thewritingrowlet - Tumblr blog

thewritingrowlet · 7 days ago

Text

The Promise of Us, ft. aespa Karina

tags: just read the whole thing, hm?

length: almost 13k

Edit: sorry, forgot to thank @blanceverlast for letting me "borrow" this picture.

---

“What a beautiful sunset…”

A surge of warmth, as vibrant as the sunset’s hues, blossoms within Karina, chasing away the evening’s chills, and a smile tugs at her lips. “Alright, to the park now. He must be waiting.” She hugs herself more tightly, battling the relentless wind that whips at her. Behind a bank's sturdy pillar, she ducks, seeking a momentary reprieve from the gale. With a small, deliberate act, Karina pulls her hair into a tight bun, as if physically steeling herself for the final two blocks of the walk.

The wind, momentarily forgotten, seems to urge her forward. She rounds the final corner, the familiar silhouette of the park gates appearing through the dimming light. There he is, a solitary figure near their usual bench beyond the pond, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed on the fading horizon. A wave of unexpected relief, potent and sweet, washes over her. He’s here. He’s always here.

Each step she takes brings her closer, pulling more of him into focus. His perfect-fit brown—or “alloy orange,” as he always insists—trousers are the perfect match for his deep blue cardigan and sharp white shirt. “Ollie…” The familiar, intimate curve of his name forms on her lips. It's a name reserved for a precious few, a secret handshake between them, but her voice isn't loud enough. Karina clears her throat, physically shaking off the cold from her vocal cord. Then louder, “Ollie!”

He turns around, his swept-back hair catching the sunset's golden-brown light, tidy as always except for a stray strand. “Hey,” Oliver mouths, a smile starting to spread on his lips. With a few light steps, his hands still in his pocket, Oliver closes the gap between them, looking down at Karina with a calm and steady gaze—but she can sense something hiding behind it. “You look… cold,” he begins, offering an observation. His fingers land on the back of her hand, a small jolt of warmth passing between them as if taking a measurement of her temperature. “Oh, you are cold.”

"Just a bit," Karina manages, pulling her hand away slowly, lingering for a fraction longer than necessary. She shivers again, a genuine shiver this time, and watches as Oliver's gaze drops to her arms. Without a word, he shrugs off his cardigan, the fabric still warm from his body heat, and drapes it carefully over her shoulders. “I know you’re already wearing a coat, but an extra layer wouldn’t hurt, would it?” he teases, his eyes shining with a knowing glint. “No, it wouldn’t,” Karina confirms, her system picking up the faint scent of his perfume from the cardigan. “Now, what am I here for, Ollie—this better be good, by the way.”

Oliver steps aside, letting the spread rug be exposed to her vision, a collection of snacks, bottles of water, and blankets arranged neatly on it. “I think this is good enough,” he announces, his half-moon eye smile crinkling with pride. Karina’s gaze lands on a bag of chips: Russell’s smoky maple bacon chips—her top favorite. “Oh, it is good enough, if I do say so myself,” she blurts, immediately snatching it from the rug, the satisfying crinkle of the packaging loud in the quiet evening. “We’re off to a good start, Ollie. I have a good feeling about this.”

Oliver laughs, a soft, warm sound that echoes in the crisp air. "I knew that would get your attention." He settles onto the rug, gesturing for her to join him. Karina drops down beside him, the chips clutched to her chest possessively. The warmth of his cardigan still clings to her, mingling with the fresh scent of the park. They fall into a comfortable silence for a moment, the kind that only old friends can share, but tonight, something feels subtly different, a quiet hum beneath the surface of their easy companionship.

“Rina…” Oliver’s voice is soft as he leans back on his hands, his gaze drifting to the golden curtain in the sky. “Are you really going back to Korea?” With a faint sigh, Karina nods, fully understanding where this conversation is heading—they’re about to say goodbye, and a cold dread settles in her stomach at the thought of losing him to distance. “Yeah, soon,” she offers a simple answer. “How soon are we talking about?” Oliver asks again, his gaze long with a sense of longing. “I… I’ll fly to Korea on Friday.”

Taking his gaze off the sky, he turns to her, searching her eyes for something to hold on to, even if it’s fleeting. “That’s… tomorrow,” he murmurs, his heart aching at the thought of losing her so quickly. He sits up straighter, turning fully towards her. “Why didn’t you say anything, though?” Karina diverts her gaze; guilt is weighing down on her, and she knows Oliver doesn’t deserve such a treatment—not after the last four years they have powered through together. “I… I’m sorry,” her eyes close, tears slipping out from the corners of her eyelids, “I… I swear I was about to tell you.”

His gaze softens at the sight of her tears. For four years they have known each other, and the sight of her crying for reasons unknown to him, yet clearly tied to him, twists his gut. Never have her tears been shed for him before. “Rina…” Oliver lifts his hand to her face, wiping her tears with care and patience—maybe a hint of guilt too. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just so sudden…” he whispers. She leans into his gentle touch, wishing this conversation wasn't taking them to a place of parting, wishing these “things” between them, these unspoken feelings, could finally be named and explored, not left behind. “I know, Ol,” Karina forces a smile, hiding her sadness behind it, “I just never thought I’d get the brunt of your... erm… disappointment.”

With a soft chuckle, Oliver scoots closer, his arm finding its way around her back like it’s a routine, a comforting, familiar weight that suddenly feels charged. “No, not disappointment,” he deflects, his soft tone warm in her ears. “It’s just that I can’t imagine a life without you.” He looks at her—really looks at her—while desperately holding his tears back. Never before has he been this exposed, not like this. He’s been vulnerable in front of her before, but it has always been about other girls, not… her.

A small chuckle bubbles up from Karina's chest, laced with surprise and a warmth that spreads through her at the raw honesty in his voice. That's quite the confession from Oliver. “You’ll be fine, trust me. Oliver Drake will always be fine, come hell or high water—is that not what you always say?” Oliver slaps her on the knee, a playful gesture they are very familiar with, frowning slightly for more mischief points. "I only said it because I’ve always had you by my side, and we both know that,” he argues, leaving no room for misinterpretation of her importance in his life. He lets out a small huff of laughter as his gaze drifts away, a faint blush creeping up his face. "Heh," he murmurs, "look at us. Only four years, right, but I talk like you’ve been here my whole life."

Karina's smile falters, the playful mood dissolving as his words truly sink in. Always had you by my side. Talk like you've been here my whole life. The easy banter hides a truth that now feels overwhelmingly clear. She watches the blush deepen on his cheeks, a tenderness she rarely sees directed at her in this way. "Four years is a long time, Ollie," she begins, her voice softer than she intends, testing the waters. "Long enough to know someone inside and out, I guess." She waits, her heart pounding, for him to take the next, terrifying step.

“I’ll find my way to you again, Karina. We’re not done here. We’re far from done.”

Her eyes widen imperceptibly, her breath catching in her throat, in shock of his promise. “Oliver…” she mutters, her voice shaking again. “Why, Oliver? Why are you making these promises? Why does it feel so hard to leave? Who am I to you?” she barrages him with questions, those that she yearns to be answered. Turning his face, his glassy eyes meet hers, holding them steady despite the blurriness the tears are causing. “You’re everything I need in my life, Karina.”

His answer, delivered in such a firm tone, plus the glistening tears welling in his eyes, seems to have them both suspended in time; they can only look at each other, their lips stuck open, but no confession is coming out. She sees the truth in his tear-filled eyes, the depth of emotion she has been too afraid to acknowledge. She reaches out, her hand trembling, to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing away a tear that finally escapes his eye. This isn't just about tomorrow; it's about all the yesterdays they let slip away.

“Oliver…” Karina manages, her lips trembling with emotions. “If you’re that certain about us, then please let me go—let me go and then find me again.” Taking her hand off his cheek, Oliver pecks the back of it, a soft, reassuring press, nodding solemnly. “I will. Just wait for me, please,” he replies, his resolve slowly regaining its strength. With a smile, Karina pecks the back of his hand, content with his determination to fight for a shared future. “I will wait for you, but don’t take too long, please.”

Oliver stands by the window of his new office at the new headquarters, the clouds hovering over the vast city expanse offering a deceptive sereneness to his uneasy heart. For five years, he's worked restlessly, climbing the corporate ladder, and finally, his turn has come. It's his father's company, sure, but the ascent was anything but easy. If anything, it felt like every rung demanded a new sacrifice, a deliberate, grinding test of his resolve.

The view from his top-floor office is commanding, a testament to his relentless drive. He surveys the distant haze, the countless buildings shrinking into insignificance, and a hollow ache settles in his chest. Each promotion, each win, came at a cost, chipping away at the softer edges of his character, the ones Karina always teased him about. He made a promise under a fading sunset, a vow from a younger man in love, a lifetime ago. He said he’d find her. Now, though, amidst the sterile gleam of corporate success, he wonders if he still knows how to. He wonders if he will be welcome.

“Hold that thought.”

His computer sings a familiar ringtone—a jarring summons that pulls him from his thoughts. Reality is calling. Glancing over his shoulder, he sees the caller on the screen: Christian Drake. Management. “What is it this time?” he groans. Oliver clears his throat as he prepares to answer the call, shedding all lingering distractions.

“Good morning, Dad,” he greets him, his calm voice hiding the subtle hint of anxiety in his heart. “Good morning, Ollie. Everything okay so far?” Oliver chuckles dryly at his father’s question—what’s his definition of “okay,” anyway? “I’d say it is. Just a few more things to be smoothed out, and we’ll be golden.” We'll be golden, he says, but the whiteboard across the room, crammed to the last centimeter with sticky notes and frantic scribbles, dissents.

"Good to hear," Christian's voice crackles through the speaker, devoid of genuine concern, just efficiency. It feels like this is just an opening conversation for another topic, a thinly veiled transition. “By the way,” Christian continues, his voice suddenly lighter, losing that focused edge. “Have you had the chance to see Jennifer again?” A heavy sigh escapes Oliver's lips. Not this again. Not Jennifer Huh. “No, Dad, I haven’t. Haven’t even had the time to take a shit,” Oliver dodges. “Besides, I don’t think she’s that interested in me.”

Christian's laugh is hearty, unaffected by Oliver's bluntness. "She's very interested, Ollie. Also, her father is a vital connection for the next phase of the expansion project, and we both know that the fastest route to a partnership is through marriage." Oliver rolls his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before rubbing a hand across his forehead. His father never misses an opportunity to combine business with his son's nonexistent social life. “Dad, I'm here to build Drake Defense’s presence in Asia, not—” Oliver cuts himself off, a wave of familiar defeat washing over him. “Alright, you know what, I’ll think about it. How does that sound?”

Christian's laugh booms through the speaker again, a sound of triumph. "That sounds excellent, son. You won't regret it. Jennifer is a remarkable young woman." The call ends, leaving Oliver alone in the quiet hum of his office. He stares out at the city lights, the image of Karina's smiling face from five years ago flashes through his mind. A bitter taste fills his mouth. He made a promise under a sunset, a vow to find her, but now, his father's relentless ambition, embodied by an arranged relationship with Jennifer, threatens to tie him down in a way he never anticipated.

Slamming his fist on his desk, Oliver huffs, his heart racing as a dangerous mix of anger and frustration flows through his system. “Where the fuck are you, Karina? Why aren’t you here right now? Isn’t this your home country?” These questions, each one ripped from the deepest spot in his heart, echo in his sparse office. “Whatever,” Oliver mutters, his shoulders still tense as he sinks back into his seat, taking deep breaths to calm himself. “If we’re meant to find our way back, we will. If we’re not… I mean, that Jennifer girl is indeedattractive.”

Oliver opens some slides on his computer, trying to rally his mind back to work. He runs his hands into his hair multiple times, as if desperately trying to scrub these women off his head. “Ah, fuck,” he mutters a curse, unable to regain his focus—how can he focus when Jennifer's meticulous design fills his screen? “I really hate you sometimes, dad—why not have Luca be with Jenny? It's not like he's getting anywhere with Giselle,” he airs.

He leans back in his chair, his hair as disheveled as his mind. Picking up his phone, Oliver scrolls aimlessly—doom-scrolling, as today's kids say—until his thumb stops over a promising escape: a new high-class bar in downtown, kicking things off with a grand opening. “Oh?” His eyebrows rise; escaping to drink sounds like a good outlet, even if it's not exactly the best. He taps the screen, the details of the grand opening promising an indulgent distraction. The thought of liquor dulling the sharp edges of his regret, of silencing his father's expectations, is a powerful pull. He knows this isn't a solution, barely even classifying as a delay, but for now, a temporary reprieve from his own racing thoughts is all he craves.

Pocketing the fob to his new McLaren—that he got along with the new job title—Oliver rides the lift to the ground floor, his mind already clouded with thoughts of what liquor to buy and how much. “I guess I can flex a little bit,” he thinks, a naughty smirk spreading across his lips. The idea of being seen in such a lavish way excites him—he’s new to this sort of life, after all.

As the lift continues its descent, the polished steel walls throw back his image: a young man in a sharp black suit, a limited-edition watch hugging his wrist. A prime example of corporate success. The lift’s doors glide open, releasing him to the lobby. The calm overhead lights reflect softly on the marble floor as he slips on a pair of shades, plucked from the inner pocket of his blazer. Oliver continues making his way out of the building, his steps echoing throughout the lobby, causing both guests and employees to stop what they’re doing and turn their heads. “Who is that?” “Is that the boss?” These whispers drift past him—if only he spoke the same language as them.

A security guard, his own black suit perfectly pressed, offers a polite bow as Oliver emerges through the parting glass doors. He accepts the gesture with a smile, offering a small nod in return, acknowledging the guard’s presence. “I’m heading out, mister,” he says with a smile. The man blinks rapidly a few times, his surprise at a foreigner as his superior still raw, but he quickly masks it with another firm nod. “Please stay safe, sir,” he replies, his accent warm in Oliver’s ears. The simple yet sincere goodbye catches him off guard. Oliver stops and lowers his shades, his right leg already in the car, and turns back to the man. “Thank you. Please continue your incredible work.”

Oliver turns back to the car, his shades now firmly back on, and gets in. He starts the engine, the McLaren’s deep growl a sudden contrast to the quiet moment he just shared. As he pulls away from the curb, he watches the security guard in the rearview mirror, a solitary figure returning to his post. “Being able to say goodbye so well is a precious skill,” he thinks, remembering Karina's final, brave smile from five years ago. “Time it well, and it might give someone enough drive to go to the edge of the world for you.” As the distance between them grows, Oliver re-focuses on the road ahead. The club, the promise of distraction, and the terrifying, exhilarating thought of finding his way back to Karina fill his mind.

Oliver parks himself on the sofa in the private room he's just booked, allowing a moment to relax before his system gets filled with liquor. The music from the club is a faint hum here, but the thin walls do little to muffle the sounds from the next room. Whoever is moaning must be having a great time. He lets out a hollow laugh, wondering if he'll end up like that within the next few hours. “I wonder what kind of girl I can pull.” That thought is both unsettling and oddly appealing.

A waitress arrives, a bottle of expensive whiskey and four glasses on a tray. Quietly wondering why there are so many glasses, Oliver lets the waitress arrange the items on his table. "You will have guests,” she says, her tone a delicate mix of certainty and polite inquiry. She offers a respectful smile. He blinks, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. Is that a question, or a statement—her tone makes it impossible to tell. “Uh, yeah, maybe I will,” he swallows hard, his throat tight, unsure of what else to say. “Anyway…” Oliver's eyes drop to her name tag, a blur of graceful, unfamiliar symbols. He has no clue what those letters say. “Erm, thank you, miss.”

The waitress offers one last respectful smile and retreats, leaving Oliver to stare at the four glasses. The space feels too big, too empty. He pulls out his phone, a flicker of his earlier desperation returning, scrolling through his contacts. He almost calls Karina, his thumb hovering over her name, when the door to his private room slides open again, a sharp interruption to his thoughts. It's not the waitress. It's a woman with a confident stride and a warm, assertive smile, a tight-fit dress highlighting her curves.

“You must be Oliver Drake,” the woman says in a steady tone, sounding more like him than anyone he’s spoken to today. "That depends,” Oliver chuckles, a bitter shake of his head at this absurd turn of events. “What are we? An arranged date? A business meeting?” Padding deeper into the room, the woman closes the door behind her, a practiced gesture. “I can be whatever you want me to be, Mr. Drake. So long as you… keep an open mind,” she says, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. She bends forward, palming his knee, her cleavage exposed to his gaze. The move is masterful, and it disarms him, a knot of genuine discomfort tightening in his gut.

“I don’t think I’ve caught your name,” Oliver whispers back, trying to stay in control of the conversation, fighting the manly urge to peek into her chest. “They call me by many names—puppy, cookie, sweetie,” she purrs, leaning even closer. “But for you, big boy… it’s Minji. Kim Minji.” He nods slowly, her name, a whisper of a promised good time, seared into his memory. “Minji…” he murmurs, testing the taste of her name on his lips. “That’s a beautiful name for such a beautiful person.” A chuckle escapes from Minji’s lips, her curving eyes shining with amusement. “Easy, honey. There’s no need to start flirting so soon.”

Unable to look away from her, Oliver takes a shaky breath. It’s been so long since someone, anyone, has left him this breathless—not with fear, but with a different kind of dizzying anticipation. “Too early, huh?” he manages, lowering his guard before this mysterious woman. “Then what do you suggest we do before we… get to the flirts?” Minji circles around, approaching him from his uncovered left side, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. “We can start with this…” She perches on his thigh, the sudden weight a jolt to his system, wrapping an arm around him for stability, her cleavage more open to his stare. “Mm, this is nice.”

Oliver is frozen. The scent of her perfume, the warmth of her body, the deliberate pressure of her on his thigh—it's all a sensory overload, a potent distraction from the regrets that brought him here. Her gaze never leaves his, a silent challenge in her eyes. "This is nice," she purrs again, and with her free hand, she reaches out, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his face. The contact, cool and feather-light, finally breaks his stupor. He knows what's happening. He knows this is a mistake, but the temptation of forgetting, just for a moment, is overwhelming.

“Baby…” A whisper escapes his lips, the pet name almost a reflex. He's letting it all go for the night. Minji gasps slightly at the whispered endearment, a knowing smirk spreading across her lips. “Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you, darling?” Minji whispers back, her embrace tightening around him, the pressure of her body a potent distraction. “Just say it, baby. What is it you want from me?” Oliver groans, a deep guttural sound. He's never had a woman openly surrender to him like this, and in this moment, after a life of control and demands, this type of attitude is one he never knew he needed. “I want you by my side. All night long.” Still smiling, she leans closer to him, their lips almost touching. “I’m yours, darling.”

Minji's words hang in the charged air between them, a silent promise. She closes the final inch of space, and her lips meet his. The kiss is intoxicating—a rush of expensive whiskey and her unique perfume, a potent mix of practiced passion and raw surrender. This isn't a kiss of love or longing, but of distraction and need. As her hand moves from his back to the nape of his neck, pulling him deeper into the moment, Oliver closes his eyes, trying desperately to lose himself in the sensation, to forget everything that has brought him here tonight.

“Minji…” Oliver rasps, breaking the kiss before he completely loses it to her allure. He pulls back, his breathing ragged, the room a sudden, terrifying blur of reality. “Humor me with one last question?” Minji pulls back, her smile returning to form. “What is it?” He gestures vaguely at the table before them, waving his hand over the formation of bottle and glasses. “I’m still not sure why there are so many glasses here. Is this the custom?”

Glancing at the table, she nods slowly, her smile faltering a bit. She lets out a deep sigh, a brief glimpse of genuine weariness in her eyes. “Yes and no,” she says, her professional façade cracking. “I mean, people could tell you’re rich, and… they were about to throw some women at you, hoping that maybe you’d lose control and give them something that can be used as, say, leverage.”

The words hit Oliver like a cold wave, instantly shattering the intoxicating haze. The kiss, the music, the allure—it all feels like a cheap trap. He looks at the four glasses, a symbol of the cynical world he's been thrown into, a world where even loneliness is monetized.

"I need to get out soon, don't I?" he whispers, the realization of underlying danger hitting him with full force. “If you care about your own well-being, yes,” Minji says. “Otherwise, you can stay here and engage with the company I'm paid to provide.” He falls into a heavy silence, his gaze locked on her, searching her eyes for signs of deception or fakery. He finds none. Only a stark, weary honesty. "I can tell you're not like those men,” she adds, her voice softer now. "Please get out, Oliver." She says it just as he's about to open his mouth, her words cutting his protest clean before it can even form.

Oliver gently taps her back, a signal for her to get off him. "Will you be okay, though? You won't get hurt if I leave, right?" he asks in a whisper, a sudden sense of care surging within him. Minji's eyes drift to his shoes, a flicker of genuine shame in them. She crosses her arms on her chest, pushing her breasts up slightly. "Honestly, no," she begins, her muttered words barely audible, formulating a more complete and coherent answer for him. "This… this is my last chance to prove my worth as a lady companion, and… I think I should get out too before things take a worse turn." Initially busy tidying himself, Oliver freezes. Last chance. Before things take a worse turn. His heart races as he pieces together the chilling consequences of her failure to “perform”.

Oliver reaches for her arm, his touch gentle but firm. "Minji, listen to me," he says, his voice low and urgent, the corporate leader returning, but this time with a moral compass. "I'm not leaving you here. You're coming with me." He doesn't know what he's going to do or where he's going to take her, but the thought of abandoning her, of leaving her to face a "worse turn," is unthinkable.

She looks up at him, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and a flicker of hope. He needs to get them both out of this club, and fast. “O-Oliver…” Minji pauses, swallowing a nervous gulp that is lodged in her throat. “We can’t leave together. T-the club… it strictly bans staff from leaving with a customer.” She glances nervously toward the door, a woman on a clock. "And they're watching―they're always watching. Please, just go first. Go first and find me again."

Oliver freezes once more, the past and present colliding in his mind. “No, no, no, not this ‘find me again’ bullshit again.” He stays completely still, like a statue, except for the subtle rise and fall of his chest. His gaze is blank, distant, as if she isn't even there. “Why? Why do I have to lose someone first before finding them again?” Minji snaps her fingers before his eyes, then gently shakes his arm. “Oliver, Oliver,” she calls to him, her voice rising in panic, her hands now gripping his shoulders, trying to pull him back to the present. “Hey, what’s wrong with you?”

He gives her a final, earnest look before turning away, his mind now clear and focused on leaving this dark hole. Slithering past the sea of drunken people and packed tables, Oliver quickly makes for the exit, the overhead signs guiding him. Suddenly, as he turns a corner, a man pops seemingly out of nowhere, blocking his path. The man yells something at him, a rapid-fire burst of syllables in a language Oliver can't understand. Oliver just stays there, completely still, waiting for the man to budge. He's learned that in these moments, the first person to move loses. That is, until the man's hand flashes behind his back. He pulls out a knife, a glint of steel appearing seemingly from the crack of his butt. “No, you don’t want to do that," Oliver parts his jacket with a slow, deliberate movement, the club’s dim lighting bouncing off the grip of his handgun.

At her rather abrupt waking, Oliver reaches for his rear pocket, fishing out a business card with his name and number on it. “No, you find me,” he says, gripping her wrist as he hands the card over, pressing it firmly into her palm. “Can you do that, Kim Minji?” Minji’s eyes dart between him and the card, her ragged breath feeling tight. “Y-yes, I-I can, sir,” she stammers, the title a habit she can't break even in this unexpected moment. His hold on her loosens; finally, he’s not the one doing the finding. “That’s good, baby. I’ll be waiting for you.”

The man’s face, a mask of bravado moments ago, contorts in fear. He drops the knife, its clatter muffled by the club's thrumming bass, and slowly retreats, his empty palms raised in a gesture of surrender. Not wanting to take stupid chances, Oliver keeps his eyes on the man as he walks past, his hand ready to pull out his firearm and shoot within a second’s notice. With a turn of the handle, the door parts, the cold night air seeping through the gap, a welcome change for him. “Thank you for your cooperation. And this is for the drink.” He tosses a band of cash to the floor without looking, a final, dismissive gesture, before he jolts toward his car.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The first curse is a low growl, the second a louder scream, the third an peak of fury . A man slams his fists on his table, his face as red as his eyes from the whiskey. “We didn’t fucking get him—fuck you, Oliver Drake!” More and more curses fly from his lips as his fists continue to smack the table, the noise echoing throughout his home office.

Initially busy in the kitchen, a woman, with whom he shares a house, puts her knife down with a deliberate clatter. She turns off the stove, her hands trembling slightly, before heading to the source of the commotion—that name, Oliver Drake, sounds familiar to her too, for reasons she'd rather not think about. “Love,” she softly calls to him, knocking on his door carefully. “Love, are you okay in there?” Waiting for a response, the woman puts her ear closer to the door, and that’s when a screamed response is heard, “Shut the fuck up, bitch! No one is talking to you! Hey, fuck you too!”

Stunned. Stung. Heartbroken. The woman's world shatters at the searing curse from the man who always claims to love her. She loses her strength, dropping to her knees outside his office, the carpet softening her fall. “You heard wrong—there’s no way he’d yell at you like that.” Still on her knees, the woman tries knocking again, her vision blurry because of the pooling tears. “Just stop it already, you fucking bitch! Leave me the fuck alone, Karina!”

Karina clutches at her chest, trying to stifle the sobs that threaten to escape. The molten curses replay in her head, a tormenting loop. She can't breathe. This is not her life. This is not the man she loves. The man she loves is gentle, kind, and wouldn't ever call her such names. As her tears begin to fall, a jarring buzz from her forgotten phone on the kitchen counter interrupts the moment, the sound almost comforting in the midst of her despair.

Her legs tremble with every step she takes, but she pushes on—if this call is her lifeline, then there’s no way she’s going to miss out. Her trembling hand reaches the phone and flips it over. Her eyes, still blurry with tears, struggle to focus on the screen. The name of the caller burns itself into her mind: “Drake, Oliver.” She quickly wipes her tears, taking short breaths to calm her wits before picking up. After all, this is the only person, man or woman, who can tell her everything is fine, even if everything around her was ablaze, and in this moment, that promise is all she has left.

“H-hello?”

“Karina, hi, hello. Hey, uh, where are you?”

“I'm... I'm at home.”

“Oh, erm, am I interrupting, then?”

Karina quickly glances over her shoulder—getting caught being in a call with another man will guarantee getting the brunt of that man’s wild rage. “No, Ollie, you're not interrupting. Your timing... it's perfect,” she offers an assurance, her heart pounding with the desperate hope that Oliver will offer her the same very soon. “Oh, really? Can we meet, then?” Oliver’s voice is a strange mix of hopefulness and uncertainty. "Where are you? I'll come to you." Karina’s heart leaps into her throat. He'll come to her. No, that's not safe. Not with the man in the other room. She has to find a way to get out first. "No, Ollie, don't worry about it," she says, her voice gaining false strength. "I'll come to you. Just... just send me the address." She hangs up before he can protest, the dial tone a final, desperate plea for escape. Her mind, now shockingly clear, is solely focused on one thing: getting out, and getting to Oliver, before it's too late.

Karina shoves her phone into her pocket, her heart pounding a frantic rhythm against her ribs. She needs to move, and she needs to move now. She glances toward the closed office door, the muffled curses a fresh, terrifying reminder of the man inside. She tiptoes into the bedroom, snatching her purse and the first jacket she can find. She won't pack, she won't hesitate, and she won't look back. As she reaches for the front door, she allows herself a single, shaky breath of hope. Oliver is here. He’s waiting for her, and she’s finally, finally running toward him.

Quickly jumping into her car, Karina turns it on. The V6 engine roars to life in the quiet night, its sudden sound a betraying testament to her escape. Sensing his approach, she puts the car in reverse, slamming her foot on the pedal to get out of the driveway as swiftly as she can. “Oh, shit!” Karina manages to drive away just as he lunges, a shoe hitting the rear window with a dull thud before she disappears into the dark. Now, her mind is fixed on the single, terrifying, exhilarating mission that lay ahead: re-finding the man who might just be the light in her life—Oliver Drake.

The address Oliver sent is to a luxurious office building in downtown. She pulls into the underground parking, her hands trembling as she turns off the engine. The silence is deafening, a stark contrast to the blaring curses and roar of her engine from moments ago. As she gets out of her car, she feels a sudden, profound sense of vulnerability. She's here. She's really here. Taking a deep breath, she makes her way to the lobby, her heart pounding. The man who has been a ghost in her life for the past five years is about to become a reality again, and she has no idea if he will still be the lifeline she so desperately needs.

“Karina!”

A man emerges from the shadows, a figure she recognizes from a thousand dreams and a million regrets. He's no longer the playful college student she remembers. His suit is sharp, his shoulders broader, and a haunted look lingers in his eyes, but it's him.

“Ollie!”

She watches him close the distance between them, his face a complex mix of relief, panic, and raw emotion. He takes a shaky step closer, his hands hovering over her as if afraid she's an illusion. His thumb grazes her cheek, a feather-light touch, before he pulls back in a flinch. "Karina—oh, God, you’re actually here," he mumbles, his voice thick with unspent tears. The man who had once been her anchor is now a stranger, but his eyes, filled with a tenderness she remembers from another life, are the lifeline she’s been searching for all this time.

Oliver closes the final distance between them, his hesitation gone, and pulls her into a tight, desperate hug. His arms are strong, protective, and for the first time in five years, Karina feels truly safe. The scent of him—expensive cologne mixed with the faint, familiar scent of him she'd never forgotten—is a powerful reminder of a life she thought was over. She buries her face in his shoulder, her own unspent tears finally falling, and clutches his suit jacket as if afraid to let go. He's a stranger, but he's also home.

“Karina…” he whispers very, very softly, saying her name like it’s a sacred prayer, holding her trembling form firmly in his embrace. “Ollie, fuck!” Karina sobs, a furious, frustrated whisper against his chest. She smacks him, the blow more an expression of her own internal turmoil than an act of violence, unleashing everything she’s been burying for the past five years. “I know, baby. I know,” he mutters, his voice thick with emotion. He gently runs his hand along her back, his own body trembling slightly with the desperate need to calm her. “I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry for taking so long.” He pulls her tighter, his words a fierce promise. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Karina clings to him for a long, quiet moment, his warmth and strength a comfort she had forgotten existed. As her sobs subside, she finally pulls away, her fingers still clutching the lapel of his suit. “You… you’re here,” she says, the words a miracle. Her gaze falls on the faint, dark circles under his eyes, the subtle lines of stress etched around his mouth. “Ollie… what happened to you? You look so tired.” He looks at her, then runs a hand through his hair, a gesture she remembers from a time of frustration and confusion. He lets out a single, shaky laugh. “I... Honestly, I think I just dodged a damn bullet. The kind of bullet that would have kept me from you forever. And I don’t think you’ll believe it.”

Karina’s brow furrows, the last of her tears forgotten. “Dodged a bullet? What are you talking about?” Oliver drags her to a nearby sofa, the sudden motion a jolt of energy. The memory of doing the same from their college days comes back to him—he feels like he's about to spill the tea on someone's dating rumor, and in a way, he is. “I went to a club earlier and met this… erm… lady companion, as she called herself,” he begins, his hands waving around as he assembles an explanation. “I… I almost made some terribly wrong moves, but this woman, Minji, she saved me from them. And in a crazy, roundabout way, talking to her gave me the courage to finally pick up the phone and find you.”

Karina listens to him, her fingers still clutching his suit jacket. She hears the honesty in his voice, the raw vulnerability, and she feels a profound sense of gratitude to this woman, Minji, for bringing him back to her. “But… what club was that, Ollie? What kind of shithole you went to?” she asks, always curious when it comes to Oliver and his adventures. Oliver’s forehead furrows, trying to remember the full name, but he only remembers a part of it. “Something-something Chamber,” he says, snapping his fingers as if trying to grasp the name. “That’s all I can remember.”

Her eyes widen in a sudden, icy fear. Her mind flashes back to the man in the office, his furious red face, the curses, and the club he so often boasts about—the one with “Chamber” in the name. “What, is it the Sovereign Chamber?” Blinking a few times, he nods. “Yeah, that’s it,” he says, a final nod of confirmation. “The Sovereign Chamber.”

Karina's grip on his jacket tightens, her knuckles white. "Ollie," she says, her voice a terrified whisper, "that's... that's his club. That's the club he owns. And… and you… you were at his club. He cursed you out like you owed him a gazillion dollars, you know." The words hang in the air between them, a chilling confirmation of the danger she's in. Oliver's confusion immediately gives way to a cold, hard resolve as the pieces fall into place—the hurried goodbye with Minji, her stammers over the phone, the man who wanted leverage. Everything is turning out to be a single, unified threat. "Karina," he says, pulling her close, his voice now a low, dangerous growl. "Who is he? Tell me everything."

Karina looks at him, her eyes wide with a mix of terror and relief. The name she's about to say feels like a curse, but in this moment, with Oliver's strong arms around her, she knows she has no choice. "His name is Minjoon. Gong Minjoon," she whispers, the name a chilling sound in the quiet of the empty reception lobby. "And he's a powerful man." The words hang in the air for a moment, a moment in which Oliver doesn't speak. He just holds her, his warmth a comfort she had forgotten existed. He knows he can’t save her alone, not with a man as dangerous as him. For now, though, he just holds her, taking in her scent, reminding himself that she's real, she's here, and that he will do everything in his power to keep her safe.

As they sit in uncomfortable silence, their ears register an interruption in the quiet night: the wild, furious roars of an engine echoing from a distance, growing louder with every passing second. Someone’s speeding out there, and that could very well be Minjoon tracking Karina down. “That’s him—that’s his Mustang,” Karina confirms, endlessly smacking Oliver’s thigh in a full-blown panic. “What do we do, Ollie?” Looking to the left, Oliver sees a way to take on this Minjoon bastard: an automatic rifle, sitting idly in a safe underneath the receptionist’s desk. “He’s not bulletproof, is he, Rina?”

Karina's eyes widen, her hands now clutching his arm, her fear a palpable thing. "Ollie, no!" she yells, her voice a plea. "You can't do that. This is not you!" He turns to her, his gaze cold and steady. "It’s us or him, Karina," he says, his voice a low, determined growl. "And I’m choosing us. He can’t tear us up like this ever again." He then quickly gets up, moves toward the receptionist's desk, and kneels, his hands working quickly to open the safe.

With the rifle in hand, Oliver takes cover the receptionist desk, the barrel pointed straight at the door. “Oh, shit, Oliver!” As the engine roar gets closer, Karina scrambles away from the sofa, her feet fumbling, and dives behind the desk, her body pressed against his back. “Fuck, Oliver, don’t kill him. Just get him arrested or something,” she pleas, her forehead now pressed firmly against his back as if to anchor herself to his strength. “I will shoot if he puts even a foot in this lobby. Whether he dies or not is beyond my control,” Oliver spits, his eye staring down the entryway through the scope.

The time seems to slow down as Oliver waits for Minjoon to do something, and in this moment, Karina’s plea, torn out from the deepest point in her heart, echoes in his mind: “This is not you!” “Oliver, don’t kill him.” “Just get him arrested or something.” He knows she's right. He's about to make a choice that would betray not just the man he was, but the man he wants to be for her. There are other, smarter ways out.

He takes his eye away from the scope and glances over his shoulder at Karina. "I'm not going to kill him," he says, his voice now calm and reassuring. "But he’s going down. Just not with a bullet." He takes out his phone and quickly records a message to his father, a final, desperate plea for help. “Danger, danger. Send the Peacekeepers. Now.”

Oliver turns to her, his face a mask of calm resolve. "Rina, my love, we're going to be okay," he says, his voice a low, reassuring whisper. He takes her hand, pressing a tender peck to the back of it. "Whatever happens, please know that I love you with everything I have." Karina looks at him, the man who was once a playful, carefree, silver spoon-fed boy is now a hardened, decisive man of action. The memory of Minjoon’s drunken curses and the shoe hitting her car window fades. All the fear, all the pain, all the years of waiting… It all dissipates, replaced by the simple, profound truth of his touch. He's here. Right in front of her. And at this moment, with the roar of the Mustang outside, that's all that matters. “I love you too, Ollie. And please… stay with me forever.”

Oliver hugs her tightly, keeps her in his arms, when the Mustang suddenly crashes into the building, the glass doors shattering into a billion pieces, the abrupt sound slicing through the night air. Whimpering in his embrace, Karina presses her face deeper into his chest, grounding herself in his rock-solid presence. “Shh, baby. Shh,” Oliver whispers, his voice faint. His mind, however, is a ticking clock, silently counting the seconds until the Peacekeepers arrive.

“Yu Jimin, I know you’re here!” Minjoon’s hoarse scream echoes throughout the lobby, his eyes scanning the room.“That’s her other name—she let him use that name,” Oliver thinks quickly, a hint of jealousy sparking in his chest. He pushes the feeling down immediately, his focus pulled away by the subtle buzz of his watch—a message from his father: “Help is coming.” Nodding to himself, Oliver tightens his arms around her, shielding her from any potential harm.

“Yu Jimin, where the fuck are you, you fucking bitch!? Show yourself!” Minjoon screams once more, but this time, his voice is much closer—Oliver can see his shadow moving erratically on the marble wall in front of him, a looming, angry presence. As Minjoon's mumbled words of rage continue to pollute the air around them, a sharp screech of tires and the blare of sirens cut through the night. Drake Defense's very own security team, newly assembled for this Asia expansion project, has arrived, their presence a final, decisive answer to Minjoon's threats.

The lobby is flooded with bright, tactical lights as the security team, a dozen men in all-black uniforms, enters the building. They form a shooters line, their rifles trained on Minjoon, who stands frozen in the middle of the ruined lobby, his rage giving way to a sudden, dawning terror. Oliver, with Karina hiding behind him, emerges from behind the desk. "He's all yours, gentlemen," Oliver says, his voice cold and steady, the protector's work now done. "Take him, but don’t kill him, please. Just put him to sleep or something."

Two of the security men move forward, their movements quick and practiced. They apprehend Minjoon and drag him out of the lobby. “God, he smells like he showered with liquor,” Oliver blurts, grimacing as he waves a hand in front of his nose “Whatever this is, it smells cheap.” Karina chuckles, a small, genuine sound, and smacks him lightly on the back. “Believe me, Ollie,” she says, a shiver running through her. “You would hate to be around him after a ‘bad day.’ Hell, I hated it.”

Oliver turns to her, a genuine smile replacing his grimace. "We're going home, Rina," he says, a promise in his voice. “I think… now that Gong Minjoon is out of the picture, Minji should be okay. She’ll need a new job, though. I think that club will be shut down shortly.” Karina looks at him, her face a mix of love and relief, and in her eyes, she sees this reliable man, tempered by the pressure of his career, but with the body of someone who used to be so nonchalant about almost everything. "Karina, my love, are you listening?” he asks, his voice soft. The question snaps her back to the present, and the endearment—a stark contrast to Minjoon's venomous curses—draws a smile to her lips. “Yeah, yeah,” she says. “I was just… admiring the view.”

Oliver smiles, a genuine, relieved smile that reaches his eyes. He takes her hand in his, and for the first time since he found her, he lets himself just be with her. The sirens are gone, the violence is over, and the ruined lobby will soon be rebuilt. “Come on, let’s go home, my love.” He leads her out of the building and into the quiet underground parking lot. “I have so much to tell you, Rina," he says, a playful glint in his eye. "Jennifer, Minji, all of it." Leaning into his touch, Karina lightly nudges him on the side with her elbow, eliciting a genuine groan of pain from him. “Really? You’re going to talk about your flings right now, after all that?”

After a quick rinse, Karina slips on one of his hoodies, the familiar fabric a comforting weight against her skin. The university's wordmark, a welcome nostalgia of a happier, simpler time, is adorning the chest area. Checking her looks in the mirror, she catches Oliver peeking from the slim gap of the door. “Ollie,” she calls to him. “You don’t mind me taking this, right?” Pushing the door open, he looks at her through her reflection. “No, but… you still have yours, right?” A cold shiver runs down her spine; Minjoon burned her university hoodie in a raging fit some time ago. "No," she says, her answer a little too quick, a little too tight. "It's... it's lost."

Oliver's smile falters, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a quiet sorrow. He closes the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. "It's okay, baby," he whispers, his voice low and comforting. "We'll get you a new one. A hundred new ones if you want. Meanwhile, feel free to wear this hoodie." Karina closes her eyes, leaning back against his solid frame. “Thank you, Ollie. It means a lot, especially coming from you.”

Moving to the living room, Oliver invites her to join him on the sofa, the soft cushion caving slightly under their joint weight. “I want to hear everything you have to say, up to the point where you ended up with that guy,” Oliver says, his tone demanding, but the hand he rests on her knee is gentle, and his heart is patient. Karina looks down at herself, the loose thread on the hem of her hoodie suddenly so interesting to look at. “Gong Minjoon was… my attempt at replacing you, Ollie,” she begins, twisting the thread on her finger. "It’s stupid, I know…" she says, her voice a fragile whisper. "But I needed someone to lean on, and you were a ghost, and he was a man in front of me."

Karina waits for his anger, his judgment, but all she feels is his gentle touch, so she decides to continue. "I... it wasn't supposed to be like that," she continues, the words coming out in a rush, as if a dam has broken. "At first, he was kind. He was charming, he was handsome, and he was there. He knew my name, my favorite coffee, and he always picked up the phone. He was everything I thought you had forgotten. Then, as time went on, the kindness faded. He started to get angry whenever I talked about our college days. He said I always found a way to bring up your name. And then…” Karina pauses, taking a deep breath to steady herself for the last piece of her story. “And then I said your name in my sleep.”

Oliver's gentle hand on her knee moves to her wrist. He doesn't say a word, doesn't show his anger. He just pulls her a little closer, his arms wrapping around her in a silent, protective hug. He presses a soft kiss to her hair, a simple gesture of comfort and a quiet vow that he's not a ghost anymore, and that he will always be by her side, come hell or high water.

“Karina, I—”

Her sudden tears stifle his tongue, his words never leaving his lips. “Fuck!” she sobs, her voice a raw, broken sound. Her fist lands square on his thigh, the impact a desperate, furious demand for him to feel her pain. “Oliver, I hate it. I hate him. I hate giving him my first time. I hate everything!” Oliver slips deeper into silence, his mind unable to string words together. “Her first time?” he wonders to himself. The thought of that monster, Minjoon, having that honor… It's unbearable. Disgusting.

Oliver doesn't say a word. He just holds her, letting her tears soak his chest, his own heart breaking with every sob. He knows there are no words to fix this, no words to take away her pain—but there are actions, things he can try. He pulls back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own eyes filled with a raw, honest emotion. "Karina," he says, his voice a low, painful whisper. "I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I promise you, with everything I have, that I will never let anyone hurt you ever again. We're going to get through this. Together."

"No," she whispers, slowly pushing him away. "No, Ollie. Do you remember? You used to say you'd only marry a virgin… and I always thought that one day, I'd be that woman for you." Oliver's eyes close as the memory comes back to him, sharp and cruel. He said it, yes, but only as a foolish jest between friends. How would he know how heavy that casual, thoughtless comment would weigh one day? “You remember, don’t you?” she whispers, her hands still on his chest, a barrier between them. “I’m not that woman anymore. I can’t be.”

Oliver's eyes, when he opens them, are filled with tears. He reaches for her, his hands gently taking hers. "Karina, my love," he says, his voice thick with a raw, honest emotion. "It was a joke. It was a stupid, zero-brain joke that doesn’t matter at all. What matters is that you're here. What matters is that you're safe. What matters is that I love you. You are that woman, Karina. You are my woman, and I don't care about anything else."

Karina looks at him, the raw, honest emotion in his eyes a stark contrast to the quiet devastation in her heart. She sees his tears, his guilt, his love, and in that moment, the shame and pain that have shackled her for five years begin to loosen their grip. She squeezes his hands, a small, fragile act of trust. “I… I want to believe you, Ollie,” she says, her voice a little stronger now. “Please, don’t betray me. You never did, so please don’t start now.”

“Never,” Oliver declares, pressing a soft peck to the back of her hand. “I'd take a bullet in the face, my love, before I would ever betray you.” The words hang in the air for a long moment, a new kind of silence settling between them. He then pulls back, a new kind of resolve in his eyes. “I’m going to do everything to keep you safe. Not even a fire ant will be able to touch you.” Offering a hand, Oliver pulls Karina to her feet, pressing himself close to her. His face is hovering merely centimeters away from hers, but safety and comfort are all she feels. “We’re going to start over, and we’re going to do this the right way.”

Karina’s eyes shine with tears of both sorrow and relief. She reaches up, her fingers gently tracing the lines on his face—the face that is no longer a ghost from her past but a real, loving presence in her present. "Thank you, Ollie," she whispers, her voice filled with a profound sense of gratitude. “I love you so much,” she adds, her voice thick with emotion. “And I’m ready for everything. I’m ready for whatever is ahead of us.”

Oliver's face, a second ago filled with sorrow, breaks into a wide, joyous smile. He pulls her close, his arm wrapped snugly around her. Closing the remaining centimeters between their faces, he whispers his proposal. “Will you marry me, my love?” A single tear escapes her eye, leaving a wet trail on her cheek. With a smile that is fueled by pure joy, Karina nods, quickly claiming his lips in a kiss. A simple kiss, it may be, but all her heart is poured into it. “Yes, I will. Give me your last name, Ollie, and I will give everything I have for us.”

Oliver pulls back from the kiss, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, his breath getting short and quick. “May I…” he pauses, staring deep into her own glassy eyes. “May I take you to the bedroom, Mrs. Drake?” Her breath hitches, a sharp gasp escaping her lips. She never realized how deeply a simple question could heal. A man is asking for permission, not giving an order. A man is showing respect for her body and her heart, a stark contrast to the life she just escaped.

“What… what will we do in the bedroom, Ollie?” she asks in a whispered voice, her ears yearning for a kind answer. Oliver smiles at her question, placing a soft peck on her cheek. “I’m going to tell you a story, my love,” he begins, his voice shaking slightly. “A story about a boy who once lost his college sweetheart to distance. And a story about a girl who thought she was unworthy of love, even though she always did. Does that sound like a good story to you, Rina?”

Karina's eyes, still glistening with tears, soften with a profound sense of peace. "Yes, Ollie," she whispers, her voice a soft, fragile sound. "That sounds like a wonderful story." As he leads her toward the bedroom, a new kind of memory floods her mind—not of that guy who used to track her location all the time, but this one, in whose hand her fingers are softly grasped. The boy who would carry her on his shoulder along hallways to avoid being late—the boy who would buy her favorite Russell’s chips every chance he got—is turning into a man whose shoulder is steadfast, whose mind is sharp, and whose heart is patient.

Oliver gently leads her into the bedroom, the soft light of the lamp a stark contrast to the harsh, violent night they just escaped. He sits on the bed, pulling her into his lap.

“Rina.”

“Mm?”

“I love you. And I’m sorry for… everything.”

“I love you too, but you know I don’t like that. What are you sorry for? You don't have to carry all that.”

Oliver takes a deep, shaky breath, his mind racing with could-haves and should-haves. "I don't know where to begin, honestly," he admits, his voice breaking. "But I keep thinking that if I had just ignored my father and followed you to Korea five years ago, none of this would have happened."

Karina listens, her heart breaking for him. Finding his empty hand, she takes it, tangling her fingers around his. "Ollie," she says, her tone one of love. "You can't blame yourself for this. None of this was your fault. You were far away, but you were always in my heart.” She reaches up, her hands gently framing his face, forcing him to look at her. “Besides, nothing could guarantee that we would’ve been happy had we stayed together. And that’s what makes this even more special.”

Nodding solemnly, Oliver feels a single tear escape his eye, tracing a path down his cheek. He knows she's right. He can’t change the past, but he can change the future. He pulls her a little tighter, pressing his forehead against hers. "You're right," he whispers, his hoarse voice thick with emotion. "Can we do it, my love?" he asks, his voice a low, tender whisper, looking deep into her eyes. "Will you do it with me?" A gasp escapes her lips. The man who she always thought would have been her first is finally asking to be granted the honor of becoming one with her.

Karina doesn't hesitate. She leans in, her lips meeting his in a kiss that is a promise of a new beginning. Finding his hands once more, she guides them towards her bosoms, letting out a soft whimper into the kiss as his fingers gently, but firmly, cup her flesh. Breaking away from the kiss, she whispers his name, her voice a soft, desperate plea. It's not just an invitation, it's a request to be fully desired, fully claimed, by the man she loves—truly loves.

“Make me yours, Ollie. All those wasted years, all that waiting… Make me forget anything else but you.”

"You've always been mine, my love," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "We went off track a bit, but we’re back on it now.” Softly caressing her chin, Oliver gazes deep into her eyes, his own image reflecting back at him. Again, he whispers, “Say something, my heart. What’s bothering your beautiful mind?” As a soft laugh escapes her, the last of the regret and the pain of the past five years dissipates, replaced by the pure hope of a brighter future. "Honestly," she says, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I'm just wondering when you'll actually get to the good part."

Oliver takes her to the center of the mattress, carefully getting her to settle on her back. “Right now, my love.” Leaning down, he plants fleeting pecks on the skin of her neck, each one eliciting moans from her. “Beautiful…” he mumbles, his fingers treading through her hair. "O-only for you, Ollie…" she manages, her voice a breathless whisper, his pecks igniting a slow, burning flame of desire within her. "Mm, I like that…" he whispers back, his lips returning to her own.

In the gentle heat of the kiss, Karina finds the string of his jogger pants, undoing the simple tie with a tug. “Eager, huh?” She chuckles at his question, her fingers fiddling with the fabric of his waistband. “You bet I am—you know why?” Oliver’s eyebrows rise, asking the question on behalf of his lips, wondering what she will say. “Because I want to be Mrs. Drake, Oliver. And I’m not talking about Olivia Drake.” He laughs, a deep, joyful sound. He then leans down, his lips mere inches from hers. "You're a handful, Mrs. Drake. I love you."

Oliver lifts her hoodie over her head, tossing it to the side, and its friends will join it soon. Resisting the urge to cover herself, she keeps her hands on the mattress, gripping the sheets until her fingertips turn white. “Y-you like my body, Ollie?” she asks, her eyes searching for comfort in his. She yearns to hear his validation, his assurance, that she’s worthy of being admired, of being wanted, of being desired. “I do,” Oliver whispers, his stare fixed on the curves of her body. “But I want your heart too. Because you’re much more than a pretty face and a hot body.”

As he hooks his fingers into the waistband of her pants, her heart races, each beat bumping against her ribs. With each passing second, she tries to calm herself, putting trust in her safety and well-being in his hands. “My love…” His murmured words serve as a prologue while he slides her pants down her legs, the wet spot on her underwear exposed to his hungry eyes. “Beautiful…” he whispers, desire and gratitude mixed in his voice. “You are so beautiful.”

Oliver pulls her closer, and her legs instinctively wrap around him, his body a gentle, comfortable weight against hers. “I know I’m not your first, but I will be your last, my love. Let me be your everything.” Not waiting for a reply, his lips crash into hers, a kiss of possession and promise, a kiss meant to erase any lingering traces of a past that wasn't theirs.

Karina’s eyes shimmer with tears when they finally break apart. She’s content at his assurance, but her heart desperately aches to give him something that is only his, a part of her body that no one, not even Minjoon, has ever touched. “Ollie…” she begins, fighting to push her hesitation to the side. “W-would you… would you like to take my… my anus?” she whispers, the words almost lost in the silence. Unable to maintain eye contact, she quickly diverts her stare away. “Minjoon… h-he never touched me there,” she adds, her cheeks burning hot with a mix of shame and a desperate, hopeful plea for him to understand.

Oliver's eyes, wide with a mixture of surprise and profound love, soften. He gently places a finger under her chin, coaxing her to meet his gaze. "Karina…" he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Are you sure?” Taking a deep breath, Karina nods, hiding her nervousness behind the gesture. "Take it, Ollie. Let me give you a piece of myself that is yours, and yours alone." His manhood stiffens at her submissive offer, straining against the fabric of his joggers, and he decides to relent to a desire that is now a profound blend of love, lust, and a deep need to heal her. "Let's do it, my love," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I will be so careful, so gentle. I promise."

Freeing herself from his embrace, Karina rolls onto her stomach, pulling her panties down to her thighs. “Please, Ollie. Take me. Make me yours. I need you. I need you so bad,” she rapid fires her begs, suppressing her nerves with every word. Oliver freezes, his gaze blurring. Never has he heard someone say anything so raw, so desperate, so trusting. He's not just hearing her; he's feeling the full weight of her trauma, and it's a deep, overwhelming honor. “Oliver, please...” Her plea registers in his mind, but his heart is still trying to catch up, still trying to find a way to meet her in this space of vulnerability.

The shaky whimpers from Karina finally snap him out of his stupor. He understands it now. He won’t just take her. He won't just be her first. He will heal her. He will love her. He will make her whole again. Bending down, Oliver softly slides his fingers on her spine, his touch light and soothing. “I’m here, my love…” he offers a soothing message, a promise to forever be present for her. “I’m right here, and I love you.” He continues the tender gesture until her whimpers turn to soft, peaceful sighs. “There we go. That’s my girl,” he murmurs, a loving smile spreading across his features. “I love you, Karina.”

As she has calmed down, Oliver settles on her thighs, his knees sinking into the delicate mattress. “My heart,” he begins, caressing her butt with a hesitant move. “Mm?” Karina mumbles, her voice muffled by the pillow she’s hugging. “This will hurt so much, don’t you think?” She lets out a sigh, nodding slowly, gradually getting a grip on the potential pain. She remembers the pain of her first time, a memory she has pushed to the back of her mind for five years, but she will not let this be a memory of pain. She will make this a memory of love. For him, and finally, for her too. “First times are meant to hurt, Ollie,” she says, determination woven in her soft whisper. “But I'm willing to push through it. For you.”

Oliver frees his body from the confines of his clothes, throwing them onto the floor, no space in his mind to worry about the mess. “Alright, love,” he takes a deep breath, steadying himself in the face of a first time, “we’re doing this, and I promise to be careful and gentle.” Turning her head to the side, Karina catches his loving stare, seeing his hunger and desire hiding behind his brown iris. “Okay,” she says, reaching behind to spread her butt for him. “I’m ready.”

Oliver spits on his palm, covering his manhood with his saliva, the skin turning shiny because of it. He carefully guides it to her forbidden rear, slowly nudging the tight ring with the tip. “Will it fit?” he wonders quietly. A soft, almost inaudible, moan escapes Karina's lips. It's not a sound of pain, but a sound of surrender, as she eggs him on to enter her, to claim her, to finally make her his. “Let’s do this, love.”

Using the tip to apply pressure to her pucker, Oliver pushes forward, maintaining a careful, measured force—and her muscles finally relent, but not without pained grunts. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he blurts, his head spinning at the snug grip around his length. “Oh my God, my love…” he whispers, his voice thick with a raw, honest emotion. Karina grits her teeth as more and more of him slides into her, tears pooling in her eyes. Not just those of pain, but also of joy. Joy of finally returning to his side, of finally sharing a first time with him, a first time that is theirs and theirs alone.

As Oliver pushes, pushes, and pushes, he’s eventually completely sunk in her anus, her muscles stretching to accommodate his member. “I love you,” he manages, his deep, guttural groan hot against the skin of her back. "I-I love you too—God, you’re so deep…” In this moment, in his arms, in his touch, in his love, she undoubtedly becomes his, at last. Her admission, delivered in the deep heat of the moment, ignites a flame of desire within him. A flame that threatens to consume all and leave them breathless after.

Oliver pulls his hips backwards before pushing again, gauging her reaction to his testing thrust. “Oliver… Yes, that’s it…” Satisfied with her response, he thrusts one more time, putting more strength into it. “Yes, love, that’s it…” Karina echoes, losing herself in the taboo act. “Take me, Oliver. Take everything,” she sobs, her voice thick with a mix of pleasure and pain. “I-I’m yours.”

Karina yelps when he suddenly pulls her backwards, haphazardly settling on her arms and knees. “O-Oliver!” she chokes, the feeling of him in her anus suddenly very acute. “I know, baby. I know,” he whispers, offering a peck to her back to soothe her. “We’ll try this position for a moment, okay?” he whispers, his voice thick with a mix of desire and need to protect her. Taking a deep breath, she nods, gripping the sheets hard as she braces for a stronger impact. “L-let’s do it,” she whispers, her voice a mix of pain and surrender.

Oliver slams his hips into hers, forcing a high-pitched scream out of her, and as he quickly assembles an apology, Karina shouts, “Yes, Oliver! Take me!” He starts moving again, hitting the deepest spots in her anus, the memory of first time searing into his memory and hers. “Fuck, fuck, yes!” Her ragged curses, mixing with almost angelic moans, spur him on, as if pouring fuel on his wild fire.

He maintains the ruthless pace, filling the bedroom with sounds of skin crashing into skin, of his heavy growls and her blissful wails. “I love you, Karina. I love you so fucking much.” His fingers dig deep into her waist, gripping her possessively as his hips keep moving seemingly on their own. “I-I love―OLLIE!”

A sudden wave of orgasm crashes into her, her thighs shaking wildly as her anal muscles pulsate, squeezing him hard. “OLIVER, FUCK!” she screams. Her arms give out, sending her face first onto the pillow, the cushy softening her abrupt landing. Oliver doesn’t stop, giving hard, deep thrusts in the final stretch before his inevitable peak that is inching closer at a dangerous speed. Karina screams and screams into the pillow, straining her vocal cords, until―

“Rina!”

Burying himself deep in her anus, Oliver explodes, painting her anal walls with his hot seed, filling her until overflowing. “Oh, baby…” he groans, his voice hoarse from the remnants of his passion. Without pulling out, he leans down, resting his torso on her back, peppering the back of her head with pecks. “You’re amazing, my love. So amazing. Thank you so much,” he whispers, as the last drops of his release floods her insides.

Oliver jolts in panic at the sound of her sobs, as if he just heard a cracking thunderstrike in the middle of the night. He quickly removes himself from her anus, catching a glimpse of it winking at him before his attention is shifted elsewhere: to Karina herself. “Baby, baby―oh, I’m so sorry.” He frantically rubs her back, his touch rushed, a contrast to his previous. “Baby, are you okay? Was I being too rough?”

Gathering strength, Karina rolls onto her back, her trembling hand reaching for his face. “Y-you… you were…” she manages, her breath short and ragged. “But… first times are… they are meant to hurt.” A weak smile slowly blooms on her features, offering a light pinch to his cheek. “I regret nothing, Oliver. It was special. And it was ours.” He cups her hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. “It was special, yes,” he echoes, his eyes turning glassy as the true weight of the act settles in his mind. It’s not just about being her first―no, it’s more than that. It’s about erasing traces of the past to embrace a better, happier future. “You’re special, my love. I love you so much.”

Oliver lifts her off the bed with a small grunt, hooking one hand on the insides of her knees while the other supports her back. She instinctively wraps her arms around his neck, his solid presence comforting. No longer is he a ghost from a simpler time; he’s here, and he’s here to stay for good. “I’m here, love,” he mutters, as if able to hear her thoughts. “I’m here for you, and I’m not leaving you wander off ever again.”

He keeps his eyes on her as they inch closer towards the bathroom, placing pecks on her forehead along the way. Opening the glass door of the shower, Oliver lowers Karina onto her feet, guiding her to plant her hands on the wall. “You’re alright, love. You’re alright,” he places another peck to the back of her head, “can I take care of you?” She nods, whimpering shakily when his fingers graze her puckered ring, a wave of shock traveling throughout her already weak body. “Y-yes, take care of me, Ollie.”

Clean and refreshed, Oliver carries her back to settle in the sacred haven that is their bedroom, the new space in which more heated moments will happen, in which more memories will be made.

“Ollie…”

“Yes?”

“No. Ollie…”

“Yes, my love?”

A soft giggle escapes her, painlessly swiping at his chest. “I’m not Karina from Millbrook U, Oliver. I’m Karina from the bottom of your heart,” she says. “And I don’t want anything less than a pet name at the end of every sentence you say.” A pleasant shiver runs down his spine, warmth rising in its wake. Karina from the bottom of your heart. Nothing less than a pet name at the end of every sentence.

He turns towards her, pulling her close, her bare bosoms pressing against his chest. “You are. You’re Karina from the bottom of my heart. And I promise to never forget a pet name ever again,” he says, his weary eyes suddenly burning with pure, sincere love for her, his fingers digging possessively into her side. “I like that, Oliver.”

She leans closer for a kiss, releasing soft moans into the tangle. “Now, let’s sleep before your little one wakes up again.” Oliver pinches her cheek, drawing out a surprised yelp out of her. “Oi, I’m not little!” he barks, exaggerating his pout. “Okay, okay, damn.” Karina chuckles, shaking her head out of unadulterated glee. “I mean, yeah, you’re not little. You were literally stretching my―” He cuts her off with a finger to her lips, his ego bloating in the depths of his heart. “You can stop there, my love. That is, unless you want to be taken again.” She bursts out laughing, the sound echoing in the bedroom.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Oliver Drake.”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut #aespa smut #karina smut

591 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 24 days ago

Text

Starting to think maybe I shouldn't have put that fourth option there.

I'm still waiting, you know. Please cast your vote.

Choices, choices

Besides Isa, I have some ideas for the plot but haven't zeroed in on one. You're welcome to share your ideas.

20 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 26 days ago

Text

Choices, choices

Besides Isa, I have some ideas for the plot but haven't zeroed in on one. You're welcome to share your ideas.

20 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 29 days ago

Text

A Bittersweet and Spicy Revisit

Shen Xiaoting (Kep1er) x Male Reader

Tags: smut, fluff, (slight) angst, rough, angry, (brief) degradation, praise, oral, anal, creampie, daddy kink, old flames

Word count: 10.3k

a/n: okay, so I freaked the eff out when I accidentally uploaded this without any pictures yet lol. but it's out again. for real. this originally wouldn't have reached this word count, but here it is. also, it's in second person pov, but I hope you like this one.

You didn't love the idea of a college reunion, especially one that takes place in an entire weekend. But you didn't have anything else to do, aside from grinding hours and hours of competitive CS or Valorant just to project your suppressed anger at your desk job. If only your same ol’ friends didn’t bug you about your absence ruining their night. Your silent yet visible and ‘enabling’ companionship around them was still something that they needed from you from time to time.

“You sure you don't wanna tag along with us, man? We'll just come back here tomorrow morning, just in time for breakfast. It's not even far from this city.”

“I'm sure we'll be fine. We'll leave before sunset. It's not like they can expel us.”

“Some hoobaes told us they heard you yelling your hearts out at the garden last night. What happened to you? And what's with these bite marks? Wait… Are those hick—”

“I told you, man. I know you have history, but that woman is bad news, okay? Stay away from her.”

“I'm not sure we wanna leave you on your own here, dude. Think it over.”

They left before the rain got heavier, left to your own devices. But it was your choice, even if you didn't have much to do throughout the whole day either. Despite their pleas and warnings.

You’re still in your second day, but the afternoon activities were ruined by bad weather, leaving most to dip out of the event, or stay at this hotel for another night, as long as the committee pays for their rooms. Who knew that summer would have more rain than any other season? And tonight, that’s when you cross paths the second time. Now, she wants to meet, as if yesterday wasn’t enough for either of you. So you meet her at the hotel bar, more sober than last time, but not enough to hide the anguish beating your heart down.

Your friends had a point. She was bad news. But you know it's not because of her.

“You’re being immature again, Changmin-ah,” Xiaoting sighs and sips her glass. You only grumble without any witty counter, because she's right. How else can you justify yourself? You can't. You just take another sip of your glass. “Let’s just talk about it.”

It's because of the gut-wrenching memories you tried your best to bury deeper into your mind, not realizing that your heart never forgets when it's most broken.

Even with the sound of plummeting rain outside, her soft voice reaches out next to you. You agreed to meet her up for a quick drink, after your rough yelling contest last night.

“Call me whatever you want, but you’re the one who fucking left me, Xiaoting… And after all these years, you’re just back, just all of the sudden? And you want to talk like everything’s sunshine and rainbows.” Your conscience tells you that's not what she means, but stubbornness has been one of the worst things you hate about yourself. How you let it take over yourself when it comes to a matter of self-righteousness or self-pity. After taking the last sip on your glass, your fist clenches along with your heartbeat, wishing you can hit yourself. But that would break her heart. “I…” you almost choke on your words. “I, uhhh, don't know what else to say.”

To her, your words feel like darts thrown straight through her heart, believing that your one fun night was nothing more than exes having a summer fling at a college reunion. “Maybe… You don't have to say anything.” However, Ting’s instinct pushes her heartbreak aside. One big fight was enough. Neither of you would want more leechers, chatterers, and murmurers meddling with your situation, whatever it is. This isn't the time for more arguments, she's had enough. Enough drama.

If you're stubborn, she's persistent. Learning from her and your mistakes last night, she moves to deescalate and simmer down your intensifying temper from erupting at her. But damn it, if she isn’t so graceful and beautiful. Always has been. Since college, boys and girls had always been orbiting around her like she's a life-bearing planet, or a star that lights up their days and nights whenever she crossed their paths in the same room. One of the it girls and campus crushes, that's how she was for you, too.

Despite it being obvious in her gaze, you’ve always known she cannot hide her sadness through her eyes. Instead you feel something stronger, as she does. The same burning affection you still have for each other, after all this time. Her perfume comes after your scent like pheromones, making your head fixated on her direction, making your eyes slowly scan her appearance, revisiting just some of her features which you have always been struck by. Her carefree summer outfit. Her legs crossed. Her slim waist and hips. Her arms and fingers, clattering on the bar counter in the same rhythm as a clock. Her eyes fixed on yours. Her lips curving upwards, one side higher than the other.

In silence, she's not just putting on a show just to deescalate your bitter spite.

She’s inviting you in.

Unable to hold in the gulp in your throat, your breath heaves the more she closes the distance between you two, within an inch, the smell of her drink and yours mixing in the cold air as she tells you, “Take it easy.”

“I'm not drunk,” you grumble. You’re not even close to tipsy, you're more bummed that you’re not wasted enough to not feel embarrassed about being this sober in front of her.

“I didn't say you are…” she retorts. “And well… Neither am I.”

Her voice always comes as a spell you’ve often fallen for, no matter what comes out of her lips. You just want each other now, as you did the other night. The woman’s long fingers trail from your shoulder to your wrist, her head moving closer to yours. She would rather have this night end in any other way.

With most of yourself remaining sober, you take her through your room, quickly opening the door as your lips lock and tongues tangle with intense fervor. Her enticing taste and alluring smell hasn’t left your memory, even though you’ve done it a few times last night. And yet, before this reunion, Xiaoting hasn’t left your mindscape, no matter how much you tried with nights filled with booze and mornings with so much bile in your apartment’s bin. Even that’s one memory you wanted to forget for a long time; your friends couldn’t help but make fun of or console you sometimes.

But enough of that.

While you make out, you reach down her ass, squeezing her left cheek. Xiaoting giggles in-between your kiss, leaving you with an impression that she’s read your mind, even if it’s not the case. You struggle for dominance, pushing and pinning each other into the drywalls of the room with your hands before latching your lips into one another. As you corner her into one spot, you move past her mouth and peppers kisses down her neck, spreading trails and spots of your saliva. You turn around while she closes her eyes and arch her head diagonally to indulge in your kisses, giving you the chance to explore her from the back. You push all her hair to the left side, leaving her nape exposed for your own enjoyment.

You can hear the harmonic hums and melodic moans leave Xiaoting's mouth once your lips make contact, your tongue slithering and slobbering from her nape to her right shoulder while your nostrils hover and trail over her soft skin. You whiff her perfume and a scent of the herbal shampoo on her hair, it even takes you back to when she dyed her hair pink when she was a lead in the campus dance team, or red when you first crossed paths with her at the festival, where you once thought she’s an idol. Aside from being a graceful, extraordinary dancer, you also recall how she's always been a phenomenal singer, even her moans come off as tunes to your ears.

But the aches of the present hits you back with her current whereabouts. You don't know how to feel, don't know how to deal with your anger at her actions. It was in the past, yet your grudge remains, being pulled by your lust and desire for her. The tug of war within you makes you snap for a second, letting yourself fall into the mix of both emotions, you embrace your mischievous side and sink your teeth in on her flesh, adding little pressure.

“Ngggghhh, fuck!” Xiaoting winces at the brief yet unexpected surprising sensation, only to chuckle afterwards. You parted within a second, but your bite had left a mark on her glistening and moistened skin. “You dick!”

“I’m not the one who bit me a couple of times last time,” you shoot back, prompting her to laugh again a little louder. While acknowledging your point, she holds onto both your arms from behind, wrapping them around her waist while she hovers her right hand to pull her head next to hers, stealing another kiss that you melt into within seconds.

She finds it amusing that your anger fuels your movement, aside from your lust, even surprised at your retaliation. But, truth be told, you’d never hurt her, even if you have already hurt each other terribly through words, you've always made things up through actions, whether you buy or make each other heartwarming gifts or simply get it on. Without any of your trip down memory lanes to soften either of your past wounds, it seems you can only speak through your bodies, as you have in the last twenty hours.

Following your hands, your parts lip every five seconds while you begin to undress each other at a moderate pace. Xiaoting strips her shirt and shorts off, unveiling her two-piece, while you unbutton your navy blue polo and short pants until you're left with nothing but your underwear.

But just as you think you've had the upper strength to return kissing, the tall woman turns around with a grin and pushes you down onto the cuck chair in the corner of your bed, having grown impatient with the heated foreplays and your prolonged teases. “I’ve missed this,” she gasps, before going straight back into your lips with a wider smile. “Do you?”

You’re too prideful, spiteful even, to admit that you feel the same way. But you may even want her more than she does, forcing your eager hands to explore her curves once again. And right then and there, she denies you the opportunity the second she kneels down on the floor, leveling your crotch. It must be because you didn't answer her, but who cares at this point? With her strength, she helps remove your underwear off your legs and tosses it on the floor next to the bed. For this moment, she's claimed your genitals as her playthings. You thought, you might want to be more gentle now if you don't want your own dick to be bitten off.

Slobbering all over your standing shaft with her salivating tongue, she peppers kisses until they're smeared in her spit before proceeding down your testicles. She engulfs both balls inside her mouth, making you bite your upper lip before parting. Rolling it around her palm in her own saliva, as if she's playing with them. “Your sluts must've had fun with this little big pair, haven't they? Fukcing whore.” She gives it a tight, little squeeze, instinctively triggering an ecstatic wince from your mouth, like she's demanding an answer.

Her question takes you out of “the immersion” for a second, leaving you speechless. But you let your guard down. Both of you barely knew each other since you parted ways, but that doesn't mean you can't assume the same thing about her—or remember a lot of her exes before you: a gym bro, a baseball batter, a playboy. It fuels your insecurities more. “As if you never had some fuck buddies of your own, you slut… Your own escorts.”

“Thought I lost you there for a second,” Xiaoting giggles, not even denying your claim. Her mouth hovers over your tip, slowly pushing herself down as your cock enters her piehole until your tip reaches her throat, which produces a choking sound that worries you for a second. Nevertheless, her head starts to bob up and down, sending more and stronger shivers from your spine throughout your body without stopping. “Ah! Fuck, baby,” you moan. Your fingers wrangle on her disheveled hair, yet she continues with a soft, muffled giggle before accelerating her pace further, unbothered, maybe even turned on, by your primal response.

As the pressure can no longer be contained by your own endurance, you groan louder and yell, “Fuuuuuuuck, I’m gonn—!” until both of you feel yourself busting inside her throat, producing a popping sound. You watch her swallow most of your seed, which also produces a hearty and oddly satisfying gulp sound. Facing you, Xiaoting coughs the rest off her mouth, making you lean closer to her with a sudden change of tone, breaking your cold yet fiery facade. Softer and more concerned at her silence. “Gwenchanayo?”

Looking at you with a closed smile, she only mutters “Yum...” Despite welcoming a wave of relief wash over you, your rage-fueled lust prompts you to help her stand up and hold onto her waist, inciting a yelp from Xiaoting. With her wrapping her legs around you, you carry her all the way to the king-sized bed, pushing yourself to ruin her more with your own domineering movement, as she wants you to with her naughty yet desperate eyes combined with her mixes of playful laughter. At the same moment, she unlocks her breasts with ease, dropping it on the side of the bed as she stuns you with her round breasts. She curls her index finger, demanding you come closer to her, as you do. Crawling over to her, you lunge at Xiaoting like a wild animal and latch onto her mounds. Just the right size, your devilish thoughts take over, praising her body while you fondle and lick each of her tits, even taking her nipple and areola into her mouth like an ice cream, until she gives into pleasure yet again.

“Daddy…” she groans. Your mind and body had missed that word leaving her mouth as she gasped for breath. In the last four years without her, you’ve been intimate with other women who called you the same name along with similar terms in varying terms and even shamelessly showed you that sense of submission, but you numbed yourself enough to admit that, until now, it hasn’t felt the same. And as much as this kink has empowered you in private moments like this, it sometimes bothered you. Being the younger one, even only by a year, in the relationship made you self-conscious then (and perhaps a little too much), but Xiaoting rarely saw the need for hierarchies in your relationship. Looking back, intimacy, quality time, and support were all what you both yearned for. She became dominant or submissive when she felt like it, when you felt like it. Luckily for you, her heart and body haven't forgotten this tantalizing gimmick either.

Whispering the words, “I’m your slut,” you’re reminded of your tantrum last night, filling you with guilt, you let your own emotions take over you. “Say it,” she smirks, wanting you to push yourself to the edge with no hesitation. “Or did you really have a lot of ‘em, that this is nothing to you?”

She was everything to you. “You’re my slut, Xiaoting,” you answer, even if it insinuates that you dominate her tonight. Even if you didn’t want it that way, this power play—that you either loathed or indulged in, the adrenaline coursing through your veins, not to mention your raging cock following suit. “Is that what you want?”

“Then put it in, daddy,” she hums, her posture slowly turning into an intimate model’s pose. It's in her field of expertise, after all, but it still gets you. “Use me,” she adds.

But instead of sliding in your cock like a primitive that you were, you fight through your lust and heartbreak for a moment. Like a sick maniac, you wanted her to “hurt,” but you want to do it another way. Even in her submission, it seems like she’s still in the lead the more she keeps leading this. So now, you do the opposite of what she wants from you. You want her to wait longer until she can finally get what she wants.

“Wha—?” she’s caught off guard as you stand up and push her down on the bed, with slight force even. She doesn’t resist, knowing that you’re also trying to retaliate, which heightens her inquisitiveness about how much you’ve learned, seeing you kneel down on the carpet. The same position she was in, you now take your turn to lean closer to her still dampened and clean-shaven cunt, spreading her folds open before you start licking her juices off like hot nectar. “What're you—augh, fuck! Mmmmgh!”

At a much grander view, you take a second to have a better look at her pink, wet pussy.

Sensing how her pleasure has stopped, Xiaoting rises from the bed to check on you in confusion, which turns to wonderment once she sees your face. Your anticipation. “Why'd you stop?”

You inch away a little, before changing your course to each of her inner thighs. Spreading her legs open, you give each a kiss, before you stick out your tongue to reach her groins, where you taste the saltiness from her fresh sweat and sweet traces of her fluids. “They taste good?” she snickers at your focus, reexamining her folds like a doctor. With your thumb, you massage her clit, extending her symphony of groans. “Soooooo… Good… Daddy… Auuuuh…”

You give one more smooch on her urethral opening, widening your mouth to reach her labia, before finally digging straight back on her vagina.

“Awwwwaaaauuuhhhhhh,” she cries, unable to maintain her composure amidst her layers of pleasure spreading throughout her body like waves of sexual energy. And similar to your reaction, her fingernails wrangle around your hair, encouraging you to keep on licking through her cunt. Her hands tugs and slightly pulls your hair the higher her pitches sound, but you manage to switch things up and transfer your tongue back to her clit. “Mmmmmmmmmmmffffufuu! Fuuuuck… Fuuuuck! Meeeee!”

A few more spasms from Xiaoting, and juices burst out of her folds, splattering straight across your left cheek, chin, and right hand. She didn’t warn you either, but that was expected in this game you're playing.

Now, it’s fair, you think to yourself, even if she finds it funny that you let yourself get soaked in her fluids. With a hint of both surprise and hunger, Xiaoting pounces on you, crashing her lips with yours, before parting to taste herself, sticking her tongue on your cheek like a sun bear and sliding it upwards until this side of your face is clean. She's always been a bold one, and that foreplay alone helps your member up and running in an instant.

At this point, you've tasted each other. Both parties are now lubed up for the next round, so you guide her into the middle of the bed, with her crawling backwards in a playful manner until she stops, allowing you to move closer.

Once you've reached her distance, her legs wrap around your waist, wanting to make sure that your shaft doesn’t exit her tightening cunt, or that you don't play more games to stall time. The thing is, you don’t want to let this experience, this rediscovery go way too fast either. But you will have to mix things up a little. You push her into a supine position before lying on the bed sideways next to her. “Turn around,” you command her, making her turn and face the other side while she hums in intrigue, which also conceals her slight disappointment of not being able to look you in the eyes while you ram her.

You lift her right leg in the air, a direction that she follows as she raises it on her own without you needing to say a word. You look down with your right hand sliding down on her back in a straight line—crossing her slim waist, trailing her ass, and reaching her cunt with your three digits latching on her folds akin to a fish hook. And as you rub her softly, you feel her juices dripping and squirting on your thumb, index, and middle fingers like raw honey, something that you are very much curious to taste, if she isn't getting more impatient right now with your cock.

“Ngggghhh, babe,” she whines with pleasure and irritation, nuzzling her head in yours and slowly scratching your wrist with her index fingernail like a purring cat. “Please…”

“Patience, slut,” you remind her of the place she's put for herself. One you're definitely going to take advantage of. The woman exhales a chuckle, realizing who's leading now. You take a deep breath, taking a careful look at her body before sliding your stiff cock inside Xiaoting's entrance with lesser roughness, thanks to your precum and smears of leftover seed.

You simply want to savor this reentry, as your throbbing cock has already made it halfway through her insides, stretching it while she wails with her lightheaded mind, struggling to mutter anything comprehensive while her walls tighten around your phallus. “Ngggggaaauuuggghhh… Shit, you…. Still—soooo—fucking—biiiig… Only… For… Me.”

You keep on thrusting deeper into her womb, your tip rubbing her cervix back and forth while she wails your name or ‘daddy’ in repeat, embracing the sense of helplessness and submission under your force. Every second passes, the woman’s growing moans persist even as her eyes roll to the back of her head, her sharp nails clawing into the comforter. Inching your arm below Xiaoting, your left hand hovers in front of her mouth, guiding her to latch her lips onto three of your fingers to muffle her own moans and treat your hand as a lollipop. Within ten seconds, her mouth salivates all over your fingers, slowly flowing and spreading down your palm while you two finally achieve synchronization with your continued thrusts.

With your right arm, you keep Xiaoting's leg raised while you amplify the pace and strength of your pumps inside her, from the fifth to tenth level. At the same moment, you miss her voice, prompting yourself to let go of her mouth and allowing Xiaoting to howl through her stimulation five times louder than before while she shivers on your cock. “I'm—fuck! It's close, daddy… I'm close!”

“Me—too, baby,” you gasp. You're too invested in your thrusts and blinded by pleasure to deepen your tone or scream at her with dominance. Feeling that build-up from your crotch to your shaft, you prefer that you both get what you want from this burning moment. “Just—uhhh—hold it in a little more.”

“Inside… me, dadd—fuck! I can't hold it anymore, hhnggghhhhnggghhhh…”

As you now approach your respective climaxes, you bust and free your seed within her womb, busting inside her with a roar—mixed with lust, fury, confusion, overstimulation, and love—that might’ve broken through the ceiling if you exerted a little more of your might, yet a major part of yourself doesn’t want to hurt Xiaoting when both of you are having the night of your lives. You have your buds to thank for. That you didn’t stay home or spent time anywhere else, where you wouldn’t have seen or even met her once again.

As soon as you pulled out of her, you didn't waste any more time with pillow talks or quippy exchanges. Missing her body more than ever, you also missed when you were pushing your own limits. “Stand up,” you order Xiaoting, yet your affectionate gestures juxtapose your domineering tone since you help her get off the bed regardless. “Wait here,” you add before getting up from the bed while you head straight to the bathroom with the door shut. Opening the wall cabinet above the sink, you reach a small box of condoms on the rightmost corner.

Still standing with her hands on her waist, Xiaoting turns to find your cock wrapped in the contraceptive, making her head tilt to the side. “You didn't have to do that…”

She has pills, you remind yourself, but you also know this is a different hole of hers that you're revisiting. Just looking at it and recalling the few times you've done it in the past makes your shaft stand up within seconds, much to her astonishment. Approaching Xiaoting, you turn her around without a word, giving her a teasing squeeze on her right ass cheek. “Auuhhhhhnnnggghh!” she squeals.

“Bend over,” you command her, yet her smile returns just hearing that phrase from you, anticipating your next direction. She misses this. Despite your anal avarice, you want to make sure she’s not too nervous. So you guide her while she slowly bends her body, still showing her flexibility with ease and little pain from her. From behind, you take a deep breath, before impaling her still tight asshole with your rod.

“Auuuuggghhh--fuck!” she yelps, instinctively arching her neck and back. Even with its seminal lubrication, your slow entry only consisted of a quarter of your whole member.

“You okay?” Your facade breaks through this concerning response, and she senses it. Somehow, you still manage to make yourself sound chivalrous, but you truly care for Xiaoting’s well-being, in this case being her comfort. She hasn’t done this in a while, and, of course, neither have you. She remembered how vanilla and romantic you were a few years back, but it's something that makes her adore you in a weird way.

“I’m okay, baby,” she assures you, her tone softening as she calls you more endearingly. At times, you used to lead yourself to think it's ‘infantilizing,’ being called that, but you couldn't be more wrong. You shake your head off these inner debates, slowly pushing a little more with caution, hoping she's not hurting. Unbeknownst to you, pain is only a small fraction of her current sensation. The discomfort is to be expected, but feeling your junior inside her other hole slowly brings tears to Xiaoting’s eyes out of excitement. “Mmmggghhh… Just—uhhh—keep going… Baaaaabe! Keep—nggghhh…”

And so you continue with another powered thrust. She bends further, helping you enter deeper and deeper inside her tightening tunnel. “Ting-ah…” you puff her name. “You can say when it hurts—”

“Stop only when you’ve reached your limit, daddy.” She tells you from the top of her lungs, and somehow that’s able to motivate you to keep going, slowly pushing more. Somehow, after all this time, she still trusts you.

And slowly, you start pushing your hips forwards and backwards as your manhood remains rock hard. “Nnngngngngngh…” she bites her lower lip, holding onto your arms. while her whines turn into bursts of moans and hollers the deeper you get.

“Slap… them, hmmm?” she asks you with a gasp, and you know exactly what she means. Giving into her tempting request right away, you slap her right ass cheek, but with a lower level. She laughs, in spite of her struggle down there.

“Harder! That’s what you want, right? You wanna… punish me… Punish me—forrr—nggghhh—leaving you!” her mocks mix in with tones of begging. Your sensitive conscience wants you to say no, and explain your years of despair without her, but your more dominant and lustful side was just testing the waters. You don't want to ruin this already tense mood. Her somewhat deriding yet heart wrenching response makes you audibly grunt, provoking you to retaliate with another wave of smack from your right hand, raising it up high above head level—much like a meteor straight from orbit—before descending once again at your ex-girlfriend’s right ass cheek, triggering moans that increase as you add in two more slaps. Such a series of impacts reverberates through her left cheek, making her tremble before you interlock her arms with yours to keep her from falling to the floor.

Her eyes widened, opening her mouth with a grin. “Yeeeeeeeesss!” she squeals louder, her deprived masochistic desire fulfilled within those short yet sufficient moments. “Fuck—yes! Ngh! More, please, hngghhh!” As a reward, she bends her ass a little more, tightening the tension between your member and her hole. But you push more, thrusting harder, making her breasts bounce and cheeks clap with every push and pull you're making together.

Her echoing approvals only makes you harder, so you add in three more slaps, inciting huffs and puffs of pleasure from her salivating mouth. Her ass cheeks have always been two of her memorable erogenous zones, and, strangely enough, you still think of yourself a sick fuck for finding pleasure in this—even if she herself finds it a lot more pleasurable.

As countless minutes of smacking, groaning, and moaning have passed, you keep thrusting in and out of Xiaoting’s asshole until it ends up on the same autopilot at the very second you feel that same pressure inside your bouncing balls, combined with the build-up rising through your thick cock.

“Ting-ah,” you try to warn her, but she turns her head to the right side to take one quick look at you, screaming the words, “In—side! Nowhere else—arasseo?” You know it’s not dangerous to do it, thanks of your condom, but you’ve always had the common courtesy to ask, because it’s her body, and now that she gives the signal—

Before you can give another thrust, your seed bursts and fills the condom to the brim, while the woman’s folds keep on squirting her juices on her unoccupied hole. Her body remains arched and her gaping mouth slowly closes in exhaustion, although you slowly help her lie back on the bed once your climax subsides. Much to your surprise, however, she pulls you in without warning, putting you off-balance as you land on top of her. Still, you manage to keep yourself from crushing her, thanks to your fingernails holding onto the mattress, supported by your flexing arms between her head.

While Xiaoting’s breathing eases up beneath you, she even takes the chance to caress your biceps with her fingers, making her hum out of curiosity.

How certain little things have changed since she left you, mostly improvements. Such a quick but bittersweet action, it even takes her smirk away in front of you, which you immediately notice. “Gwenchana?”

She nods softly, regaining her smile, now a softer, more assured one. “But, ummm… Be more gentle, Changmin-ah.” Mouthing your name, her shaky breath grabs your attention, as with everything she does—good and bad—when you first saw her again two days ago.

“O–of course,” you always stutter there, taken aback by her tender voice and request.

You take off your condom, throwing it far straight into the trash bin, right of the bed, before your eyes return to her. You can tell from her expression—she misses you. She wants to face you once again, even in her half-closed, thirsting and begging eyes. The night’s far from over. You raise her legs, placing them on the top of your shoulders. Gentle is what she asked, but she’s not against something new, position-wise. She would’ve stopped you by now, but her left palm simply rubs on your right cheek.

Her smile isn’t as mischievous compared to earlier, but her gaze remains desirous, and it falters for a second once you reenter her vagina with caution. Feeling yourself salivating towards her sultry face, you crash your lips onto hers, at the same time you push yourself inside her through bursts of thrusts. She battles you for dominance, which you now allow her tongue to dance with yours as your oral tango masks her moans the longer she relishes in the feeling of your cock twitching and hardening inside Xiaoting with every pound, while she titters at the sensation of her pussy getting stretched with her legs resting, dangling on your shoulders.

Your kiss persists the longer you explore her mouth, intoxicated by her smell and taste for the millionth time. Her legs shiver while both of you holler in ecstasy, forcing yourself to part your lips as your moans of indulgence echo through your mouths. This time, the pressure builds up a lot quicker in your genitals, syncing in with the accelerated pace of your heartbeats.

But neither of you care. This time, everything feels slower every time your eyes meet, every moment your souls mingle. You didn’t rush anything, all of your mind, heart, body are simply finding more spots and triggering more zones of pleasure, more than either of you can handle in this intense position.

“Tiiing-ah… I’m—Imma,” you groan with a pitch higher than before. Your pumps slow down, yet you give more strength into them. “Clooooo--close!”

“I need it—In…side, babe!” she gasps, her pitch cracking through the ceiling. Since last night, she told you she’s safe. You know she has pills in her room. “I need… you!” And with her final plea, there’s nothing stopping you.

You give a few more thrusts, ensuring the inevitable. As her arms hold around her legs and her legs around your neck tighten, your cock lets go of its pressure as you fire your seed inside her womb. You kiss her again with your starved tongue entangled with hers, embodying the mentality that you may never get another chance once the spice of this reunion cools down.

Eventually, you had to stop. You check the clock on the wall, and it’s past midnight. The rain has stopped for a while now, and from the view of your room’s window, some of your old college mates have since returned to the pool and bar. You walk back to the bed, your gaze inevitably catching your old flame slumbering like a princess, on the right side, most of herself wrapped inside the comforter. Her grand beauty alone puts a smile on your face, something that you can’t ever hate, though you could never hate Xiaoting for long. It makes you chuckle at how, after all this time, she remembers how to act all submissive towards you tonight.

And yet, as you’ve pondered, you’ve been just as, if not a lot more submissive towards her. You don’t know if you’ve done everything for her during your relationship. When nights were sleepless, you blamed yourself for not convincing her to stay or simply go after her, regardless of the risks it would’ve yielded for their respective personal lives.

She’s here—now wearing a robe that you took from the bathroom—and you want to cherish it while it lasts. Whatever this is. She still makes your heart beat faster than usual—but your mind’s just as afraid of thinking about her. About the painful past that happened. But you’re tired, and you want to sleep, especially with Xiaoting. Somehow, she feels you lying next to her, as she inches closer, placing her arms on your chest without opening her eyes or muttering a word.

Seeing her sleeping safe and sound, your thoughts calm down and close your eyes. You would’ve teared up a long time ago, but this is not a moment that’s worth your tears. Not worth your anger or grudge. It's as if all the negativity in your system was drained and out. Now, your heart cannot feel any more elated, euphoric, and grateful—to any divine presence that may be listening to your thoughts—that she’s here.

= = =

You slept through more rain and woke up on (hopefully) the last one for today, but the rays of the sun resurfaced by seven-thirty in the morning, which—through the room's windows—finally woke up Xiaoting from her post-coital slumber. “I brought tea.”

You hand her a mug of hot tea, courtesy of room service. Last night, neither of you drank your asses off, unlike last Friday at midnight, but you know that she’d still benefit from a little hangover drink. You’d think she almost hesitates to take it for a moment, but a part of her memory flashes back to the better days, soothing her heart and mind. “Gomawo.”

“The rain finally stopped, huh?” Ice breakers are far from your strongest suit, but you always do your best to keep a conversation going. Especially if it's with someone whose time you don't wanna waste.

“Yeah, it did…” But she'd take it over awkward silence or another series of yelling. Her hearing you in a more soft-spoken and casual manner is a breath of fresh air.

“Breakfast is already available downstairs, actually,” you bring up. “You can join up the rest of the earlier batch, if you want. I think they even got stir-fried beef and soup.”

“That's nice, but I’ll just join downstairs a little bit later.”

“I’ll head out,” you try to address her. “Get some air while you can clean yourself—”

“Aniya…” She senses your discomfort, but she isn't just gonna give up easily now. “Stay. With me, I mean… Just for a bit.”

“Arasseo,” you nod your head. Those words from her are something you've never said no to, and you're not going to change that now either.

She takes another sip of her mug in silence, but the clashing voices in your mind have been too unbearable for you to stay quiet for too long. You have to get it out of your chest… Before it's too late.

“I'm sorry for snapping at you the other night, Xiaoting... I know there’s no excuse for any of that. Regardless of what happened between us, I was still immature about it, too, like you said.”

“I'm sorry, too, Changmin... For leaving you without fighting, or even considering whatever we had. I’ve made such a mess of myself.”

“Well… I wish I could've fought for us too. I wish I could’ve followed you... It's cliché, but… I've thought about it. Followed you through that airp—”

“Aniya… You didn’t have to… You have a family here who cares about you. All your friends are here, too. This is where you live. I don't see why you'd do that for me—”

“Because I thought it'd be worth it,” you confess. A part of you still thinks that. “All those things you said about me might be true, but we never even got the chance to talk things through it, you know? You just, umm, didn't let me, remember?”

“I do remember…” Her toes and fingers curl, her hand forming into a fist. “Not a night goes by that I didn't think of that.”

Silence follows, but you make some progress once she opens her mouth once more.

“You know, back then, I was just transferred to our university... I was just some exchange student who managed to fit in easier than most students our age because of my looks, my skills, or whatever charms they may have seen in me. My parents got me there because it was prestigious and fancy, or however else they described our uni… But, they also knew that it would be temporary.”

“You know it's more than that,” you assure her. “You were more than that, Ting-ah. You lived a life here, too.”

“I liked to think that was the case.” She exhales a chuckle. “For a while, I felt free here. Even if a lot of people around me had often put me on a pedestal like some idol or a princess… There were times I managed to explore Seoul, Incheon, or Busan… And find something new about myself.”

“You deserved all those recognition, Xiaoting. You're a woman of many talents. You're like an all-rounder! The top of your class. I mean, you probably would've been a great idol if you wanted to be one…” You sigh to muster your courage. “Whatever career or passion you take, I never doubted your skills and abilities to achieve it.”

Your words accelerate her heartbeat. She takes a sip of her mug, but only to hide the smile on her blushing face. You, however, notice both her ears turning red.

“That's what I thought about, too… But then, I found myself falling in love the longer I stayed on campus… I mean, I met you there… And I don't care if you believe me or not, but you made me the happiest girl in the world. You treated, respected, and supported me like my closest friends… And more.”

“So have you… I mean, you made the happiest guy in the world,” you correct yourself. “Even in that one year, two months, and three weeks that we've had… It's something I’d always cherish. You made me feel like I wasn't invisible or unworthy of loving someone.”

As cheesy as your own words sound in your ears, Xiaoting feels a longer pang embedded in her heart, slowly clenching while it beats louder. That you've kept count of your time together. That a deep part of you still waited for the impossible. Waiting for what would've been just nothing.

“I would've stayed, Changmin-ah…” she almost stutters, even feeling her breathing stop and slow down for a moment. “I should’ve stayed with you... There were no excuses.”

You want to say that it's all right. That she had to make the decision she made, but now, it seems she's not even sure about her own choice. You're lost in words of reassurance. “Yeah… But we can't change the past now, can we?”

“No…” Xiaoting’s eyes darted on her half-empty mug, now cooled down. “No, we can't.”

Yet your remorse takes over, for making her feel like this. “I don't blame you, Xiaoting. I did, but I was a fuck-up. I mean now, I still am one, I'm just trying to do better by myself. And it makes things easier when you realize, there's just a lotta things that are just… Out of our control.”

“Yeah, but… I wasn't perfect either,” she insists. “And for all its worth, we worked with whatever we got, right?”

Your perception of her wants to say otherwise, that she was perfect, inside and out. “Yeah…” But you also know it's not the way to assure her. Deep inside, you loved her with her flaws and insecurities.

Still, she didn't want the conversation to end there. Simply because you’ve caught up with your past and reflected on your choices, she wants to steer this talk in a different direction before you think of walking away. “So, umm… How are you doing these days, by the way?”

“Oh, you know… Nothing special.” You go along. “Most of the time, I'm just doing this task and that project at my desk… I also do some field work at the mall or elsewhere, only whenever I get lucky enough. But these days, I'm just… stuck at the office with planning and all of the marketing crap.”

Your response lightens her up, and no matter how trivial your ‘blabber’ sounds, her attention to you doesn't wane. “Oh… Hopefully, it's not always a daily grind, ‘cause that'll make you lose a lot of sleep. Or drive you insane.”

“I’m afraid that's the case with me for this season… But I often hang out with friends after work, so that's an upside… If not, I'll just stay at home all night.”

“Well, I'm glad you're still stuck with your closest buds. I know I've only met them a few times, but they honestly seem like they're also doing well…”

You chuckle, remembering your last talk with them earlier this morning. “All things considered, they are… They thought you were bad news.”

“Which makes them good friends,” she argues playfully, breaking the tension that was building up in your heart when it intended to defend her. You used to believe them, but you weren't the perfect boyfriend to her either. “And by the way, you better get out more often. It's not healthy to stay home all the time.”

You recognize the shift in her tone. That caring and motherly cadence which captivated you. And yet, as someone who recently tried to follow a consistent diet, that also struck a nerve in your ego. “Yah… I hit up the gym two to three times a week—”

She laughs at your defensive retort, not even dismissing your claim. She did feel your muscles the whole night, after all. “That’s not what I meant! I mean, just like exploring the city or whatever. Bring your friends or family somewhere... Or travel alone, that'd also be a nice routine.”

“In this rainy season?” you raise an eyebrow, but in her words starts to genuinely come off as good advice.

“You know what I mean,” she answers you with a slight pout. “Obviously not now, but maybe you can start going to the mall more as a customer, if you don't know where to start…”

“Sure, sure. I'll keep that in mind,” you snicker, just in time for the heightened interest in your talk makes you more curious about her life. Just thinking about the possibilities makes you uneasy or reserved, but you'd rather hear her own current whereabouts leave her lips. Before this reunion, you've only heard or seen of how and where Xiaoting has been through mutual friends or through TikTok or Naver, but nothing more than that. “And, ummm, speaking of work, again, I also hope things are going well in Sichuan.” You scratch your head. “I heard you’re working with idols’ choreos now, too.” At times, you weren't even sure if it was her you saw.

“Pfft… That was nothing big,” she tries to remain humble. “It was like a one, two, three-time collaboration. On most days, we’re either teaching students, filming socials, attending workshops, or practicing at the company building all day like anybody else.”

“Sounds like you've been on the daily grind yourself,” you let out a snicker. “I hope you've been getting enough rest.”

She realizes how you returned those words to her. “Pretty much… That's why I was hoping you'd have a more different work lifestyle than mine!” she whines, before her realization makes her sigh. “I'm still trying to adjust myself to a new one.”

“I've gotten used to mine, so don't worry… And I'm sure you did amazing, considering your credentials... In no time, I bet you'll be as big as Aiki or Bada, or no:ze, or Leejung—”

“You just had to mention some of the standout ones…” Her eyes squint at you, frowning in disappointment. “And they're Korean.”

“I'm just saying you can be as big as them,” you shrug. “Maybe you even are—”

“I'm not—”

“Plus, I don't know any other names of Chinese dancers other than you, and I'm not counting idols, so maybe it's enough that I know the best one?”

She shakes her head, annoyed, touched and flattered, all at the same time. It's been long since you've had a talk this casual and simple, it eases your mind, freeing yourselves from the stresses and worries of adulting. Ironically, by venting out it with each other.

“Whatever.” She fixes some of her disheveled hair to the side of her right ear, right before inching her hand to put the mug on the nightstand, which you, of course, help place. “To be honest, it’s been quite wonderful back home, for better and worse… But things were far from perfect. Or easy, really... I, uh, had moments of doubt and conflicts of my own from time to time. It made me think if it was all worth it…”

As worry clouds your mind, you place your palm on top of hers, which she appreciates from her smile. You didn't know what to say, but you also read it from her eyes; your touch feels enough to sympathize with her at this moment. Even in your time knowing and being with her, she experienced her fair share of obsessors, sickos, and haters who tried to mess with her, even before you were a thing. It hurts that you couldn't even do anything, imagining how she's facing such obstacles by herself.

“And because of that… I decided to take a big career risk, not too long ago.”

“I hope it paid off…” Hearing your optimism only makes her tighten her hold of your hand. “It rarely happens when folks are in their late twenties, but I'm happy for you.”

“Yeah…” she chuckles, before continuing to share her experience. “Well… About a week ago, I actually took a new job and got myself relocated to a place in Seongnam. It's a far better pay than my last position at Beijing, surprisingly enough, but I got more oppor—”

“Seong…nam..?” Your speech slows down, but your heartbeat begins to quicken in pace. “That means—”

“I’m here, Changmin… And I’m—I’m not going anywhere.” At this moment, Shen Xiaoting’s giving you something to believe in. Chance. Hope. A new beginning. It’s up to you. Your mind goes blank, free of rage, anxiety, and hesitations, but you feel the next best thing that is screaming deep in your chest. Singing for her warm touch. She tries to hide her smile, not wanting to lead herself to a sense of false hope. “And I know that it's too much to ask… But if you want to start over—”

“Start over?” you repeat those words, making sure you didn't mishear her.

She stares at you with a slow nod, waiting, the surface of her gaze mixed with regret and wariness. Yet, the longer and deeper you look through her soul, there’s hope and longing for the unknown future. One that you'll be able to face together again.

“I’d like it, more than anything else,” you tell Xiaoting right as you walk closer, cupping her chin to give her the best reassuring gesture you know. A passionate kiss, which both of you melts into, along with your own fears and worries, embracing this moment with such a passionate love that has never left your heart. She wraps her arms around your neck, and yours around her waist, deepening the kiss.

You feel your eyes getting watery, and as you open them once your lips part, Xiaoting notices you tearing up. Yet, sadness is not the dominant emotion that’s triggered this moment. It's joy and gratitude coursing through your veins. It's love, as simple as it is.

She holds you tighter, allowing you to weep with joy on her shoulder while she pats your back. Tears also begin to drop and then pour from her eyes, but she doesn't mind them. You have each other to confide and console in.

You sniff your last tear, before leveling your gaze with her. “I--I promise I won’t mess this up, noona.”

Her smile widens, even while her eyes continue to water with exhilaration. “I thought you didn’t like calling me that.”

“I didn’t hate it.” The emphasis on your delivery sounded defensive, but that realization only makes her giggle more. It was a long time, after all. “It's just something that I really wished I'd call you more often, you know?”

“Hmmm…” She rests her forehead on yours, both of you closing your eyes to savor and cherish this breakthrough. “Don't worry, babe… We both have a lot to make up for.”

“I couldn't agree more, Ting-noona.”

“Then… Maybe you can prove… Or show it now,” Xiaoting whispers under her breath, gently massaging your thighs. “—If you'd like.

Following your heart more than ever, you look down and cup her cheeks, leaning closer to her lips again and kissing her, as she had hoped. Feeling the fluttering in your hearts, she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you back down with her on the bed while you explore each other's bodies in broad daylight. It's a plus you're both only one fabric away from undressing yourselves, which you do so now. She takes off her robe and panties within two seconds, while you strip your shirt and underwear off in three.

Xiaoting pushes you in a supine position. Up close, her thick, white thighs make your mouth water the longer you stare at them like they're shimmering bright as the sun kisses her skin.

“You can give ‘em a little nibble, if you want,” she whispers.

With her permission, you stretch your neck and proceed to kiss each of her thighs again, leaving each side a lick, like a parched wild animal.

She giggles, your irresistible, ticklish gestures slowly sending shivers up her spine. “You've always been such a good boy to me, haven't you?”

This morning, the tables have turned, and you wouldn't love it any other way.

“Uh-huh,” you nod at her slowly, with your limbs a little tense because of the excitement building up in your system. “I mean, I tried my best…”

“Shhhh…” And with her index finger on your lips, she gives you another surprise by inching herself and straddling on your hips. “Just stay calm…” Kneeling between your body, she stretches down and leans into your right ear, whispering “And let me love you hard, Changmin-ah.” as she prepares you for the main event.

Xiaoting gives your ear cartilage a little nibble before she gets up on you like a cowgirl on a stallion, and with her on to dominate you for the first time, she holds your hard rock member, expertly aligning it with her entrance. The entry was a little more ragged, but she sits on it with her muffled moans, indulging in each time her walls tighten or loosen the more she impales herself with your raging cock.

“How are you still—so tight?” you tease her, helping her inch your own penis deeper inside her clenching canal.

“Nggghhhh…” She opens her legs a little wider, still pushing in halfway through your whole thing, while also being able to inflate your ego at the same time. “Oh, you know… A lot of stretching… I've been trying out, uhh, new workouts. Fuck, you're so—thick, and long… Baby!”

And with all your manhood now inside her, the woman begins her thrusts, subconsciously applying her flexibility and coordination. Both of your hands interlocked with one another, like it's her leash, holding onto you the more your unified movement gets bumpier. She arches her back for a second, the electrifying pleasure making her roll her eyes to the side and stick her tongue out while you place your hands on her waist for balance. As minutes pass, she inches closer to see your face, immediately crashing her lips on yours, igniting another passionate makeout session that you simply can't deny. You are way too lightheaded and far too invigorated at her moans in your mouth to complain at the moment. Yet you still have to push through in order to tell her. “Ting… Ting, ugggghhhhhh, fuck! I'm fuck—ing… Close… Nooooooonaaa…”

“I'm—Imma…” her breath runs short, but the overall stimulation across her most sensitive zones has just reached beyond its highest levels. “Aungghh… Babe, I'm fucking safe!”

You bust your seed inside Xiaoting, as she follows a millisecond after yours, attaining the highest level of euphoria throughout your bodies for the night, higher than any of your previous rounds. Your moans come to a halt, its volume slowly descending while you find yourselves in a heavenly peak.

Within a minute of heaving in silence, your climax subsides as your breathing restores to normal. In this peaceful afterglow, your mind has never been clearer. The longer you listen to the same growing rhythm, it's becoming more and more definite about what your heart has been telling you. What you should've told her for a long time.

“I love you…” you mutter those words in unison, it even leaves you both surprised, in the best kind. “Jinx!” she murmurs with a giggle. Left with a gleaming smile on her face, she nuzzles and lies on your chest, allowing yourselves to simmer and savor this moment for a short while.

“Come on,” you say as you fix her messy hair and kiss her forehead. “I hope we're not too late for breakfast.”

“I thought we just had one?” she counters with a sarcastic and gullible tone, while she moves herself off you.

“You fox! Not like that.” you both laugh at her joke, still holding onto each other tenderly just as you sit on the bed with your legs crossed.

About half an hour later, you made it just in time for the continuation of the reunion activities. Now washed up in new clothes and soaked in perfume, you reunite with your friends at the guesthouse restaurant, getting yourselves a long sandwich and a hearty dessert for breakfast. It honestly surprises you that they even came back after leaving for their own out-of-town trip, but you're truly glad they're back, safe and sound.

From the other side of the crowd, you find her, wearing a new outfit, with her hair tied up. Since you parted ways outside your room, she met up with her friends, whom you are also familiar with in the past two days, as they also catch up with her through small talks and conversations. The second she catches your eyes, you two cannot help but exchange smiles while the crowd listens to the hosts. The first morning activity is something they call “strangers get-together.”

Of course, not everyone was comfortable with the concept, preferring to hang out with their close friends, their phones, or both. Without disrespecting the event planners, they thought it was forced, oversentimental, or too cheesy, which you probably would've thought of as well, if this happened a day ago. Mind you, they also paid to be a part of this two-day and three-night event, but it's not a requirement to participate in all of the stuff they prepared, so it's whatever. Who are you to judge?

“You going somewhere, man?” One of your friends, Jungwoo, notices you looking at the greenery through the wide, glassless window, just three seconds before you even stand up from your seat. You put your phone in your pocket.

Your three buddies wanted to sit down inside the restaurant to rest for a bit, maybe wait until the next activity, just like with a few more like-minded alumni sitting on the table next to theirs, yet most of them are trapped within their social bubbles, distracting themselves with reels or simply texting.

“Uh, yeah…” you chuckle. “I'll just get some air outside, you know? I've been inside my room the whole night...”

“Come on, dude! We just got here,” your other friend, Joonki, whines at your sudden decision. “Don't tell me you had fun without us.”

“I'm pretty sure that was you guys,” you shoot back with a monotone delivery, inciting both laughter or surprise from them. “I’m kidding!” You break into laughter. “But, no really, I'll catch up with y’all in a bit. Just text me if something’s up, aight? Kalke!”

You stride through the restaurant’s door, leaving your friends with a sense of intrigue.

“What makes you say that?” Joonki raises his eyebrow. Beside him, Jungwoo only lets out a snicker before taking a sip of his cup of coffee.

“He’s gonna meet up with Xiaoting-sunbae, isn't he?” Hanbin points his left thumb at the door.

No matter how brief this moment will be compared to last night, it is something you didn't want to take for granted, let alone the fact that you won't have any other good occasion to spend your whole weekend once the reunion is done. And still, you think again, and well, you cannot be any more wrong.

You find her sitting at a nearby gazebo. Her hair's down. Phone's in her hand, but she's not using it. Her head's only looking around until your eyes meet. “Hey.”

She stands up, immediately walking up to you with her memorable introverted anticipation. Breathtaking, as always, you think. “Hey!”

You take her hand. “I hope I didn't keep you waiting, noona.”

“Gwenchana…” she coos, rubbing your right hand with her palm. “You didn't.”

“So… Do you wanna do this 'strangers get-together' thing, or maybe you've already prepared a whole new set of questions for me?”

She laughs at your little impromptu ice-breaker. “Yah… I'm sure you just have as many questions for me as you have.”

Like last time, you stroll through the garden, but unlike last time, you relish and relax in your own voices, cherishing pauses of silence to be with nature while you make up for lost time. Around you, you cross paths with some of the alumni taking pictures of the beautiful morning dew. A small kaleidoscope of butterflies make their way onto flowers, basking under the sun. Most of them are couples, closest friends, or even affairs, but they're none of your business.

Along with the fresh air and foliage, you and Xiaoting simply take in and reminisce about the most blossoming moments of your relationship, while also embracing the hardships and heartbreaks you've both experienced along the way. And as your paths cross once again, you both know you're bound to make new ones.

With her fingers interlocked with yours, you realize, you don't regret coming here. Not one bit. Maybe the way you initially behaved, but you're more than grateful for how it turned out. Because it brought you a miracle back into your life. For as long as your heart beats, this woman is someone who, from now on, you will never let go of, and unbeknownst to you, neither will she.

= = =

This is just a long-ass yap session here, so you can just skip to the end, if you want. anyways, I've always wanted to write a kep1er fic. I actually have written a few before I started posting here, but I never got to finish them. still, I really love them as artists, I was so glad when they extended their contracts. yeshiro leaving sucked, though, but I wish all of them the best.

Originally, because of the recent waterbomb, I wanted to write either youngeun or chaehyun (aka my biases), but I decided to try writing a fic about xiaoting first instead. there are already great works that I've read here, but I have pushed myself to make this because there's rarely, if not no fic that has the male oc or reader as slightly younger than xiaoting. yeah, I know, that's one reason why I wrote this lol. also, shoutout to octoberautumnbox's yujin fic, The Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424. it's pretty popular by now, but it has always been one of my favs, so I think it's worth revisiting. there's also nsfwmaemi (aka maemisnippets)'s Xiaoting fic, The Grind Never Stops, but I just found now they've deactivated. There still reblogs of it here, so you can check 'em out, if you haven't. There are also ones by ggidolsmuts, thelibrarian69, gangplanksorenji, capslocked, and others that I may have missed, but you can look 'em up on their blogs. amazing writers.

now that I think about it, this fic is similar to my other ones in terms of the structure, but I still like how this one turned out, flaws and all. I'll keep doing my best to cook up something more different in the future. in other news, I'll regain my focus on my tripleS fics after this, which I should've been doing for a while since they're priority #1, but you know, I don't have a def sched on this.

Okay, the yapping stops here. As always, big thanks for reading and I hope y'all have an overall safe, healthy, and wonderful day. 'til next fic. 💜

396 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 1 month ago

Text

The Haven in Heaven, ft. tripleS Sohyun

tags: creampie, first time anal, rough, (mention of) breeding

length: 8k+

author's note: Phew, finally. Now I can play Like A Dragon in peace.

---

“Still can’t believe this is real…”

Looking out the airplane’s window, Sohyun envelops his hand with hers, absentmindedly squeezing his fingers, her ears ringing from the altitude, a buzzing counterpoint to the quiet thrill thrumming through her. “Mrs. Han…” Sunwoo whispers, the new surname tasting sweet yet still unfamiliar. “You look a little tense. Just nerves, or are you secretly wishing for more legroom?” he teases gently, his thumb brushing her cheek. She offers a small smile, but he sees the slight worry in her eyes, even as excitement bubbles beneath. "It's just... a lot," she whispers, a happy sigh escaping. “We’re going to be okay, love. More than okay,” he adds, his whispered promise a joyful secret shared just between them. "I will always be here for you," he reaffirms, his gaze full of bright future.

Sohyun leans closer against him, looking up at him with wide, trusting eyes, hugging his arm tightly. "Thank you, oppa," Sohyun murmurs, pressing her face into his shoulder. "You always know what to say." Her voice is muffled, but her sincerity is unmistakable. Her words send a pleasant shiver down his spine—oh, to be thanked in such a sweet manner. As his eyes turn shiny at her heartfelt praise, Sunwoo plants a soft peck to the top of her head, right on the dividing line of her hair. “Thank you, love. Life with you has never been short of amazing.”

Sohyun shifts, tucking her head more comfortably into the curve of his shoulder. The hum of the engines becomes a backdrop to the quiet rhythm of their breathing. She feels the familiar strength of his arm around her, a steady presence that has seen her through everything. This new beginning, this incredible journey, feels right, simply because he is by her side. She closes her eyes, a small, contented smile playing on her lips. They are soaring, not just through the sky, but into a future built on trust, laughter, and love—lots of it.

A tiny, private giggle escapes her as she remembers Sunwoo's frantic, last-minute packing this morning, stuffing two left sandals into the same bag. Yes, a future with him means plenty of laughter. Yes, that sounds like a future worth diving into.

As the cabin speakers crackle with an announcement they barely register, Sohyun opens her eyes, a renewed spark of excitement replacing the earlier contentment. The plane banks, offering a first glimpse of the island below—a vibrant tapestry of emerald green and turquoise blue, fringed with white sands. She squeezes Sunwoo's hand, an unspoken question in her wide gaze. He meets her eyes, his own shining with anticipation. "Almost there, Mrs. Han," he whispers, a playful challenge in his tone. "Ready for our paradise?"

She turns to him, a beautiful, calm smile blossoming on her lips, her fingers tangled around his. “I am,” says Sohyun, no trace of lingering nerves on her face. “We’re going to have so much fun. I just know it.” A sense of warmth surges within Sunwoo; it’s so fulfilling to see her so happy, so excited for life, especially after the challenging months they've navigated, months that have tested their new, fragile marriage. “You’re right, love. We are going to have fun. Just you and me.”

The plane touches down with a gentle bump, a collective sigh of relief and excitement rippling through the cabin. Sohyun’s heart leaps, a joyous flutter mirroring the gentle descent. Through the window, the island comes into sharper focus, the palm trees swaying in a warm breeze she can almost feel. Sunwoo squeezes her hand again, his thumb tracing patterns on her knuckles. "Welcome to paradise, Mrs. Han," he murmurs, his voice thick with contentment. As the seatbelt sign dings off, a surge of eager passengers pushes toward the aisle, but Sohyun and Sunwoo linger, savoring this moment, a quiet bubble of happiness amidst the bustle.

Sohyun lifts her hand, gently cupping his chin, and leans in, her intention clear to Sunwoo. His arm, initially wrapped around her, pulls her closer, closing the gap between their bodies. As if stuck in time in their own little bubble, her lips meet his, a soft exploration that deepens into a shared breath. They stay connected, exchanging quiet promises to be each other’s unwavering strength, to love and be loved, until the end of time. Eventually, they pull away, but only because a stewardess, with a polite cough and a knowing smile, asks them to deplane.

The trip to their resort is a short one. How can it not feel brief, when their eyes get treated to the beauty of the Maldivian natural landscape. Every turn of the vehicle reveals a new masterpiece: water so clear it seems to vanish into the air, brilliant coral reefs visible just beneath the surface, and skies that stretch in an impossible gradient from soft azure to deep sapphire. They exchange light, harmless pinches, asking for each other’s attention, at every enchanting view they catch. “Love, love, look at that,” he nearly leaps in his seat, his hand urgently finding her arm, “the sea, the clouds… so beautiful, no? It’s even more incredible in person.” Sohyun leans over, her gaze following his pointing finger, and a soft sigh escapes her. “Thank you for bringing me here, my love,” she whispers, her tone thick with gratitude and love for him. “You could’ve taken me to Jeju, but you’ve brought me to paradise instead.”

"Only the best for my wife," Sunwoo replies, his voice warm with satisfaction. Sohyun leans her head against his shoulder, letting the rhythmic hum of their transport and the gentle breeze wash over her. Their driver, a local man with a kind smile, points out a family of herons fishing gracefully in the shallows nearby, then indicates a row of vibrant hibiscus bushes lining the path. It’s these small, perfect details that make the journey feel like a dream, each turn revealing a new facet of the island's untouched beauty. Sohyun finds herself already falling in love with this place, not just for its stunning vistas, but for the peaceful simplicity it offers, a stark contrast to the busy city life they’re escaping from.

Moments later, the buggy pulls into a beautifully open-air reception lobby, where the air hums with quiet elegance and the distant splash of a water feature. They are greeted with warm smiles and soft-spoken welcomes. While Sunwoo handles the quick check-in process, Sohyun’s eyes are drawn to a glass-bottomed section of the floor, revealing schools of colorful fish darting beneath. The simple act of signing a few papers feels like the last official hurdle before true relaxation. A staff member hands them chilled towels and a welcome drink, the tangy sweetness of fresh fruit instantly refreshing. "This is it, love," Sunwoo murmurs, taking her hand and leading her to their accommodation. "Our actual escape begins now."

In the privacy of their overwater villa, its cool interior a welcome respite from the tropical warmth, Sohyun opens her suitcase. As if checking things off her mental checklist, her finger traces lines over the neatly folded swimsuits, the wide-brimmed hat, the sunscreens Sunwoo had insisted on. Her lips murmur the names under her breath, a quiet inventory.

“We have everything we need, don’t we?” Sunwoo asks, unzipping his suitcase next to her. “We’ll see.” She slips her hand under a pile of T-shirts, and a blush creeps up her cheeks; her fingers are brushing against a bag of contraceptives and pregnancy test kits. “Y-yes, I… I think we have everything we need, and then some,” she confirms, hiding her hot cheeks behind the curtain of her hair. Sunwoo catches the subtle shift, a knowing glint entering his eyes. “Good to hear, baby,” he teases, his face gleaming with mischief.

Sohyun rises to her feet, her gaze roaming the interior, looking at anything but her husband. “O-oppa…” she mutters, the loose thread at the hem of his shirt suddenly so captivating. “What, erm, what do you think we should do first?” With an amused smile, Sunwoo gets on his feet, his palms finding purchase on her waist, slightly digging into the soft flesh. A familiar warmth spreads from his touch, igniting a flush that reaches her ears. “I’m down for anything, baby. Sexual, non-sexual—just anything, as long as I’m with you,” he whispers, his lips brushing her temple, his tone calm and calming.

Sohyun finally lifts her gaze, meeting his eyes, and the last of her shyness melts away under his comforting warmth. A genuine smile blossoms on her face. “Then… can we…” she trails off, her finger pointing at the mattress covered in clean white sheets. “Sure, baby,” he confirms. With his hand joined with hers, Sunwoo guides her towards their destination—oh, these are some silky, impossibly soft sheets.

They settle in bed together, wrapped in each other’s arms, the mattress caving slightly under their weight. “Comfortable, love?” Sunwoo asks, keeping Sohyun close to him. She simply nods to his question; with her face sinking into his chest, a brief nod is enough. Looking over her, he notices a view she wouldn’t want to miss: the clear sea and blue sky, visible straight from the bed. “Baby, I think you should turn around. I think you’ll like the view,” he whispers. Following his suggestion, Sohyun shifts, turning around without leaving his comfortable embrace, gasping softly as the limitless expanse of turquoise, merging seamlessly with the cerulean sky, appears before her eyes.

Sohyun simply stares, mesmerized, the vibrant colors outside painting a living picture frame for their shared moment. She leans back against Sunwoo, nestling deeper into his side, his warmth a perfect contrast to the cool air of the villa. "It's... beautiful," she whispers, her voice barely audible. “Thank you, oppa. This is just… unbelievable.” Sunwoo tightens his arm around her, resting his chin on the top of her head. "What I wouldn’t give for you, my heart," he murmurs back, his voice thick with contentment. For a long while, they lie in comfortable silence, occasionally broken by soft hums and giggles, soaking in the peace of being exactly where they're meant to be, together.

The peaceful silence stretches, filled with unspoken tenderness. Sohyun’s fingers, still idly tracing patterns on the back of Sunwoo's hand, drift slowly upwards along his arm. She feels the warmth of his skin. The gentle sway of the water beneath their villa, combined with their close proximity, ignites a different kind of heat within her. She feels his intense gaze, a palpable weight on the back of her head, a type of intensity that sears, as if his eyes could ignite her skin. When she finally looks behind, the playfulness in his eyes has deepened, mixed now with a tender longing. He leans down, not for her forehead this time, but for her lips, a slow, deliberate approach that promises a new kind of paradise.

The cool air of the villa now feels insignificant against the heat building between them. When he pulls back slightly, his eyes never leave hers, a silent question passing between them. Sohyun’s heart hammers a joyous rhythm, and she presses closer; her answer is clear in the way she presses her lips to his once more, a soft, affirmative gesture. “Come on, my heart,” he urges, his breath hot against her face. “Let’s not waste any more time.” She nods, already reaching for the hem of his shirt, while he reaches for the waistband of her skirt.

The soft rustle of clothes sliding to the floor is the only sound apart from their quickening breaths. Sunwoo’s hands glide over Sohyun’s skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. He lifts her slightly, positioning her more comfortably beneath him on the yielding mattress. Through the large window, the setting sun casts a fiery orange glow across the water, painting their skin in warm hues, but it's the internal fire that consumes them now.

“Take me…”

Her soft, whispered words send his heart into overdrive, each deep pulse rippling through his body. Sunwoo leans down, his head invading the crook of her neck. “You’re mine,” he growls, the possessiveness in his voice searing her ear. “You’re mine and only mine.” Swallowing a gulp that is stuck in her throat, Sohyun nods, her heart bumping in her chest under the pressure of his firm torso. “Y-yes. I-I’m yours, oppa…”

Sunwoo slides his hips forwards, but her sudden pinch on his arm stops him right away. “O-oppa…” she whispers, her eyes searching for signs of annoyance or perhaps anger on his face. “I… I’m sorry, but can we take this slow—just this round, I promise.” With a soft smile playing on his lips, he nods, stroking her cheek softly, his thumb gliding on her face, just below her eye. “Of course, my love. Let’s do it like it’s our first time again,” he confirms. His features soften completely, a profound tenderness in his gaze, radiant with sincere, unconditional love and care for her.

Sunwoo leans down once more, placing a peck on her forehead and the bridge of her nose, soothing any lingering apprehension. “Like it’s our first time…” she repeats in a whisper, the memory of their first night together flashing in her mind. “I was scared, oppa, but you were patient—very patient,” she continues, her eyelids slowly closing, a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips. A soft, almost disbelieving chuckle escapes him; never had Sunwoo known he had that level of patience, but Sohyun truly brought the best out of him.

Momentarily lifting her head off the pillow, Sohyun offers a quick, urgent peck to his cheek, the stubble sending small electric jolts through her body. “Let’s do it, oppa. I won’t bleed like that time, but you know I would if I could.” Without a word, Sunwoo moves, guiding his member towards her core, both exhaling sharply as his tip brushes against her intimate folds. “Come on—oh, God, yes…”

He hesitates for only a breath, allowing her words and the significant memory of their first night to settle between them. Then, with a slow, deliberate push, Sunwoo eases into her, a soft groan escaping his throat as her body stretches to accommodate him. Sohyun gasps, a sharp intake of air, her nails lightly digging into his shoulders.

“Claim me all over again, oppa.”

“I’m yours, my love.”

“Yes, just like that, baby.”

“I love you.”

Their whispered words of passion mingle in the air, joining her soft moans and his deep groans. The pace, relaxed and unhurried as it is, feels comfortable and appropriate, a dear reminder of their precious memory of lost innocence.

He begins to move faster, establishing a deliberate rhythm that offsets the quiet, deep pulse of the ocean beneath their villa. Each thrust is a sweet rediscovery, each familiar curve and plane of her body a landscape he knows by heart yet feels brand new. It's a profound journey back to a cherished beginning. Sohyun’s breath hitches with every measured retreat and advance, her fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer still.

“Oppa…” she mutters, her deep voice soft in his ear. “I’m… I’m grateful for you—oh, yes, that’s good…” Sunwoo’s peck lands on her lips, a wave of tenderness washing over him, the warmth in his heart growing along his arousal. “More than you know, baby,” he murmurs, groaning slightly. “God, you’re so hot, so good.”

Sohyun lifts her hips, meeting his deep thrusts at a better angle. “Come on, oppa. Harder,” she urges, lost completely in the exquisite friction, with only him and this sensation in her mind. Planting his knees into the mattress, Sunwoo picks up the pace, his hands gripping down on her wrists. As the pace grows, so do her moans, the sound filling their bedroom—no one better be staying in the next room.

The rhythm builds, a frantic, accelerating drumbeat that consumes them both. Sohyun’s body tightens around his, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps as the pressure inside her coils tighter and tighter. Sunwoo’s grunts become ragged, his eyes fixed on hers, a silent, desperate plea for release. Then, with a shuddering cry from Sohyun and a deep, guttural roar from Sunwoo, they shatter, exploding into a shared, overwhelming wave of pure ecstasy. He collapses onto her, heavy and spent, their skin slick with sweat, the only sounds now their ragged breaths slowly calming in the quiet hum of the villa.

With the last bit of energy she has, Sohyun locks her ankles behind his back, keeping him lodged snugly in her core. “That’s new,” Sunwoo teases, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. “Trying to get pregnant?” Chuckling, she lightly smacks him on the back, hiding her genuine interest in carrying his child behind the gesture. “Just savoring the warmth,” she dodges. “Sure, baby. Just savoring the warmth,” he whispers back, a smile now fully present on his lips.

After a few more minutes of blissful silence, Sunwoo stirs, gently disentangling himself. “How about a shower, my love?” he suggests, his voice still thick with recent passion. “Then, we can head out. Maybe take a little walk or hang out at the entertainment area.” Sohyun stretches, a soft groan of contentment escaping her, her body feeling pleasantly heavy and relaxed. "Sounds good, oppa," she agrees, slowly sitting up, the glow of their shared intimacy still radiating from them both as they begin to gather their wits for the next phase of their paradise.

After the relaxed, laughter-filled shower, their skin still prickling with warmth from the steaming water and shared giggles, the pair heads to the entertainment area, their fingers tangled together in a warmth that mimics the setting sun. Sohyun’s eyes widen at the sight of an arrangement of musical instruments, and she bounces slightly on her toes, tugging his hand as excitement bubbles in her chest. “Oppa, oppa,” she frantically calls to him. “Can we sing to each other—you know, like that time?” She looks at him from the side as a smile spread on his lips, the corner of his eyes creasing. “Yeah, we sure can. I have some songs I’d like to sing to you,” he agrees.

With the exciting thought of being sung to in her mind, Sohyun nearly tumbles onto the sofa, her butt landing on the cushion with a soft bounce, a joyful jolt going through her. “Come on, come on!” she urges, already so eager to listen to what he has in store for her. Chuckling slightly, Sunwoo heads to the mic on a stand, grabbing a guitar from the nearby stand on his way. He flicks the small switch on the side and taps the head a few times. A soft pop echoes from the speakers. “Is this thing on?” he murmurs, his voice amplified and clear, coming out in confirmation.

Oh, I hope you know I will carry you home, Whether it’s tonight or fifty-five years down the road. Oh, I know there’s so many ways that this could go. Don’t want you to wonder, darlin’, I need you to know.

The soft, almost whispered opening sends a shiver down her spine. Not because this is a hit song, no—this is about the promise of staying together through the ups and downs, a melody echoing the quiet fears she sometimes harbors and the unwavering hope he always brings. When he flashes her a smile, a silent affirmation of every lyric, a soft gasp escapes her, her vision getting blurry by the unshed tears threatening to spill out.

We were talking to the sunset. Throwin’ dreams against the wall. I know none of them have stuck yet, But I bet it on you, honey. Oh, I would risk it all.

Sunwoo stops to take a breath, his heart racing as he prepares for the chorus. Flashing the teary woman another smile, he returns his wit back to the song, his fingers ready to strike the chords and shake her heart, perhaps also the walls.

These days, these nights are changing. Mama, my mind is set on you. I’m not afraid to say it, to say it’s true. Oh, I hope you know I will carry you home, Whether it’s tonight or fifty-five years down the road. Oh, I know there’s so many ways that this could go. Don’t want you to wonder, darlin’, I need you to know, In this and every life, I choose us every time.

Sohyun can only look at him as the song continues. No, this is not just a song. This is his heart laid bare before her in such a beautiful, private display. Her tears finally spill over, leaving wet trails down her cheeks. He continues to sing, his own eyes growing shiny with emotion, the raw honesty of the moment filling the space between them. The guitar chords resonate deeply, each strum echoing the earnest beat of his heart. By the time the last notes fade, a profound silence falls, thick with unshed tears and an overwhelming sense of love that needs no further words.

His gaze leaves her, drifting to the side, and a hint of a proud, playful smile touches his lips as if acknowledging someone else’s presence. A sharp gasp flies out of her lips when she sees what's up: a dozen pairs of eyes, soft with admiration, meet hers from the dimness behind the sofa. There’s a crowd, watching Sunwoo sing his heart out. “My wife,” Sunwoo says, introducing her to the crowd with a proud smile on his face. “We’re having a honeymoon here.” Covering her mouth, Sohyun offers some polite nods while desperately trying to blink her tears back. “You have a good husband,” an elderly woman says to Sohyun, her thick European accent adding more warmth to the praise.

Sohyun offers another rapid series of bows and nods, her face burning, desperately wishing the sofa had a trapdoor. Sunwoo, however, is beaming, reveling in her discomfort and the admiration of their impromptu audience. He presses a quick kiss to her forehead. "Come on, love," he whispers playfully, his arm gently guiding her up from the sofa. "Let's find some dinner before they ask for an encore." He leads her away from the admiring gazes, her hand still tangled in his, their shared laughter echoing softly through the lounge.

Sunwoo leads her through the resort’s gently lit pathways, the scent of grilled seafood thick in the evening air. Sohyun, still giggling softly, occasionally glances back, half-expecting applause, before turning her attention fully to him. They find a table at the quiet, open-air restaurant overlooking the ocean. She sits next to him, cradling his hands in her lap, stroking them gently.

“Thank you, oppa,” she whispers, her gaze drifting to the distant waves in the sea. “You’re welcome, my love,” he whispers back, pulling her closer. “You liked the song, didn’t you?” With a chuckle, Sohyun pinches his wrist lightly, her eyes turning shiny again. “I did, but what do you think will happen in 55 years?” Sunwoo sighs, the smile on his lips fading, caught off guard by her question. “I don’t know, honestly, but whatever it is… I hope I’ll still be with you.”

Sohyun tightens her grip on his hands, a sense of quiet comfort settling over her at his honest vulnerability. "Me too, oppa," she whispers, her voice thick with emotion. "I hope we'll be those old people… still bickering playfully, still holding hands as we watch the sunset, just like this." Sunwoo's smile slowly returns, a tender, wistful expression. "That sounds like a future worth fighting for, my heart.” He lifts her hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Now, why don’t we get some food in our belly, hm?”

The pair heads out of the restaurant hand in hand, fingers tangled tightly, their faces bright with contentment of the moment they are sharing. As they walk through the entertainment area once more, a familiar flutter rises within Sohyun, the fresh memory of being sung to coming back in a rush, turning her cheeks warm. “You alright, love?” Sunwoo catches on to her sudden change of attitude. Biting her lips, she nods, only able to lift her gaze as high as his lips. “Yeah,” she mutters. “Just… still getting the butterflies, right here," she whispers, pressing his hand against her chest.

Sunwoo’s smile is gentle, understanding. He stops their walk, turning fully to face her, his hands coming up to cup her face softly. "Even after all this time?" he teases, but his eyes are serious, full of adoration. Sohyun leans into his touch, her own smile blooming. "Especially now," she whispers. They stand there for a moment, simply holding each other's gaze, the soft glow of the lanterns casting long shadows around them. A few resort guests walk past, offering soft smiles, sensing the quiet, profound bubble of intimacy that surrounds the newlyweds.

“Let me sing for you, oppa. Let me show you just how much you mean to me.” Her spoken intent sends a shiver down his spine. Knowing Sohyun, she’ll pick a song with tender lyrics and pour her heart into singing it, possibly leaving Sunwoo in a wet-eyed mess. "Go on, then,” he slowly pushes her to the piano, the sleek, dark wood gleaming under the soft lights, his breath already getting shaky. “Sing for me and make me cry.”

Settling on the same cushion she sat on, Sunwoo looks at her intently, his eyes turning glassy simply from the anticipation in his chest. He takes a few deep, shaky breaths, his chest rising and falling visibly, as Sohyun starts pressing different keys, filling the room with soft notes. “Are we ready?” she teases, not looking at her husband initially. Turning her head towards him, she finds his eyes, and recognizes the raw vulnerability shining in their depths, signs of sincere emotions clear for her to see. “Ah, I think we are.”

Maybe it’s the way you say my name. Maybe it’s the way you play your game. But it’s so good, I’ve never known anybody like you. But it’s so good, I’ve never dreamed of nobody like you. And I’ve heard of a love that comes once in a lifetime. And I’m pretty sure that you are that love of mine.

Sohyun closes her eyes, tears slipping through the lids and flowing down her cheeks. She’s sung this song to a man who once held her heart, but to finally sing this song again, after this many years, for this man who holds her heart now and forevermore, feels… heavier.

‘Cause I’m in a field of dandelions, Wishing on every one that you’d be mine, mine. And I see forever in your eyes. I feel okay when I see you smile, smile. Wishing on dandelions all of the time. Praying to God that one day you’ll be mine.

Fighting through the flood of tears, Sohyun plays on, the melody weaving through the air, her voice clear. Her eyes remain closed, lost in emotion, pouring her entire heart into every note, every word. This very song, sung in this precise moment, in this exact paradise, feels like a culmination of everything they've been through, everything they are, and everything they hope to be. Sunwoo, utterly captivated, feels a lump in his throat, unable to speak, only able to witness this raw, beautiful outpouring of her soul through his wet eyes.

Dandelion, into the wind you go. Won’t you let my darling know? Dandelion, into the wind you go. Won’t you let my darling know that, I’m in a field of dandelions, Wishing on every one that you’d be mine, mine. Oh, and I see forever in your eyes. I feel okay when I see you smile, smile. Wishing on dandelions all of the time. Praying to God that one day you’ll be mine. Wishing on dandelions all of the time, all of the time. I’m in a field of dandelions, Wishing on every one that you’d be mine, mine.

Sohyun continues to pour her heart into the final chorus, her voice a raw, beautiful testament to her love, the words hanging in the air like a sacred vow. When the last, lingering note of the piano finally fades into the quiet evening, the silence that follows is profound, broken only by the soft, rhythmic lapping of the ocean waves outside. Sohyun keeps her eyes closed, still lost in the afterglow of emotion. Sunwoo, still unable to speak, pushes himself from the sofa and walks to her, gently kneeling next to her, his own tears finally tracking paths down his cheeks as he reaches out to cup her face.

Sunwoo's thumbs gently wipe away her tears, his touch tender, reverent. "My love," he chokes out, his voice thick with emotion, barely a whisper. "My beautiful, beautiful Sohyun." She leans into his hands, her own gripping his wrists, feeling the strong pulse beneath her fingers. "I’m yours," she whispers back, her voice still hoarse from the song and tears. "Always yours." His lips find hers then, a soft, tear-salted kiss that speaks not of passion, but of profound understanding, of promises kept and futures secured.

For a long moment, they remain like that, intertwined in the quiet hum of the villa, the gentle lapping of the ocean a distant, soothing rhythm. Sunwoo's hands cup her face, his gaze holding hers, a universe of unspoken words passing between them. Sohyun feels a sense of complete peace settling over her, a deep, warm contentment that fills every cell of her being. Finally, Sunwoo gently helps her to her feet. "Let's head back, my heart," he whispers, his voice still a little husky. "And just… bask in this feeling." Hand in hand, they walk slowly, the resort lights blurring around them as they head to their haven in heaven.

Sohyun grabs his hand and pulls with surprising strength, dragging Sunwoo to bed, her tears replaced with a calm, serenade smile. “Oppa,” she calls, her voice gaining a playful edge. “Did you like the song? You liked the song, right?” Nodding, he offers a peck to her lips. Fleeting it may be, but that doesn’t take anything away from the gesture. “I did. I’ve always liked listening to you singing,” he assures, squeezing her arm lightly. “It was a beautiful song too.”

“A beautiful song, sung by a beautiful woman,” she muses, locking eyes with him. “How about I give you some beautiful children?” Swallowing the lump stuck in his throat, Sunwoo maintains his calm demeanor, but it would be a blatant lie to say he doesn’t want to have children with her. “Children, love? This soon?” he asks, his eyes searching for mischief in hers but only finding honesty. “Yes, children. Plural.”

While Sunwoo’s grip on her wrist tightens, his gaze softens, moving from her eyes to her lips, then sweeping across her face, scanning for any sign of doubt one last time. Finding none, he sighs, a sound of profound delight. "You think we can have twins?" he teases gently, his thumb caressing her cheek. Sohyun giggles, leaning into his touch. "I mean, maybe we can? You’ll never know if you never try."

Feeling a sudden surge of strength, Sunwoo climbs on top of her, his breathing growing quicker as his arousal level rises. “Oh, we will try, sweetheart,” he growls, his face hovering dangerously close over hers. “Yeah? How many times will we try?” she counters, a hint of playful rebellion woven in her voice. “As many times as we can, until one of us passes out.” Sohyun nods, agreeing to indulge him in this attempt to not only conceive, but conceive twins. “Alright,” she takes a deep breath to steady herself, “let’s do it, oppa.”

Sohyun undoes the three buttons of her cardigan, exposing the white undergarment that barely contains her plentiful bosoms. “These,” she palms her breasts, her fingers digging into the flesh, “these will feed our twins, oppa.” Sunwoo bites his lip slightly, his eyes turning dark with desire. “But can they feed me first?” he quips, but lust is clear in his tone. She smirks, infected by his arousal. “Why don’t we see for ourselves, hm?”

Grabbing the hem of the undergarment, Sohyun tries to lift it over her head, but Sunwoo manages to tear it down the middle first, the intrusive sound slicing through the evening air. “Oh my God, oppa…” she mutters, her heart racing at his action. “You’re crazy…” With a chuckle, he pecks her on the lips, pulling away with a naughty smirk on his face. “I am. I’m crazy for you.”

Sohyun laughs breathlessly, a wild, delighted sound that echoes in the villa. "Crazy for me, huh?" she whispers in a deep voice, her hands reaching up to cup his face, pulling him down for a deep, searing kiss. Her fingers, still tingling from the shock of the torn garment, now eagerly explore the bare skin of his neck and shoulders. "Well, oppa," she murmurs against his lips, her voice laced with challenge. "If you're that crazy for me, then make me pregnant." Her body presses against his, urging him onward, ready to be consumed by his passion.

He doesn’t say anything back, going straight to claiming her lips in a searing kiss. As Sunwoo gropes her tits, Sohyun places her hands over his, egging him on to keep going, to keep playing with her assets. Her moans, released into the kiss, entice him even more, pulling him deeper into the temptation of lust. “I’m going to be sore all over,” she quickly thinks, already seeing the outcome before even starting.

Eventually, Sunwoo pulls away from the kiss, registering Sohyun’s flushed, breathless face right away. “Heh,” he chuckles lightly, “I can’t tell if you’re tired or aroused—surely you’re not tired already, are you?” She chuckles back, shaking her head as both an answer and a gesture of amusement. “Not tired, no,” she says. “But still, I need some air.”

Giving her some breathing room, Sunwoo gets off the bed, giving her a quick peck to the lips before leaving to grab a bottle of water for the post-coital care. When he returns, Sohyun has already taken everything off, the torn garment joining its friends on the floor. Lying on her belly, she wiggles her plump rear from side to side, urging him to come and take her. She really knows how to tempt him.

Sunwoo grips the bottle harder at the alluring sight before him, a physical testament to his attempt at maintaining grip on his self-control. “Look at you, oppa. So tense and horny, like you can’t wait to put your child in me—no, seriously, look at yourself in the mirror.” Following her finger, Sunwoo spots himself in the mirror: straight posture, erect manhood—the man is indeed tense and horny. “It’s just the things you do to me, baby girl,” he mutters, his voice a low groan. “Just the things you do to me.”

Placing the bottle on the bedside table, Sunwoo comes in for a kiss, his fingers landing on her back, just below her nape. “Love, hey,” he begins, finding clarity of mind amidst the storm of desire. “I know we’ve been teasing each other about getting pregnant and all that, but know that if we don’t conceive tonight, I will hold nothing against you.” His hand moves up, gently pressing down on her nape, as if soothing some frayed nerve endings. “After all, getting pregnant is a two-person dance, isn’t it?” Sohyun smiles, content with both his words and his tender ministration. “Yes, it is, and I really want to dance with you.”

Climbing onto bed, Sunwoo mounts her thighs, his knees sinking into the mattress. “Let’s dance, my love,” he murmurs, his steady voice carrying promise of a pleasurable time. With one hand around his member, he slides himself into her waiting, willing core, his breath taken away by her warmth. “Oh, baby…” he mumbles, his eyes fluttering as he moves his hips back and forth, testing the shared position. “You’re so hot, so good…”

Sohyun closes her eyes, a sigh of bliss escaping her lips as he settles into her. Resting her chin on her pillow, she lets out soft, whispered moans, loud enough for his ears but not for the next-door tenants. “Only you deserve to get me pregnant, my love.” Different iterations of this thought fill her mind, each one unspoken testament to her devotion to him and their shared journey.

She can only obey when Sunwoo pulls her hips up, instinctively supporting the rest of her body with her arms. “N-nothing too rough, please,” she begs, looking at him over her shoulder with pleading eyes. “I’ll try not to—just hang on, baby,” he replies simply. Swallowing a lump in her throat, Sohyun grips the sheets hard, bracing for the impact his hips are about to deliver. “I… I’m ready.”

Sohyun's breath hitches as he moves, not with the explosive force she braced for, but with a deep, consuming pressure that is both intense and exquisitely controlled. “He listens,” she thinks briefly. A wave of tenderness washes over her, mingling with the rising tide of pure sensation. This is their dance: his strength meeting her vulnerability, his control meeting her trust. The bed creaks softly beneath them, a rhythmic testament to their intertwined bodies and the deep, silent conversation they were having, each movement a word, each breath a shared confession.

Her arms fold beneath her, her body slumped over the mattress, fully trusting him to not be overly rough with her. “Yes, oppa, just like that,” she mumbles, her voice thick with need. The moans continue to spill out of her lips, mixing with his groans in the bedroom air. “You got it, baby,” he replies, his fingers digging comfortably into the flesh of her hips. “Exactly like this for round one.” Sohyun gasps; the implication of his words—that it’s just the beginning—fills her with excitement, quietly promising him that she will do her best to keep up until the end.

Soon, his member twitches inside her, triggering her core to spasm around him. “Mmh! Mmh!” Her moans turn to gasps, her orgasm closing in rapidly. Sensing the same thing, Sunwoo picks up the pace, his hips snapping with urgency. “Oppa! Oppa, fu—” Sohyun plants her face into the pillow, stifling herself from cursing; he doesn’t like it when she curses too much during sex. “Just let go, baby. Let go for me!” he growls, his groans getting louder by the second. Finally, with a deep grunt, Sunwoo lodges himself as deep as he can in her, filling her core to the brim with his potent seed. “Oh my God, Park Sohyun…” he mutters, his voice raspy.

After he pulls out, Sohyun settles on her side, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her skin shiny with sweat. “Thank you, baby. That was amazing,” he spoons her from behind, his hand tracing circles on her belly, as if stimulating it to rise, “I hope you don’t mind going again after this.” Smiling softly, she places her hand on his, joining him in rubbing her belly. “No, I don’t. I want to have your child, and there’s only one way to make sure it takes.” Sunwoo chuckles, both amused and touched by her unshakeable willingness to conceive. “Alright, baby, we’ll go again after this, okay?”

Having regained strength, Sohyun moves to sit on his thighs, his half-erect manhood hovering over her belly. She looks down at it, her eyes turning darker with reignited want, and a smirk starts to spread across her features. “What are we thinking, love?” he asks, his brows rising with intrigue. Her sharp, dark gaze meets his, the smirk of arousal prominent on her face. “I’m thinking about giving you my last innocence, but anal sex cannot make me pregnant.”

The mention of such an proposition sends blood rushing to his manhood, making it fully hard and erect in a split second. “Anal sex…” Sunwoo echoes, his mind clouded with lust once again. “Mhmm, anal sex,” Sohyun confirms, teasing the head of his member with her fingers. “Giving you that would mean the ultimate submission, oppa.” His hands grip her hips hard, a contrast that cannot be starker; his grip on self-control is slipping quickly.

Sohyun's smirk widens, pleased by his palpable loss of control. "Getting hard just from thinking about it, oppa?" she taunts, her fingers moving lower, caressing the throbbing shaft, drawing another low groan from him. "But imagine the reality for a second, hm?" She leans in, her lips brushing his ear. "It won't make us those twins—or any child for that matter," she whispers, her voice laced with wicked promise. "But it will make me yours, in a way you've never been before." Her provocative words, combined with her touch, are the final push, shattering the last semblance of his self-restraint.

Sunwoo beckons her closer with a flick of his finger, the true depth of his lust lying beneath his sharp gaze. Sohyun bends down, getting her ears ready to hear his demand to surrender her forbidden crevice. “Give it to me, Park Sohyun. Give it to me, and I’ll make you mine in every way possible.” Her breath hitches at his demand; she’s got him exactly where she wants him to be, yes, but his size meeting her tightness… that sounds rather intimidating—but she’s not backing down. “Yes, sir…” she whispers, her voice laced with submission, her breath hot against his ear.

Sohyun gets off of him, settling on all fours and exposing all her private parts to his exploring gaze. “Remind me, baby—what is it you’re offering me?” he taunts, his finger tracing a line over her previously filled slit. Fighting back a moan, she manages to stammer out an answer for him, “M-my… my ass…”

Feeling a subtle pressure of his index finger on her tight, untouched rectum, Sohyun gasps loudly, her grip on the sheets tensing imperceptibly. “This is going to hurt, though,” Sunwoo traces the circular shape of her forbidden entrance, “are you sure? You still have a chance to back out.” She shakes her head firmly, driven only by her desire to fully surrender to him. “I-I think first times are meant to hurt—erm, t-that’s what make them special, o-oppa.”

Sohyun's last stammered words, though laced with a nervous tremor, spark a new fire in Sunwoo’s eyes. He pulls his finger away, letting the air cool the sensitive spot for a moment—but Sohyun doesn't wait. Driven by her earlier declaration of complete surrender, she subtly shifts her hips, a slight tilt that is all the invitation he needs. "Please, oppa. Take me," she whispers, her voice barely audible, pushing through the fear, desperate for the profound intimacy she's offering.

Sunwoo perches on his knees behind her, the sight of her most sacred parts helping him stay hard as a rock. He covers his erect manhood with as much spit as he can, hoping the wetness will ease the pain of first penetration. Satisfied with the coat he’s got, he lines up his member with her puckered opening—all he needs now is a green light. “Are we ready?” he asks, lust woven in his tone. Sohyun takes a few deep breaths, steadying herself before giving up the last innocence she has, before giving into the taboo. “Make me yours, oppa.”

Gritting his teeth, Sunwoo pushes forwards, the tip of him fighting to stretch her tight ring, to get past the snug muscle. “Oh my God, fuck…” he lets a curse slip through his lips, his eyelids flitting at the sensation of her impossibly taut grip. He moves his hips forwards in a testing manner, gauging her reaction while also adapting to this feeling. “Oh, fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby…” he mumbles, truly lost in her.

Sohyun's breath hitches, her body trembling beneath him, but she lets out a soft moan of surrender, signaling her willingness. Sunwoo groans, the sound deep and primal, as he pushes more of himself into her, slowly but surely, until he’s completely buried in her. A collective gasp escapes both their lips as he fills her to the brim, the searing burn replaced by a new kind of exquisite pressure. He pauses, allowing them both to adjust to the profound invasion, his entire body shaking with the effort of holding still. "All mine," he rasps, his voice raw with triumph and overwhelming possession. “All... all yours, daddy.”

Sohyun turns her head to the side, showing him a nod—that’s another green light to him. Sunwoo pulls back, until only his tip is in her rear, before plunging forwards once more, hitting the deepest spot and drawing out another soft moan from her. “You like that?” She nods breathlessly to his question, still adjusting to the intrusion. “One more time, then.” Repeating the movement, he puts more strength into it this time, his head spinning at how tight her anal muscles are hugging his member. “Oh, fuck, that’s fucking good, baby,” he growls, the deep tone burning her ears.

Sohyun's fingers dig into the sheets, her back arching slightly with each powerful, deliberate thrust. The initial, burning discomfort is now a distant memory, replaced by a deep, throbbing pleasure that resonates through her entire body. She starts to move with him, a primal, instinctive sway of her hips that matches his rhythm perfectly. Her moans grow louder, more uninhibited, a symphony of sheer delight that spurs Sunwoo on, driving him deeper, harder, lost in the exquisite, forbidden dance they were now expertly performing.

Sunwoo's focus sharpens, every nerve ending alive to the way her body moves with his, the way her moans rise in exquisite delight. A deep satisfaction, far beyond mere physical gratification, blooms in his chest. He pushes deeper, harder, driven now by the sheer joy of providing her with such profound pleasure. "That's it, my love," he rasps, his voice ragged with desire and triumph, his rhythm becoming a relentless, insistent claim, demanding every ounce of sensation from her, from them both.

Gathering her might, Sohyun lifts her torso, leaning against his chest as they keep moving together. “Fill my ass, daddy. Claim me, ruin me, use me,” she mumbles, lost in the sea of eros, just like he is. At her urging voice, Sunwoo ruts into her with more fervor, his length fully disappearing in her anus at every thrust. “Look at you, baby,” he gropes her full bosoms, squeezing them wildly, “one session of anal, and you’re already addicted.” A wicked grin, fueled with his praise, blooms on her face. “H-how can I not? Y-your cock is fucking perfect for me.”

Sunwoo’s grin widens, a dangerous gleam in his eyes at her raw confession. "Perfect for you, huh?" he growls, his voice deep and thick with satisfaction. He fastens his grip on her tits, pressing hot kisses to her skin as he continues to drive into her, relentlessly claiming her. "Then let's make sure you never forget it," he murmurs against her ear, his every thrust a potent reminder, his hands kneading her breasts, confirming his ownership, pulling her deeper into the delicious, all-consuming addiction she just admitted to.

Sunwoo lets out another guttural roar, his body trembling as the mind-numbing tightness pushes him closer to the edge. “Go on, say it,” he barks. “Say you want your ass filled.” Quickly taking a breath, Sohyun barks back, “Fill my ass with your seed! Please, daddy!” With the last bit of energy he has left, Sunwoo lodges himself fully in her anal crevice, releasing a load as big as the one he shot into her womb earlier. “Fuck!”

Drained, both collapse together, falling back into the mattress with no energy left in their tanks. “Sohyun, baby,” he whispers, his voice shaky from exhaustion. “Thank you so much. You’re amazing.” She nods weakly, her heart warm for two reasons: her taboo purity is his, and he’s satisfied by it. “T-thank you, oppa,” she manages, her entire body humming with remnants of the intense cherry-taking. “I-I’m truly yours now…” Another devilish smirk spreads across his lips, his ego bloating at her submissive admission, but it’s quickly replaced with a smile of gratitude. “You are, baby, and I’m yours. Never forget that, please.”

Sunwoo shifts slightly, pulling the sheet up to cover them both, though the Maldivian heat means it's more for comfort than warmth. He presses a soft kiss to her shoulder. "No regrets?" he whispers, a playful note in his exhausted voice. Sohyun giggles weakly. "None, oppa," she whispers back, tracing patterns on his arm. "Just… wow." He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Yeah. Wow. You were incredible, baby girl. Every single part of you."

For a long time, they lie there, bodies pressed together, the only sounds their ragged breaths slowly evening out and the soft hum of the villa's air conditioning. The intensity of the past hours dissipates, leaving behind a profound sense of peace and satisfaction. Sunwoo presses a soft, lingering kiss to her hair. "Rest, my love," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. Sohyun closes her eyes, a contented sigh escaping her lips. Utterly spent, yet more fulfilled than she'd ever imagined, she drifts towards sleep, secure in the warmth of his embrace, a truly claimed woman in this haven in heaven.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut

457 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 1 month ago

Text

How lovely.

Everyone, follow this fine writer. Tell 'em the owl sent you.

A love letter to writers

Sometimes i wish i had the words to say what i really feel about the stories i love and how much i love them.

With writers like @prael @octoberautumnbox @kooyabooya, @ggidolsmuts, @0cta9on , @erospandemos, @midatwrtr, @usedpidemo, @thewritingrowlet, @thelibrarian69 and so, so, so many other writers who have amazing fics and stories on here, its always a joy to me to open up tumblr and read.

Thats not to say i dont have a couple of good fics myself (at least by what 2,250 people think of them) but for me, the worlds they manage to build and the stories they tell through their words are the ones i love reading about the most.

I am probably yapping about fanficion and smut (and fluff) way too much but I just want to say thank you.

thank you for telling stories that i (and many others) enjoy reading, for writing characters that we can all love from both storytelling wise and just beauty/horny wise.

Thank you for every single writer mentioned here and also many others that weren't mentioned else this post will be the length of my future upload.

Thank you and hope you are having a lovely day, for now have a pretty Seeun

96 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 2 months ago

Note

I'm working on it, I promise

Like A Dragon has been so much fun, though.

Hi rowlet! I missed reading your stories coz life is beating me up pretty hard nowadays 🤧 time to read your releases that I missed out on 😅 anyway, when is the next TripleS fic coming? Not that I'm rushing you or anything btw 😉

- 🐺

Hi, hello.

First of all, let's pretend this message hasn't been sitting in my inbox for months.

Whichever gets more votes gets prioritized.

13 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 2 months ago

Note

- 🐺

Hi, hello.

First of all, let's pretend this message hasn't been sitting in my inbox for months.

Whichever gets more votes gets prioritized.

13 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 2 months ago

Text

The Flavors of Rivalry, ft. STAYC Isa

tags: creampie, (a hint of) breeding

length: 15k

author's note: That's the poll completed: three fics featuring three idols.

---

"Through here, sir."

Minjun nods, heading through the suggested door with urgency. His head is held high, his steps are quick, his gaze sharp. Moving through the sea of people and weaving through the bodies swiftly, his eyes sweep over faces, assessing—perhaps judging. His sharp gaze eventually lands on a woman in a tidy blazer, surrounded by others in matching attire. Minjun’s eyebrow rises, his lips curving into a demeaning smirk. "Azure." The name alone tastes like cheap, fleeting trends on his tongue, a company synonymous with a lack of tradition, of principles. The pin glinting on her blazer confirms it, and a knowing amusement flickers in his eyes. “Daddy's girl is here, huh?”

Minjun legs lock, his heels clacking loudly as he stops, and his escorting group stops behind him. Sensing the shifting tensions, the people from Azure cut their chatter, turning around slowly, as if physically bracing to face the big daddy of the industry. “Hi there,” he greets them dryly, his voice nearly completely devoid of respect. “Welcome to The Flavors Expo, ladies and gents.” They exchange glances, unsure of what to say to the man wearing a golden leaf pin. Eventually, a woman—the daddy’s girl, the heiress—emerges, facing Minjun with an unwavering resolve. “The Azure Taste Limited is humbled to be here,” she says, a calm, confident smile decorating her face, not a single tremor in her voice.

A ripple of hushed whispers spreads through the nearby booths. Seasoned industry veterans exchange knowing glances. This isn't just a polite introduction; it's the opening salvo in what promises to be a very public and very personal war. No one dares to intervene, mesmerized by the clash of two young, formidable wills. The air in the expo hall, already thick with the scent of competing flavors, suddenly crackles with raw, undiluted tension.

The woman extends an open hand, holding onto her coffee with the other. “My name is Lee Chaeyoung. May I ask what yours is?” Minjun’s expressions soften, not wanting to look too hostile right off the bat. “Park Minjun. Golden Leaf International,” he introduces himself, shaking her hand firmly, perhaps a fraction longer than strictly necessary. “Mister Park Minjun,” she echoes, the name instantly solidifying in her mind as both a benchmark and a formidable obstacle. “Would you like to have a sample, Mister Park?” He smiles, stifling a chuckle from leaving his lips, almost disgusted at the idea of having a taste of Azure’s flavor—but he must play nice, at least for now. “That would be amazing. What do you have?” he asks, carefully building a façade of friendliness.

Chaeyoung leads him towards a table lined with pre-filled pods, each one filled to the brim with her company’s flavors. “These are the fruity ones,” she traces a line over a row of bright-colored pods, “and those are our creamy ones. Please, have a taste.” Being a fan of dessert-like flavors, Minjun reaches for one labeled simply as caramel. He then takes a long puff, closing his eyes as the rich, buttery sweetness washes over his tongue, perfectly balanced and utterly familiar. For a fleeting moment, a sense of pure, unadulterated pleasure fills him, a recognition of true mastery—and his stomach twists with unease. It’s more than a passing feeling, though; it’s a jolt of alarm. Azure’s caramel tastes not just similar, but nearly identical to Golden Leaf’s top-selling Salted Silk.

Minjun's eyes snap open, the pleasant haze from the flavor vanishing. Pulling the pod away, his fingers tighten around it. A flicker of raw surprise, quickly masked, crosses his face. Chaeyoung, watching closely, catches the fleeting shadow that crosses his features before his practiced mask slides into place. He clears his throat as the last bit of cloud leaves his lips, offering Chaeyoung a tight, almost forced smile. "Remarkable," he states, the single word carefully neutral, but his mind is already a whirlwind of questions. How did they get so close? Is this a coincidence, a direct challenge, or worse, a leaked secret?

“This caramel blend of yours has quite the depth to it,” he continues, holding up the pod for a moment, “say, Miss Lee, what was your inspiration for this?” Chaeyoung looks away for a moment, hiding her satisfied grin behind the curtain of her hair. “I've always had a particular fondness for well-crafted caramel notes,” she confesses, her voice tinged with excitement. “And our team drew from a wide array of top-tier references when developing this blend.”

Minjun keeps his eyes on her. “References, huh? Like Salted Silk?” he wonders to himself, the words burning like an accusation in his mind, accusing her of copying the result of his team’s hard work. Cutting short the interaction, he takes a deliberate step back, putting distance between himself and the booth, even as he offers her a pair of curt, almost dismissive nods. “I think your R&D team deserves a pat on the back, Miss Lee.” Chaeyoung's hand comes up as she chuckles, covering her mouth in a gesture that is both demure and subtly triumphant, fitting for an heiress of an evolving empire. Even if he perceives it as built on shaky grounds—a new brand standing on no tradition, trying to make a name for themselves—Azure can still pose a threat, and emperors like the Golden Leaf don’t like threats.

Minjun turns abruptly, signaling his escort with a sharp gesture. "We have a meeting with the Chamber of Commerce in five minutes," he states, his voice low and clipped, devoid of the earlier feigned pleasantries. Walking away, his gaze flicks back to Chaeyoung and the Azure booth one last time, the image of that perfectly replicated caramel flavor burning behind his eyes. This isn't just competition; it's an insult to the throne.

The initial jolt of alarm from The Flavors Expo morphs into a cold, hard resolve for Minjun. He dedicates the next few weeks to dissecting Azure's market entry, commissioning detailed reports on their supply chain, their patent filings, and even their recruitment strategies. The sheer audacity of their caramel clone still chafes. Golden Leaf's legal team is put on high alert, meticulously reviewing every flavor profile, every branding choice for potential infringement or reverse-engineering tactics. Minjun isn't interested in a public skirmish; he's mapping out a strategic blockade, finding every possible leverage point to corner Azure before they can truly establish a foothold.

“Mr. Park, sir,” a manager calls to him, his gaze darting around the room, his fingers fiddling with his pen as he speaks. “May I suggest hiring some private investigators to look into this?” Minjun exhales, leaning back in his sleek, leather-wrapped chair, the vapor cloud of Salted Silk hovering over his head, a cold reminder of Azure’s brazen challenge. "Keep talking, Mr. Shin," Minjun says, his voice a low rumble. “Sir, we have a reason to believe there might have been a breach,” Mr. Shin replies, his voice gaining a nervous confidence. “There is no way anyone could make something this similar to our stuff without someone leaking the development recipe.”

Minjun’s sharp gaze stays locked on the manager, taking another puff of Salted Silk as he considers the idea. “Does anyone else have another idea, because I don’t see any other way?” he asks the other managers who remain glued to their seats, their faces carefully blank, unwilling to risk suggesting a flawed alternative and igniting the wrath of the big boss. A heavy silence fills the room, broken only by the hum of the air conditioning. "No?" Minjun's voice drops, a dangerous edge to it. "Well, ain't that disappointing." He points his vape pod at Mr. Shin. “Can you assure me that your investigators can be discreet?” Mr. Shin nods slowly, understanding the weight behind his question. “Certainly, sir. They operate outside the usual corporate channels, thus minimizing direct risk to Golden Leaf's reputation.”

Minjun abruptly rises from his seat, slamming the pod onto the table. “This,” he points at it, “is a fucking insult to us.” His fiery gaze scans the faces of the managers before him, each person not daring to look back at him. “I expect everyone to do their part in finding the root of this. You're dismissed—and please excuse my language.”

One person after the other leaves, and as Mr. Shin prepares to join his fellow managers, Minjun grabs his wrist, his fingers wrapped firmly around the sleeve of his suit. “Get me Lee Chaeyoung’s number, Mr. Shin,” he demands. The man simply nods, knowing better than to ask twice, already thinking of ways to get what the boss wants. “By the way,” he continues, “make sure security always checks everyone when they enter and leave the building. Refusing to comply will result in immediate dismissal.”

Settling back in his seat, Minjun pulls out another pod from his pocket: Tiramisu Twist. He grips the pod hard, imagining what it would be like if someone were to clone this flavor. The one he created with his own hands, back when he was serving as the Head of R&D under his father. The one he spent countless hours perfecting until it was deemed good enough for the big boss. The one he keeps coming back to whenever he yearns for comfort.

“Clone this, and I’ll burn Azure myself, Lee Chaeyoung,” he murmurs, staring right into the empty seat across from him, imagining Chaeyoung sitting in it—just the image of her grin makes him hot. He takes a slow, deep puff of the Tiramisu Twist, basking in the gentle sweetness covering his tongue, the slight hint of bitterness the perfect closing note of the flavor. “No one gets to insult the Golden Leaf, and definitely not a company without tradition like yours.”

The scorching heat of summer has now been replaced by the calm, more soothing breeze of autumn. The heat in Minjun’s heart is still as fiery as before, though. If anything, it's burning even hotter; the confidential report, detailing how one of his R&D personnel stole Salted Silk's base formula and sent it to competitors, lies scrambled on his desk. It ignites the beast sleeping in his chest.

The report's findings replay in his head: "Former R&D Lead, Kim Dongho, terminated due to insubordination, accepted a position with Azure two weeks prior to their 'Caramel' launch." The name burns. Minjun doesn’t say a word, his gaze drifting out of the window of his office. This is him; mild irritation will make him run his mouth, but one that is deeper, heavier will stifle it. The silence stretches long, only broken by the sound of his pod’s puffs. He was hoping that the chilling sensation of menthol from this Watermelon Whirl could help his mind relax, but it doesn’t feel like it at the moment.

A fleeting image flashes through Minjun's mind: Kim Dongho, years ago, a bright-eyed, eager R&D intern, nervously presenting a flavor concept. Minjun had mentored him, seen his potential, trusted him. The betrayal cuts deeper than any corporate espionage; it's a personal wound. “What happened, Dongho-yah? Is this about that second-grade mango I told you to make, the one you had come up with—we didn’t have the materials for that, though,” he mumbles, wondering what could have made Dongho to stab him in the back.

He shakes his head, dispelling the ghost of the past. The lingering phantom taste of second-grade mango fades, replaced by the bitter tang of betrayal. "It doesn't matter," Minjun mutters, his voice devoid of emotion. What matters is the present. What matters is the enemy now holding a piece of him. He pulls out his phone, the screen already illuminated with Lee Chaeyoung’s contact, courtesy of Mr. Shin.

Minjun presses the call button, closing his eyes as he waits for her to pick up, taking another long puff for good luck. Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long. “That’s brave,” he thinks quickly; CEOs don’t usually pick up calls from unknown numbers. “Good morning, Miss Lee,” he greets her, his voice flat and controlled. “Good morning. Is this Mr. Park Minjun from Golden Leaf?” she asks, her voice calm, almost too calm, without a hint of surprise.

Minjun’s eyebrows furrow, but his voice remains flat, staying solid. "Indeed it is, Miss Lee," he replies, his gaze fixed on the cityscape outside his window. "I'm calling about that caramel flavor you were showcasing at The Flavors Expo." He pauses, stringing together a sentence to continue. “I won’t waste your time, Miss Lee, so let me ask you this: did you or did you not receive the development recipe for Salted Silk from a certain Kim Dongho?”

A beat of silence, heavy with unspoken tension, stretches across the line, each side trying to be one step ahead of the other. “Mr. Park,” she replies, her calm voice suddenly carrying a sharp edge. “I’m not sure what gives you the idea that Dongho-oppa gave Azure any development recipe.” Minjun’s eyes blink rapidly, and soon, his lips stretch into a smirk—he’s caught her lacking.

“Dongho-oppa, hey? Is that what you call him over there?” he taunts, keeping his voice controlled despite the urge to burst out laughing. "A cute nickname for a corporate spy, wouldn't you say, Miss Lee?" He pauses, letting the silence twist. "Here's what's going to happen. You can either cooperate with our investigation into your... acquisition of our intellectual property, or Golden Leaf International will make sure the name of Azure Taste Limited becomes synonymous with corporate theft. Your choice, Miss Lee. Oh, and I don’t give a piss about Kim Dongho,” he adds, his fingers gripping his phone hard, a testament to the fire in his heart.

The line hums with the weight of Minjun's ultimatum. For a long moment, Chaeyoung says nothing, her breath catching. Then, her voice, though strained, comes back with surprising force. "I have no idea what you're talking about, Mr. Park," she states, the sharp edge now a hardened blade. "Azure Taste Limited operates with the highest ethical standards. We have nothing to cooperate with, and we will defend our reputation vigorously against any baseless accusations. Good day." The click of her phone hanging up slices through the silence.

His grip on the phone tightens until his knuckles whiten, but he quickly relents; she’s hung up anyway. "Fool," he mutters, a dangerous glint in his eyes. He expects a fight, but not a surrender. “Oh, Lee Chaeyoung, surely you’re not this stupid.” Minjun shakes his head, amusement growing in the midst of frustration. “Time to get some lawyers, I guess.” He doesn't waste another second. His thumb flies across his phone screen, dialing his head of legal. "Get a cease-and-desist order drafted for Azure Taste Limited, immediately," he barks, his voice now devoid of any pretense. "And prepare for a full intellectual property lawsuit. I want every single breach documented, every piece of evidence ready. We’re going to war, Mr. Oh."

Within hours, Golden Leaf International's legal department becomes a whirlwind of activity. Mr. Oh, a veteran of countless corporate skirmishes, mobilizes his team, their faces grim but determined. Cease-and-desist letters are drafted, injunctions prepared, and evidence files on Kim Dongho's employment, his proven breach of contract, and subsequent actions meticulously compiled. Minjun leans back in his chair, still looking out the window, taking puffs of Watermelon Whirl while his legal machine churns. This isn't about winning money; it's about making a statement, about crippling Azure and sending a message to anyone else who dares to challenge his empire.

Soon, the legal whispers quickly become industry-wide murmurs. News of Golden Leaf International's aggressive legal maneuvers against Azure Taste Ltd. spreads like wildfire through trade publications and discreet industry forums. Other CEOs, old heads and new bloomers alike, lean back in their chairs, a mix of apprehension and schadenfreude on their faces. The big daddy is making an example out of Azure, and everyone knows it. The question isn't if it will fall, but how hard.

Days later, a thick, official-looking envelope arrives at Azure Taste headquarters, delivered by a grim-faced courier. Chaeyoung reads the cease-and-desist order, her fingers tightening around the heavy paper. The accusations are damning: intellectual property theft, corporate espionage, and a specific mention of Kim Dongho. Her calm facade, usually so impenetrable, wavers. This isn't just a threat; it's a declaration of open war, designed to crush Azure before it can truly bloom.

Later that day, in a tense, closed-door meeting at Azure Taste headquarters, Chaeyoung sits across from Kim Dongho, the cease-and-desist letter spread between them like a battle map. Dongho avoids her gaze, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a sullen silence. Chaeyoung's voice is low, strained with barely controlled anger. "Dongho-oppa," she begins, the informal address cutting through the heavy air. "The Golden Leaf just accused you of stealing his company's formula and giving it to us. What exactly is going on?”

Dongho sighs, taking off his glasses and rubbing his forehead, as if trying to wipe the stress away. “I had a feeling this day would come,” he mutters, his voice carrying defeat. “Okay, I’ll confess: I did steal GLI’s intellectual property.” The room falls into a deafening silence, executives trading glances with each other, stunned by such a grave revelation. Leaning back in her chair, Chaeyoung's breath catches in her throat, her initial anger replaced with disbelief. “But this flavor—this blend of caramel—is mine,” he continues, his voice rising in a desperate attempt for understanding. “I made this with my own hands, back when I was with Golden Leaf.”

Chaeyoung closes her eyes, stopping the tears from falling out. She takes a few seconds of silence, her heart aching—perhaps even bleeding—at Dongho’s actions. “If… if it's yours, then how did you ‘steal’ it, oppa?” she asks, her voice shaking slightly. Dongho opens his mouth, a protest or an explanation forming in his mind, but her fist slamming on the table interrupts him. “Do you know how bad this is, Kim Dongho, to get in a fight with Golden Leaf?” Chaeyoung presses on, her glassy eyes a proof of her hurt. “And the worst part is, we're not even trading blows,” she ends, the weight of the IP theft crushing down on her.

The head of legal, who has been watching the exchange with growing alarm, clears his throat, shifting the attention to him. “Miss Lee,” he begins, carefully stringing words together in his head. “I understand your frustrations, but we need facts.” He glances to his left, at Dongho; he doesn't look like he's in the right mind, but legal is about facts over feelings. “Mr. Kim, can you please elaborate on why you decided to… take GLI’s IP here?” he asks, his tone controlled.

Dongho takes a shaky breath, his hand running through his disheveled hair. Not daring to look at his CEO, he turns his gaze to the head of legal. “Okay, you want facts, right, so here they are,” he starts, formulating a defense. “I was the one initially tasked with coming up with the recipe for this caramel flavor. I've done many revisions on the recipe under the directions of Park Minjun and his father. Eventually, we arrived at a roadblock: one of the key materials was a substance that's restricted in this country, but the Parks insisted that we had to use that material, saying that I was a coward for not trying to slither through the holes in regulations.”

The room falls silent once more; this is quite a revelation from Dongho. The idea that Golden Leaf is possibly using restricted chemicals to make their caramel can shake the grounds upon which the giant is standing. Should the giant fall, a race to take the top spot is guaranteed to happen.

“A restricted substance, Mr. Kim?” the head of legal presses, his ears imperceptibly perking up like an excited puppy. “That's… quite the bold accusation you're making.” Dongho sighs deeply, slightly regretful of having to resort to such a level of whistleblowing. “I think… I think they have managed to lobby legislators to lift the restriction, though,” he continues, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. Borrowing a pen from the head of sales next to him, Dongho writes the name of the substance—something that sounds like a magic spell to outsiders—on a piece of paper. “Here's the name. You might want to confirm it yourself.”

Chaeyoung takes a slow, deep breath, steadying herself. The room feels charged, the air thick with unspoken possibilities. She looks at her legal head, then to Dongho, a cold, fierce glint in her eyes. "Verify everything, Mr. Jeon," she commands, her voice unwavering. "I want us to hit back, and we can’t do that without a solid ground to back our claims." The head of legal nods firmly, tucking Dongho’s small note in his pocket. “We will get back to you soon, Miss Lee. We will definitely hit back,” he offers an assurance to the CEO.

They leave one by one, heading out her office in a line, and here Chaeyoung is, sitting alone in her office. She leaves the conference desk and sits on her desk, grabbing a pod of Red Apple—this flavor is an original, by the way; she commissioned it to her RND team last year. She takes a long puff, letting the apple’s sweetness and the subtle cool from the menthol fill her mouth. “Still not perfect, but this will do,” she mutters to herself, taking a small, personal victory amidst the chaos.

A ding from her computer, signaling an incoming email, steals her attention. Her eyebrows furrow as she skims through the content; an invite to visit Golden Leaf International, a stark contradiction to the legal threats she had just received. Attached to the body is a handwritten letter, signed by Park Minjun himself. “Wait, what? What the hell is this?” she whispers, the unexpected invitation throwing a fresh curveball into her escalating war with Minjun.

Chaeyoung's hand hovers over the attachment icon. Despite the logical urge to consult Mr. Jeon, her professional curiosity, combined with a potent dose of defiance, wins out. With a swift click, the handwritten letter unfolds on her screen. Minjun's elegant, precise script fills the page, a stark contrast to his recent verbal barrage. The message is brief, yet potent, a single line requesting her presence at his corporate headquarters for a 'private discussion,’ leaving her with more questions than answers “Alright, I’ll bite,” she grabs her phone, calling her driver, “please prepare the car. We’re going to Golden Leaf for… a friendly visit.”

The sleek Continental glides through the city's bustling streets, but inside, Chaeyoung's mind races. She takes another puff of Red Apple, the flavor doing little to soothe her nerves. This is Minjun's territory, his fortress where his throne sits. Is this a trap? A calculated intimidation tactic, or does he genuinely believe he has something that will make her surrender? She presses her lips into a thin line, straightening her jacket. Whatever it is, she won't show weakness; Azure’s future lies in her hands, and if she’s truly to take them to the top, there is no room for hesitation.

Her car pulls silently into Golden Leaf International's sprawling underground parking, a sterile, brightly lit cavern that feels like the belly of the beast. Chaeyoung steps out, her heels clicking crisply on the concrete. The elevator ride to the executive floors is swift and silent, amplifying the sense of anticipation. When the doors finally part, a stern-faced security guard—a woman, Chaeyoung notes—stands waiting, a tablet in hand. "Miss Lee Chaeyoung?" she asks, her voice flat, clearly expecting her. This isn't a welcome; it's processing. “Can you please empty your pockets on the table?”

Chaeyoung moves to the side, her lips tightening as she fishes things out of her pockets and leaving them scattered on the table. “Your phone, please,” the guard adds, opening her palm to receive it. With a sigh, she pulls her phone out of her rear pocket, handing it over to be kept in a small safe. “Do you want my bra too, perhaps?” she teases the guard, her irritation lying beneath the sarcasm in her voice. The guard's expression doesn't flicker, her eyes staying cold and unreadable. Without breaking eye contact, her hand moves, with practiced efficiency, to her radio. “Miss Lee Chaeyoung is clear. I repeat, Miss Lee Chaeyoung is clear.”

The butterfly doors in front of her part, revealing another security guard—a man, this time. He signals Chaeyoung to come closer, not bothering to say anything. “Quite insulting. I’m a damn CEO,” she says to herself, her jaw clenching at the treatment she’s getting. It’s like everyone is trying to tell her she doesn’t matter, but her ego doesn’t squish that easily.

The guard leads her through a corridor lined with closed doors, each bearing a simple, gold plaque: Legal Affairs, Global Marketing, and— “What the hell is ‘Treasury Management?’ Is that not just ‘Finance and Accounting?’” she wonders quietly. Beyond another set of glass doors, Chaeyoung catches a glimpse of a sprawling office space, buzzing with a small army of employees. Having this many people on the executive wing is a testament to the sheer scale of Golden Leaf's operation. It's a stark reminder of the colossus she's challenging, a company whose resources dwarf her own.

The guard leads her past rows of impressive offices until they stop before a large, obsidian door, subtly set apart from the others. No nameplate adorns it, but the aura of power radiating from behind it is palpable. The guard simply nods towards the door, his duty fulfilled. Chaeyoung takes a final breath, the faint, lingering taste of Red Apple a quiet rebellion against the overwhelming presence of Golden Leaf.

Chaeyoung steps closer to the door, but before she could knock, it opens by itself, as if eager to welcome her. Inside, Park Minjun is seen standing by the big glass wall, its tinted surface softening the scorching afternoon sunlight. Stepping inside, the guard closes the door behind her, the subtle sound of the lock latching confirming the lack of an escape route.

Minjun turns slowly from the window, his expression unreadable, a single Salted Silk pod held loosely in his hand. His gaze sweeps over Chaeyoung, an almost clinical assessment in his eyes. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken power. "Miss Lee," he finally says, his voice a low, resonant rumble that seems to fill the vast office. "Thank you for accepting my invitation." He gestures to a minimalist chair placed pointedly opposite his sprawling desk, a subtle challenge in the invitation. “Please, have a seat. I assure you, you’re safe within these walls.”

Chaeyoung meets his gaze, a flicker of understanding passing between them. She steps forward, her heels clicking softly on the plush carpet, and deliberately takes the minimalist chair. It's surprisingly comfortable, its appearance hiding a clever practicality. A subtle smirk touches her lips. "Safe, perhaps, or simply… contained" she acknowledges, her voice calm. "Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Park. I'm sure you didn't bring me all the way to your... 'fortress' just for pleasantries.”

Minjun’s expression softens as his lips curve into a smile, perhaps hiding his hostility behind a momentary façade. “Miss Lee,” he pulls a chair for himself, settling into it, “believe me, I didn’t invite you here to bash you. I meant it when I said I wanted to see you in private.” Placing his Salted Silk pod on the table, he gently pushes it closer to her. “Please, allow yourself to relax. I’m not trying to put you in danger.”

Chaeyoung's gaze flickers to the Salted Silk pod, then back to Minjun's surprisingly soft expression. She raises an eyebrow, a subtle challenge in her eyes. "Relaxing seems an ambitious goal, given the circumstances," she notes, her voice dry. She leans forward, her hands clasped loosely in her lap, but makes no move towards the pod. "However, I'm intrigued. What exactly is it you wish to discuss, Mr. Park, that couldn't be covered by a lawsuit?"

Minjun smiles once more, falling silent for a few seconds as he eyes the pod lying idly on the table. “I’m dropping the lawsuits, Miss Lee,” he mutters softly, his tone dropping to a gentle timbre. “In fact, I’ll also sell you the patent for Salted Silk—cheaply, might I add.” Chaeyoung’s jaw drops, disbelieving what she has just heard, surprise drawn all over her features. “Pardon me, Mr. Park, but what did you just say?”

Minjun’s smile stays solid, his expression softening further, almost appearing benevolent. "I said, Miss Lee," he repeats, a subtle emphasis on his words. "I am dropping the lawsuits and offering you the patent for Salted Silk." He gestures vaguely with the hand holding his pod. "Let's just say... Golden Leaf is about to embark on a new grand venture, one that requires our full attention. We prefer to clear the deck, streamline our focus, and honestly, Azure has given us enough sleepless nights.” His gaze drifts toward the pod before chuckling. “I promise I’m not trying to flirt with you, but thinking about you makes me lose sleep, Miss Lee.”

Chaeyoung's eyebrows raise slightly, her initial shock now laced with deep suspicion. His words hang in the air, a strange mix of business acumen and a thinly veiled, almost unsettling, personal remark. She ignores the flirtation—quite the poor attempt by her standards—her mind rapidly sifting through the implications. Golden Leaf never acts without incentive, let alone sell one of their best-selling IPs. There's a hidden cost here, a trap far more intricate than she can yet discern. “Mr. Park, can you please jump to Azure’s role in all this?” she presses, starting to lose her patience over the circling conversation.

Minjun's chuckle deepens, his eyes still holding that unreadable quality. "Let's just say, Miss Lee," he replies, leaning forward slightly, his tone becoming more serious. “I want Azure to stay in its own lane while Golden Leaf paves the way for the future. Let us pursue this in peace, and in return, enjoy the money that our Salted Silk brings in.” Chaeyoung stays quiet, the room now filled with a tense silence, but eventually, she breaks the brief silence. “Any other terms to your offer, Mr. Park?” she asks, familiar with how Minjun operates. “Oh, of course there is,” he answers quickly. “Develop your own flavors from now on. If we catch you stealing again, we’ll make sure Azure turns to dust.”

Chaeyoung's gaze drifts from Minjun's unreadable eyes to the Salted Silk pod, then back to the expansive view of the city. The offer is tempting: an end to the lawsuit and a profitable IP, but the terms he’s giving are shackles. She thinks about Dongho’s revelation about the restricted material used to make Salted Silk, and a grim smile takes root on her face; Park Minjun is trying to buy her silence, her complicity.

“That thing,” she points at the pod, “that thing contains a banned substance, does it not?” Minjun chuckles, looking almost amused by her question. “Did Kim Dongho tell you that?” He shakes his head, rubbing his forehead as he prepares to reveal his side of the story. “Miss Lee—oh, God, how do I say this,” he looks around the room, stringing words together in the air, “look, if you’re accusing us of breaking the law, then allow me to show you some proofs that we imported the material legitimately.”

Rising from his chair, Minjun grabs a folder from a safe buried in the wall. After making sure he has the right one, he hands it over to her, letting her assess things herself. The first few papers talk about how Golden Leaf got blocked multiple times even when they were trying to import samples. Some others talk about how Golden Leaf paid a fortune in fines for putting too much of the material in the finished product. Finally, the rest talk about an order from the government saying that Golden Leaf are only allowed to import a certain amount lest they are sanctioned.

Chaeyoung sighs but quickly masks it with a tight smile, placing the folder back on the table. “We’re no outlaw, Miss Lee,” Minjun says, his voice now confident. “No matter how hard it is to follow them, Golden Leaf operates within the boundaries of law. Sure, we try to bend it sometimes. After all, those politicians are only good for that.” She offers a small chuckle; her father once tried to lobby those crooks to lower the legal smoking age from 21 to 17. “I don’t disagree with you on that part, Mr. Park.”

Chaeyoung's smile fades, replaced by a colder expression. “Now, about your… suggestion,” she continues. “You want us to stay in our lane in exchange for Salted Silk, but what guarantee do I have that your new venture won’t hurt us?” Minjun taps his chin, his gaze drifting to the ceiling, as if really thinking about the answer to her question. “That’s a good question,” he murmurs. “I mean, so long as you won’t try stealing our IP again, we will also stay in our lane. Isn't that how things were, before all this?”

Chaeyoung's jaw tightens. He conveniently forgets the accusations against Dongho, the initial legal threats, and now, the restricted substance. It’s like he’s trying to paint Azure as the sole aggressor. "So long as we don't steal, you won't hurt us," she echoes, a dry sarcasm in her tone. "That's hardly a guarantee, Mr. Park, especially when your definition of 'your lane' seems to shift with the wind. What concrete assurances can you offer that this 'new grand venture' won't simply be a different method of encroaching on our market, or that your 'peace' isn't just a prelude to a stronger attack?"

Minjun puts his palm on his forehead, dragging it down on his face, his patience running dangerously thin. “Okay, fine. We’ll register Azure as a key account, and as a key account, not only can you have Salted Silk, but you can also buy materials from us. As you’ve seen for yourself, we can get even the most restricted materials to our front door.” Minjun chuckles; he can’t believe he just said these words, but he will get Azure to stand on the side, away from the path Golden Leaf is chasing. Also, for a company like Azure, access to such resources could revolutionize their production. “I know that sounds silly, but I can’t think of any other way—well, aside from buying Azure, that is.”

Chaeyoung blinks, taking a moment for the full weight of his words to settle. "A key account," she repeats slowly, testing the phrase on her tongue. "And this would entail... what, exactly, Mr. Park? Preferential pricing? Guaranteed supply? And what are the specific expectations for a 'key account' when it comes to competition, or, as you put it, 'staying in our lane'?" She keeps her voice steady, attempting to mask the seismic shift his offer has just created.

Minjun leans forward again, his features beaming slightly; Chaeyoung is cracking. She forces her face to remain neutral, even as a jolt of alarm, then interest, shoots through her. “Preferential pricing, yes. Guaranteed supply, yes. Hell, you can even have my heart if you desire. However, most importantly,” he continues, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. “You’ll be the first to join us should this venture succeed. After all, Golden Leaf always takes care of its friends.”

Chaeyoung watches him, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes. "Your generosity is... noted, Mr. Park," she replies, her voice carefully neutral. The implications of his offer—access to restricted materials, guaranteed supply, a share in a successful future—are staggering, but the word "friends" echoes oddly in the opulent silence of his office. She doesn't miss the subtle power play, the implied allegiance. “Please humor me with one last question: what is it you’re seeking from this… friendship, as you call it?”

A slow, knowing smile spreads across Minjun's face. "Transparency and trust, Miss Lee," he states, his voice dropping to a confidential whisper. “The kind that’s forged between parties who fully understand the nature of this industry. If you commit to pursuing your path honorably, without resorting to... unoriginal methods, then Golden Leaf ensures your prosperity. You will be encouraged to build your own empire, protected from threats of any kind, but poke the lion again…” he trails off, letting Chaeyoung complete his sentence.

Chaeyoung holds his gaze, the weight of his words settling heavily in the opulent office. The "lion" metaphor is clear. She thinks of Azure's lean resources, the relentless grind to survive. This offer, for all its veiled threats, promises a path to power, a shortcut she hadn't dared dream of. "I understand the terms, Mr. Park," she finally says, her voice low. "Transparency, integrity... and no 'poking the lion.' A rather unique definition of friendship, I must admit, but I believe Azure Taste Limited can thrive, even within such... clear boundaries."

“Wonderful!” Minjun claps his hands, jumping out of his seat to grab a bottle of champagne from the shelves behind his desk. “Miss Lee, would you please kindly join me for a glass or two?” Chaeyoung chuckles, rising from her chair to join him by his desk—oh, whose photo is that next to his monitor? She quickly diverts her gaze, pretending to have missed the picture.

As Minjun pops the champagne, the photo by his monitor burns an image into Chaeyoung's mind. It was only a glimpse, but enough to register a soft, almost vulnerable quality that clashed sharply with the ruthless businessman before her. A sister? A lover? The detail sits uncomfortably, a tiny crack in the seemingly impenetrable facade of Park Minjun, making her wonder if there's more to his "grand venture" than just market dominance.

Minjun pours two flutes of bubbling golden liquid, handing one to Chaeyoung, his smile confident. "To new understandings, Miss Lee," he says, raising his glass. Chaeyoung takes the flute, the cold glass a stark contrast to the warmth of her hand. Her gaze meets his, but her mind is still on that photograph, searching for clues. "To new ventures, Mr. Park," she replies, her voice smooth, masking the sudden shift in her perception of him. The champagne tastes of triumph and a lingering, unsettling question.

Chaeyoung empties her glass, the last bubbles dissipating on her tongue, leaving behind that unsettling aftertaste, but her mind keeps coming back to the portrait. “Mr. Park, may I ask who that woman is?” she asks, her tone careful, almost too quiet for him to hear. Minjun turns his head, smiling rather softly as he looks at the framed photo—a beautiful woman with a vibrant, gentle smile—she can sense a deep, lingering pain beneath it, though. “This is Park Sieun, Miss Lee. She was my fiancé,” Minjun hands the photo over to her, letting her have a good look, “she passed away two weeks before the day of our wedding. A drunk trucker took her life, Miss Lee.”

Chaeyoung takes the framed photo, her fingers brushing the cool glass. The vibrant smile of Park Sieun stares back at her, radiating a warmth that now feels heartbreakingly poignant. The ruthless CEO before her suddenly transforms into a grieving man, and the weight of his personal tragedy settles heavy in the opulent office. All of Minjun's ambition, his drive to pave the way for the future, suddenly takes on a new, more profound meaning. She hands the photo back, her voice softer than before. "I... I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Park."

Minjun takes the photo back, his fingers tracing the edge of the frame. "She believed in a future, Miss Lee," he says, his voice distant, lost in memory—a stark, raw departure from the controlled executive.. "A world where… everyone is happy.” He blinks his tears back, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “It sounds cliché, I know, but… but I want to believe in that future too, so please help me, Miss Lee.”

Chaeyoung watches him, the sudden shift from ruthless CEO to grieving man pulling at something deep within her. His raw honesty, even if clichéd, gives a chilling new context to his drive. His empire-building isn't just about money; it's about a desperate need for control, for a legacy for the woman he lost. She nods slowly. "I see," she says, her voice measured. "So, this 'new venture' isn't just about market dominance; it's about... fulfilling a promise." She pauses, her gaze hardening slightly as the businesswoman reasserts herself. "If your vision for this 'happy world' is truly innovative and adheres to ethical boundaries, then yes, Mr. Park. Azure Taste Limited can play its part."

Minjun places his flute on his desk, slowly opening his arms, his eyes searching hers with raw vulnerability, hesitation drawn all over his face. “Please?” he whispers, begging her to come closer. With a soft step, Chaeyoung closes the gap between them, her arms wrapping snugly around him; he’s quite warm, too. “I hope my Sieun is proud of me,” he murmurs, his voice shaking quite violently. “She is, Mr. Park, and she loves you too,” she replies, whispering right into his ear.

Minjun's body trembles against Chaeyoung's for a long moment, a lifetime of grief contained in the brief, fragile warmth of their embrace. Slowly, he pulls back, his eyes still red-rimmed but holding a new, softer light as he looks at her. The corporate masks are gone, replaced by the weight of shared humanity. The terms of their "deal" now feel different, imbued with the silent understanding of his personal pain and her unexpected compassion.

Minjun clears his throat, a soft, almost shy sound, and glances down at his hands, then back to Chaeyoung. "Thank you, Miss Lee," he murmurs, his voice still a little hoarse. "That... it means a great deal, especially coming from you." He manages a small, genuine smile, utterly devoid of the calculated charm from moments before. The tension hasn't vanished, but it has transformed, replaced by a delicate understanding that hangs between them. Chaeyoung holds his hand firmly, her fingers itching to wipe the tears from his cheeks. “Please, it’s just Chaeyoung-ie…” she mutters, her voice getting tender. Minjun's eyes widen almost imperceptibly at the familiar, almost intimate, suffix, a new warmth spreading through them. “Thank you for being honest. I appreciate honest men, even if they’re scary like you.”

Minjun takes a shaky breath, the unfamiliar warmth of the informal nickname settling deep within him. He squeezes her hand gently before releasing it. The silence stretches, no longer tense with animosity, but with a complex mix of vulnerability and burgeoning respect. "Chaeyoung-ie," he repeats softly, testing the name on his tongue. "Perhaps... perhaps we can make this 'new venture' something we both can be proud of, a legacy that transcends simple profit."

Chaeyoung watches him, the lingering sting of his grief in her own eyes. The image of the powerful, ruthless CEO has shattered, replaced by a man driven by profound loss, its weight unimaginable for her. Her initial strategy of countering his every move now feels inadequate, perhaps even cruel. This isn't just about business; it's about a shared understanding, a fragile thread woven between them. The Salted Silk patent, the access to materials, the "lanes"—all of it now holds a different meaning.

Minjun offers her another small, almost hopeful smile, a stark contrast to the calculating grin he wore just moments before. The silence that follows is comfortable, filled with the unspoken weight of their shared understanding. The opulent office, once a battleground, now feels like a space where something entirely new has begun to take root. They stand there for a long moment, two former adversaries, now connected by grief, ambition, and the faint, unsettling taste of a future yet unwritten.

Chaeyoung holds his gaze. Not in a tense, hostile way, but rather a relaxed, cordial one. “I don’t mean no disrespect to Miss Park Sieun, but if you keep acting this kind and gentle, I might actually fall for you, Mr. Park.” Minjun chuckles, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. “Has anyone ever told you how funny you are, Chaeyoung-ah?” he quips, a genuine grin spreading across his face, delighted by her admission.

Chaeyoung grins back, the earlier tension completely dissolved. "Only when they're truly caught off guard," she replies, a playful glint in her eyes. "But it seems I've found my audience." The air in his office now feels strangely intimate, filled with the unexpected warmth of shared laughter. They stand there, the head of a titan and an aspiring empress, connected not by legal battles or corporate maneuvering, but by a sudden, profound understanding that transcends business.

Minjun shakes his head, still smiling. "Well, consider me thoroughly off guard," he says, a softness in his voice that was unimaginable an hour ago. He gestures back towards the door, acknowledging the need for Chaeyoung to continue her day as a CEO. “You’re free to leave, Chaeyoung-ah,” he says. Looking over her shoulder at the door, Chaeyoung’s forehead furrows; she thinks the door is still locked. “I thought you had me locked in here?” Minjun explodes in laughter, doubling over slightly, shaking his head out of pure mirth. “Oh, no, no. The lock is for keeping those outside, outside. Just turn the handle and you’ll be on your way.”

Chaeyoung can't help but crack a genuine smile herself, the lingering tension from earlier conversations finally dissipating completely. The sheer absurdity of her assumption, paired with Minjun's uninhibited laughter, creates a strange camaraderie. "Well, that's certainly one way to control the flow," she quips, a genuine lightness in her tone. Making her way to the doors, she turns the handle as he suggested, and they part for her. “Oh, you’re not lying.”

Minjun watches the doors close behind Chaeyoung, his laughter fading into a soft smile. He walks back to his desk, picking up the framed photo of Sieun. "She's an interesting one, isn't she, love?" he murmurs to the smiling face, his voice devoid of tears now, replaced by a calculating satisfaction. “But still; she’s not you.” He sets the photo down, his gaze falling on the Salted Silk pod lying forgotten on the table. The first step of his grand venture is complete; Azure is now precisely where he needs them to be.

A quarter later, the tension that once filled Minjun’s vast office has truly faded, replaced by a comfortable quiet. Chaeyoung sits across from his sprawling desk, not in the minimalist chair of their first encounter, but on a plush sofa, a half-empty mug of her favorite herbal tea steaming beside her. The Salted Silk patent now sits securely in Azure's vault. The "key account" status has indeed revolutionized their access to premium materials, and the legal battles are a distant memory.

Typically a whirlwind of activity, Minjun now leans back in his executive chair, a genuine, unburdened smile on his face as he listens to Chaeyoung recount a humorous struggle with a particularly stubborn supplier. The framed photo of Sieun still sits on his desk, but his gaze no longer carries the raw, aching pain. Instead, when he looks at it, there’s a quiet tenderness, a sense of peace that wasn't there before.

"So, you finally managed to get them to budge?" he asks, his voice warm, a stark contrast to the intimidating rumble she first knew. "You’re good at being stubborn, Chaeyoung-ah—and I mean that as a compliment." Chaeyoung laughs, a genuine, unrestrained sound that echoes softly in the room. "I learned from the best, oppa," she quips, her eyes twinkling. "Though I think my methods are slightly less... aggressive than yours."

Chaeyoung feels a warmth spread through her, and it’s not about the tea. "Good at being stubborn," she repeats softly, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I suppose that's true. Sometimes, you just know a fight is worth it, even if it seems impossible." Her gaze drifts, lingering on his hand resting casually on his desk, then flickers back to his eyes. “Okay, just so you know, I’m not going to fight Golden Leaf again,” she adds. Minjun bursts out laughing, shaking his head in amusement. “Yeah, let’s not do that again,” he agrees.

As the laughter dies down, the comfortable quiet deepens, filled with an unspoken awareness, a delicate thread forming between them that feels both fragile and profoundly real. "What about you, oppa?" she asks, her voice softer now. "What impossible fights are you still determined to win?" Minjun sighs, promptly reminded about a material that is quite difficult to get his hands on. “I mean, it’s not impossible necessarily, but importing Raspberry Ketone has been… quite challenging. If only we didn’t need it so bad.”

Chaeyoung's brow furrows in thought. Raspberry Ketone. A whisper of a substance, found only in trace amounts naturally. "Raspberry Ketone, huh?" she mouths, leaning slightly forward. “Let me guess; raspberry isn’t in season right now.” Minjun pouts as he nods, exaggerating his reactions a bit. “I guess we can go back to selling Salted Silk—oh, wait…” Her eyebrows rise at the mention of Salted Silk, her lips curving into a light smile. “Wait, Salted Silk is yours now, isn’t it,” he muses, a smile of similar lightness blooming on his face. Chaeyoung giggles, the warm and bright sound bouncing on the glass walls. “Hey, you gave it to me, remember? Something about making peace, if I recall correctly.”

Leaning back in their respective seats, their gaze drifts aimlessly, another silence settling in the room. “Oppa,” she calls to him, breaking the peace. “Why not try selling something Azure makes instead?” Staying silent, Minjun blinks a few times, thinking about the offer. “Something that Azure makes…” His gaze drifts to the ceiling, then back to her. “Such as what, Chaeyoung-ah?” She grabs her phone, checking the list of new items that Azure’s RND team has created recently. “Erm, I don’t know—graham crackers, maybe? The materials for this are easy to get, you know.”

Minjun's eyes, wide with thought, settle on Chaeyoung. "Graham crackers," he repeats, a slow, intriguing smile spreading across his face. The idea is so outside Golden Leaf's current trajectory, yet, coming from her, it sparks a genuine interest. "Can I have a sample, please? I think this might work out well for us." His emphasis on "us" implies a shared future, not just his own. With a smile, Chaeyoung reaches for her handbag, pulling out an amber bottle packed in a plastic bag. “100 milliliters of graham crackers flavor, all for you.”

Minjun takes the amber bottle, his fingers brushing hers as he accepts it. Uncapping it, he inhales deeply, a surprised hum escaping him. “Oh, this is… different,” he murmurs. “This is ready-to-use, right?” Chaeyoung nods to his question, but she also warns him that it might taste a bit chemical-like, since it’s quite fresh from the lab. “I mean, if it’s good, it’s good,” he says, grabbing an empty cartridge from the drawer of his desk. She keeps her eyes on him as he fills a pod to the brim, biting her lip to stifle a grin; she doesn’t want to celebrate too early.

Minjun inserts the pod into his device, taking a cautious draw. His forehead furrows slightly as he exhales, but he quickly relaxes into a surprised smile. “This is a good starting point, Chaeyoung-ah,” he confirms, never one to shy away from offering praise. “Not sweet enough for my taste, but still very good. How did your team make this, by the way?” Chaeyoung grins, her heart soaring with pride. Her R&D team has done a wonderful job, and to have the head of the giant praise them warms her heart. “I just told them to try mixing some flavors together, and they came up with some new flavors, including this one.”

“Oh? Some new flavors, you say?” he asks, already considering about commissioning Azure to produce stuff for Golden Leaf. Chaeyoung pads over to the sofa, fishing out some more bottles of newly created flavors, and returns to him with a handful of amber bottles, each one labeled concisely. “Oh, now we’re talking.” Minjun grabs a bottle—strawberry shortcake, the label says—and inspects it closely. “These samples are meant for a customer, but you’re more important than them.” As soon as those words leave her lips, Chaeyoung quickly looks away as heat rises on her cheeks, hiding behind the curtain of her hair. “Anyway, let me know what you think.”

Minjun's eyes flicker to her averted face, a knowing glint appearing in them, but he doesn't comment on her sudden shyness. He shakes the strawberry shortcake bottle gently, his focus returning to the task at hand, though a quiet amusement plays on his lips. "Strawberry shortcake," he repeats, pulling another empty cartridge from his drawer. "Let's see if your R&D team can make me blush, too, Chaeyoung-ah." He winks, a playful challenge in his tone, then proceeds to fill the pod, letting her anticipation build.

Minjun takes a slow puff, his eyes closing shut as he savors the flavor. It’s a touch sweeter than the graham crackers one, and combined with the hint of sourness, it’s surely something that is right up his alley. “Can you do a production trial?” he asks, his voice crisp with intent. “P-production trial? Like… right now?” she stammers, slightly taken aback by his sudden (yet gentle) demand. “Well, yes, please.”

Chaeyoung stares at him, her initial surprise quickly giving way to a thrill of excitement. A production trial? She doesn’t even know what her team is occupied with at the moment. It's exactly the kind of audacious move she's come to expect from him, now simply softened by his current demeanor. "Yes, oppa," she affirms, her voice gaining its usual confident edge. "Let’s do a production trial. How quickly do you need the first batch, and what specific quantities are you thinking?" Her eyes gleam with a mixture of challenge and shared ambition.

Minjun glances at the clock sitting on his desk. There’s half a workday left, and as much as he wants to test Azure, he doesn’t want to push too hard. “At least 25 kilograms. Of course, it goes without saying that I want them quality-tested and ready to be used immediately.” Chaeyoung swallows a gulp; 25 kilograms isn't what Azure usually does for a production trial; it's usually around 2 kilograms, 5 tops. Her eyes dart rapidly as she cycles through her team’s current projects, the inventory levels, and the lab’s open slots for quality testing. “Azure Taste Limited accepts the challenge, oppa,” she says firmly, putting her worries to the side. “You will have 25 kilograms of strawberry shortcake e-liquid at your front door before 7 p.m. tonight.”

Minjun's intense gaze softens slightly, a hint of something akin to awe flickering in his eyes. "7 p.m., you say?" he murmurs, a quiet respect in his tone. "Then you might want to call someone soon, sweetheart, because this man in front of you doesn’t like lateness, and those mixers aren't about to move on their own,” he adds. Chaeyoung blinks rapidly, the hint of his urgency settling in her mind, and runs to the sofa to grab her phone, frantically browsing through the contacts to find department heads.

Minjun watches her as she makes one call after another, giving brief yet concise orders to each person. “Cute,” he thinks, an adoring but regardful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. This isn't just about the flavor anymore; it's about the woman cranking the gears of production, thus bringing the flavor to life. When she finally drops the phone, a slight flush on her cheeks, he speaks. "That's quite a symphony you conduct, Chaeyoung-ah," he says, his voice laced with genuine awe, completely devoid of his usual corporate edge. “The things I do for you, oppa…” she muses, crashing into the sofa once more, her heart still racing with a mix of excitement and panic.

Chaeyoung closes her eyes for a moment, letting the adrenaline drain from her limbs. The weight of the 25-kilogram promise still hangs in the air, but Minjun's praise, his soft tone, and the easy way he now uses her informal name, settle something deep within her. She opens her eyes, meeting his warm gaze. No more is he a scary CEO that runs the industry; he’s more akin to a demanding customer, a confidant, or perhaps something more. The thought sends a new kind of warmth through her, one that has nothing to do with panic and everything to do with him.

Minjun watches her, a gentle smile playing on his lips as her eyes open, meeting his. He sees the softness there, the lingering wonder, and a warmth spreads through him that mirrors her own. "Everything alright, Chaeyoung-ah?" he asks, his voice low, filled with a gentle understanding. He doesn't press, just holds her gaze, letting the new, delicate understanding settle between them. The office, usually a place of sterile deals, now hums with a different kind of energy. “If you need fresh air, that door is open,” Minjun adds, pointing to the tinted glass door to the balcony.

Chaeyoung holds his gaze for another moment, feeling the undeniable pull of his presence. The offer of fresh air is tempting, but for now, the quiet intimacy of the office, filled with this new energy, feels enough. "I think I'm alright now, oppa," she murmurs, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Just... processing. Twenty-five kilograms of strawberry shortcake e-liquid by 7 p.m. It's a lot to process. I mean, the recipe was only validated yesterday.” A chuckle escapes her lips, as she thinks about how bold he is to buy something so new, so much.

Chaeyoung and Minjun sit together at the loading dock gate, their legs dangling off the edge. Minjun scrolls through his phone, not catching the way she keeps biting her lips, anxiously waiting for Azure’s truck to enter through Golden Leaf’s front gate. It is only when he glances at her that he sees the signs of nervousness; tense posture, lip-biting, and long gaze. A sense of protectiveness washes over him, but Minjun quickly diverts his attention back to his phone. “She’ll be okay,” he thinks.

Minjun carefully places his phone beside him on the concrete. "Something wrong, Chaeyoung-ah?" he asks, his voice soft, cutting through her anxious thoughts. He doesn't need to ask if it's about the delivery; he knows. Chaeyoung sighs, letting some of the tension drain from her shoulders. "It's a big order for something so new, oppa," she admits, her voice a low murmur. "I just... I really want it to be perfect for you."

Minjun's gaze warms further, understanding the unspoken weight of her desire to impress him. Scooting closer to Chaeyoung, he musters up the courage to wrap an arm around her, offering comfort. “It’s the effort that counts, sweetheart,” he whispers, his tone warm in her ear. “Even if the e-liquid isn’t commercial-ready right away, we can tweak the recipe and try again.”

Chaeyoung leans against him, resting her head on his shoulder, finding solace amid nervousness. “You know, sometimes I wish we had been friends from the start. I wish I hadn’t fought you over Salted Silk. I wish—” Minjun places a finger on her lips, tenderly deadening her voice. “This is how it’s meant for us, sweetheart,” he murmurs, leaving no room for her to rebut.

A bright white truck, emblazoned with Azure Taste Limited's subtle logo, finally turns the corner and rumbles towards Golden Leaf's front gate. Chaeyoung lifts her head from his shoulder, her eyes still soft as they meet his. The hum of the engine, the squeal of the brakes—oh, it's the beautiful sound of a delivered promise. Minjun squeezes her shoulder gently, his gaze filled with shared anticipation, no longer just for the product, but for the future they are undeniably building together.

The truck grinds to a halt before them, its engine still humming. A Golden Leaf security guard approaches, ready to open the gate. Minjun rises, offering Chaeyoung a hand as she stands. "Let's see the fruits of your team’s labor, Chaeyoung-ah," he states, a note of genuine excitement in his voice. As the gate slides open, the truck backs into the loading dock, ready to offload the 25 kilograms of strawberry shortcake e-liquid.

Standing next to each other on the side, Chaeyoung’s fingers snake around his own, seeking comfort to calm her racing heart. “You’re okay. You’re totally okay,” he whispers, squeezing her hand firmly. She nods slowly, taking his affirmation to heart, but the urge to keep biting her lips proves irresistible. “Good or bad, we’ll think about it together,” he adds, offering closure to Chaeyoung.

The Azure trucker grabs a 30-kilogram jerrycan from the truck, placing it on the concrete floor before the two CEOs. “I was told to give these things to you, Miss Lee,” he says, handing a folder, presumably containing quality testing results, and a commercial-sized, 100-milliliter bottle of e-liquid. After handing those items over, the trucker scratches his head, seemingly puzzled about something. “Miss Lee, pardon my curiosity, but… why the rush order, and why did no one give me proof of delivery to be signed?”

Chaeyoung smiles, squeezing Minjun’s hand stoutly as she addresses the trucker’s question. “This man right here wanted to test us from all kinds of aspects, Mr. Koo,” she tilts her head towards Minjun, as if shifting the blame to him, “as for the proof of delivery, I think it’s an oversight, but we can fix that tomorrow. You’re free to head back.”

As Mr. Koo retreats to his truck, Minjun's gaze locks onto the jerrycan. He kneels, the weight of the container undeniable, and with a grunt, manages to pry open the cap. A rich, sweet aroma, unmistakably strawberry shortcake, wafts into the evening air. He dips a clean, sterile stick into the liquid, brings it to his nose. Chaeyoung watches him, her breath held, every muscle in her body taut with anticipation.

Minjun closes his eyes, inhaling deeply, letting the complex notes of strawberry and cream fill his senses. A slow, beatific smile spreads across his face, not the calculated grin of the CEO, but the unburdened joy of someone who has found exactly what they've been searching for. He opens his eyes, a glint of pure triumph in them as he looks at Chaeyoung. "This," he murmurs, his voice filled with reverence, wiggling the smelling stick in front of her eyes, "this isn't just good, Chaeyoung-ah. This is the next big thing—the next Salted Silk, perhaps.”

Chaeyoung's taut muscles finally relax, a wave of profound relief washing over her as Minjun's words sink in. A warm, triumphant smile matches his own. "The next Salted Silk, oppa?" she muses, her voice soft with pride. "That's quite the compliment." She steps dangerously close to him, the gap between their bodies barely able to fit a sheet of paper. Chaeyoung asks, “You’re not playing with me, are you?” Shaking his head firmly, he answers, “No, not at all. I meant every word I said.”

Chaeyoung holds his gaze, a quiet awe blossoming within her. His sincerity, his close presence, the weight of his words – it all solidifies something profound. The cool evening breeze ruffles her hair, but the warmth between them is undeniable. She simply nods, a soft, contented smile on her face. The new flavor, the successful trial, the enormous potential... it all pales slightly in comparison to the man standing so close, the one who no longer plays games, the one who sees her, truly sees her. The future stretches before them, no longer a battlefield, but a shared, exciting horizon.

A quarter later, the strawberry shortcake e-liquid is not just a success; it's a phenomenon. It dominates the market, its unique, natural flavor profile captivating consumers across the world, not just Asia. Sales figures for both Golden Leaf and Azure Taste Limited surge, shattering all previous records. The "next Salted Silk" has truly arrived, and then some. It’s particularly strange for Azure; they have never seen numbers this big.

Chaeyoung’s eyes remain glued to her tablet as her Continental takes her to Minjun’s house. “That forecast graph looks like a mountain,” she thinks, her finger tracing a line along the graph. “And to think that Azure is in the center of all this…” Her gaze leaves the screen as she leans back in the back seat. “Is everything okay, Miss Lee?” her chauffeur asks, glancing at her through the rear-view mirror. “It is. If anything, everything is great,” she states, no hesitation in her voice.

The Continental glides silently through the opulent gates of Minjun's private estate, a place Chaeyoung has only visited a handful of times, always for a high-stakes, exclusive meeting. Tonight, however, feels different. As the car pulls to a stop, Minjun stands waiting at the entrance of his grand house. A casual shirt, the sleeves folded to his elbows, replaces his usual sharp suits, and a soft, welcoming smile is already gracing his lips. He extends a hand to her as she steps out, his eyes warm with an unspoken congratulations that goes far beyond just business.

Chaeyoung takes his outstretched hand, her fingers brushing against the warmth of his skin. The subtle contact sends a pleasant shiver through her. "Oppa," she murmurs, her voice soft with a mixture of awe and contentment as she takes in his relaxed form. The scent of his subtle cologne, familiar from their close encounters, now seems to linger more intimately in the evening air. He squeezes her hand gently, a silent acknowledgment of their shared journey and the profound success that now links them.

“Tell your chauffeur to leave you with me, sweetheart,” Minjun mutters, an invitation to a special night lying beneath his voice. Chaeyoung nods, signaling to her chauffeur to leave her at Minjun’s estate. As the car disappears into the night, she turns to face him again. “I’m yours now,” she whispers back.

Minjun's smile deepens, a profound tenderness replacing the earlier gleam in his eyes. He laces his fingers through hers, the warmth of their joined hands anchoring them both. "Come inside, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice a low, inviting hum. He guides her across the grand threshold, the heavy door closing behind them with a soft click, sealing them within the intimate warmth of his home. The quiet opulence of the foyer feels less imposing now, less a symbol of power and more a backdrop for the shared, undeniable connection that pulses between them.

Chaeyoung’s eyes land on the massive, plush sofa in the center of his grand living room. “Can we sit there, please?” she asks, pointing at the sofa, eager to sink herself into it. With a small nod, Minjun leads her to the pointed furniture, letting her sit down first before settling next to her. He turns to her, his hand gently finding hers again, lacing their fingers together. His thumb softly traces the back of her hand, a simple gesture that speaks volumes.

She leans closer to Minjun, to the point where he can feel her breathing on his face. “Kiss me, oppa.” Without hesitation, he gently takes her lips, taking her invitation to intimacy right away. Closing their eyes, Minjun and Chaeyoung stay connected, filling the air with a charged intimate tension. When the kiss eventually breaks, both are left breathless; gone are the CEOs—they are simply Lee Chaeyoung and Park Minjun, two souls finding their way to each other.

Minjun's eyes flutter open, dark with a shared emotion, as he rests his forehead against hers. "Chaeyoung-ah…" he breathes, the name a soft prayer on his lips. His hand moves from hers to cup her cheek, his thumb gently stroking her skin. “This feels right, doesn’t it, oppa?” He nods to her question, the small gesture carrying more weight than any words he can say now. The world outside, the new success they have built together, fades into insignificance. All that exists is the soft warmth of her against him, the gentle rhythm of their breaths, and the undeniable truth of this moment.

Chaeyoung crashes into him once more, claiming his lips as hers, pouring everything she has into the connection. “I… I want to be with you, oppa. Not just as a business partner, but as a partner in life,” she confesses. Minjun takes a deep breath as her words settle in his mind, but before he can say anything else, she presses on. “Would you let me take the space in your heart that Miss Park Sieun once owned?”

Minjun's eyes hold hers as he rests his forehead against hers. "No one could ever replace my lovely Sieun, sweetheart," he murmurs, his voice thick with the enduring grief. "But you, my incredible Lee Chaeyoung... you don't need to replace her. You've carved out a space in my heart that is uniquely yours. A space that makes me want to live again—truly live. Not just for the past, but for a future with you." He pulls her into another deep, reaffirming kiss, sealing his words.

When the kiss finally breaks, they remain intertwined, foreheads resting together, breathing each other in. The silence of the grand living room wraps around them, not empty but rich with unspoken promises and the gentle thump of two hearts beating in sync. Chaeyoung lifts a hand, tracing the line of Minjun's jaw, a soft, amazed smile blooming on her lips. "A future with you, oppa," she whispers, the words tasting like hope.

Pulling away, Minjun’s palm lands on her knee, softly caressing it. “May I entertain you with some shrimp carbonara fettuccine?” he asks, a hint of excitement woven in his voice, seemingly eager to flex his cooking skills. Chaeyoung giggles; shrimp carbonara fettuccine sounds heavenly to her rumbling tummy. “Yes, you may, oppa. Please make it spicy too.” His eyebrow rises at her request. “Spicy, you say? How spicy?” She leans closer towards him, the idea of personal space non-existent. “As spicy as tonight will be.”

Minjun's eyebrow remains raised, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. "As spicy as tonight will be," he echoes, his voice a low, husky rumble that sends another shiver down her spine—this one is purely of anticipation. He squeezes her knee gently before pushing himself off the sofa. "Consider it done, sweetheart. Come, let's see if your palate can handle Golden Leaf's executive chef's spiciest creation." He extends a hand, inviting her to join him, his eyes sparkling with a promise of culinary, and perhaps romantic, adventure.

Chaeyoung settles on a stool at the kitchen, her hands resting on the clean marble countertop, while Minjun begins to prepare the fettuccine dish. She watches on silently, as if stuck in a stupor, as he moves around the kitchen with practiced fluidity. “Was he a chef in a past life or something?” she wonders quietly. “You know, I’ve always liked cooking for those I hold dear,” he says, as if able to read her mind. “Seeing people enjoy my cooking brings me joy.”

Chaeyoung’s ears perk up like an excited puppy. “Those you hold dear, oppa? Am I part of that exclusive circle now?” she muses, a flush creeping up her cheeks at the idea of being held dear. Minjun glances at her over his shoulder, a small grin peeking out the side. “You are, and once you're in, you can't get out—well, unless you do something very, very… uh, stupid.” She laughs, the sound filling the spacious kitchen. “Like stealing your most precious IP?” Minjun laughs with her, the clash over Salted Silk a distant memory. “Yes, like stealing my most precious IP.”

Soon, two plates of shrimp carbonara fettuccine lands on the counter, the smell of garlic and butter poignant. “I put 4 bird’s eye chilies in yours. I hope that's spicy enough,” he says, his gaze still locked on her plate. Holding his chin with her fingertips, Chaeyoung turns his face towards her—wait, since when is her cleavage exposed? “I can handle spice, oppa, and I'm not talking about chilies.”

Minjun's eyes widen slightly at her directness, the playful challenge in her gaze mirroring his own. A slow, consuming heat rises within him, far more potent than any chili. His hand, initially resting idly on the counter, slides towards hers, his thumb brushing against the soft skin of her wrist. "Oh, you're not talking about chilies, are you, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice filled with a desire he no longer bothers to hide. He leans in, closing the remaining distance between them, his gaze dropping to her lips.

Chaeyoung's breath hitches, her eyes fluttering closed as Minjun's lips finally claim hers. The kiss is deep, urgent, a declaration of all the unspoken words and desires that have simmered between them for months. His hand tightens on her wrist, pulling her closer until no space remains. When they eventually break apart, both are breathless. The scent of garlic and chili on the air are now mingling with something far sweeter and more intoxicating.

Minjun pulls away, a triumphant, tender smile gracing his lips. "That’s definitely spicier than any chili," he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “But whatever it is we’re about to do tonight can’t be done on an empty stomach.” A fond, knowing smile tugs at the corners of Chaeyoung’s lips. “I know, oppa, and just so you know, I want to be treated with grace and tenderness.”

Minjun's triumphant smile mellows into something deeply tender. He reaches out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch light and reverent. "Grace and tenderness," he repeats softly, his gaze holding hers. "You deserve nothing less, my heart." He then gestures to the plates of pasta. "Come, let's get some warmth in that stomach of yours. We have all night for... everything else." His eyes twinkle, a playful promise of the passion to come, wrapped in careful respect.

As they begin to eat the fragrant pasta, the air between them remains charged with that electric awareness. The meal is delicious, a testament to Minjun's unexpected talent, but it feels like a prelude. Once their plates are clear, Minjun reaches across the counter, taking her hand. "The living room, perhaps?" he suggests, his thumb gently caressing her palm. Chaeyoung shakes her head; she wants something more… private. “The bedroom?” he suggests once more, looking for a yes from her. “The bedroom, yes,” she confirms, leaning forward a bit, giving him a peek into her exposed chest. “Grace and tenderness, remember?”

He rises from his stool, pulling her gently from hers, their joined hands never breaking contact. He doesn't need to ask again; the answer is clear in her gaze, in the slight flush on her cheeks, in the undeniable pull that now binds them as he turns and leads her deeper into the quiet vastness of his home.

A shiver, this one purely out of exhilaration, runs down Chaeyoung's spine as Minjun leads her towards what feels like the sacred, yet hallowed, sanctuary of his bedroom. Her mind races with all kinds of thoughts; she is about to enter the room where Minjun and Sieun have shared nights of raw, unbridled passion. The idea that she’s replacing Sieun is almost unsettling.

The door looms, dark wood against the soft light of the hallway. As Minjun's fingers tighten around hers, Chaeyoung's steps falter for just a moment. She looks up at him, her eyes wide with a sudden, raw vulnerability. "Oppa," she whispers, her voice barely audible. "Park Sieun..." She doesn’t need to finish the sentence; the unspoken question, the ghost of comparison, hangs heavy in the air between them.

Minjun's gaze, usually so sure, softens even further, acknowledging the profound weight of her hesitation. “No, baby, this isn’t about replacing her with you. This is about us, about the future we’re building together,” he assures her, pulling her into his arms. “I think… I think my Sieun would want me to look forward and move on, so please help me.”

Chaeyoung melts into his embrace, her arms tightening around his waist. The lingering doubt from Sieun's ghost begins to dissipate, replaced by the profound warmth of Minjun's honesty and his raw plea. She rests her head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. "I will, oppa," she whispers, her voice firm, filled with a love that now understands the depths of his. "I'll help you. Every step of the way." Together, they take that first step towards the bedroom door, no longer a sanctuary of the past, but a threshold to their future.

The soft light of the bedroom spills into the hallway as Minjun pushes the door open further, holding it for her. He steps back, allowing her to enter first, a silent gesture of respect and invitation. Chaeyoung walks into the room, her eyes taking in the subdued elegance, the large, inviting bed. She turns to him, a soft, confident smile on her lips, and reaches for his hand again, pulling him fully into the room. The door clicks shut behind them, enclosing them in a private world where Lee Chaeyoung and Park Minjun exist as who they truly are, no façade of professionality in between.

Chaeyoung pulls him closer, her free hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart. “Oppa…” she mutters, her eyes fluttering close, beckoning him to fully close the gap. Without a word said, Minjun leans down, capturing her lips with his in an unhurried kiss, unattached to the world beyond these walls.

As the kiss deepens, she takes his hand, guiding it towards her bountiful bosom. “Mm…” Chaeyoung softly moans into the kiss, savoring the sensation his fingers are offering. They break the kiss momentarily, looking into each other’s eyes. “You like my assets, oppa?” she teases, pressing her body into him. “I do,” he whispers back. “You’re perfect, baby…”

Minjun's fingers gently explore, eliciting another soft gasp from Chaeyoung. He leans down, tracing the curve of her neck with his lips, his breath warm against her skin. "Absolutely perfect," he adds, the words vibrating against her as he lifts her into his arms. She wraps her legs around his waist, instinctively clinging to him as he takes a step, then another, moving them closer to the inviting expanse of the bed.

Minjun settles on the edge of the bed, keeping Chaeyoung seated on his lap, her red cheeks a proof of her unspoken desires. He sneaks his hands to the second button of her blouse, his gaze meeting hers, searching for permission. “Yes, you may,” she breathes, knowing what is on his mind. One button after the other swiftly gets undone, thus allowing a glimpse into her physique. “Goodness me...” Minjun is in awe at the sight before him. “You’re absolutely beautiful, baby…”

Minjun's fingers continue their gentle work, pushing the soft fabric aside as his eyes devour the sight before him. His gaze, filled with reverence, slowly travels upward, meeting her own. Chaeyoung's hand, which had been resting lightly on his shoulder, now reaches up, her fingers threading into his hair, pulling him closer. "This is me, and I’m yours and only yours," she murmurs, her voice husky, a playful challenge in her eyes that promises further submission.

Minjun's eyes darken, reflecting the fervent desire in hers. He doesn't need to speak; her words, her touch, her gaze, convey everything. He leans in, closing the final distance, and captures her lips in a deep, consuming kiss that tastes of promise and absolute surrender. “Baby,” he calls to her, his whispered voice husky. “Can you do something for me?” Chaeyoung takes a deep breath, bracing to hear her first order from him. “Say it, oppa. What do you need from me?” Taking her hand, Minjun guides it towards his growing erection. “Can you help me… get ready?”

Chaeyoung's gaze drops to his hand on hers, then follows to where he guides it. A blush deepens on her cheeks, but her eyes sparkle with understanding and eager consent. Without hesitation, her fingers curl around him, feeling the warmth and impressive size. "Anything for you, oppa," she murmurs, her voice a low, confident whisper.

Chaeyoung sinks into her knees, feeling the soft carpet through the fabric of her trousers. Without breaking eye contact, she swiftly undoes his belt and zipper, sliding Minjun’s pants down his legs. “Oh my…” Slowly, hesitantly, she reaches for his manhood, the shape and size apparent from the bulge on his boxers. She looks up at him again and asks, “May I, oppa?” At his approving nod, Chaeyoung lowers his boxers, not bothering to take them off entirely; she’s stunned by the sight of his asset.

Not wasting time, Chaeyoung parts her lips, taking the first few centimeters of him in her mouth. Minjun inhales sharply at the first contact, his breath catching at his throat. “Oh my God…” he mumbles. “You could’ve warned me first, baby, but… please go on.” Relaxing her muscles, she tries to take him deeper, fighting the reflexive urge to gag. His breathing begins to pick up tempo; it’s been so long since someone has touched him like this.

Minjun's hand, which has been resting on her shoulder, tightens, his fingers subtly guiding her head, urging her deeper. A low, guttural groan escapes him, a sound of pure, unbridled pleasure that vibrates through her. Chaeyoung focuses, pushing past her own discomfort, her movements becoming more confident, more rhythmic. The taste, the feel, the sheer intimacy of it all washes over her, a thrilling tide.

Chaeyoung closes her eyes, letting her movements be guided by his hand planted on the back of her head. At every pass, she moans around him, the vibration sending shivers down his spine. “Baby…” he whispers, his breath quick and ragged, and she’s quick to meet his gaze. “Goodness me, you’re… amazing.” She offers a wink before taking more of his length, making him groan her name. “You’re… killing me, Lee Chaeyoung.”

Eventually, Minjun’s hips buck, a desperate, uncontrolled rhythm taking over his body. His fingers clench tightly in Chaeyoung’s hair, pulling her head slightly back as a final, raw groan tears from his throat. A powerful tremor shakes his entire frame, and he collapses back onto the bed, utterly spent, his breathing ragged. Chaeyoung pulls away, breathless, looking up at him as he lies there, wiping the remnants of his release off her lips. Curious, she takes a lick; Minjun tastes so… manly.

A soft chuckle rumbles in Minjun’s chest as he catches the look on Chaeyoung’s face. He reaches for her, pulling her gently up so she’s lying beside him on the bed, his arm coming around her waist. Chaeyoung rests her head on his shoulder, listening to the steadying beat of his heart. The silence that settles between them is comfortable, filled with the warmth of shared release and the undeniable, tangible proof of their newly forged intimacy.

“That was just the opening act, though, right?” Minjun chuckles at her question, pressing a fleeting peck to her forehead. “It was. It was quite… explosive, might I add,” he adds. A satisfied grin blooms on her face, proud of herself for her performance. Her hand slides from his chest to his crotch, her fingers brushing against his manhood, the tip shiny from his earlier release. “Come on, oppa. Let’s get ready for the main event,” she urges, stroking him to full hardness again.

Minjun groans, a sound of pure pleasure rumbling in his chest as her fingers work their magic. His body responds instantly, hardening beneath her touch. He pulls her closer, shifting his weight. "You’re not one for intermissions, are you, baby?" he murmurs, his voice thick with raw desire. He lifts her, repositioning her over him, their gazes locked, ready for the main event to truly begin. “Go on, then; you know what to do.”

She lifts herself off his lap, quickly shedding every layer of clothes from her body, tossing them over her head, not bothered by the mess. Minjun watches her undress with a dark, excited gleam in his eyes, his cock pointing straight to the ceiling, ready for action. “Wow…” he murmurs, taking in the sight of her shape; she’s simply breathtaking. “You’re so beautiful, baby.” A flush creeps up her face at his admission, turning her cheeks red hot. “Thank you, oppa. You’ve said that before, remember?”

“Anyway…” Chaeyoung’s eyes sparkle with mischief as she positions herself over Minjun’s rigid length, her slick folds teasing the sensitive head. She takes a moment to admire the sight of him, spread out beneath her, his chest heaving with anticipation. “Like this, handsome?” she asks, her voice a sultry purr as she slowly sinks down, taking him inch by delicious inch until she's fully seated on his thick cock. “Mm, so big and hard...” She sighs, her inner walls clenching around him as she starts to move, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles. She sets a leisurely pace, savoring the sensation of being filled to the brim by her new lover's potent manhood.

Minjun’s hands instinctively rise, gripping her hips, his fingers digging in slightly as she rolls. A deep, guttural moan rumbles from his chest, a sound that vibrates through Chaeyoung and eggs her on. His head tilts back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut, a look of pure, unadulterated bliss etched on his face. "Yes, baby… just like that," he rasps, his voice thick with raw desire. He begins to thrust up, meeting her every downward slide, finding a powerful, intoxicating rhythm together.

Minjun groans, his fingers digging into Chaeyoung’s hips as she sets a relentless pace, her velvety walls gripping him like a vice. The sight of her bouncing on his cock, her tits swaying with each thrust, is almost too much to bear. “Fuck, baby, you're killing me.” He pants, his vision blurring at the edges as he struggles to maintain control. “So hot, so tight... You were made for me, weren't you?” Desperate to prolong the pleasure, Minjun reaches between us to rub circles around Chaeyoung’s sensitive nub, hoping to push her over the edge and into a screaming orgasm. His own climax builds rapidly, threatening to overtake him at any moment.

A low cry escapes Chaeyoung as Minjun's fingers work their magic, sending waves of pleasure through her that mirror the mounting tension within him. She clenches around him, her hips bucking wildly, abandoning all control. "Oppa!" she screams, her voice raw, as an intense wave of pure sensation washes over her, pulling a guttural roar from Minjun as he, too, shudders into his release. His body goes rigid, a final, powerful tremor shaking his frame, and they collapse onto the bed, utterly spent, their bodies slick with sweat, the last echoes of pleasure vibrating between them.

Chaeyoung moans as his hot release pools in her core, filling her to the brim, a testament to his claim over her. “I… I’m sorry; I should’ve asked first,” he breathes, regret swirling within him for being careless. “Nonsense,” she rebuts, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “This cannot be any more perfect.” She shifts slightly, eliciting a deep groan from Minjun, and looks right into his eyes. “You’re perfect for me, Park Minjun.”

Minjun's arm tightens around her, pulling her closer against his damp skin. He presses his face into her hair, inhaling her scent, a soft sigh escaping him. The grand bedroom, once a symbol of his solitary world, now hums with the warmth of their shared presence. They lie intertwined, the steady beat of his heart against her ear a comforting lullaby, proof that they are truly, finally, home in each other’s arms. The night stretches before them, no longer a series of acts, but a continuous, tender embrace.

Hours later, the first hint of dawn paints the vast room in hues of soft grey and rose. Chaeyoung stirs in Minjun's arms, nestled perfectly against him, a warmth spreading through her that has nothing to do with the sun. She opens her eyes to find him already awake, watching her, a profound tenderness in his gaze. "Good morning, my heart," he murmurs, his voice still heavy with sleep. “Mm, good morning, my king,” she replies, stretching languidly next to him.

Minjun's arm tightens around her waist, pulling her even closer. He presses a soft kiss to her temple, savoring the feeling of her warmth against him. "Sleep well, my love?" he asks, his voice a low rumble in his chest. Chaeyoung hums in agreement, tracing patterns on his bare arm. ”It was the best sleep I’ve had in a hot minute,” she muses, her mind going back to the sleepless nights when they were fighting over Salted Silk. “And the fact that you filled me to the brim… it’s like getting a hug from the inside.”

Minjun chuckles softly, pulling her even tighter against him, burying his face deeper into her hair. "A hug from the inside, huh?" he murmurs, a contented smile in his voice. He shifts slightly, reaching for her hand, lacing their fingers together. "I like the sound of that, baby. If you need another hug, just let me know; I’ll fill you until overflowing." Chaeyoung smacks him on the chest, more playful than harmful, giggling out of pure mirth at his teasing offer. “That’s a generous offer, but I think I’d give it some time before we go again.” She shifts in his embrace, her lips brushing against his earlobe. “If we’re lucky, maybe my belly will rise after a bit of rest.”

Minjun freezes, his laughter dying in his throat. His head lifts from her hair, and he pulls back just enough to look into her eyes, searching for a hint of jest, but finds only earnestness mixed with playful hope. His breath hitches. "Your... your belly?" he whispers, the words barely audible, a profound mix of disbelief and overwhelming joy dawning on his face. She smiles from ear to ear, her eyes creasing into half-moons. “My belly, yes. I will give you heirs—that’s my promise to you.”

Minjun’s disbelief slowly morphs into a radiating warmth that fills his entire being. A single tear escapes the corner of his eye, betraying the depth of his emotion. He pulls her even closer, a fierce, protective embrace that speaks more than words ever could. "Heirs," he breathes, the word a sacred vow on his lips. "With you, my love, yes—a thousand times, yes." He cups her face, his thumbs gently caressing her cheeks, and pulls her into a kiss that promises a lifetime of love and the joyous chaos of a family built together.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut

449 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 2 months ago

Text

Office Desire (Saerom)

Synopsis: You are a 21 year old working as Junior Writer at some Digital Agency. Three women, Ms. Saerom from marketing, Ms. Eunbi from sales, and Seoyeon as new Junior Strategist, keep pulling you out of your bubble. They bring teasing, tension, and feelings you're not sure you're ready to deal with.

Lee Saerom / Kwon Eunbi / Yoon Seoyeon

9.4k+

It's Thursday afternoon, and the office is loud and busy as you working on a client's tagline at your desk.

An email from Saerom pops up: "Files Needed ASAP."

She writes, "Hey, cutie. Got those files? Bring them to me. Don't be late." Her tone makes you blush. Saerom's always teasing you, winking, touching your arm in meetings, making you nervous with her charm.

You copy the files onto a flash drive and walk to her desk. Saerom's area is neat but has her style, coffee mugs with lipstick marks, fashion magazines, and a photo of her looking glamorous. She's typing, looking sharp in a tight blazer, her hair perfectly smooth.

"Here's the files," you say quietly, handing her the drive.

She smiles, taking it, her fingers touching yours a bit too long. "So quick," she teases, leaning back, her skirt sliding up slightly, "Hold up. I wanna check them."

You nod, stand awkwardly as she opens the files, her eyes flicking to you playfully.

Suddenly, she pulls you closer by your waist. "Don't be shy," she says, her voice soft.

You freeze as her hand moves lower, brushing against your pants where your cock already half hard from her teasing.

"What's this?" she whispers, smirking, her fingers tracing you slowly. You're embarrassed, unable to speak, your face turns hot.

"Ms. Saerom-" you start, but she laughs.

"Ms.? Just call me Saerom, with noona would be better," she says, her touch bolder, making you tense, "Relax, no ones looking."

Her perfume surrounds you, and your torn part of you wants to run, but part of you likes it. The office is busy, and no one notices, but the risk makes it intense.

Then, Eunbi from sales walks up, confident and smiling. "Saerom, are you stealing our writer again?" she teases, noticing Saerom's hand near your pants.

Saerom doesn't move, saying, "Just checking his... work."

Eunbi laughs, stepping closer, "Are you okay, darling?" she says to you, her hand brushing your arm.

"I'm fine," you mumble, stepping back.

Saerom lets go slowly, winking. "Good job, cutie." she says.

Eunbi smiles as you hurry back to your desk, still flustered, heart pounding.

At your desk, you try to calm down, don't know if you can handle this forever.

The day is finally over, and you're at your desk, shoving your laptop and papers into your bag, ready to head home and crash.

You're exhausted from the day, trying to keep up with work. All you want is to relax and forget the office chaos.

As you zip up your bag, Saerom walks over, her heels clicking softly.

She's still in her tight blazer, her hair a little messy but sexy, and that teasing smile is back on her face. She leans against your desk, close enough that you catch her strong perfume, and it makes your stomach flip.

"Hey, cutie," she says, her voice low and playful, like she's up to something, "Got plans tonight? I need your favor to help me move some boxes at my place. It won't take long." She tilts her head, her eyes locked on yours, making you more nervous.

You pause, gripping your bag, "Uh, I just gonna go home," you say quietly, avoiding her gaze. You're tired, and the idea of more work sounds like too much. Plus, Saerom's flirty always leaves you flustered, and you're not sure if you can handle being alone with her.

She pouts, stepping closer, her hand brushing your arm lightly. "Please?" she says, her voice softer now, almost begging.

"I'll make it worth it. I'll cook you dinner, something really good, like pasta or steak. And I'll give you some cash for the help. Come on, don't make me beg too hard." She giggles, biting her lip, and her fingers linger on your sleeve, sending a little tension through you.

Your face heats up, and you feel your cock twitch in your pants, stirred by her closeness and that flirty tone. You know she's trouble, her teasing in the office already messes with your head, but the thought of being at her place, eating her food, maybe seeing more of her game, pulls you in.

You glance at her, and her eyes are sparkling with mischief, like she knows exactly what she's doing to you. "Huft... okay," you mumble, barely audible, your heart pounding. "I'll help."

Saerom's grin lights up, and she claps her hands together, "Yes! You're the best," she says, her voice excited.

"Meet me at my car in ten minutes, okay? Don't keep me waiting," she winks, her hips swaying as she walks away, leaving you staring after her, your mind racing.

You sit back down for a second, trying to calm the heat in your cheeks and the growing hardness in your pants. You're nervous, excited, and a little scared, wondering what's waiting at her place and if you're ready for whatever she has planned.

You don't know much about her, just bits and pieces from office chatter. She's young, maybe in her early thirties, but already a widow.

Her husband passed away a couple of years ago, leaving her alone, and you've heard she's been on her own since. It makes her flirty, confident vibe feel a little heavier, like there's a story behind her teasing smiles.

You grab your bag and head to the parking lot, spotting Saerom's sleek black car. She's already inside, her window rolled down, "Hop in, cutie," she calls.

You nod, feeling a bit shy, and slide into the passenger seat. The car smells like her perfume, and your heart beats faster, but you try to stay cool.

Saerom focuses on driving, her hands steady on the wheel, eyes on the road. She doesn't tease or flirt, just hums softly to the radio, which is a relief.

The ride is quick and quiet, no weird moments, and you're glad for that. You can calm down, stare out of the window, enjoy the scenes of lights night city.

In no time, you pull up to her apartment building, a modern, tall place with glass windows. She parks and turns to you, smiling. "Thanks for coming," she says.

"Let’s head up." You grab your bag and follow her, feeling nervous but curious, wondering what's next in her world.

You follow Saerom into her apartment, and the door clicks shut behind you. Her place is nice, spacious, with modern furniture, big windows showing the city lights, and a cozy vibe.

"I'm gonna change real quick," Saerom says, pointing to the couch, "Sit, make yourself at home." She disappears down a hallway, leaving you alone.

You set your bag down and wander a bit, looking around. The apartment feels personal, there's a shelf with books, some plants, and a few framed photos.

One catches your eye: a picture of a man, maybe in his late twenties, smiling brightly. It must be her late husband. You remember what you heard at the office, that she's a young widow, her husband gone too soon.

Your chest tightens, feeling sorry for her loss. She's so lively at work, but this must weigh on her.

As you're staring at the photo, Saerom's voice startles you, right behind your ear, "He looks a lot like you."

You jump, turning to find her standing close, her breath warm on your neck. Your heart skips. "A-a lot?” you stammer, caught off guard.

She nods, her eyes soft but with a bitter smile. "Mhm. He was younger than me, cute, quiet, worked hard. But fate took him first." Her voice is steady, but there’s pain there.

You don't know what to say, feeling awkward. "I-I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down.

Saerom tilts her head, her smile warming a little. "Sorry for what? You didn't do anything wrong."

She steps closer, and you finally notice what she's wearing a black lingerie robe, thick but sheer enough to show her bra and panties underneath.

Your eyes widen, and your face burns. Your cock twitches in your pants, and you try to focus on her face, but it’s hard.

"Ms. Saerom..." you start, voice shaky, "a-are you sure about... that outfit?" you gesture vaguely, embarrassed.

She laughs, amused, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "What? Don't like it? Is it ugly?" she teases, stepping even closer, her robe brushing your arm.

"Or... want me to wear nothing?” Her voice is bold now, daring, and your cock hardens more, making you shift uncomfortably.

"N-no, no!" you blurt, waving your hands.

"Keep it on! I mean, it's fine. Better than... nothing." Your words tumble out.

Saerom grins, "Alright, since my cutie want me to cover this," she listens to you and grabs a thicker robe, tying it tightly so it covers her body better.

You feel a bit relieved, your heart still racing from her teasing, but now you can focus.

"Let's get the work," she leads you to a small storage room in her apartment.

She points out boxes and items that need moving and organizing. "Just put these in there, stack them neatly," she says, her tone more practical now, though her playful smile lingers.

You get to work, carrying boxes and bags to the storage room. The stuff isn't heavy, mostly old books, clothes, and some random decor, but there's a lot of it, and it takes effort to move and arrange everything. You're sweating a bit, your arms tired as you stack boxes on shelves and push bags into corners.

Saerom follows you, giving directions like, "That one goes on the top shelf," or "Put those in the back, please." She’s close, watching you work, her presence still making you a little nervous.

After tidying up the storage room, you're sweaty and tired.

Saerom claps her hands with a grin, "You've more than earned that dinner I promised," she says, her voice light.

"Give me some minutes to cook something for you." She heads to the kitchen, and soon the apartment fills with the mouthwatering aroma of garlic and cream.

You sit at her small, cozy dining table, watching her move confidently around the kitchen. She’s still in her thicker robe, her hair loose now, and you try to shake off the lingering tension from earlier.

In about 10 minutes, she brings over two plates of creamy fettuccine Alfredo, the pasta glossy with sauce, and two tall glasses of iced tea with lemon slices, "Hope you're hungry," she says, sitting across from you, her smile warm and inviting.

You dig in, and the pasta is delicious, rich and perfectly cooked, the iced tea refreshing after all the work.

As you eat, Saerom starts talking about her late husband, "He was a lot like you, you know," she says softly, twirling her fork in her pasta.

"Quiet, kind of shy, but so dedicated. He'd work late, always trying to make things better for us. We had dreams, traveling, maybe starting a little business. But then he got sick... and he was gone before we could do any of it." Her voice stays steady, but her eyes sharing old pain.

You listen closely, nodding, feeling her loss in the quiet pauses. "That sounds really tough," you say gently, wanting to comfort her but unsure how.

She gives you a small, bittersweet smile, "It was. But life goes on, right?"

You finish eating, and the meal leaves you full and content. Saerom stands, stacking the empty plates. "Let me grab that money I owe you," she says, heading to her room, "Stay there."

You lean back in the chair, sipping the last of your iced tea, thinking about her story, how she's so strong, carrying that grief yet still teasing at work. It makes you see her differently, like there's more to her than the flirty office games.

A moment later, she's back, holding a few crisp bills. "Here you go," she says, handing them to you with a smile.

You take the money, mumbling, "Thanks, Ms. Saerom." But before you can pocket it, she steps closer, her fingers tugging at the tie of her robe.

In one smooth motion, she pulls it open and lets it drop to the floor, revealing she's completely naked underneath, no black lingerie she had wear it before.

Her skin glows under the soft apartment lights, every curve exposed, and your jaw drops. Your cock surges to life, instantly hard, straining painfully against your pants.

"This is what you were hoping for, right?" she asks, her voice low and teasing, a wicked smirk playing on her lips.

You're speechless, face burning, heart hammering in your chest. Your eyes can't help but trace her body, and your cock throbs.

"I-I... uh," you stammer, brain scrambled, torn between shock and raw desire.

Saerom stands confidently, unbothered by her nudity, clearly enjoying how flustered you are.

She grabs your wrist, her grip firm but not rough. "Come," she says, her voice low and commanding.

Before you can process, she's pulling you toward her bedroom, her naked body moving ahead of you. Your heart pounds, your cock throbbing so hard it's almost painful, and you're half-dazed, unsure if you're scared or just too turned on to think straight.

She leads you into her room, dimly lit, with a big bed covered in soft sheets, and yanks you toward it, pushing you down onto the mattress with a playful but dominant shove.

You land on your back, staring up at her, your breath shaky. She's standing over you, completely bare naked, her eyes intense and hungry.

You're nervous about her boldness, her control. "Ms. Saerom…" you start, voice trembling, trying to find words.

She cuts you off, leaning down, her face close to yours. "Don't 'Ms.' me," she says, her tone sharp but teasing.

"Call me noona if you want this to keep going," her hands move to her body, one cupping her breast, squeezing it slowly, the other sliding down to her pussy, her fingers brushing herself like she's putting on a show.

The sight makes your cock twitch, straining against your pants, and you can't hold back anymore.

"Noona... S-Saerom-noona!" you blurt out, the words spilling from you instinctively.

Her eyes light up, and she smirks, pleased. "Good boy," she purrs, climbing onto the bed.

She straddles you, her bare skin warm against your clothed body, and leans down, kissing you deeply.

Her lips are soft, her tongue pushing into your mouth, and you melt under her, kissing her back as your hands hover, unsure where to touch.

She presses herself closer, her weight pinning you down, until you both lying on the bed, her body on top of yours, her kiss pulling you deeper into the heat of the moment. Your cock pulses beneath her, and you're lost, caught in her control, not sure where this is going but too far gone to care.

Her hands move to your jeans. Still straddling you, she deftly unbuckles your belt, the metal clinking softly, and pops open the button with ease.

Her fingers tug down your zipper, all while her tongue dances with yours, keeping you dizzy with sensation. You're pinned beneath her on the bed, heart racing, your cock so hard it's almost painful.

She breaks the kiss just enough to glance down, her hand slipping into your open jeans. With a quick tug, she pulls them down slightly, freeing your fully erect cock.

It springs out, throbbing, and she wraps her fingers around it, stroking slowly. Her touch is warm and deliberate, sending a jolt through your body.

You gasp against her lips, and she smirks into the kiss, clearly enjoying your reaction. Her thumb brushes over the tip, spreading the slick pre-cum that's already leaking out, making her strokes smoother, teasingly slow.

"Relax, cutie, you're not going anywhere, aren't you?" she whispers against your mouth, her voice low and sultry, before kissing you again, deeper this time.

Her lips move against yours, her kiss fierce and consuming, while her hand keeps stroking your cock, slow and teasing, spreading the pre-cum over your length.

Your breaths come out shaky, every touch making your body tense with need.

She pulls back from the kiss, her eyes glinting with that familiar mischievous spark, and she shifts lower, her bare skin brushing against you as she moves.

"Look at you, so hard for noona," she murmurs, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Her grip tightens slightly, pumping your cock a little faster now, her fingers slick with your pre-cum.

You groan softly, hips twitching up into her hand, unable to help yourself. She chuckles, low and sultry, clearly loving how much control she has over you.

She leans down, her breath hot against your neck as she whispers, "You're so cute when you're like this."

Her lips graze your skin, kissing along your jaw, then lower, while her hand never stops its steady rhythm.

Your cock throbs harder, the heat of her touch and her closeness driving you to the edge. You're still fully clothed except for your open jeans, and the contrast of her naked body against you makes everything feel even more intense.

"Saerom-noona..." you manage to gasp, your voice weak.

She smirks, slowing her strokes again, teasing you, keeping you right on the edge, "Shh, just let me take care of you," she says, her free hand sliding up your chest, pushing your shirt up to expose your skin.

Her fingers trail over your stomach, and you shiver under her touch, your cock pulsing in her grip. You're completely at her control, heart pounding, not sure how much more you can take.

Her hand keeps stroking your cock, her fingers slick with your pre-cum, moving in a slow, torturous rhythm that makes your whole body tense with need.

Her lips trail from your neck back to your mouth, kissing you deeply, her tongue swirling against yours, pulling soft moans from you. You're still pinned under her on the bed, your jeans pushed down just enough to free your throbbing cock, your shirt bunched up from her roaming hands.

She pulls back from the kiss, her eyes dark with hunger, a wicked smile curling her lips. "You're such a good boy for noona," she purrs, her voice low and teasing.

Her hand slows on your cock, and you whimper, hips bucking slightly, desperate for more. She chuckles, clearly enjoying how much she's unraveling you. "Patience," she whispers, shifting her body lower, her breasts brushing against your chest as she moves down.

Your heart races as you realize where she's going. Saerom settles between your legs, her hands tugging your jeans down further to give her more access.

Your cock stands fully hard, glistening with pre-cum from her earlier teasing. She looks up at you, locking eyes, and the intensity in her gaze makes your breath catch.

Without breaking eye contact, she leans forward, her tongue flicking out to lick the tip of your cock, tasting the slickness there. You groan, your head falling back against the pillow, the sensation sharp and electric.

“Fuck, Saerom-noona...” you mumble, voice shaky. She smirks, clearly pleased, and wraps her lips around the head of your cock, sucking gently at first.

Her tongue swirls over the tip, warm and wet, and your hips twitch up instinctively. She hums against you, the vibration sending a jolt through your body, and takes you deeper into her mouth, her lips sliding down your length. Her hand grips the base of your cock, stroking what her mouth doesn't cover, while her tongue works you with slow, deliberate licks.

She's good, too good. Her mouth is hot and tight, and she bobs her head slowly, sucking harder each time she pulls back. Your cock is soaked now, slick with her spit and your pre-cum, and the wet sounds fill the room, mixing with your uneven breaths.

You grip the sheets, trying to stay grounded, but it's overwhelming, her lips, her tongue, the way she moans softly around you like she's enjoying it as much as you are. Your cock throbs in her mouth, and you're already so close, the heat building fast.

Saerom senses it and pulls off with a soft pop, her lips shiny, a string of spit connecting her mouth to your cock. "Not yet," she teases, licking her lips as she crawls back up your body.

"I'm not done with you," her voice is sultry, and your eyes widen as she straddles you again, positioning herself right over your slick, aching cock.

You can feel the heat of her pussy hovering just above you, and it’s driving you crazy, "Saerom-noona..." you start, but she shushes you with a finger to your lips.

"Shushh, silence," she says, gripping your cock with one hand, lining it up with her entrance.

She's wet, dripping, you can tell, and the sight of her above you, naked and confident, makes your head spin.

Slowly, she lowers herself, the head of your cock slipping into her tight, warm pussy. You both gasp, she's so hot and slick, gripping you perfectly as she sinks down, taking you inch by inch until you're fully inside her.

"Oh, fuck," you groan, your hands instinctively grabbing her hips, feeling the softness of her skin.

She moans softly, her head tilting back as she adjusts to your size, her pussy clenching around you, making your cock pulse inside her.

"So good," she murmurs, starting to move, her hips rolling slowly at first, grinding down on you. The sensation is intense, her tight walls squeezing you, and you're already fighting to hold on.

Saerom leans forward, her hands on your chest, pushing your shirt up further as she rides you, her movements picking up speed.

Her breasts bounce slightly, and you can't stop staring at her, her flushed cheeks, her parted lips, the way she looks like she's lost in this as much as you are.

"You like this, don't you?" she whispers, her voice teasing but breathy, her pussy tightening around your cock as she moves faster.

You nod, barely able to speak, your hands gripping her hips tighter, urging her on.

Your cock is buried deep in her now, every thrust of her hips sending waves of pleasure through you, the sound of her moans and the wet slap of her skin against yours filling your ears.

You're close, too close, and she knows it, her eyes locking on yours as she rides you harder, daring you to lose control.

"Saerom-noona... I-I can't..." you stammer, your cock throbbing inside her, the pressure building fast.

"Not yet, good boy," she says, leaning down to kiss you again, her lips crashing against yours as her pussy squeezes you even tighter. .

"Saerom-noona..." you gasp, your voice desperate as your hands gripping her hips tighter, trying to hold on.

She smirks, slowing her movements just enough to keep you teetering on the brink, her pussy clenching around you like she's enjoyed every second of this.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" she whispers, leaning down, her lips brushing your ear. Her breath is hot, and her words send a shiver through you.

"You're doing so well for noona." She straightens up again, her hands sliding down to brace on your stomach as she picks up the pace, her hips slamming down harder now.

Your cock is so hard it hurts, slick with her juices, and you can feel the pressure building, your whole body tensing.

She notices, her eyes glinting with that playtful spark, "Don't you dare come yet," she says, her voice firm but playful, "I want to enjoy you a little longer."

She grinds down slowly now, letting you feel every inch of her tight walls as she drags herself up and down your length.

You groan, your head falling back against the pillow, your hands clutching her hips like they're the only thing keeping you grounded.

It's torture, the way she’s controlling the pace, keeping you right on the edge but not letting you tip over.

She leans forward again, her breasts brushing your chest as she kisses you, her tongue dive into your mouth. You kiss her back, your hips bucking up into her instinctively.

She pulls back, gasping softly, a string of spit connecting your lips. "So eager," she teases, her hand reaching down to grip the base of your cock, giving it a quick squeeze before she starts riding you again, faster this time.

Your cock pulses inside her, the heat and tightness overwhelming. "Noona... please..." you beg, your voice barely a whisper, your body trembling under her.

You're so close, every thrust pushing you further, the slick heat of her pussy driving you insane.

She smirks, clearly loving how desperate you are, and shifts her hips, angling herself so your cock hits deeper, making her moan louder.

"Okay, good boy," she murmurs, her voice breathy now, like she's getting close too, "Let's see how much you can take."

She rides you harder, her pussy clamping down on your cock, and you can't hold back anymore.

Your hips jerk up, your cock throbbing as the pressure snaps, "I'm cumming-!" and you come hard, "Erghh..." a low groan escaping you as you spill inside her, wave after wave of release flooding through you.

Saerom moans, feeling you fill her, and she keeps moving, riding you through your orgasm, her hips slowing but never stopping, "Good boy," she whispers, leaning down to kiss you softly, her lips gentle now.

Your cock twitches inside her, still sensitive, as she finally stills, her body warm and heavy on top of you. She stays there for a moment, catching her breath, her pussy still gripping you tightly, before sliding off slowly, leaving you empty and dazed.

She lies next to you, her hand resting on your chest, a satisfied smile on her face. "You did good," she says softly, her teasing edge gone, replaced by something warmer.

You're still catching your breath, your mind spinning, your cock softening but still tingling from the intensity.

You gasp awake, your vision blurry, body heavy against the soft sheets.

As your eyes adjust to the dim light, the reality hits you like a shockwave, you had sex with Saerom.

Your heart starts pounding again, and you turn your head to see her sitting beside you on the bed, naked, her body barely covered by the same thin sheet draped over you.

Her hair is messy, her skin glowing faintly in the low light, and she’s looking at you with a soft, amused smile.

"Ms. Saerom...?" you mumble, voice hoarse, your mind scrambling to piece it together.

"What...? did I...?" You’re dazed, still processing the intensity of what happened, your cock twitching faintly at the memory of her riding you, her tight pussy gripping you.

Saerom chuckles, leaning closer, and playfully flicks your nose with her finger, "Yes, you did," she says, her voice teasing but warm.

"You fucked me, cutie boy. Don't act so surprised," her words are blunt, and your face burns, a feel of embarrassment swirling in your chest.

She shifts, the sheet slipping slightly, revealing more of her skin, and you can’t help but glance at her curves before looking away, flustered.

You sit up slowly, the sheet falling to your lap, exposing your bare chest, "I-I... didn't expect..." you stammer, rubbing your face, trying to make sense of it.

Saerom tilts her head, her smile softening. "You are definitely expected this, aren't you?" she says, her hand resting on your arm, her touch gentle now.

"You were great. No need to overthink it." She pulls the sheet tighter around herself, but her eyes stay locked on yours, still carrying that playful glint.

"Want some water? Or... round two?" she teases, raising an eyebrow, and you feel your cock twitch again, your body betraying how much you’re still drawn to her.

She slips out of bed, the sheet still wrapped loosely around her, and pads to the kitchen, "Stay there," she calls over her shoulder, her voice light.

You sit on her bed, still half-dazed, your jeans awkwardly pulled back up but unbuttoned, your shirt crumpled. Your mind replays the night, her body on yours, her moans, the way she called you "good boy"

She returns with a glass of water and hands it to you, her fingers brushing yours, "Drink," she says, sitting beside you, the sheet slipping slightly to reveal her shoulder and a hint of her chest.

You take the glass, sipping slowly, the cool water calming your dry throat. You're shy, avoiding her gaze, staring at the glass.

Saerom leans back, propping herself on one hand, watching you with a small, knowing smile, "You’re so quiet now," she teases, her tone gentle.

"Was I too much for you?" she laughs softly, and you shake your head, cheeks burning, taking another sip to avoid answering.

She starts chatting casually, like you didn't just fuck her senseless. "You did good with those boxes earlier," she says.

"Stronger than you look." Her voice is warm, almost normal, but the way she's sitting there, barely covered, keeps you on edge.

Then she shifts closer, her tone changing, more curious. "So... I've seen you at work, you know. The way you look at Seoyeon," she tilts her head, her eyes narrowing playfully.

"Got a little crush on her, don't you? Those sneaky glances when she's sketching at her tablet, the way you smile when you two chat in the pantry..."

Your stomach flips, caught off guard. You nearly choke on your water, setting the glass down on the nightstand. "W-what? Seoyeon? I-I don't..." you stammer, face hot, but Saerom just grins, clearly enjoying your flustered reaction.

"Oh, don't lie," she says, nudging your arm with her elbow.

"It's cute. She's sweet, right? Quiet like you, but I bet she's got a wild side too," she winks, and you're not sure if she's teasing or fishing for something.

Your mind races, Seoyeon's kind smile, her soft voice, the way your heart skips when she talks to you. You do like her, but admitting it to Saerom, after what just happened, feels like stepping into a trap.

"I... I mean, she's nice," you mumble, looking down, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the sheet. "We just talk sometimes."

Saerom laughs, leaning closer, her bare shoulder brushing yours, "Uh-huh, 'nice', sure," she pauses, her voice softening, "You know, it's okay if you like her. But..." she trails off, her hand resting on your thigh, her touch light but enough to make your cock stir again.

"You're here with me now, so maybe I'm a little jealous," her tone is playful, make you shy.

She catches your flustered expression, her playful smile turning into something hungrier. "You're cute when you're shy," she says, her voice dropping low, "but I think you've got more for noona, don't you?"

Before you can respond, she leans in, kissing you deeply, her tongue sliding against yours, reigniting the heat from earlier. You melt into it, your hands finding her waist, the sheet slipping off her completely, leaving her naked again.

She pulls back, eyes locked on yours, and slides off the bed, standing at the edge, "Come here," she says, her tone commanding but teasing.

She turns, bending over the bed, her hands bracing on the mattress, her ass up and inviting. The sight of her like this, curves exposed, pussy glistening from earlier, makes your cock fully hard again, throbbing with need.

"Fuck me like this," she says, glancing back at you, her voice daring, a smirk on her lips.

You swallow hard, your heart pounding, but you're too turned on to hesitate long. You kick off your jeans completely, your shirt tossed aside, and move behind her, your hands shaking slightly as you grip her hips.

Her skin is warm, soft, and she arches her back, pushing her ass toward you, making it clear she wants you now, "Don't be shy, be a good boy," she murmurs, wiggling her hips slightly, her pussy slick and ready.

You line up your cock, the tip brushing against her wet folds, and you groan at the contact. She's so warm, so inviting, and you can't hold back.

You push into her slowly, feeling her tight pussy stretch around you, gripping you as you slide deeper. She moans, low and needy, her head dropping forward as you fill her, "Fuck, yes..." she breathes, her voice shaking with pleasure. "Yeah, like that."

You start moving, thrusting into her, your hands gripping her hips tighter to steady yourself. Her pussy feels incredible, hot and wet, clenching around your cock with every thrust.

Sound of your hips slapping against her ass fills the room, mixing with her moans and your heavy breaths. Your cock throbs inside her, the pleasure building fast.

"Harder," she says, her voice sharp, turning her head to look back at you. Her eyes are dark, urging you on.

"Fuck me harder," you obey, picking up the pace, slamming into her with more force, your fingers digging into her hips.

She gasps, then moans louder, her hands clutching the sheets as she pushes back against you, meeting your thrusts, "Good boy... like that," she pants, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

You're lost in it now, your cock buried deep in her pussy, the wet, tight heat. You reach forward, grabbing a handful of her hair gently, pulling just enough to make her moan louder.

She loves it, her pussy tightening around you, and you feel yourself getting close again, the pressure building in your balls.

"Ms. Saerom... I'm..." you start, your voice strained, but she cuts you off, "Not yet," she gasps, pushing back harder.

"Make me come first," her words are a challenge, and you focus, thrusting deeper, faster, angling your cock to hit her just right.

Her moans turn into cries, her body trembling under you, and you can tell she's close.

Your hand slides around to her front, finding her clit, rubbing it in quick circles as you fuck her.

"Fuck yeah... so good," that pushes her over the edge,

"Ahh~!" she screams, her pussy clamping down on your cock as she comes, her whole body shaking.

You thrust a few more times, before your cock pulses hard, and pleasure snapped, you come, spilling deep inside her, "Ms. Saerom!" you groaning as the pleasure washes over you.

Saerom moans softly, riding out her orgasm as you fill her, her hips still moving slightly until you’re both spent.

You pull out slowly, your cock slick and softening, and collapse onto the bed beside her, breathing hard.

Saerom lowers herself onto the mattress, turning to face you, a satisfied smile on her face. The sheet is somewhere on the floor now, and she doesn't bother covering up, her sweaty, flushed body pressed close to yours.

She shifts closer, her lips brushing your ear. "You're not done yet, are you, good boy?" she whispers, sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallow, unsure if you can keep up, but her hand slides down your stomach, brushing dangerously close to your cock, and you feel it twitch, already stirring again. "Ms. Saerom..." you mumble, half-exhausted, half-turned on, but she just chuckles, nipping at your earlobe.

"I'm noona for now" she coaxes, rolling onto her side, her back facing you, her ass pressing lightly against your hips.

"One more for noona," she glances over her shoulder, her eyes daring you, and wiggles her hips, the curve of her body inviting you in. You can't resist her, your cock hardens fully again, pressing against her ass.

You wrap an arm around her, pulling her tight against your chest, your lips brushing her neck as you position yourself. Your cock nudges between her thighs, finding her pussy, still wet and slick from your last round, your cum mixed with her juices.

"Fuck me now," she murmurs, her voice soft but needy, pushing back slightly to guide you in.

Slide into her slowly, you spoon her, your cock slipping easily into her tight, warm pussy.

She moans softly, her head tilting back against your shoulder as you fill her, the angle making her feel impossibly tighy, "Oh, yes..." she breathes, her hand reaching back to grip your hip, urging you deeper.

You start moving, thrusting gently at first, your cock gliding in and out of her, the wet heat gripping you with every stroke, your bodies pressed so close, your arm wrapped around her, one hand cupping her breast as you fuck her.

"Harder," she says, her voice a little sharper now, her ass pushing back against you.

You pick up the pace, thrusting deeper, your cock hitting spots that make her gasp, her pussy clenching around you.

Your hand squeezes her breast, your fingers teasing her nipple, and she whimpers, her body trembling against yours. You kiss her neck, sucking lightly on her skin, and she tilts her head to give you more access, her hand tightening on your hip.

"Good boy..." she pants, her voice shaky with pleasure.

Your cock throbs inside her, the slow build of pleasure growing faster now, her pussy so tight and perfect it's driving you wild.

You slide your hand down from her breast to her stomach, then lower, finding her clit. You rub it in small, firm circles, and she cries out, her body arching against you, her pussy squeezing your cock even tighter.

"Fuck, Saerom-noona..." you groan, your thrusts getting harder, more desperate. She's moaning louder now, her body shaking as you fuck her, your fingers working her clit in time with your cock.

"I'm close," she gasps, her voice raw, her hand clutching your arm. You keep going, pounding into her, your cock pulsing, the pleasure overwhelming.

She comes first, her pussy clamping down hard on your cock as she moans your name, her body shuddering in your arms.

You thrust deep, groaning as you come, your cock spurting inside her, filling her again.

Keep moving, you ride out the waves of pleasure, your bodies locked together, until you're both spent, your breaths heavy and uneven.

Saerom relaxes against you, her body soft and warm in your arms, your cock still inside her, softening slowly. She turns her head slightly, kissing your jaw, a tired but satisfied smile on her lips.

She shifts slightly, turning in your arms to face you, her lips brushing yours in a soft, lingering kiss. Her eyes, still heavy with lust, sparkle with that familiar teasing glint. "Ready for next?” she murmurs, her voice husky, a playful challenge in her tone.

Shake your head, your heart racing again, your cock already stirring at her words despite how spent you feel. "Saerom-noona..." you start, voice weak, but she just smiles, kissing you again, deeper this time, her tongue flicking against yours.

She pulls back, sliding out of your arms and lying on her back, she spreads her legs wide, her thighs parting slowly, giving you a clear view of her pussy, still slick with your cum and her juices, pink and inviting.

She reaches down with one hand, her fingers gently parting her folds, showing you how wet she is, her entrance glistening. "Come on, good boy," she says, her voice low and seductive, her eyes locked on yours. "Fuck me like this. I want to see your face."

Your cock hardens fully at the sight, throbbing with renewed need in your body. You move, positioning yourself between her legs, your hands trembling slightly as you brace them on either side of her.

She's so open, so confident, and the way she's looking at you, like she's daring you to please her, makes your pulse race.

Lean down, you kissing her softly, and she wraps her arms around your neck, pulling you closer, her lips hungry against yours.

Line up your cock, the tip brushing against her wet folds, and she moans softly, her hips tilting up to meet you. "Don't make noona wait," she whispers, her fingers digging into your shoulders.

Push in slowly, you feel her pussy stretch around you, so tight and warm, still dripping from before. She gasps as you fill her, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper, "Fuck, yes..." she breathes, her head tilting back, her eyes fluttering shut.

You start thrusting, your cock sliding in and out of her with slow, deep strokes at first. Her pussy grips you tightly, every movement sending sparks of pleasure through you. Her moans are soft but needy, her hands roaming your back, nails grazing your skin.

"Harder," she says, her voice sharp, urging you on. You pick up the pace, slamming into her, your hips meeting hers with a wet slap that fills the room. Her breasts bounce with each thrust, and she opens her eyes, locking them on yours, her gaze intense and raw.

"God, you're so good," she moans, her hands sliding down to grip your ass, pulling you even deeper. Her pussy clenches around your cock, making you groan, your thrusts growing more desperate.

Lean down, you kiss her neck, sucking lightly on her skin, and she arches into you, her moans louder now. Your hand finds her breast, squeezing it, your thumb teasing her nipple, and she whimpers, her body trembling beneath you.

You can feel the pressure building again, your cock throbbing inside her, the slick heat of her pussy driving you closer to the edge. "Saerom-noona... I'm..." your voice strained, but she cuts you off, her hands cupping your face, pulling you into another deep kiss.

"Come for me," she whispers against your lips, her pussy tightening around you, pushing you over.

You thrust hard, one last time, and come, groaning loudly as you spill inside her, your cock pulsing with every wave.

"Yes... ahh~!" she moans, her legs tightening around you as she feels you fill her, her own orgasm hitting as her pussy clenches hard, her body shaking under you. You keep moving, riding out the pleasure, until you're both panting, spent, and tangled together.

She shifts, propping herself up on one elbow, her lips curling into that familiar, wicked smirk. "Last one for noona?" she murmurs, her voice soft but dripping with intent.

You're about to protest, your body pushed to its limit, but before you can speak, Saerom's hand slides down your stomach, brushing over your soft cock.

Her touch is gentle, coaxing, and even though you're drained, you feel a twitch, your body responding to her. "Saerom-noona" you mumble, half-dazed, but she shushes you with a quick kiss, her lips soft and teasing.

"Let me take care of you," she whispers, sliding down the bed, her hair trailing over your skin as she moves. She settles between your legs, her hands spreading your thighs slightly.

Your cock is half-hard now, stirred by her closeness and the anticipation of what's coming. She looks up at you, eyes glinting, and runs her tongue slowly over her lips. "Just relax, good boy."

She leans in, her breath hot against your cock before she kisses the tip, soft and deliberate. You groan, your head falling back against the pillow as she wraps her lips around you, sucking gently.

Her tongue flicks over the sensitive head, tasting the mix of your cum and her juices from earlier, and your cock hardens fully in her mouth, throbbing under her touch. She hums, the vibration sending a jolt through you, and takes you deeper, her lips sliding down your length, her hand stroking the base.

Her mouth is warm and wet, her tongue swirling around you with slow, practiced skill. She bobs her head, sucking harder, her cheeks hollowing as she works you, the wet sounds filling the room.

Your hands grip the sheets, pleasure building fast despite how many times you’ve come tonight. "Fuck, noona..." you gasp, your hips twitching up instinctively, but she presses a hand on your thigh, keeping you in place, fully in control.

She pulls back slightly, her lips shiny, a string of spit connecting her mouth to your cock. "You taste so good," she murmurs, her voice sultry, before diving back in, taking you even deeper.

Her tongue presses against the underside of your cock, and she sucks hard, her hand pumping you in rhythm with her mouth. You're overwhelmed, the pleasure sharp and relentless, your cock throbbing as she pushes you closer to the edge.

"Saerom-noona... I'm gonna..." you manage, your voice strained, your body tensing.

She doesn't slow down, her eyes flicking up to meet yours, urging you on. Her mouth works faster, her lips tight around you, her hand twisting slightly as she strokes.

It's too much, the heat, the suction, the way she's so focused on making you lose it.

You groan loudly, your hips bucking, and you come, hard, your cock pulsing as you shoot into her mouth.

Saerom moans softly, taking every drop, her lips staying locked around you as you spill, her tongue milking you through the orgasm.

You're shaking, the pleasure so intense it leaves you breathless, your vision blurring for a moment.

She swallows, her throat working, and slowly pulls off, licking her lips clean with a satisfied smile. A bit of your cum glistens at the corner of her mouth, and she swipes it with her finger, popping it back in with a playful wink.

"Good boy," she says, crawling up to lie beside you, her body warm against yours. You're completely spent, your cock soft and sensitive, your body heavy with exhaustion.

You're too tired to respond, your mind a haze of pleasure and disbelief, still processing this night, fucking Saerom over and over, ending with her sucking you dry. You feel her heartbeat against you, her warmth grounding you as you drift, unsure what this all means but too worn out to care.

You stumble out of the bathroom, freshly showered, your body clean but still heavy with exhaustion from the wild night.

Your hair is damp, and you're back in your jeans and crumpled shirt, feeling a mix of satisfaction and disbelief as you replay everything in your head. You grab your bag, ready to head home, your mind still spinning.

She is waiting for you in the living room, now dressed in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, her hair tied up messily. She looks softer, less intense than before, but her eyes still have that warm, knowing glint.

She's leaning against the couch, arms crossed, a small smile on her lips as you walk in. "Feeling better?" she asks, her voice light but genuine.

You nod, a bit shy again, rubbing the back of your neck. "Yeah, thanks... for everything," you mumble, not sure what else to say.

Saerom steps closer, her smile softening. "No, thank you," she says, her tone sincere.

"For helping with the boxes... and, well, for tonight," she pauses, looking down for a moment, then back at you, her eyes searching yours.

"It's been a long time since I've felt like this… since I've fucked like that," her words are blunt, and you blush, but her honesty makes your chest tighten.

She reaches out, touching your arm gently. "You’re special, you know that?" she says, her voice quieter now.

"I mean it. Don't ever change, okay? Stay this sweet, shy guy who's so good to me." her fingers linger, and her expression turns serious.

"And don't turn away from me, no matter what. Promise me that."

You're caught off guard, her words heavy with meaning you don't fully understand, "I... I won't," you say softly, nodding, though you're not sure what you're promising. Her smile returns, small but warm, and she pulls you into a quick hug, her body soft against yours for a moment before she steps back.

"Get home safe, cutie," she says, her teasing tone creeping back in, though her eyes are still soft. You nod again, slinging your bag over your shoulder, and head for the door, your mind a mess of emotions.

You wake up the next morning, your body still tingling with the memory of last night at Saerom's apartment. You're exhausted but buzzing, barely able to focus as you get ready for work.

You step into the office, the usual hum of chatter and keyboards greeting you.

Your eyes instinctively dart to the marketing corner, where Saerom’s desk sits. She's already there, typing away, looking sharp in a fitted blazer and skirt, her hair swept to one side. As if sensing you, she glances up, her lips curling into a playful, knowing smirk.

It's subtle, just for you, but it hits like a spark, making your face heat up and your cock twitch faintly in your pants. You quickly look away, heart pounding, and hurry to your desk, trying to act normal.

You settle in, pulling out your laptop, but your minds elsewhere. Saerom's smirk lingers in your thoughts, a reminder of her naked body, her moans, her whispered promises.

You steal another glance at her, and she's still watching you, her eyes glinting with mischief before she turns back to her screen, biting her lip.

2PM, you're burned out, your eyes sore from staring at your laptop screen.

You lean back in your chair, rubbing your temples, craving a break. Your gaze drifts to Saerom's desk in the marketing corner, almost instinctively.

She's typing, but as if she feels your stare, she glances up, her eyes locking on yours.

Her lips curl into that familiar playful smirk, and she tilts her head slightly, giving you a subtle nod, a silent invitation to come over.

Your heart skips, a mix of hesitation and curiosity swirling in your chest. You glance around the office, it's busy, no one's paying attention.

Against your better judgment, you stand and walk toward her desk, your pulse quickening.

As you approach, Saerom leans back in her chair, her movements deliberate, "Hi cutie," she shrugs off her blazer, letting it slide down her shoulders, revealing a tight, white blouse that hugs her curves, the top buttons straining slightly against her chest.

The sight makes your mouth dry, your cock start stirring in your pants.

She smirks, noticing your reaction, and pats the space behind her chair, "I'm so tense," she says, her voice low, just for you.

"Be a good boy and massage my shoulders, will you? I need to relax."

You hesitate, glancing around again, but the office hums along, oblivious. You step behind her, your hands hovering before settling on her shoulders.

Her skin is warm through, and you start kneading gently, your fingers working into the tight muscles. She sighs, tilting her head back, her eyes half-closed.

"Mmm, that's nice," she murmurs, her voice soft and sultry.

"Lower, though... here." She guides your hands down, dangerously close to her chest, her blouse dipping slightly to show a hint of cleavage, your fingers brush the tops of her breasts.

She moans quietly, too quiet for anyone else to hear, but it’s enough to make your face burn, "Keep going,” she whispers, arching slightly into your touch.

Your hands tremble, massaging her chest now, feeling the soft give of her breasts under your fingers. She's clearly enjoying it, her breathing heavier, but suddenly she shifts, standing up.

"Sit," she says, her tone firm but teasing, pointing to her chair. You're confused, heart racing, but her commanding gaze leaves no room for argument.

You obey, sinking into her chair, the warm seat still carrying her scent.

She glances around briefly, then drops to her knees, crawling under the desk in one smooth motion.

Your eyes widen, panic mixing with arousal, "Ms. S-Saerom, what-" you start, but she shushes you, her hands already on your belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease.

"Quiet," she whispers, unzipping your jeans and tugging them down just enough to free your cock, already half-hard from the tension, "Let me relax you now."

Before you can protest, her lips wrap around your cock, warm and wet, sucking gently. You gasp, gripping the armrests, your body tensing as her tongue swirls over the tip, tasting the pre-cum already leaking out.

The office noise fades, keyboards, chatter, phones, all drowned out by the wet sounds of her mouth and your ragged breaths. She takes you deeper, her lips sliding down your length, her hand stroking the base, her movements slow but deliberate.

Your cock throbs in her mouth, fully hard now, and you bite your lip to stifle a groan, terrified someone might notice.

Her eyes flick up to meet yours from under the desk, glinting with mischief as she bobs her head, sucking harder, her cheeks hollowing.

Her tongue presses against the underside of your cock, and you feel the pleasure building fast, your hips twitching slightly despite your effort to stay still.

"Fuck, Ms..." you whisper, barely audible, your hands knuckling the chair. She hums around your cock, the vibration sending a jolt, you're barely holding back.

Suddenly you hear the sharp click of heels approaching. Eunbi’s voice cuts through the haze, "Darling? Where's Saerom?" she asks, her tone ligh, standing just on the other side of the desk.

You snap your head up, "Ms. Eunbi! ahh... sh-she's... uh... grabbing coffee," you stammer, your voice shaky, trying to sound casual. "I'm... uh... checking her work. Yeah, she asked me to," you force a tight smile, praying Eunbi doesn't notice how flushed your face.

Saerom keeps sucking, her movements slowing slightly but not stopping, her tongue teasing the tip of your cock.

Eunbi raises an eyebrow, her sharp gaze flicking over you, like she's picking up on something off. "Checking her work, huh?" she says, her lips twitching into a knowing smile, her tone carrying that same playful edge she always has. She steps closer, leaning slightly against the desk, her blazer opens just enough to draw your eye to her curves. "You look... tense. Everything okay, darling?"

You nod quickly, too quickly, your cock twitching in Saerom's mouth as she takes you deeper, her hand stroking faster now, clearly enjoying the risk, "Y-yeah, fine," you manage, your voice cracking slightly.

"Just... focused." Your heart is racing, torn between the fear of getting caught and the overwhelming pleasure of Saerom's lips and tongue working you under the desk.

Eunbi tilts her head, her smile widening, like she's not entirely buying it. "Hmm. Well, tell Saerom I need her for a quick chat when she's back from her coffee run," she says, her voice dripping with amusement.

She lingers for a moment, her eyes scanning you, then turns to walk away, her heels clicking as she heads back to her side of the office. You let out a shaky breath, relief flooding you.

Saerom doesn't let up, her mouth moving faster now, sucking harder, her tongue swirling around the head of your cock. The thrill of almost getting caught pushes you over the edge.

"Fuck, I'm cumming...!” you whisper, barely audible, your body tensing as the pressure snaps. You come hard, your cock pulsing as you spill into her mouth, waves of pleasure crashing through you.

Saerom moans softly, her lips staying locked around you, swallowing every drop as her tongue milks you through the orgasm.

Saerom finally pulls off with a quiet pop, licking her lips as she crawls out from under the desk, her face flushed but smug.

"Good boy," she whispers, wiping the corner of her mouth before standing, smoothing her blouse like nothing happened.

"You handled that well," she teases, her eyes glinting as she sits back in her chair, grabbing her blazer to slip it on.

You're still catching your breath, your cock softening in your open jeans, your mind a mess of panic and pleasure.

"That... that was too close," you mutter, zipping up quickly, your face burning. Saerom just laughs softly, leaning into whisper,

"Good, she doesn't notice it, though, right?" before turning to her computer, leaving you dazed and wondering how you’re supposed to focus on work now.

Over the next few weeks, Saerom's teasing gets intense. She brushes against you in the hallway, her hand lingering too long, and sends flirty emails that make your cock twitch.

In meetings, she'll flash a bit of cleavage or bite her lip, knowing it drives you crazy.

Once, in the pantry, she "drops" something and bends over, her skirt showing lace panties.

You're a mess, barely keeping up with work, torn between wanting her and feeling like you're losing control.

Her texts come late at night "Miss you, cutie" or "Come over?" and if you don't reply fast, she pouts, making you feel guilty, her words from that night about not turning away echoing in your mind, her promise to stay close, and a quiet feeling that this story with her isn't over yet.

740 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 2 months ago

Text

The Gentle Ember, ft. fromis_9 Saerom

length: 6k

author's note: This one is rather aimless, honestly—and yes, I'm getting addicted to writing in third person.

---

Saerom watches Hyeonjun from across the kitchen island, a gentle smile playing on her lips. He is absorbed in carefully slicing strawberries for their morning oat, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. The early morning light filters through the window, bathing the room in a soft, golden glow that catches the faint dust motes dancing in the air. She sips her lukewarm coffee, the ceramic mug warm against her fingers, a small comfort in the quiet hum of their usually busy home.

A familiar ease settles over her as she observes him. There's a subtle rhythm to their mornings now, a comfortable dance perfected over years of shared space and silent understanding. They don't always need words; sometimes, it’s the quiet presence of the other that speaks volumes. Lately, however, a new kind of quiet has crept in—not bad, not unsettling, just… different. A little less spark, a little more routine, like a well-worn bridge that's still sturdy but perhaps less exciting to traverse.

Hyeonjun, sensing her gaze, looks up, catching her eye. His lips curve into a relaxed smile, the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he gestures with the knife towards the bowl of fruit. "More berries, baby?" he asks, his voice soft, a hint of sleep still lingering in its depths. Saerom shakes her head, a quiet affirmation of contentment. No, no more berries, but perhaps more of this, this gentle connection that feels like a forgotten melody humming back to life.

Pushing off the counter, Saerom makes her way around the island. As she approaches, Hyeonjun sets the knife down, his hands instinctively reaching for hers. Their fingers intertwine, a simple touch that sends a surprising, tender warmth through her. It’s just a morning, just a quiet moment in their kitchen, but in the familiar press of his palm against hers, Saerom feels a tiny, fragile bloom of something new, or perhaps, something wonderfully old and rediscovered.

Hyeonjun presses a tender peck to her knuckles, his lips softly grazing the ring on her finger. “We haven’t had time to talk much, have we?” he mutters, his tone heavy with regret, his wish for more time together lying beneath the question. “We haven’t,” she echoes, her tender gaze staying locked with his. Her heart is filled with warmth at his recognition of their trajectory, his understanding that they haven’t spent much time with each other.

“And to think that we used to do so much together…” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence, a sense of guilt pressing down on him. “I’m so sorry, my heart.” Saerom shakes her head. Not denying his apology but rather telling him that it’s not his fault. None of this is anyone’s fault. “No, please don’t,” she murmurs, her hand squeezing his harder, her eyes turning glassy at his words. “It’s just how life is, love.”

Hyeonjun's thumb strokes the back of her hand, a silent conversation passing between them. He nods slowly, accepting her quiet absolution, but his gaze remains weighted with the unspoken. "Still," he continues, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze distant. "It feels like we've been running on autopilot." Saerom's eyes soften, a mirror of his own understanding. She leans in closer, resting her head gently on his shoulder, the familiar scent of him ‒ coffee and something uniquely Hyeonjun – filling her senses. It's a comfortable silence, different from the recent "quiet," this one filled with the soft promise of shared realization.

“If you want, though, we can go to that ramen shop tonight,” she offers. “Maybe a bowl of spicy ramen could help us unwind.” Hyeonjun smiles at the mention of the special restaurant, his mind replaying the evenings they shared with warm bowls of ramen, but that smile is quick to falter. “But you’re going to work overtime tonight, no? Because of the audit and all?” Saerom sighs; his reminder lands with a soft thud, a well-meaning truth that still feels burdensome. “You’re right…” she mumbles, the small spark of excitement dimming, replaced by the reality of her professional responsibilities.

Hyeonjun's hand, still cradling hers, tightens almost imperceptibly. He doesn't press the point; he never does. Instead, he simply brings their joined hands up, pressing a soft kiss on her palm. "It's alright, my heart," he murmurs, his voice a balm. "We can always do it another time," he adds, a new thought brightening his expression, "Besides, maybe a quiet night in is exactly what we need. I can whip up some pasta for dinner, and we can finally watch that series about that nuclear reactor meltdown."

A small smile takes root on Saerom’s face, a warmth spreading through her at his easy willingness to adapt, his endless patience always touching her. She accepts his idea with a peck to his cheek, resting her head on his shoulder after. “I love you. For everything that you are,” she utters, her voice shaking from the rise of emotions within. Slowly, her fingers trace lines on his arm, her nails digging oh-so-slightly into his skin.

Hyeonjun's arm slides around her, pulling her into a gentle hug. He rests his chin on the top of her head, inhaling the familiar scent of her hair, a comforting anchor in their often-hectic lives. "I love you too, my Saerom," he murmurs against her hair, his voice deep and warm. It’s a quiet moment, the kind that used to be plentiful and effortless, and now feels like a precious rediscovery. The sun has risen higher, painting the kitchen in brighter hues, but inside their embrace, the warmth feels deeper, more profound than any light.

“Go take a shower, baby. I’ll clean up here,” he says, a loving nudge to get her moving. Saerom nods, a fond smile gracing her lips. She frees herself from his embrace and heads off, smiling all the way to the bathroom. As the sound of the shower starts, Hyeonjun turns his attention back to the kitchen. The familiar task of wiping down counters and putting away dishes feels less like a chore and more like an extension of their shared morning. The air still hums with the recent tenderness, reminding them kindly that even in their usual routine, new sparks can ignite, transforming the mundane into something quietly profound.

With a satisfied sigh, Hyeonjun puts away the last of the breakfast dishes. He glances towards the bathroom, a soft smile on his face as the shower continues to run. “Maybe I can join her in the shower,” he considers, looking to kick off the day with a bit of intimacy. He pads over to the bathroom, knocking on the door softly. "My love?" he calls, raising his voice slightly against the rush of running water. “Can I join you, please?”

The shower cuts off, and a momentary silence stretches before Saerom opens the door for him. “Did you say something?” she asks. Hyeonjun’s eyes roam her body; water clings to her hair and skin, the light bouncing off making for quite the spectacle. Not wanting to get caught up in his own thoughts, however, he shifts his gaze to meet hers. “Can I join you, please?” he repeats, looking for her permission. A smile, brimming with understanding, blooms on her face. “Of course, dear.” As the door widens, Saerom extends a hand, inviting him to join her in the second-most sacred place in the house.

Hyeonjun steps inside, the warm, steamy air immediately embracing him. Saerom's fingers, cool and soft from the water, close around his, guiding him past the threshold. The door clicks shut behind them, sealing them into their own private world of steam and soft light. As the water begins to spray again, warm rivulets tracing paths down their skin, he pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her head fits perfectly beneath his chin, and the quiet comfort of their joined bodies, enveloped by the cleansing steam, feels like a forgotten luxury, now rediscovered and deeply cherished.

“Saerom-ah,” he whispers, his fingers gently running on her belly. “Do you remember the first time we showered together?” Saerom turns, her adoring smile meeting his eyes as a fond memory replays. “We showered together after our first time,” she completes his thoughts, guiding his hand towards her private part, as if looking to recreate that moment. “There was so much blood, and you were so… nervous,” she adds.

Hyeonjun plants a soft peck on her nape, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks as his initial cluelessness resurfaces. “I mean, I had never known anything about sex,” he reasons. Saerom giggles, her hand sneaking around to find his manhood. As she touches him, her mind takes her on a quick trip to the past; the sight of him coated in her blood—a testament to her lost innocence—is such a precious memory. “Yet, you somehow managed to take me to cloud nine,” she reflects.

Hyeonjun's own hand finds hers, intertwining their fingers as the warm water streams over them. "You were so brave," he whispers, his voice thick with a renewed admiration, his lips brushing her wet hair. He remembers the mix of fear and tenderness, the overwhelming desire to be gentle and kind. "And you were so kind to me," she ponders, remembering how bare and exposed she felt, and how his gentle touches were so soothing.

He pulls her closer, their bodies fitting together perfectly in the small, steamy enclosure. This shared history, this raw, unfiltered memory, isn't something to hide from; it's a foundation, a deep root that makes their love, and this rekindled spark, feel even more profound. “Thank you, Jeon Hyeonjun. For everything that you are. For everything that you’ve done for us.” His eyes turn wet, not because of the water washing over them, but because of her affirmation, her recognition of his efforts to make her feel loved and cherished. “Thank you, Lee Saerom,” he echoes, his heart warm at her assertion. “It’s you and only you, my heart.”

The water continues to fall around them, a soft, steady rhythm accompanying the beating of their hearts. They stand there for a long moment, simply holding each other, allowing the warmth and the weight of their shared history to settle deep within them. The world outside the shower fades away, leaving only the two of them, rediscovered and irrevocably bound. Slowly, reluctantly, Saerom reaches for the faucet, turning the water off with a soft click, drawing out the precious intimacy for as long as possible before the practicalities of the day call to them.

“I want to give you a little present. Something to remember me by during the day,” Saerom says. “Oh?” His eyebrow rises with intrigue, wondering what she has in store for him. “And that would be…?” Hyeonjun keeps his eyes fixed on her, as she slowly sinks onto her knees, a teasing smirk playing on her features. “Oh, yes, please…” he murmurs, his fists balling up in eagerness, fully aware of where this is headed.

Saerom's fingers, still cool from the shower, wrap around him, a gentle yet firm touch that steals the breath from Hyeonjun's lungs. His eyes flutter for a moment, savoring the feeling, the renewed intimacy that fills the steamy bathroom. Her lips ghost along his skin, a soft whisper against him, and he lets his head fall back against the tiled wall, completely at her mercy.

Hyeonjun gasps, his body shuddering in pleasure, as she takes him so far down. “That’s… that’s illegal, Lee Saerom.” He can only chuckle when she repeats the movement, not heeding his warning, if it can be even called that. Placing his hand on her head and stroking her tenderly, he looks on with a satisfied expression as Saerom continues her ministrations. “Just… take everything you need from me, my love,” he adds, happy to let her do her thing.

Saerom feels the subtle tremor that runs through his body, a silent testament to her effectiveness. The warmth radiating from him, the soft pressure of his hand on her head, fuels her own desire to please, to give him this moment of pure, unburdened pleasure. She continues, her gaze fixed on his closed eyes, seeing not just the man she loves, but the history they share, the quiet promise of their future. This isn’t just a physical act; it is a reaffirmation, a tangible rekindling of the profound connection that has always been there, waiting to be rediscovered.

He trembles violently, and Saerom closes her eyes, his warmth still filling her mouth. Eventually, he comes undone, flooding her warm mouth with his virile seed. “Mmph…” Her moan is muffled by his intruding fullness, her eyes fluttering like his. Eagerly—perhaps also greedily—she swallows his release, not letting any bit leak out. “Oh, God, you’re amazing,” she hears him say. Wiping her lips, she pulls away, smiling in pride at her undeniable success in making him finish. “I will surely remember you during the day.” Saerom chuckles, rising to her feet, and plants a peck on his cheek. “If you can stay awake during the show tonight, I’ll reward you even more,” she promises.

Hyeonjun's arms come around her, pulling her into a slow, post-intimacy hug. He rests his chin on her head, inhaling deeply, still a little breathless, a soft chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Your love is stronger than any coffee, baby," he murmurs, his voice warm with affection. The steam in the bathroom slowly begins to dissipate, but the warmth between them lingers, a pleasant hum of shared pleasure and profound connection. It's a sweet, silent agreement that this newly ignited spark will continue to warm their everyday routines.

He unwraps his arms, though his gaze lingers on hers, full of peaceful, reawakened adoration. "Time to face the world, I suppose," he says, his voice still soft, a gentle tease in his eyes. Saerom smiles, a genuine, radiating smile that feels like a new dawn breaking. She reaches up, pressing a quick, firm kiss to his lips, a silent promise of more to come. They step out of the shower, the cool air of the bathroom a stark contrast to the heat they just shared, but the warmth in their hearts is more than enough to carry them through the day.

Hours later, as dusk settled over the city, casting long shadows across the streets, the memory of the morning's intimate surprise was still a soft hum beneath Saerom's skin. She steps into their apartment, shedding her work bag by the door with a sigh of relief. The apartment is quiet, but a warm, inviting aroma already drifts from the kitchen. Hyeonjun is there, just as he promised, stirring a pot on the stove, the soft glow of the range hood light illuminating his concentrated profile. A profound sense of belonging settles over her, like coming home to exactly where she's meant to be.

Not bothering to remove her coat, Saerom crashes into him from behind. “Oppaaaa,” she whines, tapping into the cutesy side. “Yes, baby. What is it?” he murmurs, his free hand instinctively coming up to stroke her arm, ready to hear whatever she has to say. She presses her face into his back, filling her system with the familiar scent of his perfume. “I love you,” she mumbles. “Aw, I love you more.”

"Rough day?" Hyeonjun asks, his voice soft, his hands gently covering hers where they're wrapped around his waist. He shifts slightly, making them both more comfortable in the embrace. Saerom sighs, nodding into his back. "Just long—like, very long," she admits, the weight of the day pressing down but already feeling lighter now that she's home.

Hyeonjun chuckles softly, carefully turning down the stove with his free hand. He leans back into her embrace, content in her warmth, feeling the day's stresses melt away with her presence. "Dinner's almost ready," he says, his voice a low rumble against her ear. "Just needs a minute or two more." He turns in her arms, pulling her gently until she faces him, his eyes sparkling with the same tenderness that had filled their morning. “Let’s unwind with some creamy carbonara, baby.”

Hyeonjun taps the back of her hand, a soft signal for her to release, but her grip only tightens, clinging to him. His heart aches: Saerom is clingy, but something bigger, likely also heavier, is causing her to be extra clingy. “What’s wrong, my Saerom?” he asks, genuine concern carried in his voice. “Nothing; it just feels so safe to be with you,” she answers. Sighing, he asks once more. Not because her answer doesn’t satisfy him; he’s simply sympathetic. “Love, please. What’s wrong?”

Saerom's grip tightens again, a small tremor running through her. She buries her face deeper into his back, and her voice comes out muffled, thinner than before. "It's just... the audit. It's more complicated than I thought, and my boss is really pushing for impossible deadlines." She sighs, a tired, defeated sound. "I just want it to be over. I just want to relax."

Freeing himself from her clenching grip just enough, Hyeonjun turns, pulling her flush against his body. “Baby…” he mutters, his voice hushed by her hair. “With hardship comes ease—we’ve proven that many times over.” He strokes her back tenderly, his hand running softly along her spine. “I’m proud of you, and I will always root for you, because I know you always bust your bum-bum for everything," he adds, giving her lower back a gentle, affectionate squeeze.

He holds her tighter, feeling the lingering tension in her shoulders. His gaze softens, filled with a desire to protect her from the pressures of the world. " My poor baby. Let's not talk about work anymore," Hyeonjun decides, his voice firm but gentle. "Tonight, you just focus on unwinding. Let me take care of dinner, and then we'll just... be." He pulls back slightly, tilting her chin up so their eyes meet, but Saerom just breaks down in his embrace. She just lets everything be bare before him, the only one who can comfort her.

“Oh, Saerom, no…”

Hyeonjun's heart clenches at the sight, his strong arms tightening around her, holding her fast. He says nothing, offering only the solid warmth of his body, the steady beat of his heart. His hand rises to stroke her hair, a soft, soothing motion. He lets her cry, letting the tears wash away the day's pressure, knowing that sometimes, all a person needs is a safe harbor, a place where they can truly fall apart without judgment. The only sound in the kitchen is the soft murmur of her sobs and faint bubble of the idling carbonara pasta.

He continues to hold her, patiently waiting for the storm to pass. After what feels like an eternity, Saerom's sobs soften, becoming quiet sniffles. Hyeonjun gently pulls back enough to look at her, his thumbs tenderly wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Better?" he murmurs, his voice filled with gentle inquiry. She nods, and then, seeking further comfort, presses her cheek into his chest. “Thank you, oppa. I-I know I shouldn’t have cried, but… I felt like there was no other choice.”

"Never apologize for feeling," Hyeonjun says, his voice a soft, soothing balm, as he wraps his arms around her again. “After all, feelings are what make us humans.” He rocks her gently, letting her find her grounding in his embrace. He understands that sometimes, the strongest people need to release the pressure, and he is her chosen release valve, a role he accepts without question.

Slowly, carefully, Hyeonjun unwraps her arms from around his body, their fingers tangling between them. “Can I feed you, baby?” he offers, thinking only about making her feel better. Saerom nods, so he gently guides her to sit at the dining table before returning to the kitchen to prepare a full plate of creamy, warm, and slightly spicy pasta for her.

He returns to the dining table, a fork already laden with creamy pasta. Saerom watches him, a soft, weary gratitude in her eyes. He lifts the fork, gently blowing on the steaming strands before guiding it to her lips. She opens her mouth, accepting the bite, the warmth and familiar taste a welcome comfort. Each slow, deliberate movement from him is a quiet act of devotion, a testament of his promise to be her anchor.

As more and more pasta fills her tummy, the color begins to return to her face, a faint, contented hum replacing the lingering tension. “Love, I want to do something.” Saerom takes the fork from him, directing his free hand to wrap around her instead. “I can eat, and you can, I don’t know, pet me or something.” Giggling mirthfully, Hyeonjun does as she asks, his hand softly tracing paths on her back, sometimes also on the back of her head, pouring his heart into the light actions. “Like this?”

Saerom hums softly, the combined comfort of the warm food and Hyeonjun's gentle touch melting away the last remnants of the day's strain. She leans back against his hand, eyes half-closed in bliss. "Perfect," she murmurs, her voice thick with contentment. The rhythm of his fingers on her skin, the soft clink of the fork against the plate, and the quiet presence of the man beside her, all combine into a symphony of peace. She sighs in relief, no trace of stress in the sound at all. “Absolutely perfect…”

Hyeonjun smiles, a soft warmth spreading through him as he feels her complete relaxation. He lifts his hand from her back, a reluctant farewell to the comforting contact, then gently helps her rise from the table. "Shall we take that peace to the living room?" he murmurs, already envisioning them curled up on the sofa, the soft glow of the lamp creating their own little haven.

Letting the empty plate sit forgotten in the sink, Hyeonjun takes his wife to the sofa, but only after shedding the outer layers of her clothes do they curl up on it. “Oppa, thank you, seriously,” she says, punctuating it with a tender kiss to his knuckles. “I know you’re tired, but you’re always so patient with me.” A peck lands on the back of her head, him accepting her gratitude with a warm heart. “What I wouldn’t give for you, Saerom-ah…”

Saerom snuggles deeper into his side, feeling completely at ease, all traces of the day's stress finally gone. Hyeonjun reaches for the remote, his movements slow and unhurried. He finds the streaming service, navigating to the series discussed this morning, the one about the nuclear reactor. The screen flickers to life, casting a soft glow over their faces. He drapes a soft, worn blanket over them, his arm tightening around her, content in the quiet hum of the television and the steady beat of her heart against his.

As the dramatic opening credits roll, Saerom glances up at Hyeonjun, finding his gaze already on her. He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead. "Rest, my love," he whispers, his voice a gentle caress. Saerom sighs contentedly, closing her eyes for a moment before turning back to the screen, already feeling the pull of the story. More importantly, however, she feels the profound, unwavering warmth of his presence beside her. “Don’t worry about falling asleep. We can always watch it again some other time,” he adds, inviting her to relax. Something that she yearns for.

Hyeonjun fights to keep his eyes open, taking in as much detail as he can so they can talk about it tomorrow. However, against all his good intentions, his eyes grow heavy, Saerom’s subtle snores adding to the allure of rest. “3.6 roentgen is 400 chest x-rays, huh?” he wonders silently.

His silent thought echoes in the quiet room, unheard by her, who remains peacefully asleep against his side. Hyeonjun's gaze drifts from the screen to Saerom, her reflection illuminated softly by the flickering light. He presses a soft kiss to her hair, then gently adjusts the blanket around her shoulders. Just as his own eyes threaten to close for good, Saerom stirs slightly, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

“Shh, easy, baby. Just relax and…” he trails off, his speech interrupted by a yawn he can’t stifle. She snuggles closer, her hand finding his, and their fingers intertwine in the darkness, an invitation to join her in the peace. “I know, I know,” he murmurs. “I’ll turn off the TV now, and we can move to the bedroom.”

A subtle shift in the mattress stirs Hyeonjun from a deep sleep. His eyes open slowly, adjusting to the sunlight filtering through the gap in the curtains, signaling the start of a new day. Beside him, Saerom stretches languidly, a soft sigh escaping her lips. He watches her for a moment, a wave of tenderness washing over him in the calmness of the morning. The events of their day, the earlier intimacy, feel like a warm ember glowing softly beneath the surface of their sleep.

“Hi,” Hyeonjun whispers, his voice rough from the sleep. Saerom sighs contentedly, whispering back, “Hi.” She scoots over, closing the gap that was created at some point in the night, pressing her body into him. “I don’t want to go to work, oppa,” she complains, already getting a headache at the thought of facing those auditors. “I mean, you can call in sick,” he offers an escape route.

Saerom sighs, the idea of calling in sick a tempting idea for her weary spirit, but the weight of her responsibilities presses down. "I can't," she murmurs into his chest, her voice muffled and tinged with frustration. "It's too important. A key account’s request." Hyeonjun's arm tightens around her, a comforting anchor. He understands, of course, but a part of him aches to shield her from all stress. "Just lie with me for a bit then,” he suggests, his hand gently tracing a path along her spine. “Even a short break can make a difference.”

A small, grateful smile touches Saerom's lips, unseen by Hyeonjun. She closes her eyes, relishing the soft pressure of his hand on her back, the comfortable weight of his arm around her.

“Don’t let me fall asleep again, though.”

“I’ll try, baby.”

The silence then stretches, broken only by their breathing and the distant sounds of the city beginning to stir. They lie there, two bodies perfectly intertwined, finding a profound stillness in the heart of a burgeoning day. It's a stolen moment, a precious fragment of peace, before the responsibilities that await them pull them inevitably apart.

The tranquility holds them captive for a few more minutes, a tiny rebellion against the world outside. Saerom feels the gentle quickening of Hyeonjun's breath, a subtle sign that his mind is already turning towards the day's tasks. She tightens her grip on his hand, not wanting to let go, not yet. He squeezes back, a silent understanding passing between them. The peace, though profound, is fragile and fleeting, already beginning to fray at the edges as the sun climbs higher.

“Oppa,” Saerom calls to him, her whispered voice barely audible. “I want to take a leave after this. Can you also take a leave?” Hyeonjun hums quietly, counting how many days of paid leave he has left. A slow smile touches his lips. “Actually, the company owes me five days of leave,” he murmurs, a hint of surprise in his voice. She sighs in relief, satisfied with the small revelation. “Great. We can stay at home for a whole week,” she says.

A wave of quiet excitement washes over them both, chasing away the last vestiges of morning grogginess. "A whole week," he repeats, the words a soft promise, a luxurious thought. He imagines lazy mornings, slow cooking, perhaps even staying in their pajamas all day. The stress of the audit still looms for today, but the prospect of a full week of uninterrupted togetherness feels like a balm already settling over their hearts.

Three days into their leave, the apartment feels transformed—not by some grand renovations, but by the simple luxury of unhurried time. Saerom finds herself waking up naturally, without the blaring intrusion of alarms, her body slowly surfacing from dreams to the soft morning light filtering through their bedroom curtains. Beside her, Hyeonjun sleeps peacefully, his face relaxed in a way she hasn't seen in months. The harsh lines of workplace stress have melted away, replaced by the gentle vulnerability of true rest.

Placing a hand on Hyeonjun’s bare chest, Saerom watches, feeling his heartbeat pulse gently against her fingertips. “My love…” she murmurs, not exactly calling to him, but rather expressing her admiration. “We deserve this, don’t we?” she asks her sleeping husband.

Hyeonjun stirs slightly at her touch, a soft sigh escaping his lips, but his eyes remain closed. His hand finds hers instinctively, fingers intertwining over his heart as if even in sleep he seeks that connection. Saerom marvels at this unconscious gesture—how many times had they fallen asleep holding hands in their early days together, only to wake up on opposite sides of the bed in recent months? Now, even his sleeping self seems determined not to let her drift away.

She traces lazy circles on his chest with her free hand, mapping the familiar landscape of his body as if seeing it for the first time in ages. He finally wakes, his hand gripping hers more firmly as his consciousness returns. “Good morning, my heart,” he mutters, his rough voice thick with calmness rather than the usual grogginess of rushed mornings.

Moving with languid grace, Saerom climbs onto him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his familiar scent. “Mm, someone’s eager,” she quips, noticing his morning wood pressing against her abdomen. Hyeonjun laughs softly, his manhood growing even more at her tease. “I mean, last night, we fell asleep before… you know…” he trails off, but the unspoken words are clear to her.

Saerom lifts her head to meet his gaze, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "We have all the time in the world now," she whispers, her voice carrying a promise that makes his breath catch. There's no rush, no clock ticking in the background, no mental countdown to when they need to shower, dress, and scatter to their separate worlds. Instead, there's only this—the weight of her body against his, the morning light dancing across her skin, and the luxury of desire without urgency.

Their gazes hold, deep and searching, as if each waiting for the other to voice what they both already know. Eventually, Saerom straightens her body, her hair catching golden highlights in the morning sun. “Okay, I concede; I want you, oppa. Right now.” Hyeonjun’s fingers dig deeper into her waist, her whispered admission sending heat through him. “Tell me how much you want this, baby,” he teases, hooking his fingers into the waistband of her panties, ready to pull them down swiftly.

A soft blush spreads across Saerom's cheeks at his playful challenge, but her eyes never leave his. "I want this so much it aches," she confesses, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with raw honesty. "I want to feel us again, the way we used to be." Her admission carries more weight than simple desire; it's about reclaiming something precious they'd nearly let slip away in the chaos of their busy lives. She lifts herself slightly, allowing him to slide the delicate fabric down her thighs, the simple act feeling both familiar and thrillingly new after their recent distance.

The morning air kisses her newly exposed skin, but Hyeonjun's warm hands quickly follow, tracing paths he knows by heart. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion that goes far beyond physical attraction. It's appreciation, gratitude, love—all wrapped into those simple words. His thumbs trace gentle circles on her hips as she settles back against him, both of them savoring the unhurried intimacy they'd forgotten was possible.

"No rushing," Saerom whispers, though whether she's reminding him or herself isn't entirely clear. Her hands find his chest again, palms flat against his heart, feeling its steady rhythm quicken beneath her touch. “Yes, no rushing,” he repeats.

Saerom lifts her hips before slowly sinking back down, savoring the gentle intimacy of their connection. “Oh, God…” she breathes, still maintaining the relaxed tempo. “I’ve missed this… I’ve missed us, baby,” he murmurs, his hands guiding her movements. She nods, her eyes clouding briefly with the memory of too many nights when exhaustion won. “Me too, my love…”

Saerom leans into his touch, her body swaying with languid grace as she continues to set their pace. The morning light paints shifting patterns across their skin, illuminating every curve, every shadow. The world outside the bedroom feels distant, irrelevant. There's only the exquisite friction, the soft sounds of their breaths intertwining, and the overwhelming sensation of two souls reconnecting on the most fundamental level. This wasn't just intimacy; it was a conversation, a healing. A profound reaffirmation of their unwavering love.

Minutes blur into each other, unmarked by any urgency or countdown. Saerom's movements become more fluid, more instinctive, as if her body remembers exactly how they used to dance together in their early days. "Look at me, my heart," Hyeonjun whispers, his hands cupping her face gently, thumbs brushing away tears she didn't even realize had fallen. When their eyes meet, there's something raw and vulnerable in his gaze—not just desire, but a kind of desperate gratitude, as if he's afraid this moment might slip away if he doesn't hold onto it tightly enough.

"I'm here," Saerom whispers back, understanding instinctively what he needs to hear. "I'm right here with you." Her words seem to unlock something in him, and she feels his body respond beneath hers, his breathing becoming more ragged, more urgent despite their commitment to taking their time. She increases her pace slightly, still maintaining that leisurely pace, but with more intention now, more focus on the building sensation between them. The morning light has shifted again, casting longer shadows across the rumpled sheets, but neither of them notices anything beyond the space they're creating together.

“Give it to me, my love,” she urges, looking to cross the finish line together. “Just let go and give me everything.” With a deep, guttural groan, Hyeonjun explodes, a rush of heat blooming deep within her. Saerom’s eyes flutter close, satisfied and sated, basking in the sensation of intimacy.

Saerom collapses onto him, their heartbeat matching as they ride the last waves of pleasure. Hyeonjun holds her close, pressing his lips onto her temple, his heart swelling with affection and gratitude. “Perfect,” he mutters. “You’re perfect, baby.” Saerom hums in agreement, her body heavy and relaxed against his. The thought of getting out of bed holds no appeal; instead, they simply lie intertwined, letting the warmth of their connection and the quiet joy of their leisure-filled week wash over them.

Saerom lifts her head slightly, just enough to press a soft kiss to the warm skin of his collarbone. She can feel his steady breath against her hair, the rhythmic beat of his heart against her ear. "Mm," she murmurs, a sound of utter satisfaction. Hyeonjun tightens his embrace, not wanting this moment to end. They lie there, connected in the most intimate way possible, two souls mending into one.

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

This is the true luxury of their week. Not just time away from work, but time fully devoted to the rediscovery and nurturing of each other. The lingering stress of the audit will eventually fade, replaced by these precious memories. They will carry this feeling, this profound, unwavering warmth, with them, transforming ordinary days into something extraordinary, always finding their way back to this quiet, tender peace, together.

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut

274 notes · View notes

thewritingrowlet · 2 months ago

Text

JUNO

minju & dahyun x m reader

17k words

“No. No way. No freaking way.”

Dahyun nestles her chin into the dip of your collarbone, her smirk a telltale sign when your eyes flicker from her face to the rest of the ballroom; too early to tell if she’s drunk or probably in heat, it’s one of the two, you know that for sure. Though, her gaze follows yours at the commotion, noticing you can’t stop staring at something - or someone.

“You don’t need me to convince you,” she’s saying, nose grazing the side of your throat and jaw, in tandem with a lip bite. “She’s really fucking horny.”

–

Look, if there’s anything you’ve learned about Kim Dahyun: is the fact that she doesn’t spill the whole tale straight away.

Contrary to popular belief - as her plus one - you might add, her style of being coy and mysterious, always backfires in the end eventually. Yet here you are again: trailing behind or at her side, playing along in the usual antics she puts up to ease the boring periods of these stupid events you’ve been forced to be dragged along.

“Suits and ties, and flashy smiles. That's all they are.” She had said to you hours before, sitting on your desk with her veneers up on high, ankles crossed with heels, wearing the tightest dress imaginable - the kind of dress where it shows just enough skin to get people’s heads turning.

A shame that white was her ideal color too, since you and her both know very well how good she looks in it.

(Your dress shirt in the morning or in a different dress at night, there’s no difference between them.)

Speaking of which:

“It’s a splitting image,” you’re telling Dahyun, head at an angle, squinting in the dimly lit room. “I swear she was just in a white dress the other day. When the hell did she get the lapis lazuli piece?”

“Beats me,” she replies, tugging your arm closer to her, finger directing your gaze as the second crown jewel of the night takes center stage. “I know you’re not denying it, but she’s pretty too.”

“That makes two of us.”

Smug smiled, Dahyun brings it upon herself to swoop the drink in your hand, down the leftover alcohol while the events at the opposite end of the room takes up everyone's attention. You’re part of the viewing crowd too, watching in wonder and from afar while the underlying ambiance of people conversing amidst the host greeting with the proper niceties like any other person would have when opening up the occasion. The lights dimming above with the scattered camera flashes the only sight visible to your eyes - aside from the recipient of tonight’s many awards.

“I still don’t know how you do it,” you remark, chuckling. “These outings - gala’s even. I mean- it hasn’t even been that long after you got the confirmation for the role, not to mention the invite-”

“To be honest, I don’t really know either.” Dahyun agrees, placing the empty glass to the passing server with an empty plate in hand, nodding in approval of thanks to make their job easier. Happily going along their way to assess the next area of need. Her eyes mirror yours - paying attention, spectating along with you until the undivided focus diverts to something else worth the time. “If anything, it’s good that you're with me. That way I can’t have all the fun myself.”

“Gotta spend my nights somehow.” You let your head fall sideways, she meets in the middle. “Rather be here than have your take of ‘rotting away alone at home’.”

“Nonsense,” chides Dahyun, stomaching a giggle down. “Wasted time with me is time well spent.”

“That I can concur,” you remark. “Though, it’s worth mentioning who convinced who earlier, remember?”

“You wanna expand on that a little more?”

“I can. It involves some hands-on work, actually.”

“Right.”

Everything from the events earlier is all panned out in your minds. Something about bending her over the desk and ignoring the call from her manager which almost resulted in being late - she’s not the kind to be on thin ice; as for you, this isn’t the first time this happened, and the warnings have only increased since then.

(A side of you few people know; exclusively for Dahyun to see. Bless the concealer for working its magic; most of the people won’t even be aware of the band-aid stuck onto her thigh.)

“A mouth can do so much more wonders than we expect.” Dahyun says cheerfully, concluding. Finger to her temple then to the lower rim of her lush lips.

Can’t deny her overbearing confidence at times.

“Really,” you say. “You’d reckon?”

“What the hell do you want me to ask for? A demonstration?” She herself knows fewer words are spoken between her and the other person. “Though, I technically don’t have to say anything to you at all since you can just tell from-”

You raise your eyebrow; solidifying the point. Nodding.

The crowd then erupts in a wave of thunderous applause, diverting both of your attention away from each other, seeing the award’s recipient bow before the audience before the event’s emcee steps on, keeping the proceedings flowing smoothly as possible. Most of the sounds are overstimulating as it is, seeing the groups of tables surrounded by people, not to mention the bar station working overtime. The flashing lights. Clamoring of paparazzi wanting the stars to look in their direction. Yeah. It’s a lot. You’ve had the rundown multiple times way more than you could count.

So you take the sight in. The usual work perk: better to be here than to sit behind a desk working into the late hours of the night, get an adequate amount of alcohol in your system to use the excuse of not being able to come in the next day, or even have the additional benefits traveling places you’d ever dream of going as a kid.

(In short saying: you liked your job, at least looking from the surface level. You don’t love or hate the gig, but you’d be willing to do what’s needed or asked without a reason or for something in return:

“Stay with me on the set?”

No problem.

“Run to the cafe down the corner and get drinks for us?”

Sure.

“I’ll give you a thank you note for your hard work. With a little extra prize at the end of it.”

No need to say ‘you’re welcome’ for that one.

You don’t even think twice about the things at all. Talk about being a sucker for love, leaving out the admission.)

It’s in the acts of service, much contrasted to doing it with a romantical intent. There might be a catch hidden deep within your heart and in those almond pools of hers; you and her had the discussion before, reapproaching it too many times for it to be pinned as a label. She says it’s a lot on her plate as it is - you’re harboring the feelings a bit too selfishly.

(Yearning and pining, everyone. The few answers to fill for those unanswered questions.)

And, it’s worth mentioning that for these brief periods of introspection, it doesn’t take much for you to snap out of the usual trance right away. Dahyun tugs the fabric of your coat for good measure, doubled down with a shoulder bump to put the vertigo in disarray, soon she has your attention again.

“What are you thinking about this time?” She asks.

That’s one prompt out of the many you find weaseling your way out easily.

“Well,” you start, pressing the buttoned-up collar up against your neck - negating the discomfort, soak some of the sweat into the threads, have the dry cleaners deal with the rest. “For one: it’s the drink they were passing around just now. And two: definitely the lack of air conditioning in this corner of the room-”

“So sensitive.” Dahyun laments, offering her small palm to your middle. “That shirt’s choking you as it is.”

“Ouch.” You sarcastically say. “Always clocking me for no reason. Unprovoked, I might add.”

“Lightening the load,” replies Dahyun, scrunching the bridge of her nose. Your coat suddenly no longer has a weight on your shoulders, finding its new place on smaller collarbones. Sure, the broad appearance depresses at the lapels, her fingertips are barely peeking out at the cuffs. Bonus points go to you for putting a considerate offer.

The top button of your shirt gets undone, freeing your throat. “What’s the plan now, miss?”

Dahyun swivels around, fiddles with the middle button of the coat until it’s in. “After party not far from here. I also think my publicist told me they have a small keynote thing I have to speak about.”

“Since when has anything ever kept you out of the spotlight?”

“Shouldn’t you be asking yourself if you’re my publicist or something?”

It takes two. The playing field’s still leveled.

But you happily oblige: “Lead the way, ma’am.”

Dahyun tilts her chin up, the corner of her mouth slightly ticked. Victorious. Some of the people around you two start to make a pathway to the exit. A little homage to Moses parting the sea for his people.

You’re already imagining the same scenario happening in traffic outside later, and you’re definitely telling Dahyun to keep her feet off the dashboard.

–

Here’s the thing. A clause in the signed contract, written and hidden deep between the lines.

You realize there’s no proper explanation to the level of engagement - exposure even - in these outings you’ve thrown yourself into. If the briefings prior are to be considered the shallow part of the pool, then the red carpets are without a doubt the deep end, it’s always going to be difficult to determine which one is easier to get used to.

Yet, you find yourself in the same spot as earlier. Except you’re lacking the usual occupant to your side back at the bar.

–

“I would like to greet everyone a good evening and thank you to the hosts for putting together-” says Dahyun, the collecting wave of applause scattering in pockets of the audience, “-such a wonderful gathering here tonight.” She then continues, now the center of attention before the occupying room, no short of most likely a hundred guests in the space if not more. The mic stand was casually adjusted by one of the stage workers, which made the appearance look more comical. Though, she bears no mind because she’s used to it on the regular.

Besides, not much time has passed once you two arrived at the second venue. Maybe a little shy of thirty minutes or something to that degree. You stopped looking at the watch on your wrist as it is - the first sign of how detached you’re slowly starting to become.

Worth noting the amount of alcohol in your system, leading to a single inevitable conclusion: one drink isn’t enough.

Luckily, the concoctions being created behind you have already been making the rounds to the guests; another cup manages to find its way to your hand again; this time with a little more kick compared to the main event’s refreshments, but the urge to grab another is a tempting thought.

There’s also the promising appeal of the balcony to your right - an opportunity to step outside, get some fresh air; you’ve got the dwindling pack of cigarettes in your right pocket, thumb reflexively twitching to ignite the lighter, the second sign of relapse waiting to happen. You don’t know how long you’ll be here, and you’re not the kind of person to push your hours for a faster paycheck.

Normally, on outings like these - they’re intended to celebrate, commemorate, congratulate, connect - then there’s the secondary layers of networking, creating connections for future projects, attached with the occasional icebreaker through the food and drinks where people are there to have a great time, socialize, share tales of what doesn’t get shown on cameras or what’s kept from being said on the record - the inner workings gradually forming once everyone’s settled in with the job done for the night.

While it may be a rinse and repeat on a different day, this face in particular does anything but that:

“Suppose you’re laying low for another hard day’s work?” She asks you, slotting herself into the spot where Dahyun would always be when she’s fulfilled her duties as an attending individual.

Speaking of Dahyun, she’s still on that stage with another co-star joining her, exchanging niceties and getting showered with compliments she plays off nonchalantly. Again, you told her to take as long as she liked, convincing yourself while walking away she’ll eventually find the way back once her minutes are up on the schedule. Until then, the oddly familiar face next to you is worth passing the seconds for now.

The girl waves a waiter nearby, nods in acknowledgement as the rim of the glass meets her fingertips, swirls it around while pursing her lips, looks in your direction and offers a toast-

You’re blinking as the action is mirrored. Ah, okay. She has your full attention alright.

You begin to see why there was a sudden influx of flashes at the photo-op earlier. This girl was amazing. The headlights shining in the dark with you as the innocent deer caught in the middle.

A drink like the one in your hand has never been swallowed faster than ever in your life.

“Ugh,” she utters, the small bump in her throat returning to its normal position, the tip of her tongue peeking out from her lips, savoring the taste. “Gotta say, this is way much better than what they were handing out in the other place.”

Turns out you’re not the only one who thought the drinks were a little fuzzy in terms of taste. So your face motions an expression of agreement and pulls a light chuckle out the mouth.

“No kidding,” you reply, examining the glass more closely, set it down on the bar, don’t ask for a second one - there’s no point, every ounce of coherence is needed to keep this conversation going, inhaling sharply for composure. “These have a little more kick,” you add on. Not much to expand as it is, but you’re getting somewhere.

“Right? It’s just enough to savor, but also not too much for you to end up in the bathroom later.” She pulls her head back, revealing the dips in her shoulders. Her necklace is an astonishing piece to notice, clearly worth in the five-digits. The shade of her dress is also another part of the appearance you’re doing multiple checks in. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but, some of the guys here are already wasted.”

Not quite blue, not quite a dark color either. You’re noticing something else here anyway.

“Hasn’t even been that long.” You’re playing it safe, observant. “The waiters are pretty much vultures in this setting; circling around the crowd until one of them drops to the floor out of exhaustion,” you tell her, checking your surrounding for anything out of the ordinary, the mix of tailored suits and dresses, elegance flooding the floor - filling up every pocket of space where it can. Some people are glancing over and immediately turning the other way, as if you had stolen a piece at the art museum. In a figurative sense, she’s drenched in blue, a siren in human form and she knows what the others are thinking around her.

“Attention always follows when you least expect it.”

“Isn’t that the epitome of this industry?” You lift your hand up towards the crowd of people, and higher up to point out the ambience. “Safe to also add there’s a lucky few that get the royal treatment and fawned over because of looks and status.”

“For all we know that could be you up there,” the woman drawls, eyes rolling and shaking her head. You can tell right off the bat she’s in denial, laid-back and totally doesn’t give a fuck; the kind of person you take pride in confiding in. “In the end, who’s really winning? The idiots who didn’t bet on their potential or the fools who were dumb enough to follow a stupid dream?” The girl runs her hand down her face. “I can tell which side you’re on.”

“I’ve been around long enough to know where the line’s drawn,” you scoff. “There’s pride in that choice for me.”

“It’s their job to use me,” she tells you. There might be a double meaning to it if you think long enough. “Just like it’s my job to be of use.”

“I’ll leave the interpretation for another time,” you nod, swirling the drink like you’ve got nothing else to do.

Her gaze doesn’t falter when you turn to put your elbows on the bar. “Well kudos to you, I guess.”

Your shoulders move again, facing towards her, elbow still on the edge of the bar. The rest of the room begins to fade out in your ears. “I don’t need an introduction, by the way. Since I already know who you are.”

“That so?”

“Minju.” You answer. “Kim Minju, to be exact,” you confidently say. A smirk tugged once the casual banter’s finally broken in. “Impressed much?”

Minju gently applauds at the meaningless achievement, smiling and giggling in a gentle tone. “Congrats. I’m assuming you totally didn’t read my name in the headlines let alone a file at your workplace?”

“There’s much more to it than your name being on the guest list.”

She blinks. The grin on her face spreads wider.

A handshake would be a nice touch to the introductions, but you’re past that point, unknowingly pushing to a higher stride.

“Alright then,” says Minju, threading her brows, teeth nipping the inside of her lower lip. “What else do you know about me? Or have you heard?”

“Loved your performance in that lawyer series,” you compliment. “Care to expand on what made you want that role in the first place? And is it true you learned sign language for the upcoming movie you’re starring in?”

This could be drawn up to be a fanboy image, but the interest is in the working passion. You don’t know whether or not the landing is sticking, but that’s just the natural flow of things. Minju herself has shuffled closer to lessen the proximity. You’re giving less care to the logistical side of the job, settling in letting loose since there aren't any plans for you after tonight. You haven’t had much to drink as it is plus this was a good way to keep the schedule moving.

“My my, so many questions for me.” Minju is a bit appalled at the sudden bombardment in the exposition and commentary you’re spilling. “Are you sure you’re working for the right agency? When were you so interested in making an impression for someone who’s clearly out of your league?”

She’s noticing the effort, that’s for sure. It isn’t like you to act this way, especially if it’s someone that’s not in the typical clientele you’re used to working with. Though, giving the informative part is easy, no doubt. If anything, this is taking a bite out of what she’s set out on the table; sooner or later, it’s going to take a lot more for her to buy into what you’re selling - especially when you don’t have all your cards laid out in front of you.

Minju watches you look left to the stage, and that was all she needed to know.

–

There’s not much to catch up on after. Consider this the transitional sequence - capped off with the polite waves and exit left once the minutes are up on stage. Everything resumes to normal: people exchanging laughs, getting plastered, acting like you’re aware of what’s happening here half the time. Dahyun spots you at your most preferred place and-

“Nice to see you two got acquainted while I was away doing my ‘obligatory’ duties,” she remarks - her way of weaseling into the conversation with a hand to your arm and chest, presenting you like some prized possession - a one of one. “I hope you’ve been keeping him occupied?”

“For the most part.” Minju’s face beams the same expression you have and your brows give off a tale of: yeah, that’s usually her thing around here. Though the mood’s already been set even before Dahyun managed to find her way back, she’s also capable enough to slot herself in effortlessly. “He’s a real charmer, this one.”

“Really?” Dahyun asks.

You scoff. “Not a chance.”

“Oh c’mon,” Minju says, and her head twists the opposite direction - noticing the sudden commotion somewhere off in the endless crowd. The three of you assume it’s a good sign - due to the cheers of approval with one of the awards is up in the air. “Never really thought you’d be one to get a little shy in showing their piece.”

“Piece?” You look at Dahyun, slightly pressed.

She shoos off the question in ignorance. “Minju doesn’t mean that.” Looks at Minju with a refined demeanor. “She, on the other hand, isn’t new to this kind of thing.”

Minju flashes a brow and that all glittering grin. “He must not be as familiar to me as you say.”

“And you’re underestimating my potential,” you drawl. “Have we met properly?”

“Not yet,” Minju responds, and Dahyun glances at the both of you - like a mastermind deep in the shadows, plotting moves on the chess table. “You’re the first person Dahyun’s brought along to and from events, though it looks like she’s managed to keep you around for a while.”

“Out of how many?” You add. Minju’s chin tilts an angle and Dahyun squints her eyes out of suspicion. It’s interesting enough how the two share the same mannerisms when around friends; the way their dresses are molded to their small waists - a nice curve in the swelled hips, enough for an average guy to do a double take every time they walk past them.

Dahyun clears her throat then blinks. “Let’s just say you’ve lucked out getting assigned to me for the long-term.” Minju brushes up your left side like she’s someone you’ve known for a while, despite only a few minutes. “May I remind you’re still on the clock?”

“Is he actually,” an intrigued Minju butts in.

“The phrase is a practical technicality, but yes.” You shrug.

“Does this remind you the other time where both of our managers got into a pissing match cause we fucked around with the livestream chat.” Dahyun sticks the peak of her tongue out - another eyebrow raiser. An instance predating your time. The topics switch to the next seamlessly:

“Oh and the one thing where we-”

“-or when your bikini pics got leaked-”

“When you got cozy with your male lead a while back-”

“-the whole accident on set with one of the staff-”

“You’re still dancing for fun and hanging out with the girls from your last group-”

They’re trading memories back and forth, with the deposit for more shenanigans beckoning to be cashed. In all of this you’re just an innocent bystander, fixated on the sudden pressure of Dahyun’s ass against your crotch with Minju fixing up her hair in a tiny, messy bun. The slim line on both pairs of collarbones reeling your eyes and gazing into their eyes. Minju’s cheekbones at the highest peak they could ever be with that photogenic grin; Dahyun looks up from underneath to see and realize you’ve been enamored from the event earlier.

“That’s right, I forgot. He hasn’t stopped noticing you with your fabulous dress, Minju. Since we crossed paths in the hotel before driving over.” Dahyun declares, in the most roundabout way of letting it known you wanted her. All you do is nod in admission. Then, Minju bites down her lip - eyes unfailing because apparently the girl knows everything. “Speaking of which-”

“Same hotel, right?” Minju offers. You could imagine the scattered sparkles over her head. “I suppose I can hitch a ride with you guys on the way back?”

–

The worst part about these events would definitely be the traffic.

With the streets packed with cars and taxis, waiting for every red light to turn green with the fingers tapping on the wheel starts to get a little more erratic out of impatience. You’re already in a sour mood on the way out because the valet couldn’t stop bitching and there was a scuffle near the door; but your attention isn’t on the road- rather, Minju in the driver seat - on your lap, in fact- feeling your mouth more than you feeling hers.

“Isn’t this a bit restricting?” Minju asks as she draws back, fingers in the opening of your necktie and pulling. “Looking flustered with a pretty woman on top of you, hm? Or is that the alcohol blushing your face.”

“It’s a bit confining,” you’re saying (and thinking), adding onto the fact of the growing tent at your crotch - accepting the weight of her ass holding you down - there’s no way in hell she hasn’t noticed it yet-

“Careful now,” Dahyun jumps in from the seat behind, happily watching. You’re unsure if she’s saying that to you or Minju - there’d be no difference in that regard anyway. “We wouldn’t want to have something bad happen to all of us, right?”

“Do you know who I am?” you mumble, getting caught in Minju’s lips and her hands doing all the right things to make sure your foot stays on the brake pedal. The light then turns green, stopping at the sudden movement of the car, bringing her knees higher to give your arm more space. “You’re lucky the hotel isn’t far this time around.”

“Oh? What happened before?” Minju inquires, “Don’t tell me you got pulled over with her sitting on your lap like this.”

“Almost,” answers Dahyun, slipping Minju’s heels off from her feet, leaving a few kisses on them. Another hint to keep as to what this girl likes - what she’s into. Dahyun wasn’t kidding when she explained what Minju is behind closed doors and she convinced you without lifting a finger to help her along in doing the honors. “Except you wouldn’t believe what the company had to do to keep the headline from hitting the main news birds.”

Minju gasps. “So that wasn’t a rumor.”

“Never happening again,” you rebuke, “Trust me when I say that I dealt with her once we got back.”

Dahyun sighs out of spite and Minju coos. Slipping your tie from the collar and handing it to the woman in the back like a baton. Un-do’s the top two buttons on your shirt, exposing your neck - freeing up the air. The dress at her legs starts to ruck up in loose rolls, showing more of those incredible thighs- shit, they’re on par with Dahyun’s, that’s for sure.

“Assuming you two missed the flight back home, I suppose?” Minju keeps talking, leans her head on the window, gets more lapis around her fingers. You look down and- okay, fuck-

She isn’t wearing any underwear.

“I don’t really remember,” Dahyun answers, and you notice she’s not at your shoulder anymore. A quick look up at the rearview, her posture is beyond slouched, leaning her head back, fluttering her eyes shut - already ahead of what she’s lacking, hoping you won’t make her wait any longer, but for now, her fingers will have to do.

No underwear for her, either. She really is playing both sides to this plot.

“It started with something like that,” you say, paying no further attention to the Dahyun fingerfucking her cunt open in the backseat - as compared to the Dahyun from a few months ago, who did the same exact thing in the passenger side before hopping on your lap - the red and blue lights are shining from the rear. Minju’s case however is a bit different: the girl’s running her hand up and down her waist, dancing along your jaw, finger to your lip and that’s an offer you can’t really refuse, so you lick the pad of her thumb, staring at you in awe, building up the profile in how to get you going.

“You really are a keeper,” Minju breathes, and Dahyun laughs in agreement, sighing - her fingers clamped by her cunt. Yu could imagine how soaked her digits are. You want to help clean the mess up later. “Do you hear that? Sounds like your girl’s enjoying herself in the back.”

“Is she? Good to know.”

“Wanna give her a little show?”

“What did you have in mind?” Playing into the role so easily Minju doesn’t flinch when your arm goes up and under her legs. The wonderful blessing of pairs, they do come in handy. “I’m an auditory learner, by the way. I like to get an idea of what I’m about to do.”

Minju was about to explain what was about to happen, but your muscle memory had other ideas: palm feeling out the surface of her soft skin over her ass, thumb lazily tampering the end of her slit, and you hear a sudden hitch - the hook of her fingers around your neck press harder in anticipation. “Here’s a hint: Dahyun’s doing it right now, too.”

“If it wasn’t obvious enough.”

“You-ah, you’re a smart guy,” says Minju, biting her finger. “Okay, god. That’s- wow. That’s really fucking good.”

You sink your thumb in deeper, coat it around that warm slick - swap it for a proper finger, watch her (and the road, mind you) melt at your touch. She mewls at the slow place, and breathes carefully. The same woman who had a captivating sense of beauty talking to you and on stage is withering away by the second.

“Wait- you, fuck.” She grins. You look back again to Dahyun in the rearview, her head on one side and bobbing her head in approval. Nothing more delightful than the gentle purr of the engine - the light smacks of skin to skin a nice plus. “Please, please-”

Her eyes are lidded and shimmering at the same time. How is she able to do that?

“Nice to see you’ve kept yourself busy,” Dahyun chuckles, leaning back forward, nose to your temple. Gently laving her tongue at you, nibbling a bit of skin, the first mark of the night. Her hand keeps your gaze to the front, smears her slick fingers across your lips and when you’re at another red light, she pulls your head to her, claiming your mouth as her own.

The air’s only getting hotter, the fabric of your shirt’s starting to mold to your body.

Dahyun’s tongue is already addicting with Minju’s keening at your fingers. You feel helpless with the seatbelt around you and time; it’s also worth noting the shared blessing plus curse in being a very skilled multitasker. Minju’s body jolts, crumpling smaller, pinching her cunt from inside and at the clit, her face scrunching once you’ve discovered her sweet spot that makes her yelp. Oh, oh my. You’re saving that for later.

You wouldn’t want to have any other problem than this. A prisoner sitting up in heaven. Until the driver behind you holds his horn way longer than you’d liked.

Dahyun then pushes your face to the windshield again. Minju’s granted a moment to breathe. The pair laughing at the sudden embarrassment of you just now.

“Mind that you’re still at the wheel, sir?” Dahyun grins, departing her lips and hands to shift the focus to the current task. “The agency’s gonna have your dick if something bad happens to me.”

“I’m counting on it,” you dart back. Minju shuffles her body to a more comfortable position, slipping her tongue into your mouth intentionally - resulting in an increase over the speed limit, and that gets her cackling. “If it means I get to run away with you.”

Dahyun tugs the stray end of your hair. “Don’t push your luck.”

“You didn’t cum yet, Dahyun?” Minju asks, tracing a nail on your cheek. “I can’t believe I just got edged.”

“We’re breaking you in little by little, sweetheart,” Dahyun replies to Minju, “don’t worry, our lover boy and I are gonna take good care of you when we get there.”

“You promised?” Minju then adds, sounding like an excited little kid, waiting for their reward.

“Mhm,” hums Dahyun, “Why don’t you give him a little space to concentrate,” she suggests, the blood running through your veins starts to flow much faster. “How about, giving him a proper trade off for getting you all riled up.”

As if the night couldn't be any worse (for the better, actually), you’re holding your breath - straightening the posture.

(You’re just happy this happened to you.)

So far, Minju’s got a bag full of surprises. What she does next really blows the whole aspect right out of the gate - the kind that risks all your lives in the car if it were to end up off the road.

Dahyun helps Minju off your lap, ends up back in the passenger seat, her dress rumpled amidst the shuffling to get her knees on the leather, elbows resting above the compartment, staring back - her eyes full of greedier intent. Coy smile and everything, without saying a single word.

“You’re sure I can?” Minju asks, pinching her lip delicately and Dahyun shelters her grin, aware of what she’s about to do. “I’m not gonna kill him, am I?”

“Oh please,” Dahyun sighs, hand to shoulder, showing comfort to the approval. Letting go of the reservation. “He lets me have my way all the time. I don’t think he would mind.”

“Not like I can do anything in this situation,” you shake your head, bearing the sudden influx of movement around your pants. Fingers getting a feel at your thighs, then your crotch-

“Looks like someone’s ready for some action,” Minju breathes, nails clinging to the zipper, tugging. The belt unbuckling soon after. You’re lucky she didn’t go for the seatbelt - for safety reasons. How considerate.

When your cock is finally brought into the mix, her hand is finally able to wrap around the size of you. She’s left in a slight state of shock, trying to come to grips at the long awaited reveal.

“Jesus christ,” she breathes, Dahyun’s smirk is one you would like to wipe off of her yourself. Minju’s still reveling at the hold she has on you, in ownership. “How do you deal with this?”

Dahyun’s answer is an open-ended one: “I just do.”

No warning is given, Minju’s small nose grazing the head, getting one good whiff at the scent. She sighs, and it’s euphoric. Her tongue is the first to have another sense unlocked; the taste, the feel, the sensitivity - it’s a mutual agreement without diplomacy: you want her, she wants you.

One more look back at Dahyun, the final confirmation. “May I?”

You could imagine the subtle nod of approval. And Minju’s mouth takes you.

All of that sensational alcohol is suddenly in the back of your head, replaced with a new stimulation.

There is a slight bit of resistance - on reflex: your stomach and legs tensing when Minju slides her mouth, brushing saliva over skin. She stops halfway, coughs, soaking your cock even more. Even though you can’t see it, you could imagine her eyes cinched shut, enlightened to pleasure you more.

“Wow,” you’re saying, and the hand grips the wheel even tighter.

Dahyun’s taken the indulging upon herself, pulling Minju’s dress up from behind, revealing those wide hips, and the irresistible ass attached with it. Palm flat - kneading it where Minju hums at the touch, vibrating it down on your slick shaft, stuffing her mouth as much as she can, swirling her tongue all over, adding more spit to the surface.

“Can you believe,” says Dahyun, sliding her fingers in Minju’s poor, open cunt, “how wet you made her? You should have some shame.”

“That isn’t my fault-”

“But it is.” Dahyun tells you with another kiss to your cheek.

“Damn right it is.”

“Just listen.” Dahyun instructs you, letting silence fill up the car and it’s all just the gentle ticks of Minju’s mouth taking you in the driver’s seat. Meticulously calculated to the finest point of your nerves, throat bobbing you - getting used to the unfamiliar girth of your cock. To which she does with ease, like a natural. It’s another story for you to ask about the two once all of this is over. Though you don’t want it to end.

All of the current thoughts are filled with Dahyun’s moans filling your ear, Minju’s mouth slipping over your lap.

“Everything okay, Minju?” Dahyun asks, and Minju’s lips pop off the tip with an audible noise. Eyes full of you. She looks at Dahyun with the look of a girl who’s discovered fire. Lips smeared with spit mixed pre-cum. Her tongue licking off the remnants is a telltale of a job not finished. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves now, shall we?”

“I’m just having my fun with your toy, that’s all.” Minju reprimands. “I was hoping you’d believe me when I told you before we went on stage.”

“Are you done showing him what you’re made of, or are you gonna give him more than he asked for?” Dahyun adds, her eyes lidded once again when she sets them on you.

“If that’s what he likes,” says Minju.

Your hand would definitely be rather tangled up in Minju’s hair over the wheel. When you wanted to satisfy that necessary impulse-

“Ah ah,” Dahyun tells you, Minju taking that as her cue to get your cock back in her mouth again, with much more motivation now carried behind the action. It’s a sensory overload on all fronts: the steering wheel, the windshield, Minju’s mouth lapping up your cock all the way in the velvety clinch of her throat, the sounds she’s making. “Shh, I’ve got you. Try to relax. Take us home, and let Minju be a good girl for you.”

Once you hear the gags become much more louder, the tip of her tongue teasing the base where your balls meet-

You groan and press on the pedal a little too much, dancing over the speed limit.

“Mmm,” Minju moans into your skin. The arch in her back now coming to form, Dahyun’s hand still to the rear of her ass. All three of you are playing into the act - curated by Dahyun’s fantasies.

She’s so good, Minju. Too fucking good. Ever since you’ve laid eyes on her. Now the pretty sight is her face to your hips, makeup messy, dress left in ruin, both holes occupied by you and Dahyun.

The hotel’s on the right in the next two lights. You can hold it, keep yourself together. Or- have Minju have her fun - make you burst right her and now; not to prove a point, but to show that she’s up for what you’re willing to dish out as soon as you could get back to the room, put the ‘do not disturb’ card out on the handle and eventually tell housekeeping to come back later - if there is a later.

These two, they’re relentless. They know you’re wrapped around their fingers and there’s not much for you to do except get them back in one piece. It’s on the assignment, but Minju’s bobbing mouth - Dahyun’s snarky dirty comments of how you’re going to fuck her into the mattress is something that the mangers didn’t mention. Rather the exclusivity perk told by the girl herself, a walking apparition of sin and her sexy advocate. You couldn’t ask for anything more than that.

“Minju, I swear to fuck-”

Dahyun doesn’t really falter if you were to speak for your own sanity, Minju keeps on sucking to the point where you’re relying on the sheer instinct of keeping the car on the street, deepthroating to submission, letting the friction of her hand bring you closer to that sweet release.

Christ.

It really can’t be helped.

If the right hand is busy, then the left hand is there to pick up the slack on the wheel.

The way you grip Minju’s hair, push her past the comfort zone, take her mouth in - deeper, where you don't believe she’s able to handle, but does. She keeps the rhythm, peak consistency. Her sly mouth filled with heat. Dahyun notices- assists in the movement, hand stacked on yours and she’s amused.

“Aw, you really like her,” says Dahyun, guiding her tongue into the cuff of your ear, her breath soothing and alarming. “Makes me wonder whose mouth is better: mine or hers.”

“Shit, baby.” You’re trying, but Dahyun smiles again when she hears the combined sound of Minju’s muffled remark and your loud moan. Minju’s mouth is a literal dream, deliberately filthy; stuffing your cock, fitting the size in a matter of minutes. The taste of you already addicting and she doesn’t let up on the tension, flicking her tongue on the underside and swapping it with her hand, holding you tight where the grip is almost white-knuckled. Tracing every layer from the skin to the veins, memorizing how wide and where to make you lose control. “You shouldn’t test me like this.”

“How long are you willing to keep it together for me? For us?” Dahyun asks, biting down a patch on your neck and watching the rise and fall of Minju’s head. Her savagery coming to light, deep within the darkness. “You could cum for our little cumdump and she’d be happy with it.”

“Mmph,” Minju garbles onto your cock.

“Fuck-”

“That’s right,” Dahyun murmurs, a hot wet kiss to the same spot where she nibbled, pushing Minju’s head down and holding it there. “Make our slut earn for it.”

And then-

You slam on the brakes.

The movement was sudden (and forceful). Dahyun and Minju share a reaction: gasping in shock where one’s pulling the other for air, eyes quirking like they’re seeing you walk in on them and the appropriate reaction to stare seems the most reasonable one. Dahyun’s hand is still in Minju’s hair, with you paying no attention and pulling the car into the valet lane of the hotel. “We’re gonna make you pay for that,” Dahyun tells you, letting go of Minju - to where she leans over to get the head of your cock wrapped around her pretty lips once again.

“Uh huh,” you say, tapping Minju’s shoulder, signaling to stop for now, right when your balls were about to burst. “Help me out and make yourselves look presentable, will ya?”

Minju rises up and wipes the layer of spit spread from her mouth, jaw slack-open and trying to memorize how your cock fills her throat. She’s good and she knows it. You and Dahyun don’t need any other confirmation to tell you she’s ready.

“If that’s what you want,” hushes Dahyun, nodding Minju to follow your wishes, she carefully puts your cock away while the car’s slowly rolling in the line. Thank god for the tinted windows, and you’re starting to imagine what the pictures would look like if they got leaked.

Any more time spent in this car and it would’ve ended up off the street. Minju’s lips capture yours first, and then Dahyun’s after. You can’t help staring, because it’s a pretty sweet view.

–

(Nobody bats an eye at the three of you at the venue, easily the center of attention whether you’d like it or not. Nobody really bats an eye if it’s the hotel doorman seeing you carrying a girl on your shoulder and heels in your hand - another girl in front of you wearing your coat, happily acknowledging the service as if it’s just a normal night. Doesn’t hide the fact the doorman wished he could trade places with you and be in that predicament instead.

He holds the door when Dahyun goes first, looks you in the eye with Minju bowing her head from behind in a fun way of saying hello and the doorman gives you this look of light confusion, but also: one of those nights, isn’t it?

Man to man, you just smirk and nod. No need to elaborate any further.)

–

In the elevator, it’s also a one-way ticket to a destination you’ve been to many times with Dahyun before. Whether to put it as your personal heaven or literal hell, it might be simply considered as purgatory.

If you were half the honest man you were - have a little more truth to your name, you would’ve gotten to know Minju a little more. Break the ice, learn what her hobbies are when she’s not in front of a crowd or camera. When her laugh echoes in the lobby and Dahyun’s trying her best to keep her quiet - even that is near impossible to do. She didn’t even drink that much to begin with, but she sure as hell looks like it.

She even looks better on her knees, with the panel behind highlighting all the floors to not make it a one-way trip back to the room.

“Fucking hell,” you hiss, hand deeply planted into her mocha shaded tresses, wet lips prettily wrapped around your cock, slipping a tongue to the slick, sensitive plane every other second making your grip around the railing a little less pleasant. Dahyun’s also lowered herself, tending to your balls and holding your thigh. Neither of them are in competition for your cock- not yet, at least, but the genuflection at your feet is enough to make you think that you’re someone worth worshipping.

Though, there’s not much to think about when they’re both swallowing your dick down their throats respectively.

Minju bobs her head up, pops, and Dahyun swallows your dick back in. You’re flexing your stomach as hard as you can.

“This isn’t too much for you, right?” Minju asks sweetly, batting eyelashes in second nature. Gazing at Dahyun who’s repeating the same moment Minju has been doing since the elevator started working. Your right hand is far off from Dahyun’s head, and you hover it over to keep the pace going.

“I’d be dead if I said it was,” you admit to Minju, to where she just fucking- looks up, face at the underside and those doe eyes, swimming in black, glistening with such innocence- lapping up the spots where Dahyun can’t reach. “But christ- you two are-”

“Relax.” You imagine that’s the word Dahyun is saying; but with her mouth filled so full up of your cock the sound comes out as garbled, saliva leaking at the corners. She’s hungry, deprived, longing for your cock. And now she finally has it dancing on her neat little tongue.

“All the stories she tells me- like, fuck, she looks so hot seeing it happen in person.”

“Minju.” You’re calling the name like putting the blame on her, staring deep into your soul. She grabs your wrist for you to not let go - to stay - just like this, you’re not going anywhere; you let the back of your head hit the wall as it feels like gravity is leaving your body. “God,” you’re gasping, suffocated by Dahyun throating your cock. “Her mouth is just-”

“I know, baby,” Minju tells you, above the half-gagged sounds of Dahyun sliding your shaft in and out of her throat, the motion selfish in every bob she does - like she doesn’t want Minju to have her fun. Your breaths staggering with every pass, smothered by the vibration between your legs, moaning with watery eyes. “She’s too good for you, we know.”

Dahyun lets you breathe, slips her hand all over her newly created mess. Minju stacks her hand right on top. The friction strong enough to pull your weight over them. You could feel your back slide against the metal, knees buckling.

“Looks like we softened him up, huh Minju?” Dahyun says sweetly, innocuous. “Got it nice and throbbing for you-”

Minju’s tongue darts at the bead of cum weeping out your slit; makes your hips twitch in the draw-back. “He’s raring to go, have you seen the look on his face?”

When they both look up: you’re dumbstruck, ogling - but all that pride you had at the start of this is nowhere to be seen.

“What floor is your room again?”

“29th.”

“Just a couple more floors up,” you say and they’re both giggling. Either at you, specifically - or the limitless amounts of tricksd how you’re going to pull and bend their gorgeous little bodies. Sensibility and control has no meaning to them. It probably has no meaning to you after everything that’s unfolded thus far.

Dahyun and Minju tilt their heads up to the underside of your cock, and the urge to grab both shades of brown to black flashes through your mind, but you digress.

They (or even you) wouldn’t have to wait any longer.

–

There’s no subtle preamble. No- that went out the door the moment you stepped in.

It’s the same order since the foyer: Dahyun first, followed by a clingy Minju and her lips with you the last one to file in line. Minju hasn’t been forthcoming in freeing you from her grasp, but you’re not the kind to fight in these situations - so, you let her kiss you anyway.

Dahyun tosses your jacket on the chair adjacent to the bed, stains fading from the earlier session, heels gracefully thudding the carpet. The blinds are parted just wide enough to get the backdrop of the cozy blue lighting hitting against the beachfront, the sound of waves crashing into shore. Bags upon bags zipped open with the assortment of essential wear and toiletries.

Minju’s not letting you go still, arms well hooked to the nape. Like she wants you to pin her to the wall straight away and let Dahyun be the lone spectator, standing in the dark.

“Can’t even spare one second of decency,” she breathes; you and Minju both look at her, not insulted - technically - but rather in a mere taunt.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” Minju asks, slyly. You shift your head back on her, let the height do the talking - make her feel small. In hindsight, she’s roughly about Dahyun’s height; that part you figured out the second Dahyun stepped into the conversation back at the party. “Are you going to stand there and watch? Or are you gonna join in on the action?”

Her voice is beyond casual, and almost a siren’s call. Dahyun doesn’t hesitate with her small stature, pulling one end at the collar of her dress, undoing it. You remember hearing that the dress itself that she was wearing was worth six figures - and she isn’t fazed when the fabric crumples at her hips - then to her thighs.

The audacity of this woman. Her figure is much more alluring to look at when there’s nothing on it.

You give your neck a gentle tweak, put any implication of soreness in the back of your head. It’s going to be a long night as it is.

“Someone’s feisty to get the ball rolling,” you’re saying, lips fast to Minju’s neck; the clutch of her hands and arms already with enough pull. Needlessly. Graciously. She tries to get your shirt off but all you give her is two hands on her shoulders and put her back against the surface. Her head hits the earthy shaded drywall - it might be intentional, or not, you won’t give any quarter either way.

Dahyun slots herself in, like she did back at the party. Only this time, she’s playing your role as second fiddle, peeling Minju away and giving her some breathing room - just to be snuffed out as she’s treating her lips to the exposed collarbone.

Minju’s leaning back, arching. Her hands don’t know whether to go to you or to Dahyun. It’s a win-win situation for her (probably a win for all three of you across the board). Two of the most attractive beings she’s ever crossed paths with and finally living out her wildest wet dreams.

The reality of it hasn’t set in yet, but the cracks are showing when Dahyun hushes into her neck: “We’re going to take good care of you tonight, honey.” She leaves a hot kiss right on the bridge of her collarbone, and you see her lip quivering. “I hope you’re ready for what’s coming.”

“Do you have any-” Minju’s sentence gets cut short when the press of your fingers gets a little too greedy, bending the blue frame under your will. “-idea of- fuck, how long I waited to finally have a go with your guy?”

“No,” replies Dahyun, tilting her chin up. Your lips are at her throat again and Dahyun seizes the chance to let Minju speak. “Maybe, I don’t really remember.”

“Let’s not forget,” Minju gasps and the heat rising on her face starts to become noticeable. “That you’re the one who set all of this up.”

“Did I?” Dahyun’s airheadedness is worthy enough for her to get the dunce cap. “Hmm.”

“She’s got a point,” you’re dishing out the unsolicited reality check. “I’m on Minju’s side here.”

Minju smiles as Dahyun rolls her eyes. The air in the room is thicker here compared to the car, shared breathing amongst you three intoxicating enough to get high on. It’s a higher plane of existence - a nirvana. Minju’s fingers trace the cotton on your waist, goes lower, till her fingertips get the cool touch of the belt buckle. There isn’t much to be said here; nothing but sly comments and filling the other’s ego to the brim. “Heh. The majority is two to one.”

You realize that it was a collective effort a while ago. Though, you liked the idea of being the bigger person over the both of them, literally.

You’ll have pride in that regard, especially in the ways you want to go about things. Dahyun lets her fingers slide over Minju’s body, canvas the curves in her wrinkled dress and slowly drag the material down in a fashion that makes your cock throb even harder against the cotton, beneath Minju’s hand. Showing care in the craft before the messy idea of undressing fills her mind. It’s Newton’s third law in real time: Dahyun setting the vision in motion and everything else seems to topple down like dominoes.

“Should we take things slowly?” Dahyun asks; proposing a challenge with the heavy implication of doing the opposite - albeit a complete rhetorical. “Make him lose his mind in being gentle and get him antsy?”

“Please,” Minju says with a hitched inhale, a hiccup, when the cool air finally hits her skin. “Anything but that.”

“You want more than just a hot mouth and fingers, huh?” Cute.” She tells Minju, dryly. “Well, why don’t you show him again how ready you actually are.”

Minju’s way ahead before you get the chance to register it: her hand well below your waist, wrapping her dainty fingers around your cock and the reflexive suck of your gut is the exact same as in the car when her lips make contact she can- god - she’s gonna-

Both exchange and share a glance, leaning their heads and drinking the sight of your inevitable demise. Minju raises her leg in the open space of yours and Dahyun’s happily helping along - hand to her thigh and making her feel lighter.

And your mind feels the exact same way when you kiss Minju once more. Which shows how much passion she has in somebody she likes; it’s sweet, wonderful, and really just pushing to keep going. Dahyun watches the whole thing unfold: you gripping tighter on Minju and handing you over the work while she pulls the dress lower and lower until it’s nothing but a pool of blue at her feet. Then she pitches in the effort. If a pair of hands and mouth isn’t enough for Minju, what’s wrong with adding another? Your clothes are soon falling out of your rigid frame not long after, and that’s the last piece finally unraveling. Minju’s still got her hand to your cock still and you’re tending to her breasts - her collarbone, Dahyun letting the width of her hips fill her palms and settles in the place of Minju on the wall.

You really can’t help yourself. Hands feasting over the unclaimed skin. You’re grasping Minju’s waist, her unimaginable ass - you hear Dahyun laugh as you’re nibbling on her jaw. The facial structure itself reminds you of another girl you and Dahyun had escapade with not long ago: Tzuyu was her name- was it? Probably. Now isn’t the time to think about it.

Because you keep kissing Minju. There isn’t really any other motive than that. Her pert mouth with those pouty lips, the sticky-messy kind and perfect enough to get more sloppy. Dahyun covers her breasts and pinches the hard buds as Minju accustoms your leg in the space between her legs. And she’s just- having the most fun out of the three of you. You think it would be Dahyun having her ‘i made it moment’ right at this second, and you’re sure she has that thought somewhere in her brain. This is Minju’s time to shine, between you two, and she’s living in it. One hand is full of Dahyun’s ass from behind, and the other’s pulling your cock closer and closer to her hips until the bits of precum starts to smear over her stomach, jerking and jerking.

“I haven’t mentioned how much I love this cock,” Minju spills with an airy laugh. Biting her lip down at feeling she got back in the car. Though she lays an admission: “If you really let me, I would’ve hopped on it in the driver's seat while we were on our way back.”

“You should’ve,” you were about to say, but Dahyun beats you to it. “Had you been riskier enough.”

Minju bites her lip down a little harder, head tipped by Dahyun that shines a spot on her chest where you notice a beauty mark- actually two beauty marks. Something to keep focus on with your eyes and not gander down to her hand had your cock. Rubbing your head right at her clit and she-

“No doubt she’s ready,” you tell the both of them, putting your two fingers between your cock and her cunt for confirmation. “I was surprised you didn’t jump on the opportunity in the car.”

“Thought I could skip to the part where you take me as I am, like I haven’t been touched in my life.” Minju threads the phrase out smoothly; little does she know that would be the last coherent thing she will say tonight. Blatantly point out the most obvious thing in your eyes: “you’ve got two of the most beautiful women in your hands and your cock isn’t fucking me yet. Is- is that gonna change anytime soon-”

“To hell with the foreplay and toying,” Dahyun coyly says, setting the declaration. “Say goodbye to your legs for the time being. You won’t be able to feel them once we’re done, or even if you’re ready for seconds.”

“Or thirds.” You smirk.

“Even if your manager calls him, he won’t answer.” Dahyun assures.

Somehow the three of you were going to end up in the bed one way or another, but right now: Dahyun raises Minju’s arms up, her wrists crossed instinctually, and opens up the chance for you to lift her leg. The stability is there with Dahyun behind, closing the distance where it’s skin on skin on skin.

Dahyun’s dreamy gaze captures her creation coming to life, holding her hips along with you, then her nuzzling cheek to the back of her neck. “The perfect girl.” All sleepy smiled with her eyes closed, “A clean slate for him to just-”

Right when you slip your cock inside, it’s behind closed doors - no flashing cameras, no name being called to the stage.

You’ve got Minju right where she is. Where she wants to be.

“Oh sweetheart,” you breathe, and you don’t flinch at the broken pitch Minju sings.

“-fuck your brains out to your wildest dreams. Isn’t that right, Min Min? Look into his eyes and show him how badly you want it.”

You freeze. Because you’re just staring into the endless void of those illustrious, beautiful irises Minju bears. Her face pulls a minor wince at the sensation - like she’s about to cry, but she’s nodding despite it; her arched back, the tipped head, her leg bound to your thigh - curling her toes and sinking her nails into your shoulders- holding on for dear life.

The only thing you want to manage: “Minju, baby- this cunt.” This is something you want to capture, fulfill a desire you didn’t think you had. Dahyun will be expecting your thanks later, and you’ll owe her big time.

“Mhm, I figured.” Dahyun laughs, victorious. “Go ahead, fuck those pretty lips of hers. Make her cum like you do with me.”

“You’ll get me again.” You’re saying that as some routine, rather than a promise. The groan falling out your tongue is a red herring in itself. Minju’s ass rests on your hands, still getting used to the insane width of her hips when rounding at the swell. Spread her raised leg wider to push your cock all the way in. Murmuring and mumbling the same in loose prayer.

Minju’s learning curve isn’t hard to follow, nor get used to. Even though it’s the first time you’ve got yourself inside all night, that's evident with the amount of ‘holy shit’ you keep mouthing as she puffs her chest out, lifting her upper half as the lower is hopelessly slipping down your length. Dahyun wasn’t kidding when she told you her body was primed for sex: hips broad enough for you to palm (and not grip if needed), to her slick cunt, swallowing up the shaft with an endless supply of heat.

Dahyun hums above the tics Minju gives with her exhales, sliding her hips down to yours; rolling them on the slight elevation provided by her other leg still on the floor, tip-toed. “Okay- holy shit,” she grits, her sly and elegant persona ripped out of her; in disbelief and in reverence: “How does this even fucking-”

A hold and yank at the apex. The audible slap is loud for someone to hear next door. Minju’s yelp doubles down on the point.

In the heat of everything. In the heat of Minju’s cunt swallowing your cock whole now. Dahyun caresses her friend’s pleasure-stricken expression, nibbling and kissing the cuff of her ear. Hand now to her clit to get her closer- faster- to that fine edge. Minju’s back bucks the opposite of the arch she managed to hold impressively well, but Dahyun (again, you can thank her for the literal support) presses down on her upper back, opens her breasts up for you to smother yourself in.

“It just does. He just does.” Dahyun supplies Minju’s working theory. “Your pretty pussy is made for a cock like his. Such a good girl for taking him so well-”

“Fuck-” is all Minju stutters. Unable to say anything else.

Her body is unbelievably responsive with the slip in, drag out motion. After all, you’re the one giving the goods. Fucking her poor pussy and splitting her legs open and listen to her whine and whimper in the same repeating fashion before Dahyun swoops her lips in to shut her up. “Oh my god,” she mumbles into the pair. “It’s so good,” and it’s everything to her. “His cock fills me up so well-”

“Right? Just let him take care of you, baby? Okay?” Dahyun’s fingers corral in a ‘v’, where she catches some of the slick and your cock sliding and feel how wet you two made her. She looks down in the low lights, gasps. “You see that? So much fucking cream down there. You naughty girl.”

You look down as well, and it’s a gentle layer of white spread all over. Minju’s liking this, and you are too.

“Holy shit,” Minju spits. The sound competing between the wails and moans - you feel her leak more. “So good. So good-”

“Yeah?” You and Dahyun say in unison. Softly. Cradling poor, pretty Minju.

“I can’t- I need. I need you two-”

You can’t stop this. Dahyun will have your dick severed and in her hand if you do. But who in their right mind would ever think of dropping her while she’s coming undone. Not while Dahyun’s arms are hooked beneath Minju’s shoulders; you, holding her dangling leg up higher, stretching Minju’s body in the hopes of furthering the sensation. Break that cunt up along with her voice.

“Breathe, Min Min. Let him take you,” Dahyun shoots a glance at you, mouth hovering yours like a tease at the crossroads. Minju’s hand clings to the back of your head, lips to the ear, head bobbing amongst the hitched gasps and clench of her teeth.

“Minju.” You’re saying her name that way for the second time tonight. “God- look at you. Such a good fucking girl for me, letting us hold you while I fuck your cunt up all the right ways,” you groan, “-Dahyun holding you up while I dick you down-”

“Bless her, bless you,” she sighs out in thanks. “You’re too good to me.”

The rhythm keeps going. Your mind doing everything it can to keep up with the beats down your heart and hips. Minju’s body is in complete euphoria the way you pull halfway and drive back in, watch her face light up a million times brighter when Dahyun slips a finger in along with your cock.

“As if you wanted anything else- fucking- unreal.” She’s still got that confidence from earlier. Hoping that you can take that away from her.

“Wouldn’t trade the world for this,” you say.

“Why would we?” Dahyun adds on, and it just- feels right. Those two got all the awards. You’re just acknowledging them with your own reward.

Minju clings on tighter. The arch in her back going the opposite direction as before, hunching, embracing; hopelessly becoming a puddle soaking your body. Her sweet little cunt and those fox like eyes, the low timbre of her voice coming around only to be replaced with a high pitched moan - it’s a splitting image, in the appearance and feeling - embedding your cock inside to the same spot you hit before and you almost feel bad for the girl. Like she was meant to take the hitting hips- because she’s made for it.

Dahyun - to her own fun, coils her fingers around your shaft. To add to the pressure, the friction. She even teases the outer rim of Minju’s pussy lips because she can. Those small hands: so delicate and light, touching and pinching and even gently slapping-

Minju wails.

“You- you’re- you’re gonna make me fucking cum-”

“Goodness, are we?” Dahyun inquires, sneering into Minju’s cheek.

“Yes, yes-”

“I don’t think he heard you just now,” Dahyun hushes, “say it one more time for us, Min min,” and you know well that power isn’t one of Dahyun’s key archetypes, but when she grips Minju’s chin and wiggles a finger past her teeth. She doesn’t even register the nice nerve pinch at the bite. “You fucking little slut. Minju, take that fucking cock in your pussy like it’s yours-”

“B- Be”

“What’s that?” The pleads are helpless, because Minju’s fingers slip and grasp onto you, raising her body like that was the thing holding her back. It doesn’t stop you from fucking her cunt into oblivion - having the tight heat and engulfing sopp of her pussy be the only thing for you to focus on.

“You’re gonna cum, aren’t you?” Dahyun says, and her circling hand doesn’t let up as Minju’s voice reaches those similar tones, “Why don’t you do it. Cum. Cum right now. All over his fucking cock-” and at this point, most of the superiority complex has fully taken over. Enough with all the nice praise and encouragement, Minju will do exactly what Dahyun tells her to do: “Let his cock cum up all inside your pretty little belly, make you feel so full. I better see that small bump where it’s poking so deep-”

“Yes-”

You’re blindly nodding along. Hips coming to contact with hers in muscle memory. “I know you want everyone to hear you, huh Minju? How much of a whore you can be when you got a nice cock all up inside you, breeding-”

“Yes, please.” Minju gasps. “Please, just- give me that-”

“Say it.” Dahyun announces. “We wanna hear your pretty voice.”

Minju, at the center of everything; the center of you two, lays it out: “My god- yes, I want his cum so bad. I want him to - shit! Yes, yes, have him breed my - fucking - pussy and nothing else-”

You look to Dahyun for the revelation, and she gives you this look saying: Yeah, you heard the girl. Go ahead and give her a baby.

Then she adds: “If that’s what she likes, don’t stop.”

So you keep fucking her. Slam your hips harder. Minju’s downfall ripples over her body as she tries to stand on her leg. Her head rests at your chest, at the collarbone, her tongue licking up the sweat off your skin. She murmurs a “hmm’ with her jaw chattering, in response to you saying her name, every angle of her cunt shaping itself to your cock. Bottoming out in a seamless fashion which does feel like you’re fucking Dahyun again - the feeling eeriely the same. Since she utters the same words Dahyun said to you multiple times before:

“Cum,” she sputters. “Want your cum so bad. Want you to breed me over and over and over-”

Dahyun’s massaging her belly as you could feel the nerves in your body go haywire. Minju’s body goes limp at the hold as you keep pushing your cock deep into her cunt at a consistent pace, taking it slow with one good stroke - and you breathe, deep. Look in Dahyun’s eyes and see her veneers peering into a smile, right where you’re about to lose it. There, in Minju’s stomach, and Dahyun’s words cross your mind as to how deranged the proposition was in the first place.

You don’t even register the pulses, cumming inside her. She’s wailing so loudly that it mixes with the tinnitus ringing in your ears.

Minju’s lips goes slack, mouthing incoherent nonsense, head tipped over the shoulder making her neck look longer.

“Aw, there we go,” Dahyun coos into Minju’s ear, patting her belly. “Got it warm and thick- in your nice little stomach.” She then swipes her slit, now coated in white, gets a taste for herself - a small little appetizer. “Mmmm, yummy.”

It takes your entire being to fuck her whole one last time, wrenching out the last few shots of cum in Minju’s cunt. “Fuck-” Minju slurs out, letting her limbs go limp; lazily kissing you and her fingers graze the ends of your hair - lightly clinging.

“Honey,” you breathe, and it’s fucking wonderful. “Was it everything you wanted?”

Her throat bobs as Dahyun makes you take over the weight, carrying her by the ass, the loosely wrapped legs giving weight. The smirk she bears is enough to show you. Yes. You wonder. Perfect. Perfection at its finest.

–

“Dahyun,” you’re calling out, and she shows her side profile over her shoulder, hand to her chest behind her back, the naked hourglass figure impossible to look away.

She replies, “Hm?” Asking like she doesn’t know what’s about to happen.

Minju’s hobbling along, hand wrapped to your cock and jumpstarting your sore muscles, kissing your arm since the girl can’t get enough.

“There’s a reason why the blinds are open.”

“Is that so?” She’s teasing, walking on the balls of her feet until the moonlight cascades around her frame, outlining in the brightness. “I hope you’ll keep your promise in fucking me on the balcony.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” you tell her, and Minju snorts in the back - still cock drunk and lust ridden where she’s finding everything to be funny.

Minju gets ahead of the curve, leaving you for the woman in front. Hand caressing her backside; from her ass, working the way up. Dahyun may not look like it, but she’s been waiting for you to have a go at her. Most of the outside has faded out from your vision; leaving you, her, and Minju.

“Had I not been here, it would’ve just been you two in this room together,” Minju says, leaning over next to Dahyun and arching her back the same way as she is. “Guess I should consider myself lucky,” she says, smile widening when you finally reach Dahyun’s backside.

“We’re not done with you,” Dahyun tells her, a sharp inhale passing her teeth when the head of your cock slides across her aching folds. Up, down, maybe a little slap to just be evil. “Oh, babe. Don’t do this to me.”

“What is it that I’m doing exactly?” You ask naively, eyes hypnotized at the width of her ass, brushing against your cock without you having to do anything. “I’m not the one who’s a little antsy to get split apart.”

“That’s what she wants out of you,” Minju groans, slipping her two fingers inside her own cunt - probably to mimic the feeling. “Maybe you need a reference to look at.”

“No need,” you retort, pursing your lips the more you push your cock into her sopping cunt, stomach billowing for the unexpected blowback. Get your hands at the swell of her sloping hip and lean down to kiss her back.

“Oh, oh-” Dahyun’s mouth cobbles out, putting her face against the glass and she lifts her body to the feeling of your lips. “There- right there, that fucking cock is just-”

“Big? Amazing? Too much?” Minju teases, burying her nose into her temple, licking her cheek. “I had a feeling you’d clench a little harder when he slipped it in.”

You remember like it was the first time, how she fits so snug around your cock like a sock or a glove in the first slow strokes, getting acquainted with how her wals kiss every sensitive part and nerve and vein across your shaft. How she messes around with the angle and even getting on her tippy toes - to deepen the arch in her back and lift her ass up since the flexibility is always a-fucking-must. Pushing down with your hand for one second and grabbing the ends of her the next. Soon you’ll imagine the ripples on her skin match the waves below, creaming her cunt as her heat swallows you whole.

Minju treats herself, which makes the whole job easier. Dahyun knows well how you’ll take her however you’d like. Faster, harder, softer even. And she won’t hesitate to tell her needs. Your grip around her hair tugs a little harsher, but she can take it. When the strokes start to increase in pace, where you’re dragging back as far as you can and yank her hips back onto yours - make her yelp, let the whole world know who’s yours.

“Fuck- fuck, he feels-” Dahyun spills out, kissing and telling. Minju hums in agreement because she knows and doesn’t need her to explain anything else. “Don’t- shit, just keep your fucking cock inside-” and your grip on her ass isn’t kind from this point on. The sensation choking you like a vice, the tightness, her heat leaking in the wetness around your cock. Minju brings Dahyun’s arm around her back, another hold for you to grab, and you can see the fist she forms which doesn’t help to the trembling legs below. “Fuck- you’re rubbing me up so good, how the fuck do you do that?”

“He just does,” Minju says, and it’s a callback - a full circle moment of sorts, really.

“Hey, those are my words-”

“Not anymore,” she tells her, hand deep in her hair and keeping her neck upright, cheek away from the cold pane of the glass. “Not while lover boy here’s finally owning your ass to thank you for bringing us all together here. So he’s gonna hold you- like this, and fuck your pussy full until you beg him to stop. Even if he does- it’ll be done with a hot load up in your fucking guts.”

The further you push your cock in, the more addicting the feeling gets. Your hands are leaving red over the pale canvas and her neck is riddled in crimson. This is what she wanted after all - what she asked for. She pleas for a breather, which you give: “Wait- wait; fuck, I need a second- okay,” while you slide the length all the way, pull her body up and pin her where her tits spread across the window, the coolness absolving the heat away. Minju’s kissing her shoulder, then yours, and manages to get her lips to the both of you when Dahyun’s back is flush with your front.

“How much time do we need?” Minju asks, gauging the conditions.

“A few seconds,” you supply unknowingly, to which Dahyun shakes her head. “Don’t know about her, though.”

From her, through blown out eyes, “I still want him.”

“You already have him.” Minju tells Dahyun, and her body goes even further back when she feels the friction inside her.

So. You keep going. Even when the sound ripped out of your lungs is agonizing because the wetness is making you desperate for that chained release. Dahyun groans - growling with shut eyes and taking your cock deep.

(She may not admit it for the next few moments, but she’ll also beg for the same thing you gave to Minju.)

“I think she’s ready,” is what Minju says, eyes flaring in excitement at the sudden slip of your fingers in her cunt, a pinch to her cunt as a reminder of her place in all of this. “Okay,” she’s telling you, “Sorry, I- fuck; can’t even have my own fun, can I?”

“Be a darling and try to keep her quiet, or don’t,” you say, one full stroke in and pulling your hips all the way back. “I love when she gets this way.”

Minju’s face forms this look, with a twitch when Dahyun clenches around your cock the second or third thrust, twitching her brows at the sound of knees banging the glass on accident, but the pain is subsided by pleasure instantaneously. “Why don’t you show us how messy you can get with her then?”

Dahyun’s voice lifts when the pace resumes to normal. She’s gotten herself so soaked that it’s leaking onto your cock - out her folds. She bites down a squeal or two when your fingers bury themselves into her hair, tip her head backwards and her muscles are reduced to pure putty. You and her try your best to keep track of the strokes - the fifth, the sixth, the seventh one where it grants an ass slap. Minju, in the midst of all this, serves a poetic justice of her own when she grabs Dahyun’s chin and slips a finger inside - something to keep her mind off of the pounding from the back and lets you test how deep her back can bend. Or even slip around to her stomach and bring her body the other way where it curves your cock deep in her womb and that’s a spot you don’t remember hitting before, but- God, the yell reaches a new note tonight.

One touch. One touch is all it took, to ease Dahyun’s mind from the endless wrath of pleasure coursing all over her body. That’s given by Minju, in the most Minjuest way possible - kissing her swollen lips, swallowing her moans down her throat so Dahyun can only hear the claps of skin, waving and rippling in your eyes.

“Oh fuck!” Dahyun screams into Minju’s face, but she just laughs it off since it’s nothing personal.

Minju just kisses Dahyun again. Muting her cries and smiling into the girl. She loves her. Adores her. You’re pretty sure these two have hooked up without you knowing and it’s already shown in how much passing they’re both putting into it.

Dahyun loves having it rough - you’re happy to give that to her. For how badly she needs this.

It’s all riding on the feel of her cunt, how it’s managed to get you in every nook where your cock touches inside her, the trick of her tongue and mouth working you to that point earlier - ripping the sounds deep in your lungs, but it’s her who cums the second out of you three.

You’re fucking her so hard she can’t control her voice.

A ripple effect in real time. Her heat washes over every corner of her body - you swear you haven’t gotten your cock deep enough so she can grab and curl around to own you, where you think she already has. Coming all the way undone. And it’s messy. So fucking messy.

Her hands hold you so dearly, lips so close to yours. You could see the hint of her reflection, how the light shines on her porcelain skin and the faint lines of her eyes closed, encapsulated in pleasure. Minju’s chin is stacked on your shoulder and pulls a lazy smile. Mumbling sweet nothings beneath the rising moans, adjusting to you and Dahyun’s height where she stands a tad bit taller.

In another corner of the universe, the roles could be switched between them, leading to the same inevitable outcome.

“Fuck me full,” Dahyun tells you, alternating with every wince and groan spilling out of her lips. “Want it- so fucking bad. You perfect bastard-” Here you’re cupping her chin as her voice gets raised - more, more, or some substance of the syllables where you’ve heard them before. With a lover's touch and mindful care for a face and body like hers, unlike the slick noises of your cock jutting out and embedding itself back in, Minju licking your neck which slightly helps the condition but not by much.

You and Minju can see Dahyun’s breath bless the class with a white, grayish fog, lip quivering until she has to hold it down to proffer a few more parting words: “hold me, love me, don’t let me down, please,” then, “your cock is-”

“Hold her up until she can’t take it anymore,” Minju growls, “She’s not gonna last any longer-”

“You fucking slut,” you snap back at Minju, probably to Dahyun too with her mewling in some form of an agreement. The pounding of your hips keeps its pace.

She clenches a bit harder to the increased tempo.

Sooner or later, you’ll have to wind up on the bed. Not just to rest, relax, or take a breather, but to swap the idea of putting your legs up rather than on the ground, fighting against gravity. Though, you’d love to stay like this- for as long as you could hold it, where the mix of blue and white illuminates through the looking glass and to your bodies. Dahyun’s fingers slide up on the pane, fingers spreading, high to where she could get them, extending her figure to the heavens where the imaginary gods could look down in astonishment.

“Dahyun, you feel- fuck, I’m cumming,” you sputter, “God, baby-” pushing her body flat and railing her ass beyond the breaking point.

Two good strokes would be the last good moves from you, fucking your cum into the muscles of Dahyun’s cunt, where you want to add fuel to the fire - soak up all the slick with more spill. The three of you are all collectively groaning and saying obscene words, burying the evidence and hope to god a scandal won’t come out of it. You pull out, slowly, let Dahyun savor the feeling of your cock leaving her. Minju’s pulling her head the other direction and sloppily slicking up her lips. Some of the cum gets on the head of your cock; so, you rub her pink folds and push right back in, see Dahyun’s body tense up since you gave her no warning, and Minju just laughs. You’re even kissing her first then Dahyun’s backside, with your cock warm in her cunt still.

Neither of you three move. It’s a moment to breathe, reflect. Normally you would be the first to panic for every slip into the mess up with Dahyun.

(In reality: you fucking love it. Despite the denial in the admission.)

You’ll just wait for the pregnancy scare to come back around again.

“Is our lovely little princess all fucked out and bred up like she asked?” Minju says, rubbing Dahyun’s back and belly and peppering her shoulder with more kisses. Holding her while you take a step back and plop to the side of the mattress.

Dahyun, still breathing in between smacking lips, “I want another.”

You and Minju both look at each other in surprise. “She’s usually competitive with me,” you say, “so it’s nothing new.”

“I figured,” Minju brushes it off, helping Dahyun walk over to you, one straddling leg over the other. Where Dahyun truly shines in the height advantage. Can’t deny she looks pretty with her straight hair now frazzled, from all the pulling and grabbing-

“Min min,” Dahyun calls Minju, “Do you mind grabbing something for me?”

“What is it? And where.”

“Michael Kors duffle bag, middle zipper.” Is all she says, and her lips are back on you. The kiss alone in a normal occasion would be enough for you to lose the air in your chest, away from the public eye and you two can fully embrace each other between the intimate, slow sex to the fast, rough fucking depending on the mood - usually one outshines the other and it’s an open ended interpretation.

Minju disappears out of your view for what seems like a few seconds, comes back with a hat in her fingers, holds it as she sees you and Dahyun cross further away from the edge. Refusing to keep your eyes on Minju, Dahyun’s hands are quick to shift your gaze back on her - hitching between muffled words and sighs and moans all the same, pressing down hard on skin where the shade goes beyond red.

You, of all people too, should know this: what Dahyun has is hers to keep.

“Greedy little girl isn’t she?” Minju asks, with a little smirk peeking at the corners. Scooting herself closer and closer to the action in excitement. The unspoken law of attraction, possessed by you and Dahyun both. “So tragic - like she can’t get enough.”

“You too,” Dahyun darts back, shimmying her pussy lips down at the underside and it’s the slightest bit of -fuck, pressure applied at the underside, her gyrating hips doesn’t help the case either.

Minju passes the hat off to her; as fitting for the position that she’s in: a cowgirl hat she puts on to make the appearance true to life.

You catch yourself staring much longer than usual.

“Makes no sense,” breathes Dahyun, brushing the head of your cock against her folds with such ease, and you move her hand away to tap lightly on her clit. Made you want more. “How his cock is still hard after he-”

“Fucked your ass raw?”

(I mean, yeah-)

“Mmm, I think she’s ready,” Minju says, huskily, hand to cheek and you don’t think twice when her thumb slips past between your lips. The wicked smile eliciting as she’s doing so only sparks a multitude of different things to try after- or later. “Ride his cock, Dahyunie. I wanna see how good you can tame him.”

It’s very possible, and she’s done it before.

Dahyun pushes you back into the sheets, lets your hands roam all over her front, “My lovely girl,” you coo, smirking.

She gasps, bites down hard on her teeth at the feeling of your cock pushing in, filling her up. “God- okay, wait-”

The fucking stretch. Slow at first, but once she took more than half the seamless movement of her taking the entire length is a sight you’re hoping to see again and again. Your thumbs find themselves at the indent of her hip and thigh, greedily pressing down and unwilling to let go. Rigid to smooth, the breaths steadying with every rock of her hips.

You lean up and fix the hat for her, leave a kiss on her neck for the good job. “Good?”

“Mmm,” Dahyun hums with a smile, getting more and more confident with the feeling. “Feels so fucking good.”

Minju grabs hold of her waist and raises her up- just slightly, where you could feel your shaft tense up in anticipation. But instead, you buck your hips to meet in the middle, wrap your hand to her waist along with Minju’s arms as Dahyun grinds her cunt onto your cock.

“Bet that must feel real good for you, doesn’t it?” Minju giggles out.

“Oh, I can’t even begin to describe it,” you barely whisper, because Dahyu’s cunt sucks the air right out of you.

“Won’t be long for seconds then, are we?”

Minju’s words fizzle out in your ears the more you watch Dahyun lean forward one second, back the next, hips rising and falling on your shaft. The expressions written on her face changing every beat of skin hitting against itself, alternating between fucking herself to you thrusting. If Minju’s words couldn’t register in your head, then the sounds of Dahyun whining on top is literal music happening in real time.

Minju’s on her knees, rubbing herself up at the sight of Dahyun hopping along. Until you decide to help along to reach that high again. In the embrace of your head on your chest, you’re scattering kisses all over her breasts and soon the idea of Dahyun and Minju getting off to you becomes more and more of the current reality.

Dahyun sucks in, through her teeth and stomach, curling her lips when the upward thrusts start to get ruthless. Her hands are gripping and soon the patchwork of nails will start clawing their way into your skin. Despite all that, her body holds still to your grasp, like it’s used to the clutch and all she has to do is keep herself still.

“My- fuck, it’s not even fair; so- so fucking big, you are,” she strains out, hooking an arm around your neck and your hand’s to her ass. “Baby please- ‘m gonna fucking-” is the last thing she says before her own cry cuts her off, burying her lip into the dip of your shoulder - the ache coursing through her body she has to channel it through her teeth onto your skin.

“Cum,” Minju orders, knowing very well Dahyun’s getting to that point. Fixing the hat so dutifully and moving the wisps of hair falling to her front. “I know you want to. You can take it. You can take him.”

You’re certain you could hear the squelch of her cunt the faster you move.

“For me,” you say, the low rumble in your tone slightly trembling, trying to keep up. “Just a little more.”

“Yours- yours. So yours, please. It’s all yours-”

She’s biting hard on her bottom lip, and you’re shushing her.

“Breathe, babygirl.”

“God- it’s, ugh,” groans Dahyun. “K-keep going-”

Little do you realize, she’s been working you up again. In those wobbling lips and the gasps in the little spaces of your bodies, shadowed by the echoing of wet skin hitting against itself. Dahyun switches from the fast fall of her hips, to the agonizing grind of your cock filling her up - all the way down to the hilt.

It doesn’t take much - not that it had to. Dahyun’s helpless to stop the second spill of cum flooding her womb; the sounds of her the same as always: fucked to the brim, where the head of your cock gets to the deepest spot in her cavern and you see her ruby shaped eyes meet yours - half-lidded and hazy. Just the way you like them.

“Fuck, Dahyun-”

“Ah,” Minju sighs, ‘There we go. Finally.” She’s saying like it’s some relief, cradling Dahyun’s pleasure stricken head as her body freezes when she rests her hips for the last time, leaning down to kiss your mouths in a lazy fashion, then to your jaw, whispering a string of words you’ll ask her later when she’s back to her sense.

Her lips are back to where they never leave: yours. “Do-” she tries to say, and you’re laughing.

“What is it, love?” You like throwing the pet name around. Maybe the meaning behind it doesn’t apply to her (yet), but it does for your case. “Use your words. Anything.”

“Let. Let-”

“Take your time.” You’re speaking oh-so softly to her. She’s still got her hat on, sliding off her hair and behind.

Dahyun takes a few breaths to collect herself. All her thoughts as best she could conjure up. Which she does: “I want him to milk you again.”

Comically on cue, you and Minju both gasp. Is it in shock? Surprise? No. Neither of those assumptions could suffice the wicked grin Minju has on her face. Not that it was a competition or an endurance test. You’ve concluded that both of these girls are absolute freaks having fun with a cock together.

“Didn’t he just-”

“He’s a good one.” Dahyun explains with no elaboration to Minju, for (hopefully) the last time. Sucking in a shared inhale when her pussy lips slide up and off your cock, the audible wet sound beyond obscene; some of the locks on her hair actually get caught to the slick underside, licking the evidence and pursing her mouth right above your balls. “What? You don’t trust me?”

“No, it’s not that. I just-”

“Why don’t you lay down and let him make you feel good? Don’t you want him to fuck your hole full again? Until you’re sick and cock drunk you go dumb?”

By your own standards, this is teetering to pure insanity for Dahyun. Minju doesn’t see it that way, since her expression hasn’t changed, putting no fight when Dahyun’s hands are on her body, flipping her over on her back and spreading her legs wide. The hand-off is something to take note of - the coordination. Soon you’re slapping your cock on her clit, making her body tense up. She doesn’t even blink when you slip inside.

Her eyes go wide, and you swear you see sparks flying beneath them.

“There’s that face,” Dahyun urges, holding your chest from the rear. A kiss to your neck, with a departing tongue. “She’s all yours.”

Your hips move on their own, hands fast to the hourglass curve of her waist- her fucking hips. With every passing stroke it wriggles up to her tits in the same motion: down then up, up then down. A quick gaze to the action below and you can’t understand how well she’s meant for this kind of work.

“This fucking cunt,” you grit, “My fucking god.”

“No room for control.” Dahyun’s wrapped around your middle in quick succession. “The best girls like her are always meant to be bred. Pounding her pretty little fuckhole because she always has you coming back for more.”

Minju’s arms are all over the place. First gripping the sheets, then covering her face - touching her hair. She’s so goddamn pretty and even more beautiful when completely fucked out - the pink now apparent in her cheeks with the lighting provided by the blistering moon through the windows. Her brows are creasing and the opposite, mouth canted and spilling in tongues. “Mmnh, fuck, you’re so good- so deep- ah-”

You can’t help but be amazed you’ve got her to be like this in a short span of time. Legs open and letting your cock push and drag its way out. The shadow creating this mosaic on the wall - where all of your bodies are meshed into one.

Somehow you manage to bring Minju closer, have her (somewhat long, lengthy) legs curl loosely around your thighs. Where the motion of your hips hit that same spot you discovered earlier unintentionally, bend the springs deep in the mattress where the frame is moving along with your thrusts. The harder you grip her waist, the louder the slaps are. You don’t even show a hint of worry when Minju goes limp in her arms, her back arching towards you, using the position to the fullest potential.

Dahyun observes from above, smiles when you grab both of Minju’s wrists and she takes it upon herself to grab your necktie conveniently at the edge of the bed. You don’t even notice her tying it around her hands and putting them above her head, holding as you find the perfect angle and aim for the same spot to get her cumming in no time flat.

“Thanks,” you’re panting out.

“Breed my little girl again.” Dahyun says to you. And you feel it in the grip, that addicting clench - massaging your cock around her slick walls. “Hold her hands, her wrists, just make sure you empty every drop inside her.”

“More, more,” the girl beneath you cries out. “Let me be good- milk your cock like she asked. I want it in my fucking pussy- you motherfucker, just do it already.”

“You heard her, have Min min here take it,” Dahyun growls into your face. You don’t even yield to look for the assurance, because it’s drawn up in her mind. “I want her to have it in her fucking stomach.”

Dahyun’s role in all of this isn’t common: to be the one calling the shots, but you’re welcoming it anyway with her at your side.

As for Minju’s case: she’s been reduced to a river of breath, bent into hisses and hums from the soft flesh of her mouth and throat.

Even when you want your mouth to comply with the demands, your body does the talking. Before it sets in: you seize the movements when the first rope of cum coats Minju’s walls; hell, you don’t keep track of the countless pulses of cum shooting inside her cunt, slamming your face onto hers and groaning so loudly she could choke on the sound alone. Her breathing shudders and you go with the slight tip of her head back, feeling every push of fresh cum inside to the point you fail to control it.

Dahyun smiles in approval as you bring it upon yourself to keep thrusting, forcing every fiber in your body and using everything - even using a whimpering Minju at your hips - to make sure she wrings out all the bits of white from your cock.

When you slow down, lightheaded and the scent of the room is full of sweat and sex, Minju’s swollen cunt keeps you grounded while she keeps your cock warm. “Good job,” you hear Dahyun whisper, and manages to get her slack lips onto yours, then leans over to show some love to Minju as well. “Well done, sweetie. We’re both proud of you.”

You didn’t want this to end - and Minju makes it known with an unrestrained sigh when your cock finally leaves her properly fucked cunt.

There she lays once the soreness sets in, cum leaking out and you hear Dahyun giggle when her pussy makes a subtle ‘pop’. You lift a brow in the bubble that forms in the mess, but they’re both looking at you-

“What?” The two ask in unison.

You shake your head, and smile. “Nothing,” you say. Which is the whole truth.

–

(Seconds before you doze off, you twist your head to them sitting up. Actually, Minju’s on her back still with an elbow for support. Dahyun’s hand is between her legs and scooping the lasting bits of cum from her pussy, licking it up and kissing Minju.

You don’t bother asking about the debauchery happening across. Someday the inquiry will come from you, just not today.)

–

“No.”

“Yes.” Is what Minju says, but it’s not directed at you.

“No way. No freaking way.”

Minju’s sitting near the nightstand, in one of your shirts. Knees stacked elegantly as she maintains the professional mannerisms on the phone. You assume it’s her manager, but she ends the call on one hand and switches over to the hotel phone, resuming her conversation. “Yes I understand. By the way, can I order some room service?”

Dahyun shuffles from the open balcony, welcoming in the morning breeze. Bathrobe coated around her figure and in the oversized slippers. Two small boxes are in her hands, and she meets you with the same eye smile she always flashes.

You bite your knuckle as Minju’s nodding her head. Curious as to what was discussed. “Okay, we’ll come right down in fifteen minutes.” She hangs up the phone soon after.

“Well?” You ask.

“Believe it or not,” Minju starts, and she’s trying her best not to smile. “They want to see us in the lobby to talk about- last night.”

Dahyun tips her head down with a grin and you’re arching your eyebrows in relief. “Thank god, I hope it wasn’t another noise complaint.”

“Oh they mentioned that as well,” Minju says, killing your whole mood.

“See? I told you,” Dahyun laughs, and it’s the kind where it’s cute and unbearably impossible to not go along with. There weren't plans in the schedule today, especially with Minju tagging along, so that alone could be drawn up as a free day. “How many complaints are we at now? Five? Six?”

“Seven,” you deadpan. “What’s with the boxes in your hand?”

“Pregnancy tests.” Dahyun answers. You look at Minju and all you see is her pursed lips with a thumbs up.

Oh god, you’re mouthing to yourself. As if this new adventure didn’t have much to unravel - turns out you’re absolutely wrong.

(When the two ask you ‘what’s the problem?’, they’re left puzzled with the facepalm you give. Little do they know about the smirk hidden behind your hand, and it goes to show that you’re just as sick and twisted like the both of them.)

(a/n: one year of kooyabooya fics, and what better way to go back with the two that started it all <3)

857 notes · View notes