up slut you are," you growled, yanking her hair as you bottomed out. "Gonna cry? Gonna make a scene now, you filthy whore?"

She tried to pull back, but you held her firm, fucking her throat ruthlessly. Every gag was music, every tear a confession—she was yours, a wet, sobbing toy made to take your anger and lust.

"Feel that? Feel how your throat was made for this? For choking on my cock like the desperate slag you are?"

Taeyeon whimpered, body shaking with need as you used her mercilessly. When you finally pulled out, she coughed and spat, lipstick ruined, eyes glazed with submission.

"P-please..." she rasped, voice wrecked from gagging on you.

You laughed darkly and gripped her chin.

"'Please' what, whore? Say it."

She swallowed hard, tears and desire swimming in her eyes.

"...Please fuck me until I forget my name."

So far, you’d done nothing but foreplay—just that. She was afraid of hurting the baby, but if the urge struck, you’d made a reasonable agreement—while she carried your daughter, no vaginal penetration. Only anal, and carefully. After all, Taeyeon had always been the prim, almost naively innocent woman—the one who’d watched you grow up, who blushed at innuendos, who covered her eyes during sex scenes in films.

Or so you thought.

Because the moment you slid your fingers between her arse cheeks, feeling how absurdly wet she was just from the idea, you realised something was very wrong—or very right.

"B-Bloody hell, Taeyeon…" you growled, feeling her tight ring give way easily under your fingers. "Have you… done this before?"

She bit her lip, eyes darting away, but her body arched into your touch. "N-No… just… thought about it… a lot…"

"Thought about what?" Your voice came out rougher than intended, fingers pressing deeper, feeling her clench around them.

Then she let out a filthy, desperate moan and confessed:

"You… taking me from behind… like I’m just a hole for you to come in."

Fuck.

You nearly lost it right then.

"Taeyeon…" Your voice was hoarse, veins standing out on your wrists as you pushed your fingers to the last knuckle. "You mean to tell me this innocent little face… was always hiding an anal slut?"

She whimpered, fingers digging into your thighs, face burning with shame—but her body begging for more.

"O-Only… only with you…"

And Christ, if that wasn’t the dirtiest thing she’d ever admitted.

Now you understood why she always flinched when you brushed there during sex. Why she blushed when you complimented her arse.

She wasn’t embarrassed.

She was fantasising.

And now, with the perfect excuse of pregnancy, she could finally give in without guilt.

"So that’s it?" You pulled your fingers out, watching her clench instinctively, trying to keep them inside. "My proper little wife… is actually an anal slut who dreams of being used like this?"

But first, you’d make her clean up her mess.

With a rough motion, you dragged your spit-slick cock over her face, marking her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, even her trembling eyelids. "Lick. Everything. Every last drop."

Taeyeon obeyed like a good girl, her hot tongue frantically lapping from base to tip, swallowing every trace of herself mixed with your precum. She looked addicted, eyes rolling back as she savoured her own taste on your skin.

"Now turn over, you slag." You landed a sharp smack on her round arse, watching the red imprint of your hand bloom on her soft skin. "Want to see that pregnant belly shake while you moan like a bitch in heat."

She got on her hands and knees, her rounded belly hanging sensually between her thighs, her cunt dripping wet. You spat on her pink clit before plunging two fingers inside, making Taeyeon scream.

"See this? Sopping wet over a cock that hasn’t even fucked you yet." You laughed as she moaned louder, fingers pumping in and out. "Gonna come just from this? You filthy, desperate little thing?"

Taeyeon shook her head, but her body betrayed her—her inner walls fluttered, her clit throbbing visibly. You yanked your fingers out.

"No. You only come when I say."

Then you finally lined yourself up at her tight entrance, feeling her tremble in anticipation.

"Now repeat: I’m only yours."

"I-I’m only yours—"

"A knocked-up, obedient slut."

"A k-knocked-up— AH! AAAH!"

You buried yourself to the hilt in one thrust, splitting her open, her virgin arse taking every inch like it was made for you.

"Feel that, Taeyeon? Feel how this tight little arse was made for me?" You snarled in her ear as you pounded into her, each thrust making her pregnant belly sway obscenely. Her hands clawed at the sheets, knuckles white, as strangled moans spilled from her ruined throat.

"Look ahead," you ordered, pulling her hair back. "Look at that belly shake every time I fuck you."

Taeyeon screamed, shame and pleasure overflowing in her teary eyes. "S-stop… please… don’t say those thi— AH! AAAAH!"

You laughed darkly and landed another smack on her reddened arse, feeling her clench violently around you. "Liar. You love it. Love being used like this, knocked-up and marked up, taking cock like there’s no tomorrow."

Your hips slapped against her arse with wet smacks, the brutal sounds of fucking echoing through the room. You could feel her tightening, growing hotter—ready to break.

"Wanna come, you Bitch? Do you?"

Taeyeon nodded frantically, swollen lips trembling. "Y-yes… p-please… let me… let me come!"

"Fine. Come."

Then you pulled her back against your chest, one hand gripping her throat while the other circled her swollen clit. "But not without remembering who you belong to."

Three fingers in her cunt.

A smack on her rosy arse.

Your teeth sinking into her shoulder.

And Taeyeon shattered, her whole body convulsing in a violent orgasm, her arse squeezing your cock like a hot, wet fist. You held her tight, fucking her through it, until your own release boiled over.

"Take it. Take it all, you whore!"

With a final animalistic growl, you buried yourself to the hilt, spilling inside her, each hot pulse marking your claim.

Taeyeon went limp in your arms, panting, her body covered in your marks—from your teeth, your hands, your cock.

You smirked, satisfied, and laid her on her side, your hand resting on her rounded belly.

"We’ll do this again tomorrow."

#x male reader #x male y/n #smut #kpop x male reader #taeyeon smut #taeyeon #snsd #girls generation

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yuzeemin · 8 months ago

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Mom doesn’t know about this

— kim minjeong x fem reader!

SYNOPSIS: jessica and taeyeon are strong business rivals who despise each other. what would happen if they found out that their daughters are dating?

PAIRING: aespa winter x female reader

GENRE: fluff, angst (?)

jung | kim | accomplice

one

two

three

four

five

six

seven

eight

nine

ten - fin.

Note: this is a fan fiction, don’t take seriously!

tags! (open) @yeetaberry127 @bunnywonyo @babybeastluv @ral-nessieee @computergbf @kimminjiissosjdirbidnsjje @ourlovesarang @c-yerim @gigislovergirl @womanl0ver @literallybipanic @aeongbela @seullovesme @fruityg0rl @spidrgamer @he------len @multiliker @firstclassjaylee @jjjaliyah @evil-squicker @cwpiqwon

#~jsxjmn zavie #—zavie’s work #aespa #kim minjeong x reader #minjeong x fem reader #aespa winter #winter x fem reader #winter x reader #kim minjeong x fem reader #aespa smau #snsd #kim taeyeon #jessica jung #aespa x fem reader #aespa x reader

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smutmind · 2 months ago

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Retroactive Pt.4 ft. SNSD Yoona

Part 3 “Back straight. Hips forward. Now breathe.”

Yoona’s voice cut through the air, low and sure, as the class fell into the final stretch. You held the pose, arms trembling, sweat dripping down your chest. The spider's heat burned under your skin—not just arousal, but that confident hum you were learning to trust. It had started with a whisper in your blood. Now it spoke in your spine.

You shouldn’t have said anything to her. Not the old you. But this wasn’t him anymore.

After class, you lingered. She reached for the door, twisted the knob. Nothing.

“Locked,” she muttered, frowning. “Seriously?”

You let the silence draw. Then said it—low, calm, fearless.

“Maybe it’s a sign.”

She turned. Raised a brow. “Of what?”

You walked toward her, not stopping until she backed into the mirrored wall. “That you and I have unfinished business.”

Her gaze flicked to your mouth, then back to your eyes. You could see it—the flicker of curiosity, danger, thrill.

“Say that again,” she said.

You reached for the hem of her white tank. “You heard me.”

She helped pull it over her head. Her breasts were small, firm, nipples already stiff. You ran your thumbs over them, watched her inhale.

“Fucking beautiful,” you murmured, and dropped your mouth to one. You worshipped her with tongue and lips, sucked until her breath stuttered. Her hands gripped your hair.

“Harder,” she whispered, voice shaking. “I like it rough.”

You bit gently. She gasped. Her thighs clenched around your knee.

Then she smiled—teasing, bold—and dropped into a perfect split.

Your breath caught. “Holy shit.”

She stretched one leg back behind her head. “Come stretch with me.”

You knelt, kissed her inner thigh. Her jeans were already undone. No panties.

You dove in.

Her hips jumped. She cried out, loud and raw. Your tongue worked slow, deep, savoring how she trembled under your mouth.

“Fuck—right there—yes, yes, don’t stop.”

She came hard, body locked, eyes squeezed shut.

You rose, stripped fast. Your cock stood thick and throbbing. She looked up at you, flushed and wet.

“Use me,” she whispered.

You didn’t hesitate. Lined up. Pushed in slow.

She arched, gasped. “God—you’re thick.”

You filled her, inch by inch, her legs folding up perfectly.

“Stretch me. Make me feel everything.”

You fucked her with slow, hungry thrusts, using her flexibility, bending her backward, pushing her knees to her shoulders. Her moans got louder, messier.

“You feel so fucking good,” you groaned. “Tight little body, made for this.”

“Harder,” she cried. “I can take it—fuck me through the mat!”

You flipped her. Bent her over. Her ass arched perfectly. You drove in deep. The slap of skin echoed.

She screamed. “I’m cumming again—don’t stop—please!”

You held her tight. Pounded through it. She sobbed with pleasure, body limp against yours, her walls fluttering around your cock.

“You want it all?” you growled.

“Yes—yes—I want you to cum in me,” she moaned, eyes shut, breath hitching. “I want to feel it. Every drop.”

You thrust faster, deeper.

Her hands slapped the mat. “Yes—like that—keep going—”

You grabbed her waist, pulled her into each stroke.

“Don’t stop. God, don’t stop. I want it in me. I want you to fill me.”

“Say it again.”

“I want you to cum in me. Please. Please give it to me.”

You drove harder, lost in the heat, the pulse, the sound of her begging.

Then it hit. Your climax roared through you, deep and fierce. You groaned, pressed flush, and emptied inside her.

She moaned long and low, hips rolling to meet you.

“Mmm... I can feel it,” she whispered. “So warm...”

You stayed like that, skin to skin, her body pulsing around yours.

Then—the lock clicked.

Yoona looked back, smiling through sweat. “Looks like class is over.”

You grinned, kissed her shoulder. “Not for me.”

to be continued

#Yoona smut #yoona snsd #snsd smut #girl group smut #idol x bbc #female idol smut #male reader smut #kpop smut #smut #kpop idol smut

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rvp32 · 10 months ago

Text

Heir to the clan's legacy- Chapter 3

White cum spills out of Yoona's stuffed pussy and your cock is covered in her juices and your seed.

You turn around and smirk.

"Mommy…why don't you clean my cock?"

"Y/N Do you know what the fuck you have just done!" Taeyeon screams as she walks toward you.

The loud scream makes you lose your concentration a little allowing Yoona to escape from your binding

"What have I done, mommy? I fucked Auntie Yoona because she's sexy. I'm an adult. Why are you so mad?"

"I told you specifically not to do any such thing before you left and not only did you go ahead and fuck your aunty and cum inside of her you also had the audacity to call me here," Taeyeon screams

You then turn to Yoona.

"She enjoyed it. Didn't you, mommy" You say smirking, calling Yoona mommy.

Yoona was still recovering from the orgasm and she was also scared but she shyly said, " It was some of the best sex that I have had in a very long time,"

You smirk smiling, but then Taeyeon flash-stepped and you barely reacted since you weren't on guard. You manage to bat her arm away.

"I'm not a kid anymore, mommy…if I want to fuck YoonA. I will."

"Enough, put on your clothes you are coming home with me right now and we will talk about your behavior," Taeyeon says

she then looks to Yoona, " We are going to have a really long conversation about this Yoona,"

But you shake your head.

"No. I'm not going with you. I didn't do anything wrong." You flash step and put your clothes back on but then you also grab your sword and assume a challenging position.

"Y/n don't do this, all I am suggesting is that we talk. I am not trying to hurt you or even fight you. So calm down, " Taeyeon says trying to calm you down

"Talk about what? You can't baby me anymore. I want to be with Yoona…I will be with Yoona. I'll be with whoever I want. You know I asked Kazuha to be my girlfriend today?"

Yoona was also shocked by this information because she didn't expect you to have already a girlfriend whom you just started dating today. She felt bad because she was your side piece and the second option.

"I am not babying you anymore! I won't do it. We left off at a very bad place in the morning so I just want to clear it up. For fucks sake just listen to me just this one fucking time," Taeyeon said her showing more and more frustration as the conversation goes on

You turn to Yoona.

"Just so you know, you aren't a side piece or a second option…I need to restart my clan…I want you, need you as a partner, Yoona…I love you just as I love Kazuha."

Yoona's expression turned softer after hearing that, she also realized the huge responsibility you had.

You then turn to Taeyeon.

"Don't you understand that? I love you…I want you…who better to restart my clan than you, Mommy?"

"I am open to that and I would be really happy to help you with it as well but Y/n you need to learn to take consent before you jump onto people like that, I was confused and didn't know what you really wanted," Taeyeon explained

You then flash step to her and kiss her deeply again.

"I want you…I want both of you…" Your spiritual pressure rising again.

"Calm down, you don't need to release so much spiritual pressure, I am right here," Taeyeon says as she brushes a little bit of your hair

"I need both of you…" I say with lust, as I derobe once again. "Both of my mommies…sucking my cock…I'm still so full mommy, you said you'd always take care of me.." You pout like a child, playing on Taeyeon's motherly affection for you.

"I will baby boy, I will always take care of my pretty little boy," Taeyeon says before grabbing your cock and slowly rubbing it

"Oh.." I moan, finally. My mommy..my hot mommy.

"Yoona mommy…Taeyeon mommy…please both suck my cock…worship it…"

Yoona crawls to you, with your cum still dripping out of her freshly used pussy. she massages your balls as Taeyeon plays with your cock

"Oh fuck yeah…yes…use your lips my mommies…fuck.."

"aww is that so if you want mommy to use her lips you are going to have to beg pretty boy," Taeyeon whispers in your ear and bites it

You counter and kiss at her neck. You were kissing your mommy…your beautiful Taeyeon and you nibble at her ear too.

"Please Mommy…suck my cock…I've wanted to feel it for so long…your beautiful lips and tongue.."

"Now, that's a good boy, " Taeyeon coos before getting on her knees and taking the tip of her cock into your mouth.

Yoona takes this opportunity to stand up and kiss you passionately

"Mommy it feels so good…you were meant to do this right? My cock…to take care of me…this is the only cock you ever need…"

Taeyeon speeds up, taking in more of your cock every time she went down, trying her best to fit your entire cock into her tiny cute mouth

"Holy fuck mommy…oh my god…that feels so good…yes all of it.."

You kiss Yoona too, but you begin to thrust into Taeyeon's mouth.

Yoona pulls away from the kiss, "Go on fuck that throat like you mean it, show her who she belongs to," Yoona moans into your ear and goes on to kiss your neck and leave marks all over it

This turned you on a lot. As you begin to ram your cock into Taeyeon's thrust over and over.

"My mommy whore…my mommy bitch…my slutty mommy…" You chant as you finally get what you want. Taeyeon began choking on your cock a little but she still continued to take it into her throat as much as she could.

"Go on paint your mommy's throat white with all the precious cum, " Yoona moans as she uses your fingers to stimulate her clit

You bite at Yoona's breasts and suck on her tit..trying to draw out milk. You don't stop fucking Taeyeon's mouth as you shove as much as you could in there, watching it bulge.

"Holy fuck baby that's so hot, are you trying to get milk out of me baby," Yoona moans as she pets your hair like a child who is getting breastfed

"Fuck if only there was milk coming out right now!" You moaned in between sucking Yoona's tits

You had to figure out some spell for that or something…

"Oh, mommy…I'm going to cum…down your fucking throat…"

"GO on baby cum all down your mommy's throat," Yoona cooed you dumped all your cum down Taeyeon's throat

You pant and huff, pulling out and smiling.

"How does it taste Mommy? Your first taste of my cum? Your baby boy's cum?"

"It tastes amazing baby just as I expected it to but holy fuck don't you cum a lot. this is your second load and it is so much I wonder how thick the first load must have been," Taeyeon states,

"Oh the first load was massive and thick alright, his cum is still leaking out of my pussy and I am 100% sure that I am already pregnant with his baby," Yoona says

You pull Yoona in for another torrid kiss with your tongue.

"Your feet next…both of you…I need to taste them and fuck them…" You say with desire.

"aren't you an insatiable horny bastard, if that's what you want then your mommy's shall oblige," Taeyeon says

You growl.

"Oh? Calling your baby boy a bastard? How naughty of you, mommy!" You grab both of them and toss them on the bed. You lie down and have Taeyeon and Yoona sit near you by your cock. Taeyeon folds out her legs towards your face and you begin to lick at her toes and the underside of her feet.

Yoona meanwhile gives you a footjob.

"my baby boy is so naughty and always horny for his mommies isn't he?" Taeyeon questions as she enjoys you worshipping her feet

"I love your white nail polish Mommy…and Yoona's black…so sexy…your feet are so fucking good.."

Taeyeon's feet were so soft and you try to suck on all five toes from her foot at once.

"Aren't you a greedy boy wanting so much all at once, If I had known that you were a feet-loving boy then I would have gotten a pedicure before coming here," Taeyeon says before moaning

You suck on her toes harder.

"No, your toes are so good…so hot…I love them…please give me a double footjob mommies!"

"you are so impatient," Taeyeon says before using one of her feet to push your cock into Yoona's other foot. Both of you matching the rhythm together to jerk off your big hard throbbing cock

"HOLY FUCK MOMMIES.." You howl loudly as they worked together perfectly to stroke your cock off with their feet. The contrast of pedicure colors was amazing

"oh you are really enjoying this so much aren't you, my little perverted loser," Taeyeon teases you as she continues to play with your hard cock

"He loves it so much Unnie, he blew such a huge load when I gave him a footjob before," Yoona says

You pout. "Mommy…that wasn't nice…I'm just so attracted to you…"

"You don't have to lie baby I can feel your cock throb whenever I say things like that," Taeyeon says

"It turns me on when you want me, mommy…you're all mine right?"

"Yes baby I am all yours, both of us belong to you

I then flare up my pressure and jam my cock back into Taeyeon's tight cunt, growling as I use flash step and slam her into the wall and begin drilling into her gasp "Fuck!" Taeyeon moans out as you drill into her the sudden invasion of your cock stretching out her pussy a lot more than expected

"What was that mommy?" I growl as I hammer into her and then kiss her neck, biting at it a bit.

"It feels so fucking good baby, keep pounding Mommy like that use my hole however you want!" Taeyeon growls

"Remember you're my mommy…and my caretaker…I am your Master and baby boy…and you…I fucking own you…to fuck…and use as a whore!"

"Yes, you own me, fucking use me as your whore! make you your cum dump!" Taeyeon moans out pleasure completely taking over her brain

I kiss her with my tongue and speed up. The tightness of her cunt was immaculate..my whore mommy getting fucked by my cock was something else.

"Mommy…I want to drink your fucking milk…"

"Go on baby you can have how much ever you want!" Taeyeon allows you

"Unnie, What is he talking about?" Yoona asks confused about what milk you are asking Taeyeon for

I then lower my mouth to her right breast and swirl my tongue before latching on and sucking. I was finally drinking her milk…my mommy's milk…it was perfection.

"NGHH" Taeyeon moans, the pleasure getting too much for her. It felt like absolute heaven, she hadn't had something feel this good in such a long time

A little milk leaks out from the corner of your mouth and this surprises Yoona. So many questions popping into her head and you see her eyes lined with confusion. To distract her you push your fingers into Yoona's wet pussy and finger her as you continue to pound Taeyeon

"Mommy's milk…mommy's cunt…you're both mine…" you growl.

You were fucking Taeyeon so hard…your mommy…your whore…your bitch…was now truly yours.

Taeyeon's moans now sounded like screams absolutely tearing through thr roam and they were accompanied by Yoona who was also on the cusp of another orgasm

"I'm going to fucking cum mommy! Going to fucking cum so hard!" You roar.

"Go on baby cum inside your mommy, breed her just like you did me," Yoona encourages you and Taeyeon is just simply beyond the ability to speak right now

You were finally going to do it, you were going to breed your mommy Taeyeon…

"FUCK!" You slam your cock all the way inside her cunt and explode…cumming the hardest and longest you ever have…you weren't pulling out and waited minutes until you fully emptied, painting her walls white.

Taeyeon's mind was going absolutely haywire, completely taken over by pleasure. The cum was so warm and felt perfect inside of her. satisfying everything that she had ever wanted.

You then kiss Taeyeon with more tongue.

"Mommy…Yoona…on your knees both of you…fucking clean my cock…it's official now…you're both my whores to breed and restart my clan."

Without any replies, the both of them were on their knees, cleaning up your cock.

You hiss in pleasure as both their tongues and sweet lips worked your tip and they cleaned every bit of cum left. They shared it between them and you pressed their heads together to make out with your cock.

"I've been developing a kido spell…" You say before using the enchantment and a marking of the Uzumaki clan forms just above their cunt before disappearing.

"what is it supposed to do baby?" Yoona asks innocently.

Taeyeon is also curious and is just waiting to see what you answer

"This will make it so nobody else is allowed to fuck you…your body will only respond in pleasure to my touch alone."

"Oh someone is possessive!" Taeyeon and Yoona say at the same time

"Of course…my clan…my whores…I need to keep it all in line…now then…YoonA..I think you should move to the clan compound. We can use this place as a safe house."

"Oh am I finally being allowed to move into the Uzumaki's compound" Yoona questioned

"Yes you are, You belong to me now so you should stay where I can reach you any time I want," You reply

YoonA stands and kisses you lovingly.

"Good…it's settled then… let's head back. I have my first official day tomorrow so let's try and take it easy for the rest of the day."

"Yayyy!" Yoona cheers as she puts on her robe and begins to grab things that she will need.

The three of you get back and head back into bed. You were so happy having them on either side of you…you snuggle with Taeyeon and kiss her.

"I love you, mommy. You're mine."

"What about me?" Yoona whines as she hugs you

You kiss her too.

"And you too.." All three of you drift to sleep shortly after.

#kpop smut #kim taeyeon #girls generation #lim yoona #snsd yoona #snsd smut #kpop fanfic #kpop x male reader

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w1w2 · 3 months ago

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Warming You Up

Kim Taeyeon x Fem!Reader

Part 2 of The Slowest Heartbeat

Word Count: ca. 12k

Synopsis: What begins as business slowly spirals into something far more complicated, something neither of them planned for, but both keep choosing.

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

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Taeyeon had expected elegance. Maybe something sleek, minimalist and cold. What she hadn’t expected was this.

The car rolled slowly through a narrow, tree lined road that curved discreetly up a private hill in Seongbuk-dong, an area known for its seclusion, wealth, and old money hush. The gates didn’t open until her car was nearly on top of them, part of the landscape itself, tall iron worked with subtle patterns, the kind only noticed if you were truly looking.

And then the villa revealed itself.

It was modern in shape, clean lines, bold geometry, white stone and steel but softened somehow by age and silence. As though time passed differently here. It didn’t show off, it watched.

A staff member met her at the door, bowed politely, and then disappeared down a side hall, leaving her standing beneath a soaring ceiling and an arched skylight stained by the soft hues of the setting sun. The foyer smelled faintly of lavender and parchment.

Y/N appeared a moment later. Barefoot, dressed down, if such a word even applied to someone like her, in a soft silk blouse the color of moonlight and loose beige trousers. Her hair was down, not pinned or sleek or formal. Just free.

“Welcome,” she said simply.

Taeyeon took a breath, glancing around. The space felt timeless.

The floors were stone but not cold, every object seemed to belong exactly where it was, nothing out of place, nothing performative. Antique pieces reflected Taeyeon’s uncertain expression. Sculptures, small marble busts and strange, delicate figurines sat on carved pedestals. The air carried a kind of stillness that had nothing to do with silence.

“You live in a time capsule,” Taeyeon murmured.

Y/N only offered a small smile, already turning to lead her deeper into the house. “I live in history,” she replied. “It makes the present feel less fragile.”

They passed down a long hallway, lined with floor to ceiling bookshelves. Many of the spines were leatherbound, cracked with age, some bore no titles at all. The occasional framed oil painting broke the line, landscapes rendered in muted, somber colors, and portraits of figures that looked out with eyes just slightly too real.

Taeyeon slowed as she took it all in. “Are these originals?”

“Most of them,” Y/N said casually. “Some were gifts, others I’ve collected.”

Of course she had.

Y/N stopped at a tall wooden door and opened it with a quiet push.

The music room.

It was wide, spacious, and breathtaking. Floor to ceiling windows lined one side, revealing a backyard that was both manicured and wild, geometric hedges bordering clusters of untouched trees. The sun had dipped low, casting long shadows across the floor like brushstrokes.

At the center sat the Bösendorfer.

It gleamed, sleek and black, but softened by time. Not showroom polished, no, lived in.

To its left stood a few glass cases, their contents lit softly from within. An old violin, its neck chipped and lacquer fading, a wooden flute with a patina of use, a lyre that looked like it belonged in a temple, not a Seoul villa.

Taeyeon stopped short, her breath caught somewhere in her throat.

“Okay,” she said, her voice quiet. “This is wow.”

Y/N didn’t move to explain, she simply stood there, watching Taeyeon absorb it.

Then, softly, “Come sit.”

She crossed the room and sat gracefully on the small bench beside the piano. Taeyeon hesitated, then followed, lowering herself beside her with slow reverence, half expecting the instrument to sigh under her weight.

Y/N slid open the key cover. The ivory had yellowed slightly, not from neglect, but age. She touched one key, then another, a quiet, haunting arpeggio blooming in the space between them.

“It sounds like it remembers,” Taeyeon whispered.

Y/N glanced sideways. “It does.”

The moment lingered.

“Would you like to play?” Y/N asked.

Taeyeon nodded, heart fluttering slightly for reasons she couldn’t name. She placed her fingers on the keys and let them settle, like greeting an old friend.

Behind her, Y/N moved to pour tea into two ceramic cups. The clink of porcelain was soft, deliberate.

As the first few notes of a familiar melody filled the room, the villa seemed to exhale around them.

The room had settled into a reverent hush, the kind of quiet that made sound feel sacred. Outside, twilight deepened, casting a blueish tint through the towering windows. The trees beyond swayed in slow motion shadows, the air almost too still, like the world itself was listening.

Taeyeon let her fingertips drift across the keys of the piano. They weren’t the gleaming, uniform white of rehearsal rooms. The instrument felt alive, not in the way modern pianos did, bright and polished, but in a quieter, humbler way. Like a companion waiting for someone to remember how to speak its language.

Behind her, Y/N moved soundlessly. She poured tea with slow, measured grace, from a porcelain teapot painted in delicate cobalt blue. The scent of osmanthus and black tea curled softly into the air.

When she returned, they sat side by side on the long bench.

Y/N handed her the tea, their fingers brushing for the briefest moment.

Taeyeon stilled.

The touch wasn’t cold, not exactly. But it wasn’t warm either, not the kind of warmth you expected from someone sitting beside you in a softly lit room. It was neutral, not lifeless, but different. Like touching skin that had forgotten heat.

She didn’t react, just took the cup, sipped quietly, eyes on the keys again.

Y/N stared ahead at the piano. “It belonged to a French composer,” she said softly. “He used to only write at night, said the moon pulled better melodies from his fingers.”

Taeyeon glanced at her, studying the calm lines of her profile. “You say that like you knew him.”

Y/N’s lips curved faintly. She didn’t deny it. Just said, almost lazily, “Some people’s stories stick.”

But it was too easy, too smooth.

There was something in her tone, too familiar, too exact. Like memory, not research, like she wasn’t recalling a fact, but a friend.

Taeyeon felt it again, that strange edge she could never quite place around Y/N. Not threatening, not obvious. Just off. A hum beneath the silence, a wrong note played too perfectly.

She didn’t say anything.

Instead, she set her tea down and let her fingers fall into motion. A melody rose, soft and slow, almost mournful. It didn’t belong to any song she knew. It just emerged, like something the room had been waiting to hear again.

Y/N listened in silence, hands clasped around her cup. Her gaze wasn’t on the piano, it was on Taeyeon’s hands. And when the music finally faded, she spoke without moving.

“You play like someone trying to remember something they’ve never been taught.”

Taeyeon blinked. “Is that a compliment?”

Y/N didn’t answer, just smiled, unreadable.

Something on the nearby shelf caught Taeyeon’s eye. She rose from the bench and crossed the room slowly, heart still humming from the strange intensity of the moment.

“Is that a clavichord?”

Y/N stood too, following her gaze. “Good eye.”

She stepped forward, lifted the dust cover with the kind of reverence most people reserved for sacred objects. The instrument was older than the piano. Smaller, stranger.

Taeyeon approached. “Show me?”

Y/N nodded once, silent.

She stood behind Taeyeon this time, not beside her.

Taeyeon barely noticed the space between them at first, until Y/N reached forward and positioned her hands on the keys.

Their fingers touched and Taeyeon froze.

Not because of the contact, but because of the lack of sensation. Y/N’s skin was smooth, but there was no warmth to it, no heat, just pressure. Like the presence of something human shaped, but not quite human tempered.

“This one’s tricky,” Y/N said, voice low near her ear. “The pressure has to be feather light. Otherwise the tone dies before it breathes.”

Taeyeon nodded slowly, not trusting her voice.

The closeness should’ve been intimate, should’ve sparked something familiar. A body behind hers, a breath on her neck.

But there was only that strange stillness again, like Y/N’s body moved, but didn’t live in the same rhythm.

Still, it wasn’t unpleasant.

Taeyeon let her fingers press gently, following the guidance. The clavichord made a faint, whispery sound, like a ghost of a note. She smiled at it, at the odd beauty of the thing.

Y/N shifted slightly behind her, breath steady but not close enough to touch. Taeyeon turned her head, slowly, and found Y/N already looking at her.

Their eyes met.

It wasn’t a glance, it was a pause in time. Something deeper flickering beneath it. Curiosity, hesitation, maybe longing, maybe fear. The space between them felt small and electric, thick with unsaid things neither of them had quite figured out how to name.

Taeyeon’s chest tightened, her mind scrambled for logic, but her body stilled. She wasn’t sure if she was about to move closer or if Y/N would. The room itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then, gently but suddenly, Y/N stepped back, the connection snapped like a thread pulled too tight.

“I’ll make more tea,” she said, turning without looking back, her voice calm but cool. Already walking toward the far end of the room, she moved like she needed distance before anything could change.

Taeyeon remained at the clavichord, her hands still resting on the keys, as the faintest note faded beneath her fingers, like something half formed that would never finish.

When Taeyeon left later that night, the world outside had gone still, blanketed in that specific kind of silence that settles over Seoul just past midnight, when even the city seems to exhale.

From the top of the hill, Y/N stood framed in the doorway of her villa, unmoving.

Her gaze followed the soft red glow of Taeyeon’s taillights as they dipped out of sight beyond the trees. The hum of the engine faded slowly into nothing, all that remained was the distant rustle of wind through the high branches and the faint clink of porcelain cups still cooling on the table behind her.

The door clicked shut with a gentle finality.

She didn’t move for a long time.

Her fingertips, still ghosted by the brush of Taeyeon’s skin, curled slightly at her sides. It hadn’t been anything dramatic, not even deliberate, just the softest contact, flesh against flesh. But it stayed with her like heat she couldn’t shake, even if her body didn’t register temperature like a human’s.

A phantom warmth, a human memory she wasn’t meant to keep.

Y/N pressed her back against the door and closed her eyes.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Curiosity, maybe, fascination, even fondness, in rare moments. She had felt all of those before, across decades, centuries. But this?

This was dangerous.

Taeyeon was different.

It wasn’t just the voice, or the eyes, or the way she moved so freely through the world. It was how she looked at Y/N without hesitation, how she spoke to her like she wasn’t something cold and ancient, but someone real.

And Y/N had let her.

She had let Taeyeon into her world, into her space, her quiet, carefully controlled routines. Had allowed those tea evenings to stretch longer each time, had watched Taeyeon smile in her chair like she belonged there. Like Y/N belonged too.

It was foolish.

She walked slowly to the far end of the room, her bare feet silent against the polished floor. The tea was cold in the pot, untouched since she left it to avoid what had almost happened. She poured herself a cup and didn’t drink it.

Instead, she stared through the windows at the reflection of herself, just a shadow in the glass, caught between the interior light and the night beyond.

Her heart beat once, then nothing again.

Y/N sighed, quiet and bitter.

She couldn’t do this, not with a human, not with someone like Taeyeon. So bright, so vividly alive. The weight of Y/N’s existence would eventually show itself, the absence of a pulse, the unnatural stillness, the way time bent differently around her.

It always did.

And if it didn’t?

Then worse. She would care too deeply and Taeyeon would grow older, and Y/N would not. Or something far more terrible would happen, something instinctive, something irreversible.

No.

She set the teacup down and turned away from the window.

It had to stop now, before either of them mistook the soft weight of connection for something safe, before Taeyeon thought she could stay.

It began with a message, short, unceremonious.

“Can’t do tea tonight, overbooked. Raincheck?”

Taeyeon read it twice, then locked her phone without responding. It wasn’t unusual for Y/N to be busy, and it wasn’t the first time plans had shifted last minute, but something in the tone, the stiff phrasing, the cold finality, felt wrong. There was no warmth, no humor, none of the subtle undercurrents that usually colored Y/N’s words when they spoke alone.

The next message came a day later.

“Sorry, things got moved. Will reschedule.”

No punctuation beyond the period, no follow up, no date offered.

No attempt, really.

Still, Taeyeon tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. She told herself it was work, that Y/N’s schedule was brutal on a good day, and the closer they edged toward the company’s next major cycle, the more likely it was that chaos would swallow any personal life she had left.

But the excuses began to stack, not just in messages, but in behavior.

In meetings, Y/N no longer met her eyes. She sat on the far side of the room, her posture impeccable, her expressions unreadable, as though she’d constructed an invisible wall around herself that no one was meant to cross. The casual presence, the subtle glances, the passing comments that once made their encounters feel private despite the setting, all of it was gone.

At first, Taeyeon thought she might be imagining it. But the difference was too deliberate, too measured. Y/N wasn’t just busy, she was creating distance, every reply was dry, every interaction felt filtered, sterilized. She still showed up, still performed her role flawlessly, but whatever spark had flickered between them had been hidden away like something shameful.

Taeyeon found herself checking her phone more than she wanted to admit. She scrolled back to older threads, rereading the messages they’d exchanged when things were light, curious, intimate. She remembered how easily they’d talked before, how Y/N would ask things no one else asked, about music, about emotion, about what it felt like to be looked at by thousands and still feel alone.

Now that Y/N had gone quiet, Taeyeon felt that aloneness creep back in like a draft under a closed door.

She tried again.

“Still free for Friday?”

Y/N left the message on read. A full day passed before she replied, and even then it was just.

“Let’s aim for next week. Things are moving fast.”

It was vague enough to say nothing at all, and final enough to shut down further questions.

Taeyeon stared at that message longer than she wanted to, her thumb hovering over the keyboard before she gave up and put the phone face down beside her. She didn’t want to sound clingy, didn’t want to push too hard, but something wasn’t right, and pretending otherwise was starting to feel foolish.

She didn’t understand what had changed. Nothing had gone wrong at the villa. At least, not obviously. If anything, the air between them had been full of unspoken things, undeniable tension, a warmth that felt new and dangerous, the kind of quiet only shared by people on the verge of something else. Taeyeon hadn’t imagined it, she was sure of that.

And yet Y/N was retreating.

With every unanswered message, every meeting conducted with calculated distance, every polite smile that felt like a placeholder, Taeyeon felt the line between them stretch thinner, more brittle.

She didn’t know what she had done or if she had done anything at all, but she felt herself slipping from a place she hadn’t even fully stepped into yet.

And that, more than the silence, more than the cancellations, was what stung the most.

The executive conference room was suspended in that rare moment of early calm, a kind of stillness that felt borrowed, temporary. Morning light filtered through the tall glass windows, tracing quiet shadows over the polished table and the spotless rows of chairs arranged for yet another high stakes meeting. Everything was in place, pitch decks glowing softly on the screen, neatly stacked PR folders, bottled water lined like soldiers at each seat. It all looked ready, but the room hadn't exhaled yet.

At the head of the table, Y/N stood alone, tablet in hand. Her fingers moved across the screen with mechanical precision, though her eyes seemed distant, not fully focused. She looked as she always did. Controlled, composed, every detail of her tailored blouse and pressed slacks sharpened to perfection. But there was something off in the stillness of her stance, the angle of her shoulders, the rigidity in her spine. Like someone holding herself up against something unseen.

The door opened behind her.

Taeyeon walked in without knocking, without pausing. The soft click of the door closing behind her cut the room off from the outside world like a blade.

Y/N didn’t startle, but there was a flicker in her gaze as she looked up. “Taeyeon,” she said, her voice crisp, neutral. She might’ve been reading off a schedule. “You should be at rehearsal.”

“I have ten minutes,” Taeyeon replied, stepping forward.

She didn’t raise her voice, she didn’t need to. The air between them was already thick with something unspoken, weeks of questions buried under carefully worded texts and sidelong glances in passing.

“You act like you care,” Taeyeon said, the words steady but edged with something rawer underneath. “But then you vanish.”

Y/N said nothing.

Her hand, still holding the tablet, didn’t move. Her face didn’t betray anything, no anger, no guilt, but her silence wasn’t neutral either. It was tight, measured, braced.

Taeyeon stepped closer, watching her.

“I thought we could trust each other,” she added. “But I don’t know what’s real now.”

Still, no answer.

But this time, Y/N’s gaze faltered for half a second, dropped to the floor, then back up. There was a flicker behind her calm, like something cracking just beneath the surface. A breath caught in her throat, the tiniest clench of her jaw.

Taeyeon saw it, and she held on.

“Why are you scared of me?” she asked, quieter now. Softer, but no less pointed. “Why are you avoiding me?”

That did something.

Y/N’s lips parted, a breath escaping, like she might actually answer.

Taeyeon waited, hopeful, afraid of pushing too hard. She saw it, something in Y/N’s expression that didn’t quite match the polished surface. A shadow of conflict, pain, maybe regret? But still, no words came. Y/N’s gaze dropped to the tablet again, lingering there like a shield, and then drifted back up, carefully blank.

The silence between them thickened. It wasn’t awkward, it wasn’t empty, no. It was heavy. The kind of silence that comes when everything that needs to be said is clawing at the walls, but the door won’t open.

Outside, the hallway stirred to life.

Footsteps approached, voices echoed closer, casual, loud and unaware.

The first assistant appeared at the door, then someone from the legal department, another team member with a laptop bag slung over one shoulder. They entered chatting, checking their watches, setting things down. Oblivious to the storm that had just passed through the room.

Y/N stepped back, just slightly, enough to reposition herself at the head of the table, back in place.

Untouchable again.

Taeyeon didn’t move, her heart thundered in her chest. This was it, her window had closed.

She looked at Y/N one last time, hoping for anything, a glance, a whisper, a sign.

Y/N looked at her, too. Briefly, the look was unreadable, except for one thing. She’d heard her, every word. But she wasn’t going to answer.

Taeyeon swallowed hard. She nodded once, barely.

Then turned and walked out.

The door clicked behind her, far too softly for the way her chest felt, tight and aching, like the moment had collapsed in on itself. She’d opened the door. She’d offered the truth.

And Y/N had let it pass.

The late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden hue over the secluded estate as Taeyeon's car approached the entrance. The villa, nestled amidst rolling hills and dense woodlands, stood as a testament to elegance.

She hadn't announced her visit, there had been no response to her messages, no returned calls. The silence had become unbearable.

She needed answers.

Taeyeon pressed the buzzer at the iron gate, her heart pounding with anticipation. Moments later, the gate creaked open, granting her access. She drove slowly along the winding driveway, taking in the serene beauty of the estate.

Parking her car near the entrance, Taeyeon stepped out, her footsteps crunching softly on the gravel. She approached the grand door, its surface adorned with intricate carvings. Before she could knock, the door opened, revealing Y/N standing in the doorway.

"Taeyeon," Y/N said, her voice calm but distant. "This is unexpected."

"I needed to see you," Taeyeon replied, her voice steady but tinged with emotion.

Inside, the villa was hushed and cool, the temperature a few degrees below comfort. Not cold exactly, just enough to raise goosebumps if you stayed still for too long. The warm light of late afternoon filtered through the towering windows, casting narrow bands across the dark wood floors. The transition from outside to in was jarring, like stepping into another time, another world. The silence between them was immediate, heavy, and oddly formal.

Y/N led Taeyeon through the corridor without a word. Her barefoot steps made no sound on the polished stone, her presence composed to the point of dissonance. They passed through a high ceilinged hallway lined with glass cases and framed sketches, until finally they entered the office, low lit, walled with bookshelves, a fireplace unlit though it still smelled faintly of woodsmoke.

Y/N gestured toward the settee across from her own and sat with practiced ease, like she’d done this exact choreography a thousand times. Taeyeon didn’t sit right away, she looked around, taking in the room, the artifacts, the weight of everything Y/N surrounded herself with. There were ancient things here, priceless things, objects with history buried in them, and still none of it explained the woman sitting across from her now, distant as ever.

Eventually, Taeyeon sat, hands clenched in her lap, shoulders drawn tight.

"You’ve been avoiding me,” she said, quietly at first. “And don’t say it’s your schedule.”

Y/N didn’t flinch, but her eyes didn’t meet hers either. She kept them trained on something far beyond the walls, something Taeyeon couldn’t see.

“I’ve been busy,” she replied finally, smooth, flat. It was the kind of excuse you offered to someone who didn’t matter.

Taeyeon laughed under her breath, bitter and soft. “That’s all I get? After everything?” Her voice rose slightly. “I send you messages, I try to talk to you, and you act like none of it happened.”

Y/N shifted slightly in her chair but said nothing.

Taeyeon leaned forward. “Don’t do this, don’t sit there and pretend we were never—” she stopped herself, teeth catching on the word. “Whatever this was. You let me in, Y/N. You let me see parts of you, you invited me here. You touched me like it meant something.”

There was a flicker then, barely perceptible but Y/N’s expression faltered. Just for a moment her posture stiffened, her gaze faltered.

“You’re not being fair,” Y/N said, barely audible.

Taeyeon stood abruptly, the movement sharp. “You don’t get to say that,” she snapped. “You disappear for days. You send these clinical messages, you walk past me in hallways like I’m no one, like none of it mattered.”

Y/N looked up at her now, eyes steady, voice composed. “It wasn’t nothing but it was complicated.”

Taeyeon’s chest heaved, frustration climbing her spine like fire. “You keep saying that "complicated" like that excuses the silence, like that makes it okay to treat me like a secret you regret.”

Y/N stood, slow and deliberate, hands still loose at her sides, her expression was unreadable, but her body was coiled, like she was holding something back.

“I didn’t regret it,” she said. “But I shouldn’t have let it happen.”

Taeyeon stepped back, reeling. “Why? Because you felt something real for once?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t answer.

“You keep everything locked up,” Taeyeon continued. “You give me scraps, pieces. Just enough to keep me around but I feel like I don’t know the real you.”

That hit.

Y/N’s face didn’t move, but the air changed. Something in her cracked, invisible but audible in the silence that followed. She looked at Taeyeon like she wanted to say something, something meaningful, maybe even true, but the words never formed. She just stood there, still and rigid, as if bracing for something worse.

Taeyeon’s voice wavered now, the edge softening. “I'm falling for someone who won’t even let herself be known. You hide behind this persona, this perfect facade. But I see the cracks, I feel them every time I’m near you. You act like you're untouchable, like none of this can touch you but it does. I know it does.”

Still no answer.

Y/N lowered her gaze. Her hands curled into fists at her sides.

Taeyeon stepped forward, tears just beginning to burn in her eyes. “I was willing to wait, I was willing to take it slow, I didn’t need everything at once. But I needed something, something real, not just the curated version you feed everyone else.”

Y/N met her eyes now, and for the first time in days, it wasn’t with detachment. It was sorrow, ache, fear. So much fear.

But still, she didn’t speak.

And that silence, that refusal, was louder than any answer Taeyeon had dreaded.

She took a shaky breath, jaw clenched. “Right,” she said quietly. “Got it.”

She turned, blinking fast, pushing down the well of emotion before it could breach the surface. She made it to the threshold of the room, but something made her stop, maybe stubbornness, maybe desperation. She didn’t turn back, didn’t look at Y/N, but her voice came softer, cracked.

"I can't do this," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't keep chasing shadows."

The confrontation still burned in Taeyeon’s chest as she moved down the hallway, the chill of the villa creeping up her spine with every step. She turned a corner, distracted, wiping at her face with the edge of her sleeve before her composure fully slipped, when someone appeared from a side hallway, a young man in uniform, no more than twenty, arms full with a silver tray of delicate porcelain and an untouched teapot. The collision wasn’t violent, just awkward and sudden, but it was enough to send the tray tilting.

Everything happened at once.

The tray clanged to the floor, a porcelain cup shattered with a high, brittle pitch. The teapot followed, splitting into jagged white fragments across the stone, the faint aroma of jasmine rose in a thin, ghostly curl of steam before the scent of hot tea was overtaken by something sharper.

Iron, salt, blood.

Taeyeon’s hand throbbed.

A shard, almost invisible in the chaos, had sliced across her palm as she instinctively tried to help, a clean, deep cut that immediately bloomed red against her pale skin. She hissed quietly, gripping her wrist, watching the blood bead and spill over her lifeline like it had been waiting for an excuse to escape.

Then the shift happened.

The servant boy, still crouched amidst the broken pieces, froze, not in shock, not in embarrassment. But in hunger.

His eyes locked onto her hand, not in apology, but in fixation. His chest rose and fell faster. Too fast. For a second Taeyeon thought he might be about to faint. But then she saw it, his lips parting, the glint of something inhuman behind his teeth, not just sharp.

Predatory.

She took a small step back, pulse suddenly thundering in her ears.

“Hey,” she said, quietly, breath catching, “Are you alright?”

He wasn’t.

He lunged.

But he never reached her.

The blur was impossible to track. One second, he was inches from her, the next his body crashed against the far wall with a sound that sucked the air out of the hallway, plaster cracked behind him. A painting trembled on its hook.

He dangled there, suspended by a single hand at his throat.

Y/N.

She hadn’t made a sound when she moved, no warning, no footsteps. Just appeared, as if the walls themselves had exhaled her into the space between danger and disaster.

She didn’t shout, didn’t snarl, but there was no mistaking what she was.

Her face had shifted, not in a grotesque way, but subtly, eerily, like the lighting had changed across a portrait and revealed the subject's true expression. Her eyes were no longer dark, they were deep and ancient and wrong, pupils blown wide, irises catching light that wasn’t there. Her mouth, slightly parted, revealed fangs, not oversized or cartoonish, but delicate, curved like an animal’s, precise and terribly real.

Taeyeon couldn’t breathe.

She stood frozen, watching Y/N hold the boy, this creature, off the floor like he weighed nothing, like her arm wasn’t even straining. Y/N’s other hand hovered slightly, not in hesitation, but in control. She was calculating, containing herself. Because she could’ve done worse, because she was choosing not to.

Finally, she released him.

“Control it. Get out,”

He collapsed in a heap at her feet, gasping, clutching his chest. Y/N didn’t even look down.

She turned to Taeyeon.

Her expression didn’t soften, her eyes didn’t change. But she stepped forward slowly, as if not to startle her, though every part of the moment had already ruptured into something Taeyeon couldn’t contain.

Y/N reached out and gently took her bleeding hand, taeyeon didn’t even resist, some part of her was still in shock, limbs stiff, breath shallow, heart hammering. She watched as Y/N pulled a folded white cloth from her pocket, and began dabbing at the blood with calm, almost ritualistic care.

She didn’t speak, didn’t explain, didn’t apologize.

The silence sat heavy between them, filled with the scent of iron and tea, the faint crackle of a painting still settling back into place on the wall, and the weight of everything Taeyeon didn’t know.

When she finally found her voice, it was hoarse, dragged from the pit of disbelief.

“What the hell are you?”

Y/N paused, cloth pressed to the edge of the wound. Her hands didn’t shake, her eyes didn’t flinch. But she said nothing.

Taeyeon’s throat tightened. “I just saw you throw someone across a room. I saw your face. Your teeth, your eyes—”

Y/N gently wrapped her hand in the cloth and held it still.

Taeyeon yanked it back.

“No. Don’t treat this like I tripped and skinned my knee, don’t soothe this, don’t act like it’s normal.”

She backed away a step, voice rising.

“You’re not human. Are you? You’ve never been. All this time, and I thought, god, I—”

Y/N opened her mouth to speak.

But the words didn’t come.

Taeyeon shook her head. Her voice dropped to something colder. More cracked.

“You’ve been playing at honesty. Giving me little truths, but not THE truth. You let me open up to you, trust you, care about you, and all the while, you were hiding something that could’ve killed me.”

Still, Y/N didn’t deny it, didn’t argue, didn’t retreat.

She just looked at her, as if waiting. As if knowing that no defense would make sense right now, as if the cost of explaining had already been calculated and accepted.

Taeyeon’s voice trembled, not just with fear now, but with something sharper.

“I gave you real pieces of myself,” she said. “And you gave me leftovers. You let me fall for someone who doesn’t even exist.”

Her eyes burned. Not from anger anymore, but from betrayal.

Y/N stood silent.

Because maybe there was no easy answer, because maybe the truth had waited too long, and now it was sharp-edged and ugly and unfixable.

And this time, when Taeyeon turned to leave, her hand bandaged in expensive linen, her heart unraveling in a house that suddenly felt too old and too strange, Y/N didn’t stop her.

Didn’t chase her, didn’t say her name.

And the other woman didn’t look back.

Taeyeon didn’t remember the drive.

She remembered getting in the car, barely. Remembered gripping the steering wheel harder than she should’ve, her knuckles bone white, Y/N’s embroidered cloth pressed tight to her hand like it might keep the truth from leaking out along with the blood.

The road home was a blur of stoplights she didn’t notice, intersections she crossed on muscle memory. Her chest felt too tight for air, like her lungs had folded inward on themselves. Everything was too much, the headlights in her mirrors, the vibration of the tires on the road, the quiet of the car that suddenly felt accusatory.

Her mind raced, but it wasn’t coherent thought, it was fragments, flashes. The boy’s face twisted in hunger, the way he lunged for her like instinct had hijacked his body. And Y/N, god, Y/N appearing out of thin air like a nightmare made flesh. Her strength, her speed. Those eyes.

Taeyeon had asked a question. She’d demanded the truth.

Y/N hadn’t said a word.

All this time, she thought the silence had been grief, or guilt, or hesitation. But it had been distance, deliberate, constructed. Like Y/N was trying to stay human on the surface while keeping something monstrous just beneath it, something old, something dangerous.

And Taeyeon had wanted her anyway.

She didn’t know what that made her now. Naive? Stupid?

The bandage pulled slightly as she turned into the garage beneath her building. She winced, more from the echo of Y/N’s hands tending it than from the pain. There had been a moment, just one, when Y/N had held her hand so gently it almost made Taeyeon forget what she’d just witnessed. Almost.

She parked, turned off the engine, sat there for a full minute, forehead against the steering wheel, breathing through clenched teeth.

Then she got out.

The elevator ride was quiet, her reflection in the metal walls looked pale, drawn. Not like someone who had just walked out of a lie, more like someone still trying to figure out if she’d ever really walked into the truth in the first place.

Her apartment floor was dim, soft lighting humming along the baseboards. Her car keys were still in her hand, fingers trembling slightly around them as she turned the corner.

And stopped.

Y/N was standing at her door.

The sight hit her like a second impact, one she hadn’t braced for.

She looked different in this light, less composed. Hair pulled back hastily, no jacket. Just a soft black sweater and dark jeans and her usual stillness, but stripped of its polish, like the weight of what had happened had worn her down in the short time since they'd last spoken.

At her feet was a tote with a first aid kit and, absurdly, two bags of Haribo gummies.

Taeyeon didn’t move.

Y/N met her eyes, but didn’t approach.

“I need to take care of your hand,” she said softly. No preamble, no explanation. Just that.

Taeyeon blinked at her. Her voice felt far away when it came. “How did you get here before me?”

Y/N’s expression didn’t shift. “I ran.”

The words hung there, heavier than they should’ve been.

“You ran,” Taeyeon echoed, hollow.

Y/N nodded. “I needed to be here when you got back.”

A pause, longer this time.

Taeyeon’s hand was still bandaged in the same cloth. Blood had soaked through in places. Her pulse still fluttered at her wrist like it hadn’t settled since that hallway.

She didn’t unlock the door, but she didn’t walk away either.

Y/N bent slowly, deliberately, and picked up the tote. “Let me fix it. Please.”

Her voice didn’t sound like a command. It sounded like a request from someone who never asked for anything.

Taeyeon stared at her. Every part of her wanted to scream, to run, to not let this woman step into her home.

But she typed the code.

The door opened.

Y/N followed.

Silently.

The apartment door shut with a quiet click behind them, but the air inside was anything but calm.

Taeyeon stepped inside first, dropping her keys onto the counter with more force than she meant to. Y/N followed, slower, setting the tote gently down on the coffee table like it might shatter. Neither of them spoke.

Taeyeon didn't sit.

She stood there, heart still racing, her hand clutched protectively in the other.

Y/N pulled out the first aid kit and the candy without ceremony. She looked small in the space, composed, yes, but not in control. For once, she seemed like a guest, an intruder in someone else's warmth.

“I owe you the truth,” she said quietly.

Taeyeon let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “You think?”

Y/N didn’t flinch. She knelt to open the kit, unspooled a fresh roll of gauze, and looked up, not just at Taeyeon, but into her. Like she was finally ready to be seen. “You asked me what I am.”

Taeyeon didn’t respond, not yet. She just watched.

“I’m not human. I haven’t been for a long time.” A pause. “I was born in 1117.”

The silence between them crackled.

Y/N looked down at her hands, fingers steady even now. “You know the name Lee. You’ve seen it on buildings, contracts, old legacy foundations. You’ve read articles wondering who really controls the industry, where the money comes from, who pulls the strings behind the curtain. That’s me. It’s always been me.”

Taeyeon’s breath caught. “You’re the Lee. Not just someone working for them.”

Y/N nodded. “I started with shipping routes and spice. Now it’s digital infrastructure and entertainment conglomerate. I don’t need to chase power anymore. It just arrives.”

She stood, holding the gauze out gently. “Let me see your hand.”

Taeyeon hesitated, then extended it, partly to have something to focus on, partly because even now, part of her wanted Y/N close.

Y/N’s fingers were cool against her skin. Not cold like the dead, but unnaturally cool, like stone left in shade. Taeyeon realized, in that moment, that she could feel the difference, could feel that Y/N’s blood didn’t race, and didn't surge. Her touch was too still.

Y/N unwound the bloodstained linen and began to clean the wound with silent care.

“I didn’t want this,” Y/N said after a moment. “Any of it. I didn’t choose to become what I am. But centuries passed, and I adapted, survived. Watched everyone I ever loved disappear into history.”

She didn’t look up. “That’s why I pushed you away.”

Taeyeon’s jaw clenched. “No. You pushed me away because you were afraid.”

“Yes,” Y/N said. Finally looking up. “Because I like you. Too much. And that’s the problem.”

Taeyeon pulled her hand back. “So your answer is to lie? To hide? To make me feel like a fool?”

“I was trying to protect you.”

“Bullshit.” Taeyeon’s voice rose, but it cracked at the edges. “You didn’t protect me. You made decisions for me. You controlled what I got to see, what I got to feel. You gave me crumbs of a life and expected me to be grateful.”

Y/N stood now, gaze hard. “What else was I supposed to do? You’re mortal, Taeyeon. You’ll grow older, you’ll change, you’ll die. And I will look exactly the same.”

Taeyeon stepped closer. Her hands trembled, her voice didn’t. “Do you think I haven’t felt every second of it whenever you looked at me like you wanted something and then shut yourself down before I could give it to you?”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. Her whole body was still, too still, statuesque, unnatural. “This doesn’t end well.”

“It doesn’t have to end at all,” Taeyeon whispered. “Unless you want it to.”

“I can’t let myself want you.”

Taeyeon’s eyes glistened. “But you do.”

For the first time, Y/N stepped back.

“No,” she said softly, voice tight. “I don’t.”

It was a lie, so obvious it landed like glass breaking.

And still, Y/N didn’t move further. She stared at Taeyeon like that would make it real.

Taeyeon didn’t flinch. “Then why are you here?”

Y/N didn’t answer.

“Why did you show up at my door before I could even get home?”

No answer.

Taeyeon’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Why are your hands shaking now?”

Y/N closed her eyes like the words hurt.

Then Taeyeon stepped forward, close enough to hear it, that impossible, nearly absent heartbeat. A slow, distant echo, as if her chest remembered how to beat but didn’t care to keep up.

Taeyeon reached up, brushed her fingers against Y/N’s cheek. She felt the cold, the way her skin didn’t flush with heat.

“I feel alive when I’m with you, seen,” Taeyeon said. “I think you forget that you look human, you speak like one, you’ve worn this life so long, you’ve tricked yourself into thinking you don’t want to be loved anymore. But you do.”

And Y/N broke.

Not loudly, not visibly, but her breath hitched, and her shoulders dropped, and something inside her just gave, like the centuries had finally cracked and let her feel again.

Taeyeon leaned in. Slowly, carefully. She wasn’t asking, she was offering.

Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met, not desperate, not soft, but necessary. Like something overdue finally arriving. The kiss wasn’t fire, it was slow, aching, devastating. Y/N’s lips were cooler than Taeyeon’s, but they trembled against hers. She kissed her like it had been a hundred years since her last breath.

Taeyeon’s hand cupped the back of her neck. Y/N’s arms wrapped around her waist, and for the first time, Y/N held on.

When they pulled apart, Taeyeon didn’t step back.

She looked into Y/N’s eyes, still wide and dark and endless.

“I’m not scared of what you are,” she whispered. “I’m scared of you running again.”

Y/N’s voice was barely a breath. “You should be scared of staying.”

“Then I’ll stay scared.”

Y/N didn’t appear in Taeyeon’s public world. No red carpets, no blurry Dispatch shots leaving restaurants or sneaking out of the houses, no subtle hints in interviews or cryptic Instagram captions.

It was how it had to be.

Her face hadn’t graced a camera in over a hundred years, and she intended to keep it that way. She existed just outside the frame, arriving in black cars, slipping through back doors, blending into shadows in a city that never questioned the rich or the strange.

To the world, Taeyeon remained single, focused on her art.

But in private?

Y/N was everywhere.

Her coat began appearing on the hook by Taeyeon’s front door, a pair of boots sat quietly beside Taeyeon’s. Her books, first just one or two, then whole stacks, migrated to the shelves, titles in Latin and French and languages that no longer existed. She started leaving her favorite teas in the cabinet, a particular brand of incense tucked into a drawer, her toothbrush beside Taeyeon’s.

Zero, Taeyeon’s little dog, adored her. He always knew when it was her behind the doors, tail wagging before they even opened, he followed her around with unshakable loyalty, curling at her feet as she read, letting her cradle him in her arms like a baby when she spoke to him in low, amused murmurs. Sometimes she told him stories Taeyeon didn’t hear, sometimes Taeyeon would catch her smiling, genuine, unguarded, as she scratched behind his ears.

When Taeyeon was gone for shoots, rehearsals, promotions, Y/N stayed.

She fed Zero, walked him at dawn, cleaned, and waited. Cooked things she didn’t eat, just to have something warm waiting on the stove when Taeyeon came stumbling in, bone tired and glitter worn. She didn’t need much sleep, but she stayed in the bedroom anyway, curled beneath the blankets like she wanted to pretend she was human again.

And Taeyeon let her.

Because there was something grounding about her presence, something still. Y/N didn’t fill a room, she settled into it. She made the air quieter, not heavier, like a gravity that never pulled too hard, but never let go either.

Taeyeon’s bright apartment began to chip away at Y/N’s carefully curated detachment. Her house, sleek and expensive, was all steel and glass and perfection. The sunlight poured in freely through the vast windows, gleaming across concrete floors and high ceilings. But emotionally? It felt more like a museum than a home. Every item was placed with intention, every surface spotless. The kind of space you admired from a distance, not one you fell asleep in with the TV on.

That started to change.

Y/N found herself buying flowers, not pristine bouquets, but messy, bright arrangements Taeyeon liked. She ordered a rug, plush and soft, she let Taeyeon stack records near the living room speakers and didn’t complain when Zero left paw prints on the flooring.

She even let Taeyeon place a photo.

A candid polaroid of the two of them, Taeyeon grinning, Y/N mid eye roll but visibly smirking, framed in wooden and completely out of place. Taeyeon had placed it on the nightstand without a word, daring her to remove it.

She never did.

And slowly, impossibly, this centuries old creature who had lived in silence, who had designed her world to avoid attachment, became part of someone else’s everyday life. Not just a presence, not just a secret.

But a rhythm.

Y/N hadn’t joined her on the Girls’ Generation comeback tour. That had never really been on the table, she stayed behind the way she always did when the world turned its gaze too directly on Taeyeon.

Silent, watchful, absent. A ghost written into the margins of Taeyeon’s life, always just out of frame.

She didn’t belong in the noise of cameras or screaming crowds. Her place was in the quiet, the after, the in between, the dark velvet corners where no one ever looked.

So Taeyeon didn’t expect her in Europe, or any other stop.

She barely had time to think between flights, rehearsals, performances, and hotel rooms that blurred together in a haze of stage makeup and caffeine. Her body was running on autopilot, her smile practiced, her movements muscle memory. Exhaustion crept behind her eyes, and her voice, though she fought it, was frayed at the edges.

By the time they reached Paris, it was afternoon. The sky was gray, threatening rain, and Taeyeon limbs felt heavy with the weight of the tour. Her hotel suite, predictably high end and impersonal, greeted her with polished wood, and expensive silence. It looked like a place where rich people came to sleep alone and leave without ever unpacking.

She kicked off her shoes with a sigh, half-mindedly reached for her phone, and then saw it.

There, resting on the nightstand with the kind of ease that implied ownership, was a note. A simple, elegant card. Her name written in ink that looked too deliberate to be printed.

She picked it up with slightly trembling fingers.

A car will pick you up at 7. Wear something warm. Don’t ask questions. —Y/N

Taeyeon stood there for a full minute, staring at the message. A tiny huff of breath escaped her lips, not quite a laugh but not quite disbelief either. She shook her head, ran a tired hand through her hair, and muttered under her breath.

“Dramatic as ever.”

Still, her heart did something strange, not fast, but full. She hadn’t realized how cold the world felt until it flickered warm again, even for a second.

She changed into something simple but soft, a wool coat, dark jeans, scarf tucked at her neck, and met the clock exactly. When the elevator dinged in the lobby at 7:00 PM sharp, a black car was already waiting outside the hotel entrance. The driver didn’t speak, only nodded politely and opened the door.

The city swallowed them in slow motion.

Gone was the loud, commercial glitter of the tourist Paris she remembered from past visits. This route was different. Older, quieter. Narrow streets curled through neighborhoods untouched by time, the kind of places only locals knew. Wrought iron balconies leaned toward each other like secrets, ivy dripped from window boxes, yellow light from antique street lamps pooled across the cobblestones, softening every harsh edge into something dreamlike.

Taeyeon sat in the backseat, cradling her hands together in her lap, her fingers twitching occasionally. The silence inside the car wasn’t uncomfortable, it was charged. Her eyes flicked to the window, but her mind was already ahead, trying not to want too much from whatever this was.

Then the car stopped.

And when she looked up, her breath caught.

The building before her was old in the way that demanded reverence, six stories of pale Parisian stone, every detail handcrafted, every window reflecting the soft golden glow of the street. It wasn’t showy or towering, it was elegant, restrained, permanent. Time hadn’t touched it the way it touched everything else. If anything, time had stepped aside and let it be.

Near the building's entrance, just beyond the glow of the streetlight, stood Y/N.

A long black coat wrapped around her figure, hair pulled back in a way that made her face sharper, cleaner, like a portrait half-shadowed. She wasn’t smiling wide, she never did, but there was something in her expression that was almost fond. Something flickered behind her dark eyes.

She looked like a memory, a prophecy, a question Taeyeon had been carrying for months.

The car door opened.

Taeyeon stepped out slowly, eyes locked on hers. “You own this?” she asked, voice low, more curious than surprised.

Y/N tilted her head, a slight twitch of her lips betraying amusement. “I own the whole street,” she replied simply, as if talking about owning a pair of shoes. “But this building’s special.”

There was no arrogance in her voice, just truth. Casual in the way only the very old or the very rich could be. But her eyes never left Taeyeon’s, not for a second.

She stepped aside, holding the door open for her.

And for the first time in days, Taeyeon didn’t feel like she was arriving at another stop on a tour.

She felt like she was arriving somewhere.

There was no elevator, of course there wasn’t.

Y/N didn’t say a word about it, just glanced over her shoulder as she started up the first flight, one hand trailing the old iron banister. Taeyeon followed, already feeling her breath shift. The stairs curved like a ribbon wound through time, worn smooth in the middle from decades, maybe centuries, of quiet comings and goings. The climb was silent but not awkward, it felt sacred somehow, like each floor was shedding part of the world behind them.

By the time they reached the fifth and final level, Taeyeon wasn’t winded, but she felt the climb settle into her muscles, a quiet reminder of the day already behind her. Y/N paused just outside a deep blue door, pulled a key from her coat pocket, and turned it with a slow, familiar twist.

What opened wasn’t just a room, it was a memory that hadn’t happened yet.

The apartment unfolded in warm, dusky layers, tall ceilings and wide windows framed with gauzy curtains that moved slightly with the winter air. The wooden floors gleamed underfoot, scratched in places, uneven in others, like they’d held stories too heavy to be scrubbed clean. Books were everywhere, a low bookshelf carried nothing but vinyl records, next to a turntable that looked older than any of their fans. A flickering fireplace sat tucked in the corner beneath a mantle lined with candles, small figurines, and a single photograph that Taeyeon didn’t try to examine.

The scent of bergamot drifted through the air, clean, citrusy, anchored by something older. Like a library and a forest, like permanence.

Taeyeon stepped in slowly, taking it all in.

It wasn’t minimalist or trendy, it wasn’t trying to impress. It simply was real and alive.

Y/N shrugged off her coat with casual grace, revealing a soft knit sweater, then crossed the space with that same feline movement she always had, measured, silent, like the room recognized her weight.

“I come here when I want to forget time exists,” she said, barely above a whisper. Her voice didn’t echo, it folded into the space like it belonged there.

She led Taeyeon down a short hallway and into the bedroom.

And that was where the rest of the air left her lungs.

White curtains fluttered from a cracked window, catching the cool breeze. The city stretched out just beyond, glittering with its usual arrogance, and there, perfectly framed like a secret, was the Eiffel Tower. Lit up in gold, timeless, unapologetic. Paris pulsed beyond the glass, a city that never slept, and yet inside this room, time was suspended.

Taeyeon stood frozen, arms folded against herself.

“God,” she breathed. “This is insane.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She just stepped beside her and handed her a glass of deep red wine, no label, no story offered, and watched her.

“I’ve had this place for nearly two hundred years,” she said eventually, like it was a footnote. “But it’s never felt like this before.”

Taeyeon looked over at her. “Like what?”

Y/N’s smile was soft. “Like someone might remember it after me.”

They didn’t go back out, there was no need. The city could wait.

Y/N moved, not with urgency, but with the quiet certainty of someone who knew exactly what came next. She crossed the room and opened a narrow cabinet near the fireplace, fingers grazing over a small stack of vinyls until she found the one she wanted. The paper sleeve was worn, yellowed at the corners, and when she slid the record out, it caught the light like something sacred. She placed it on the turntable, a soft crackle, then music.

Slow, scratchy, full of breath and brass. Jazz, the kind that didn’t ask for attention but stole it anyway.

It wasn’t just ambiance, it was memory, a bridge between noise and stillness.

Taeyeon kicked off her shoes, the tension of travel and performance still stitched into her limbs. Her body was tired, but her heart buzzed with something sharper.

Need, maybe, or relief. She stepped onto the rug barefoot, felt the warmth in the wood beneath.

Y/N turned toward her. No words, just eyes meeting, the music filling the space between. And then they were close, closer. Bodies brushing, hands finding their place like they’d done this before, not choreographed, but known.

Taeyeon let her forehead rest against Y/N’s shoulder for a beat, just breathing her in. Then Y/N’s hand found her waist, slow and certain, thumb sweeping beneath the hem of her shirt like she needed to confirm this was real. Her other hand cradled the back of Taeyeon’s neck, fingers spreading into her hair, anchoring her.

Taeyeon’s hands slid along Y/N’s arms, then down to her hips. She pulled her closer until their torsos aligned, the soft give of their bodies syncing in lazy rhythm. They swayed, not dancing, not exactly, just moving together. The record turned, saxophone unraveling softly in the background.

Then a kiss.

Gentle at first, just a brush. But then another, longer, deeper. The kind of kiss that hummed with memory and ache. Taeyeon’s hand slipped under the back of Y/N’s shirt, palm against skin, cool and familiar. Y/N trembled, not from cold, but from contact, and Taeyeon felt that tremble like an echo in her own spine.

They didn’t rush, didn’t speak. Just small gasps, the sound of breath shared and stolen. Taeyeon kissed along the line of Y/N’s jaw, slow and reverent, like she was reclaiming something that had been too far away for too long. Y/N’s fingers curled into the fabric of her shirt, holding on, not out of fear, but need.

Eventually, the music faded into silence, but they didn’t stop.

Their mouths found each other again as they moved toward the bed, navigating the dark by instinct. Taeyeon pulled Y/N’s sweater up slowly, kissing each inch of exposed skin as it rose. Y/N answered in kind, unfastening buttons, fingertips skating over ribs, hips, the small of her back.

By the time they reached their destination, they weren’t in a hurry, but they weren’t uncertain either.

Y/N lay back against the sheets, the faint golden glow of the Eiffel Tower beyond the window catching on the arch of her throat, the curve of her shoulder. Her skin was cool, as always, but beneath Taeyeon’s hands she warmed, breath hitching when lips met collarbone, when fingers found the small, quiet places that remembered her best.

Taeyeon moved over her like she was learning a song she already loved, slow, deliberate, reverent. Not in pieces, in wholeness.

Much later, they lay tangled in sheets that still held the warmth of skin and the weight of everything unsaid. The window remained cracked open, letting in the crisp breath of Paris night. Below them, the city murmured, soft traffic, distant voices, the occasional laughter echoing off stone walls. It was a lullaby neither of them needed, but both listened to.

Taeyeon rested her head on Y/N’s bare chest, her body curved against hers like it had always known the shape. Her fingers moved slowly, aimlessly, tracing the hollow of Y/N’s collarbone, then the soft slope of her neck.

Under her palm, Taeyeon could just barely feel it, that impossible heartbeat. Faint, measured. So far apart it didn’t seem real, like waiting for thunder after distant lightning, but each beat echoed into her like a promise. Not frequent, but present.

“You got colder again,” she murmured, her voice hazy with sleep, the words settling between them like dust.

Y/N’s hand moved through her hair gently, fingertips cool and slow against her scalp. “Sometimes it happens when I'm nervous,” she said, as if that were an ordinary thing to admit.

Taeyeon tilted her head slightly, lips brushing the underside of her jaw. “You’re nervous?”

Y/N didn’t respond right away, her gaze stayed on the ceiling above them, though her fingers stilled in Taeyeon’s hair. The silence lengthened, not empty, just tense with thought, with things coiling behind her ribs, waiting.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, careful.

“I love you.”

Just that, not dramatic, not dressed in metaphor. Just laid down like a card she hadn’t meant to show.

It hit Taeyeon like gravity, not sudden, but heavy. Inevitable.

She froze, lips parted slightly. Her chest constricted around her next breath. “You—”

“I shouldn’t,” Y/N said quickly, eyes finally falling to hers. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t plan for this. But I do. I do, and I don’t know how to stop falling deeper.”

Taeyeon stared up at her. The shadows in the room moved gently across her face, half darkness, half moonlight. And in that moment, she just saw her. The woman who cooked silently in her kitchen. The one who left notes in the margins of books. The one who stood in doorways watching her sleep like she still couldn’t believe she was real.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward, it was massive, it was breathing. Holding space for something bigger than fear.

Slowly, Taeyeon lifted herself, her palm pressed flat over Y/N’s heart, not searching, just feeling. Then slowly, she lowered her head back to Y/N’s chest, arms sliding tighter around her waist.

“I love you too,” she said finally, voice soft but solid.

Y/N didn’t say anything. But her hand moved again through Taeyeon’s hair.

“And I know you love Zero just as much as I do,” Taeyeon added. “Especially after you canceled that whole meeting just because he wouldn’t eat unless you held his bowl.”

Y/N smiled, lips against Taeyeon’s temple. “He’s dramatic.”

“So are we,” Taeyeon said, and they both almost laughed.

Then quieter, almost an afterthought. “Zero was right, by the way.”

Y/N tilted her head slightly. “About what?”

“The first time he met you,” Taeyeon said, lifting her chin to look at her. “He liked you right away, he already knew.”

Her fingers brushed along Y/N’s jaw, light and sure.

“He knew we were going to be something more.”

And there it was, no dramatic crescendo, just truth, soft and unshakable, settling between them like a vow.

The magic of Paris didn’t fade, but life crept back in like fog, soft, slow, inevitable.

When Taeyeon returned to Seoul, her schedule resumed with its usual storm of recordings, rehearsals, fan events, and cameras. The world expected her to keep glowing, and she did. But now, the light had a new source, a quiet one, one that didn’t ask for credit.

Y/N stayed close, she slipped between the cracks of Taeyeon’s world with practiced ease, always present, never public. She spent more nights at the apartment, her things now a permanent fixture, her scent embedded in the pillows. Zero curled at her feet like he’d always known her.

But with routine came friction, intimacy uncovered things distance had once hidden.

The fight happened on a random Thursday. It wasn’t explosive, it was a slow burn, ignited by something small, as most things are. A comment, a look, an unanswered text that Taeyeon hadn’t even realized mattered.

Y/N had been quiet all day, and Taeyeon, exhausted from a twelve-hour shoot and frayed from too many people needing too many things, snapped.

“If something’s wrong, just say it. Don’t freeze me out like I’m supposed to guess what I did.”

Y/N had blinked at her, calm and cold. “I’m not freezing you out. I’m giving you space.”

“I don’t want space, I want honesty.”

“And I want time to process before being cornered into performing feelings.”

It escalated from there, old insecurities bubbled up. Taeyeon accused Y/N of disappearing when things got hard. Y/N accused Taeyeon of wanting control, not connection. The room felt too small for their words.

But even in anger, they stuck to the one rule they’d made early on, spoken quietly that night in Paris.

“We don’t go to bed angry, we don’t sleep until we fix it. Even if fixing it is messy.”

So when the apartment fell quiet, neither of them stormed off, they didn’t slam doors. Instead, Taeyeon curled on one end of the couch, arms crossed, breathing hard. Y/N sat on the floor nearby, legs drawn up, forehead pressed to her knees.

Eventually, Taeyeon exhaled, voice low. “I’m scared you’ll vanish again. That one day I’ll wake up and your coat won’t be by the door, and you won’t come back.”

Y/N looked up, and something in her face softened. “And I’m scared I’ll mess this up because I’ve forgotten how to be with someone who doesn’t leave.”

They sat in that fear together, let it breathe, let it sting.

Then Taeyeon slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her. She reached out, fingers brushing Y/N’s hand.

“Okay,” she said. “So let’s mess it up together, but not like this. Not tonight.”

Y/N nodded once, slow. “Not tonight.”

Later, tangled in blankets that still held the heat of arguments and the chill of reconciliation, Taeyeon murmured into the quiet, “We're not perfect.”

Y/N replied, her voice almost a whisper, “Good, perfect is boring.”

They fell asleep like that, not really fixed. But choosing each other again.

Always choosing, even when it hurt.

It had been a year and a half since the first kiss, a year and a half of hidden mornings, of fingers brushing in darkened corners, of learning the shape of each other in silence and light. It hadn’t been perfect. There had been arguments, tension, nights when the gap between them felt centuries wide. But through it all, they kept choosing each other, again and again, until choosing started to feel like habit, like breathing.

The night it happened, Taeyeon was tired to the bone.

The snow had followed her to Y/N home, soft and constant, blanketing the city in quiet. She stepped into the villa after another late-night recording session, her hair damp with melted flakes, her fingers curled around a paper tea cup that had long since gone cold. Her eyeliner was smudged at the corners, her shoulders sloped in that way that only came from being needed in too many places at once.

She didn’t expect anything different.

Y/N rarely waited by the door, she was usually tucked away in the living room with a book or sprawled across the couch with Zero dozing beside her, always giving Taeyeon the space to arrive before filling it with anything.

But tonight was different.

Tonight, Y/N met her at the door.

She opened it before Taeyeon could reach for the handle, like she’d been standing just on the other side, listening for the sound of footsteps in the snow. The light from the hallway spilled into the night, catching the edges of her pale features and the faint tension in her shoulders. She looked beautiful, untouched by time, as always, but there was something else in her face tonight. Something open, something almost fragile.

Taeyeon blinked, caught off guard. “You’re waiting.”

“I was listening,” Y/N said softly, her gaze sweeping over her, the messy eyeliner, the chapped lips, the quiet weariness. “You always make a sound when you shift your bag to your left side. Like your shoulder’s sore.”

Taeyeon smiled tiredly. “It is.”

“I know.”

And then she stepped back, just enough to let her in. The door closed gently behind them, muffling the cold.

Taeyeon paused, standing in the entranceway, taking in the space that had changed without her realizing it.

There were shoes by the door, hers, not tucked away like a guest's. Her scarf hung beside Y/N’s coat. A photo of the three of them, her, Y/N, and Zero, framed and resting on the hallway table. The scent of sandalwood and vanilla hung in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of something still warm in the kitchen.

It didn’t feel like a gallery anymore.

It felt lived in.

She turned, ready to comment on it, to make a joke maybe, but Y/N was watching her with a look that stopped her in her tracks. Quiet, intent, like the moment had already started without her.

And then she spoke, barely above a whisper, but it hit Taeyeon with the force of something irreversible.

“Would you like to stay?”

Taeyeon’s lips parted, breath caught somewhere between surprise and wanting.

“Not just tonight,” Y/N added, stepping closer. “Not just sometimes. All the time.”

It wasn’t a plea, no. Y/N didn’t beg. But it wasn’t casual either, the words trembled under their own weight, centuries of solitude pressing against this one moment, asking if it could finally end.

Taeyeon didn’t say anything right away. She just looked at her, like really looked.

And then she nodded.

Not once, not quickly. Just a slow, quiet movement that felt like surrender, like a promise.

“Yes,” she said, voice catching slightly in her throat. “I’m tired of leaving and switching houses. Zero too.”

Y/N exhaled, the kind of breath you let go only when you realize you’d been holding it forever.

They didn’t do anything grand that night, no boxes, no champagne. Just two people claiming a space that had already started becoming theirs a long time ago.

They rearranged rooms slowly over the next weeks. One lamp, one drawer, one toothbrush at a time. Taeyeon added color to the guest room until it didn’t feel like a guest room anymore. Zero got his own corner in the living room, a bed by the window, surrounded by plush toys and a spot he had already claimed as his nap kingdom.

They cooked together, burned rice together, laughed over spilled wine and broken dishes. Y/N started writing, sometimes in a leather-bound notebook, sometimes on the back of receipts. Taeyeon left lyrics on sticky notes in the kitchen. They made tea for each other.

The villa stopped echoing.

The walls, once too clean and too perfect, started to carry the faint sounds of a life being lived.

And though the city outside never knew Y/N name, Taeyeon no longer cared.

Because home wasn’t the skyline, or the fame, or the crowd. Home was a space where someone like Y/N had chosen her.

And she had chosen back

It was one of those rare quiet nights, the kind that slipped in between chaos like a secret. Outside, the wind whispered against the glass, soft and steady, carrying the smell of rain before it fell. Inside, the world was still. The movie played low on the TV, some old black and white classic Taeyeon barely remembered the title of, she wasn’t really watching.

She was listening.

Y/N sat beside her on the couch, long legs stretched out, a blanket pulled halfway over them both. Her posture was lazy, elegant. One arm slung across the back of the couch, the other resting against Taeyeon’s thigh. Taeyeon’s head lay cradled on her shoulder, tucked beneath the line of her jaw, where she could hear the faintest sound of her heart.

If you could call it that.

It wasn’t like hers. Y/N’s heartbeat didn’t tick in time with anything normal. It came slow, leisurely, as if it had forgotten urgency altogether. One dull thud every few minutes, like a drumbeat echoing in a vast, empty cathedral. Her skin was cool under the blanket, cool even in the warmth of their home. Taeyeon had grown used to it, sort of.

There were still nights it caught her off guard, the sharp contrast between their temperatures, between their rhythms. But it didn’t bother her anymore, it only reminded her that time didn’t touch Y/N the same way it touched everyone else.

And maybe, she thought, maybe that didn’t have to stay true forever.

She adjusted slightly, the edge of the blanket shifting, and reached for the remote, turning the volume down even lower, just a murmur now.

“Can I ask you something?” she said quietly, not lifting her head.

Y/N’s fingers moved lazily against her leg. “You always can.”

Taeyeon hesitated, just a breath, just long enough to hear the next slow beat of Y/N’s heart.

“If I wanted you to turn me,” she started, voice gentle but certain, “would you?”

The silence that followed wasn’t loud.

It was delicate.

Y/N didn’t jerk away, didn’t react with fear or anger. She simply stilled. Just slightly, just enough that Taeyeon felt it in her bones, like the pause before something monumental shifts.

“I’m not saying now,” Taeyeon added quickly, her words trying to soften the blow she might have just dealt. “I know I still have time. I want to finish my career properly, I want a few more concerts, and a few more albums. I want to leave the stage right.”

She lifted her head slowly, eyes searching Y/N’s face, not demanding, just open.

“But after that I think I’ll be ready to disappear too. If that means giving up the spotlight, the timelines, the whole human routine. I’d do it. I would, I’d choose it. I’d choose you.”

Y/N blinked once, then again. Her expression didn’t crack, but something in her eyes, something old, something wounded, flickered.

She didn’t answer right away.

Instead, her hand slipped quietly over Taeyeon’s, fingers threading through hers with a kind of reverence, like holding something breakable. She brought it to her lips, and with excruciating tenderness, kissed each finger, one by one, slow and deliberate, like a ceremony.

“You always did know how to scare me,” she murmured.

Taeyeon didn’t flinch, she only looked at her. Certain, steady.

Y/N leaned in then, finally closing the space between them, and kissed her, not fast, not hungry. But deep, grounded. A kiss that didn’t ask for anything and didn’t promise too much. A kiss that held, that acknowledged, that sealed.

Not now, not yet.

But someday.

Yes.

And when they pulled away, their foreheads touched, and Taeyeon’s eyes fluttered shut. The decision had been made. Quiet and irrevocable.

Y/N would carry the weight of eternity a little differently now, because it would no longer just be hers to carry.

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

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