othernightslikethis

[othernightslikethis]

Looks like someone got top marks on all their exams! And, luckily, he is on vacation and free to write.

[othernightslikethis]

Jealous Much? ( Karina x Male Reader )

tags : fluff smut

Karina's eyes narrowed as she stared at the plate of half-eaten nachos in front of her. The cheese had started to congeal, but she didn't seem to notice. She was too busy picking at the jalapeños with a frustrated air. You watched her, sipping your soda, trying to understand what had brought on this sudden change in mood.

"Look," you said, setting your drink down with a gentle thud. "What's the big deal with me hanging out with Minjeong?"

Karina's glare intensified, and she jabbed a chip into the cheese with a bit more force than necessary. "Drop it" she said, her voice sharp.

You rolled your eyes, feeling the weight of her accusation but refusing to let it drag you down. "Why are you so obsessed with this?" You asked, your voice calm but firm. "It's not like I'm ignoring you."

Karina huffed and pushed the plate away. "It's just… You guys are always laughing together, sharing secrets. It's like she's taking over our friendship." Her words hung in the air, a hint of sadness lacing through the anger.

You leaned back in your chair, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?" You said, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and frustration. "You're acting like a kid who can't share their favorite toy."

Without warning, Karina's leg shot out and connected with yours under the table. The sharp kick sent a bolt of pain up your shin, and you winced, your eyes watering slightly. "Ow!" You exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot.

The din of the bustling diner grew louder as the couple at the next booth turned to glance over, their whispers of concern cutting through the air. The waitress, a young girl with a pink apron, paused mid-stride with a pot of coffee, her gaze flickering from you to Karina and back again. You offered them an apologetic smile, trying to convey that everything was fine, even though the tension between you two was palpable.

Turning back to Karina, you took a deep breath and spoke firmly but gently. "You need to chill out. This isn't a competition. We're friends, not a couple."

Her eyes flashed, and before you could react, her leg swung out again, delivering a second kick to your shin, this one harder than the first. "It feels like it is!" she snapped.

You flinched and gritted your teeth, not letting the pain show on your face. "Karina, that's not fair," you protested, rubbing your leg.

"Fair?" she spat out the word like it was poison. "How is it fair that she just waltzes in and gets all your attention?" Her voice was louder now, and you could feel the eyes of the diner patrons on you, their curiosity piqued.

Ignoring the stares, you leaned closer to her, keeping your voice low. "You're being ridiculous," you said. "Minjeong and I are just friends. We share the same interests, that's all."

But Karina was already sliding out of the booth, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I can't do this right now," she muttered, grabbing her jacket from the chair next to her. You watched as she shrugged it on, the fabric slipping over her shoulders with a soft rustle.

You mumbled to yourself, "Fuck me," as you rubbed your throbbing shin. You didn't know how the situation had escalated so quickly. You had only been trying to enjoy a casual meal and now, you felt like you were navigating a minefield of unspoken emotions.

The next few days passed with an eerie silence between you and Karina. You've seen her around school, her eyes sliding over you as if you were invisible. It was like the time you forgot her birthday, only this time it was a little more intense. You shrugged it off, chalking it up to one of her mood swings, something you've known for since you two were kids.

But then, the whispers began. They started as a murmur in the hallways, a soft buzz that grew louder until it was all anyone talked about. Karina had started hanging out with Leo, the school's golden boy. He was the kind of guy who could charm a teacher into giving him an A with a single dimpled smile. The kind of guy that had the whole school, especially the girls, eating out of the palm of his hand. And now, it seemed, he was paying special attention to your best friend.

You couldn't blame him for being drawn to her. Karina had always had a penchant for the popular crowd, and with her looks and brains, she fit right in. It was like watching a celebrity couple form right before your eyes. The hallways were ablaze with whispers of "Did you see Karina with Leo?" and "They're so perfect together!" It was nauseating, and you found yourself avoiding the places where you knew they'd be.

But every time you saw them together, laughing and whispering, her arm draped around his, you couldn't help but think—was this Karina's way of getting back at you? A pang of jealousy stabbed through you, sharper than you'd like to admit. You knew you had no right to feel this way, but it was the principle of it all. It felt like she was flaunting her new friendship in your face, as if to say, "Look what I have now!"

So, one day, after school, you decided enough was enough. You marched over to Karina's house, the same house you'd been to a hundred times before, but this time it felt like enemy territory. The walk was short, but it felt like a mile, each step heavier than the last. You knocked on the door with a firmness that matched your resolve. The door swung open to reveal Karina, her eyes widening in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" she snarled, her arms crossing over her chest.

You ignored her, stepping into the living room where her parents looked up from their evening TV show with puzzled expressions. "Hey Mr. and Mrs. Yu," you called out, plastering a smile on your face.

"Oh, hi sweetie!" Mrs. Yu exclaimed, setting her knitting aside and rising from the couch. "What a surprise! are you staying over for dinner?"

You nodded politely, keeping your eyes on Karina. "If it's not too much trouble," you said, walking past her into the hallway.

Her mother's footsteps trailed behind you. "Of course not," she called out. "You know you're always welcome."

Mr. Yu's boisterous voice echoed from the living room. "Hey, Y/N! Did you catch the game last night?"

Without missing a beat, you called back, "Nope, but I heard they were going to lose even if I did watch!"

Mr. Yu's laugh boomed through the house. "Always the optimist" he chuckled.

You marched up the stairs, each step a silent challenge to Karina, who followed with a smirk playing on her lips. You knew she thought she had the upper hand, but you weren't about to let this go. You needed to set the record straight.

When you reached her room, you close the door as soon as she enters. You turned to face her, your eyes narrowed. "Enough games," you said, your voice a mix of frustration and determination. "What's going on with you and Leo?"

Karina sat at the edge of her bed, her smirk never wavering. She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor. "What do you mean?" she asked, playing dumb.

You rolled your eyes. "Don't pretend," you said, your voice tight. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. "What's the deal with Leo? You trying to get back at me because I started hanging out with Minjeong?"

Karina's smirk faltered for a moment before she shrugged. "What if I am?" she said, her eyes flashing. "It's not like you've been the best at being a best friend lately."

The words hit you like a slap in the face. You felt your cheeks heat up with a mix of anger and guilt. "What's that supposed to mean?" you demanded, your voice shaking slightly.

Karina's eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction. "You stupid?" she spat out.

Without thinking, you found yourself stepping closer to her, your hands reaching out and grabbing her wrists. With surprising strength, you pushed her backwards until she toppled onto her bed, your body hovering over hers. "What the hell is your problem?" you hissed, pinning her hands above her head.

Karina's smirk grew wider, and she met your gaze without flinching. "Now you know how it feels" she said, her voice low and mocking.

It was true. You had been so focused on your newfound friendship with Minjeong that you'd neglected Karina. But you hadn't realized the extent of her jealousy until now. She had been trying to get your attention by hanging out with Leo, hoping it would make you feel the same way she felt when she saw you with Minjeong. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt a twinge of regret for not noticing her pain sooner.

With a heavy sigh, you released Karina's wrists and flopped down next to her on the bed, your legs dangling over the edge. "You know," you said, "you really play these games too much."

Karina's smile was a tight line, but her eyes were gleaming with a strange sort of triumph. "At least now you know how I feel," she said, rolling onto her side to face you.

"Don't you dare start dating him," you told her, your voice low and serious. You knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, but you needed to lay down the law, to assert some kind of control over the chaos that was your friendship.

Karina's laughter was like a slap to the face. It was light and airy, as if you had said something utterly absurd. She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with each mocking giggle. "Leo?" she said, as if his name was a joke. "As if he's my type anyway."

After a few seconds of silence with surprising agility, Karina straddled you, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your face. "Minjeong, do you like her?"

You felt the weight of the question, the way it seemed to hang in the air between you, thick and heavy. "Here we go again" you said, trying to sit up, but she pushed you back down with surprising strength.

"Answer me," Karina demanded, her eyes boring into yours. "Do you like her?"

You swallowed hard, the question echoing in your mind. You had liked hanging out with Minjeong, her laughter infectious and her smile a beacon of light in the dullness of school days. But now, with Karina's hands on your chest, her eyes searching yours, you couldn't help but feel a pang of something else—something that had been there all along but had been overshadowed by the excitement of the new.

"Karina," you began, but she cut you off with a shake of her head.

"Just tell me," she insisted, her grip tightening slightly. "Do you have a crush on Minjeong?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you stared into her eyes. It was true. Minjeong's company had become something you craved, her laughter a melody that filled the quiet spaces in your heart. But with Karina's accusation hanging in the air, you couldn't ignore the conflicted emotions roiling within you. The friendship between you two had always been complex, a tapestry of shared secrets and unspoken feelings that had been stretched thin by the arrival of your new companion.

Without thinking, the words spilled out of your mouth, raw and unfiltered. "I like you more than her, if that's what you want to know," you said, your voice barely a whisper. Karina's expression froze, a mix of surprise and satisfaction.

For a moment, she didn't move, just stared at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. Then, she leaned in closer, her gaze never leaving yours. "Prove it," she murmured, her voice a challenge.

You felt the heat from her body and the sudden closeness was both exhilarating and terrifying. You had never felt this way before, not with your best friend, not with anyone. But here you were, your heart racing as she waited for your response.

Taking a deep breath, you pulled Karina close, so that your foreheads touched, and your breaths mingled. "There's no going back after this," you whispered, your voice a mix of determination and fear.

Her smile grew, and she nodded, her eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. "There never was," she said, her voice filled with a strange sort of relief.

And then, without any more hesitation, you leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft, tentative press of your lips to hers, a question and an answer all rolled into one. Karina's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in deeper, her mouth moving against yours with a hunger that took you by storm. Her kiss was demanding, insistent, and you responded in kind, your arms wrapping around her waist as she deepened the kiss.

Her hands slid up your chest and tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you felt yourself melting into her touch. It was overwhelming, the passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface for who knows how long. It was like she had been waiting for this moment, craving it, and now that it was here, she was consuming you whole. You could feel the years of tension and unspoken feelings coiling around you, tightening like a spring ready to snap.

You guided her hips, pressing them down to grind against your own, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. It was a dance you had never done before, but it felt natural, like you had been practicing for this moment without knowing it. Your hands roamed over her body, learning every curve and dip, every inch of her that you had never been allowed to explore before.

Karina's eyes were closed, her breath coming in quick pants as she moved against you. The sound of your kisses filled the room, a cacophony of passion that seemed to drown out the rest of the world. You could feel her heart racing beneath her ribs, the rapid beat matching the rhythm of your own. Her legs were wrapped around you now, pulling you closer, and you knew that this was it—the moment that would change everything.

But just as your hands found the hem of her shirt, a voice pierced the bubble of your intimacy. "Y/N, Karina dinner's ready!" Mrs. Yu's call echoed up the stairs, breaking the spell that had been woven around you both.

You pulled away, breathless and slightly dizzy, staring at Karina's flushed face. "Guess I'm having you for dessert instead" you murmured, the words a promise and a tease. Karina's eyes narrowed in mock annoyance, but the corner of her mouth twitched up into a smirk.

"You're terrible," she said, rolling off you and smoothing down her shirt. But she didn't look away from you, her gaze holding yours, a silent understanding passing between you.

With a smug smile, you pushed yourself up from the bed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for one more kiss. It was deeper this time, your hand sliding down to squeeze her ass playfully. Karina giggled against your lips, the sound muffled by the pressure of your mouth on hers.

You felt a thrill rush through you as you broke the kiss, your hand lingering on the soft curve of her body. You knew this was crossing lines, but the heat of the moment was too intense to resist. "Dinner's waiting," you murmured, as the both of you go down to eat.

The dinner was a tense affair, with Mr. and Mrs. Yu's oblivious chatter filling the void that had been left by your silent glances. You couldn't help but feel the electricity between you, the way your legs brushed together under the table and the occasional hand that reached for a serving spoon that was just a little too far. Every move felt loaded with meaning, every gesture a silent promise of what was to come.

After dinner, Karina's parents retreated to their favorite show, leaving the two of you to clean up. You grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing at a stubborn stain on a plate, trying to ignore the racing of your heart. Karina was by your side, her movements efficient as she rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.

As you finished the last plate and handed it over to her, you couldn't help but glance into the living room. The flicker of the TV screen cast shadows on Mr. and Mrs. Yu's faces, their attention fully absorbed in whatever drama unfolded before them. The sound of laugh tracks and commercial jingles floated through the air, a stark contrast to the silence in the kitchen.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to Karina, feeling the heat from her body. She stiffened slightly, her eyes meeting yours in surprise, before a knowing smile curled on her lips. You reached around her, your hand brushing against her stomach, and pulled her closer. With a gentle nudge, you pressed your crotch against her ass, feeling the softness of her curves through the fabric of her shorts.

Her breath hitched, and she leaned back into you, her body responding to your touch. You felt a thrill of power, of desire, as you began to move against her, your hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm. The sound of the TV grew distant, the laughter of the sitcom audience a faint backdrop to the symphony of your ragged breaths. Your hand slid up to cup her breast, and she arched her back, pushing into your palm.

With a whispered word that sent shivers down your spine, she suggested, "Let's go back to my room." You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your heart hammering in your chest. The kitchen light glinted off the clean dishes as you turned off the faucet and dried your hands, leaving the sponge in the sink. Hand in hand, you tiptoed out of the kitchen, trying not to alert her parents to the shift in the atmosphere.

The door to Karina's room clicked shut behind you, and you felt a rush of excitement mingled with nerves. This was new territory for both of you, but the desire that had been simmering between you was now a roaring fire. You didn't waste any time; with a gentle shove, you pushed her onto the bed, the springs groaning in protest. She landed with a soft bounce, her hair fanning out around her head like a fiery halo. Her eyes danced with challenge, daring you to take the next step.

With trembling hands, you reached for the hem of her shorts, sliding them down her legs with a slowness that was almost painful. Each inch of skin revealed was a treasure, a piece of her that you hadn't seen before, and you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of her bare thighs. As the fabric hit the floor, she kicked her legs free, and your gaze was drawn to the lacy panties that barely contained her. You felt your mouth go dry, and your heart thumped in your chest like a drum.

With a smoldering look, Karina hooked her thumbs into the waistband and slid them down, revealing herself to you inch by inch. You watched, transfixed, as the fabric fell away, exposing the soft mound of her sex, glistening in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. The sight was almost too much to bear, and you had to clench your fists to keep from reaching for her.

Your cock was already straining against your pants, eager to claim what it had desired for so long. You stepped closer to the bed, your hand shaking slightly as you undid your fly and pulled out your erection. It bobbed before you, a testament to the passion that burned within you.

Karina's eyes darkened as she watched you, her own desire mirrored in the way she licked her lips. "Take me," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "Make me fucking yours"

You didn't need another invitation. You climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself between her legs. The scent of her arousal filled the room, making your mouth water and your cock ache. You leaned down to kiss her, your hands sliding up her body to cup her breasts, feeling the hardness of her nipples against your palms. She arched into your touch, her legs spreading wider, silently begging for you to fill her.

With one hand, you guided your cock to her slick entrance, feeling the warmth of her against the sensitive head. The anticipation was killing you, and you had to fight the urge to plunge into her right away. Instead, you slid in slowly, feeling the tightness of her pussy give way to you inch by agonizing inch. She moaned into your mouth, her nails digging into your back as you pushed deeper, feeling her body stretch to accommodate you.

The sensation was like nothing you'd ever felt before—hot, wet, and so incredibly tight. You had to pause for a moment to get used to the feeling, to savor the way she felt around you. Then, you pulled back slightly before pushing in again, a little harder, a little faster. Karina's legs tightened around your waist, urging you on, her hips rising to meet each of your thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a primal beat that matched the thunder of your heart.

Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, and she moaned with each stroke. You leaned down to kiss her neck, your teeth grazing the soft skin, tasting the salt of her sweat. Her breaths were coming in short gasps now, and you could feel her body tense beneath you. You knew she was close, and the thought of making her come, of being the one to push her over that edge, was almost more than you could handle.

You picked up the pace, driving into her harder, faster, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The bed creaked in protest, but you didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the feel of her, the tight grip of her pussy, the way her body responded to your every move. You slid your hand down her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver and jump beneath your fingertips, until you found her clit. With a gentle touch, you began to rub it in slow circles, matching the rhythm of your hips.

Karina's moans grew louder, her breath coming in ragged pants. You could feel the tension building inside her, her muscles tightening around your cock like a vice. You watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered open and shut, the way her lips parted in silent cries. You knew you had her, that you were in control of her pleasure. The thought was intoxicating, making you want to push her further, to see just how much you could make her beg.

With each thrust, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, your orgasm building like a storm in your balls. You could feel the heat rising in your body, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. But you held back, waiting for her, determined to make sure she came first. Your thumb flicked over her clit faster, the wet sound of your skin on hers driving you wild. Her hips bucked against you, her breath hitching in her throat.

Suddenly, her eyes flew open, locking onto yours with a desperate intensity. "Y/N," she moaned, her voice tight with pleasure. "I'm going to come."

It was all the encouragement you needed. You slammed into her faster and harder, feeling her body tense up, her muscles spasm around you. Then she was screaming your name, her orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning. Her pussy clamped down on your cock, sending waves of pleasure through your body, and you knew you couldn't hold on much longer.

With one final, desperate thrust, you buried yourself inside her, letting go with a roar. Your cum spurted out, filling her up, marking her as yours. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful, and you collapsed onto her, your breathing ragged and uneven. Karina's legs tightened around you, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax.

For a few moments, there was only the sound of your heavy breathing and the thud of your hearts beating together. Then, Karina's arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer. "This took way too long to finally happen" she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. You couldn't help but chuckle, the tension of the moment dissipating into a warm, fuzzy glow.

As you both caught your breath, you looked down at her, her eyes groggy and a serene smile on her lips. The sight was so beautiful it took your breath away. You kissed her gently, savoring the taste of her, the way she felt beneath you. The reality of what had just happened was setting in, but you didn't feel guilty or confused. You felt…right.

"You know," Karina began, her voice still a little shaky from her orgasm, "I can't wait to go to school tomorrow and show everyone how much of a clingy girlfriend I'm going to be." She giggled, her eyes glinting mischievously.

You groaned, burying your face in her neck. "Don't you dare," you murmured, your voice muffled by her skin. The thought of the school knowing about you two was both exhilarating and terrifying. But Karina didn't seem to care. She was already planning your love story for the world to see.

[othernightslikethis]

AFTER HOURS

Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader.

A little anguish, age gap, bf x gf, smut

7,1k words

Kim Taeyeon wasn’t just your mother���s best friend. She was part of the fabric of your life, a constant presence that seemed to have existed forever. The aunt who wasn’t related by blood but who scolded you when you talked back. The woman who made three-tiered cakes for birthdays, who remembered the names of your third cousins and always knew what gift you wanted before even you did.

She was the loudest laugh at Sunday barbecues, the lap you ran to when you fell off your bike, the shoulder your mother leaned on when she was sad. She was there when you broke your arm jumping off the school roof, holding your hand in the hospital while your mother was busy filling out emergency forms. She was there at your high school graduation, shouting your name louder than anyone, eyes shining with pride. She was there on that holiday in Jeju, when she showed up in a wine-red bikini that made your father immediately look away, flustered. You were fourteen at the time, and you saved the photo on your phone with a heat in your cheeks you couldn’t name.

She was perfect. Untouchable. She glowed in a way you didn’t know if it was because she was too much of an adult or simply unlike any woman you’d ever seen.

And that was exactly why... she was completely off-limits.

It happened on a stifling summer afternoon, the kind where the heat seeped through the cracks in the windows and the house itself seemed to sigh, slow and lazy. Your mother had gone to visit your sick grandmother in Busan, leaving you home alone for a few days. Taeyeon showed up unannounced, a bottle of soju in hand and a vulnerability in her expression you’d never seen before.

"Another weekend alone..." she said, kicking off her shoes in the corner of the living room. The divorce was still fresh, and even though she smiled, you could see the broken pieces behind her eyes.

You offered to keep her company. Turned on the fan, put on some soft music, poured the drinks. One drink became two, two became three. She laughed more than usual, tossed her hair to the side, and let her arm brush against yours every time she said something funny.

"You understand me in a way no one else does," she murmured, her finger tracing the rim of her glass.

You don’t remember who leaned in first. Only the silence between one breath and the next, the suspended moment before the touch. The taste of her lipstick was berries and alcohol. The scent of her perfume—expensive, subtle, unforgettable—lingered on your skin. Her fingers were cold, but her hands were warm, nervous, determined. The shock in her eyes when she realised what you were doing was real. But she didn’t stop.

"This is wrong..." she whispered between kisses, even as her fingers undid your shirt buttons with a urgency that betrayed any hesitation.

"I know..." was the last coherent thing you managed to say.

That night, everything collapsed and revealed itself at the same time.

After the first time came the guilt. Thick, suffocating, like a blanket too heavy for summer. You avoided mirrors, ignored her messages, tried to convince yourself it was a mistake that wouldn’t happen again.

But then she texted.

"Are you okay?"

And the truth was: you weren’t.

The meetings started again, like an inevitable relapse. First quick coffees, flimsy excuses. A movie here, a lift there. Hands "accidentally" touching. Laughter that lasted longer than it should. Until the meetings lost any pretence of innocence.

You were sleeping together. In roadside motels, in the backseat of her car, once in her architecture office with the lights off and the blinds drawn. She moaned against your shoulder, biting your skin to keep from crying out too loud. And you? You lived for those moments. For that body, that woman, that dangerous, addictive secret.

But it wasn’t just sex. It was the way she knew you. Knew you hated kimchi. Knew you got anxious before interviews. Knew you listened to classical music when you were sad.

It was the care. The tenderness in small gestures. The dinner she cooked for you on days you didn’t want to get out of bed. Her fingers in your hair when you said the world was too hard. The comfortable silence between you.

And then it happened:

You fell in love.

It was a stupid mistake. A careless slip. You left your phone on the kitchen table while you showered. It was unlocked. A message came through.

"I can’t hide it anymore. I love you."

Your mother read it.

The silence that followed was absolute. A chasm. She looked at you as if you were a stranger. As if she’d just discovered her son was someone else entirely.

"How could you?" was all she managed to say, eyes red, hands shaking as she gripped the phone so tightly it looked ready to snap.

She slammed the door on her way out, and the sound echoed like a gunshot.

Taeyeon tried to explain. Called, messaged, showed up at the door. Your mother ignored her as if she were dead. Their mutual friends turned away. Your mother’s brother stormed in, furious, threatening to involve lawyers.

She was painted as the villain. And you as the victim. The manipulated one.

"She took advantage of you," your father said, refusing to meet your eyes.

And for a while, you believed it.

Two years passed.

Nothing was easy. You lost friends. She lost her reputation. Your mother drowned in bitter silence, and your father just avoided you. But time, stubborn, kept moving forward.

The messages between Taeyeon and your mother started getting replies. First with terse punctuation. Then short sentences. An "ok." A "got it." Later, a cold but human "thanks."

Your father still wouldn’t look at her, but he stopped making venomous jokes when you mentioned her. A small victory.

And the two of you? You moved in together. A new flat, in another neighbourhood, far from prying eyes and old memories. A fresh start. Taeyeon began smiling again, lighter, as if she’d learned to carry the pain without letting it weigh her down. You learned to cook for her. She started buying too many books and stacking them on the shelves.

On Sunday mornings, she still danced barefoot in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in hand, hair messy, spinning to the music as sunlight streamed through the window.

She danced as if the whole world had finally allowed her to be happy.

And, watching her, you knew: none of it was a mistake.

---

The atmosphere in the house had shifted—subtly at first, but now it was impossible to ignore. The walls felt colder, the rooms quieter, as if even the air carried a faint discomfort. The home that had once been Taeyeon’s refuge had become a glass prison, where everything was visible, yet nothing was truly spoken.

Her parents *tolerated* her—that was the word. They tolerated her presence, her measured words, her forced smiles. But when they looked at you, there was something different in their gaze. A glimmer of admiration—not for who you were, but for what you represented. Youth. Beauty. Vigour. And the comparison was inevitable.

Every comment, every masked joke, every prolonged silence between sentences carried an implicit message: "You're not enough."

"You're so handsome. So young... What on earth did she do to win you over?"

"She must have some secret, right? Blackmail? Or is it the money?"

"Not that she's ugly... but let's be honest."

Taeyeon heard it all. Every word cut through her chest like ground glass. She smiled, made jokes in return, pretended not to care. But her eyes… her eyes told a different story. And you saw it. Because you recognised that spark. Or rather, you remembered when it was there. Now, all that remained was the reflection of someone trying to resist drowning in emotional wreckage.

Her friends didn’t help. At meet-ups or coffee dates, their compliments dripped with poison:

"He’s a Greek god, Taeyeon. Seriously, how did you manage it? Does he like women who are... older?

"Oh, you’ve always been good at winning hearts, haven’t you? Even with that age gap. I could never."

And she smiled. Pressed her lips together. Changed the subject. But you saw how she withdrew a little more with each remark. As if she were shrinking.

Your own friends, at first, were cruel. Called her a "milf", made crude jokes, laughed at absurd insinuations about her "dominating you in bed" or "manipulating you with experience." You argued, fought, cut some of them off. Eventually, they fell silent. But the damage was already done. And Taeyeon felt it.

---

Her shift was subtle. It began with small gestures.

She still said "good morning", but without looking at you.

Still kissed your forehead, but her lips trembled.

Still smiled, but not with her eyes.

The warmth of her body, once always pressed against yours at night, began to retreat. Little by little, she started sleeping turned away, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You reached out to hold her, but she curled in on herself, as if your touch burned.

Mornings became silent routine. She woke before you and slipped away without a sound. Came home late, smelling of stale coffee and exhaustion. Her makeup faded, her gaze hollow. And when she entered the bedroom, she changed in the dark, lay down without a word, turned the other way—and slept.

You tried to talk. Tried to coax out smiles. But she pulled back. She was there… but she was gone.

And a doubt gnawed at you: Was there someone else?

But you knew Taeyeon. Knew the pain she carried from her ex-husband’s betrayal. Knew how even the smallest lie shattered her.

She wasn’t cheating.

She was crumbling.

---

The night was warm, but the bedroom felt frozen. You came home from work, showered, and lay down. She was already there, motionless. Facing away. The silence was absolute. You tried to touch her, but she only pulled the blanket tighter over her shoulders.

You stayed awake for hours, tossing, trying to understand how things had come to this.

Then you felt the mattress dip slightly. Taeyeon rose with quiet steps, as if begging the universe not to make a sound. The bedroom door creaked faintly, and she vanished into the hallway.

You waited. Something in your chest screamed that you shouldn’t ignore this.

You got up. Went downstairs. And found her.

She was curled on the living room sofa, folded into herself as if trying to disappear. Her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling.

Her sobs were muffled, desperate, as if crying in silence was her last attempt not to break completely.

You froze for a moment. The sight of her like that was something you’d never forget.

"Love...?"

She flinched, hastily wiping her face with her pyjama sleeves. Her expression was pure panic, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.

"W—what are you doing awake?" her voice hoarse, weak, broken.

It was the first time in weeks she’d looked you straight in the eye. But something inside her was shattered.

You moved closer, sat beside her. She recoiled instinctively, like a wounded animal. But you took her hand—and felt it.

The tremor. The fear. The vulnerability.

"Taeyeon... talk to me, please."

She hesitated. Her lips parted, but no words came. Until the weight became too much. The fortress she’d built with such effort collapsed.

"I... I can’t do this anymore..." she whispered between sobs.

And then she broke. Collapsed into your arms as if that embrace were the last anchor between her and the abyss.

She wept with her whole body. Her hands clutched at you, fingers digging into your chest as if trying to fuse with you. Tears soaked your shirt, but you didn’t care. You just held her, pressing her close, rocking her like a wounded child.

"You should end this. I'm trying to push you away, damn it, but why do you keep coming back?"

Her voice trembled, thick as if every word were caught in a throat crushed under the weight of guilt. It was a rough whisper, fragile, yet loaded with a fierce desperation. It sounded as though she were begging to be left behind—yet at the same time, begging for you to stay.

Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned white, as if her entire body were fighting to hold itself back, resisting the natural urge to throw herself into your arms. She kept them rigid at her sides, as though trying to keep her soul from escaping her flesh.

The tears no longer came in sobs, but in silence. They had grown accustomed to flowing—two gleaming rivers down her pale skin, trailing her face like open wounds. The shirt she wore was stained in uneven patches of sorrow, as if grief had left footprints on her chest.

"It’s not fair… I ruined your life…"

Those words were whispered against you, like a confession she hated to voice aloud. She pressed her forehead to your chest, as if the weight of everything was too much to bear standing. You felt the damp heat of her tears seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and the muffled sound of her ragged breathing hitting your body like a plea for forgiveness.

Her shoulders shook—not just from pain, but from shame. From fear. And from a love so immense it hurt.

You reacted instinctively. Your hands rose slowly, trying to wrap around her shoulders, to pull her close. To shield her from the world and, if possible, from herself. But she flinched at the slightest touch, as if your affection were a burning ember rather than a refuge.

"Don’t. Don’t lie to me…"

Her voice was weak, like a breath of wind on the verge of vanishing. "I’m old, and—God… how did I not see it before? My friends were right. You’re only with me out of pity, aren’t you? You’re afraid to leave this old woman!"

That word—old—slipped from her lips like a blade, sharp and cruel. And the worst part was, she seemed to have driven that knife into herself. Her lips quivered. She bit them, hard, as if punishing herself. As if she deserved to suffer for daring to love you, for believing, even for a second, that it was possible.

"Taeyeon. You’re perfect."

Your voice cut through the air, firm, charged with a fierce intensity. You held her carefully, your fingers trembling with emotion, and gently pulled her away from your chest, forcing her to look at you. Not with brutality—but with love. With urgency.

Her face was swollen from crying. Her eyes, red like two weary suns, yet still beautiful. There was a desperate glimmer in them, as if searching for something in you—perhaps a reason to stay, perhaps confirmation that they were wrong.

And you gave it to her.

Because there, right in front of you, Kim Taeyeon was still stunning.

Stunning even with her smudged mascara casting shadows under her eyes. Stunning even with her nose red from crying. Stunning in the depths of pain, in the chaos of insecurity, in the abyss of fear. Stunning because she was her.

"Do you really think I care about age?" Your voice dropped an octave, like thunder rolling in to shield the land. "Do you honestly believe I’d be here if I didn’t want you more than anything?"

She tried to look away, as if afraid to find the truth in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let her. With a gentle touch, your thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away a stubborn tear that refused to stop falling. You leaned in even closer, closing the space between you like someone refusing any distance.

"I don’t want anyone but you, Taeyeon. Not someone younger. Not someone older. Not anyone. Just you."

Those words seemed to dismantle the defences she had built with such effort.

"One day, you’ll meet a girl your age and leave me. I know it."

Her voice came out like a lost child trying to shield herself from inevitable pain. But there was also a sliver of hope, barely perceptible—as if, deep down, she wanted you to prove her wrong.

You laughed. Low. Warm. A laugh that carried affection, but also disbelief.

"And you’ll meet someone your age and leave me."

Her eyes widened.

"What?! Of course I wouldn’t!"

You smiled. That smile she always claimed to hate because it "made you too smug," but secretly adored.

"See? That argument doesn’t make sense. Baby. I’m with you now. And you’re the one I want. Don’t let anyone—not even yourself—try to change that."

She looked at you. Really looked. Her eyes brimming with tears, but this time, with something new behind them: hope. Vulnerability. Love. A raw love, stripped of glamour, born in the mud of pain and watered with real promises.

And then she whispered:

"Then promise me. Give me a… big, big kiss."

Her voice faltered at the end, almost a nervous laugh between tears. It was so genuine, so absurdly adorable that you couldn’t resist.

Adorable. That’s what you thought.

And then you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers—not like someone kissing an insecure woman, but like someone sealing a sacred vow. A kiss without hurry, full of truth, saying everything words never could.

When your lips parted, you already knew exactly what you wanted.

Your kisses trailed down, slow and deliberate, from her mouth to her jaw, then to her neck, where you left a discreet mark—just enough to make her shudder. She writhed beneath your touch, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, as if clinging to something solid to keep from losing herself completely. Until now, you had never taken control like this—she had always preferred to be on top, dictating the pace, and only now did you understand why: she was afraid of seeming vulnerable.

It was adorable.

Your fingers unbuttoned her pyjama shirt, one by one, exposing her soft skin to the cold air of the bedroom. She arched her back involuntarily, a shiver running through her as the fabric slid off her shoulders. You didn’t let her adjust to the temperature—your lips were already wrapped around one of her breasts, your tongue tracing slow circles before sucking firmly.

She screamed.

"I-if you keep this up, I swear you’ll be sleeping on the sofa for—"

You didn’t let her finish. Your fingers found the other nipple, twisting it lightly, and her protest dissolved into a loud, trembling moan. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath quickened, and you smirked against her skin.

This was your woman.

And you would make sure she remembered she deserved to be treated like a queen.

"What’s the matter, mummy? Not enjoying yourself?"

She turned her face away, her cheeks burning with shame. At first, she had hated that name, but you’d noticed long ago how her muscles tensed less each time you called her that. How her moans grew louder. How her hips pressed against your hand whenever the word slipped from your lips.

Your kisses trailed lower, leaving a damp trail down her flawless abdomen. You could spend hours there—nipping, licking, worshipping every inch of that smooth skin. But you had other plans.

When your hands gripped the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, she hesitated, her fingers tangling in your hair in a mix of protest and plea.

"I-I can’t let you—"

You didn’t give her a choice. With one firm motion, you tore the fabric apart, relishing the satisfying sound of the elastic giving way.

"HEY, THAT WAS MY FAVOURITE!"

You ignored her. It was a lie. She had a wardrobe full of identical pyjamas. Besides, this was about something far more important.

In all your years together, she had never let you go down on her. There was a deep-rooted guilt in her, an old-fashioned belief that a decent wife shouldn’t allow something so indecent. You suspected that was why she’d rarely climaxed with her ex-husband.

But you weren’t him.

Your finger slid along her entrance, finding her absolutely soaked, and she arched her back with a ragged moan. You didn’t make her wait—your tongue found her clit in one firm stroke, and her scream echoed through the room.

"NO—YOU CAN’T— AAAAHWN~!"

She tried to close her legs, but you held her hips firmly, keeping her spread open. Within seconds, she was already trembling, her fluids dripping down your chin as she writhed, unable to form words.

She couldn’t hold back.

Her body was already at its limit, her thighs shaking uncontrollably as your tongue worked in a relentless rhythm. You knew exactly how she liked it—steady pressure, then quick, flickering strokes, just enough to drive her to the edge of desperation.

"S-stop… I’m gonna… NO, WAIT—"

But it was too late.

A hot gush spilled from her, coating your chin, your lips, dripping down the fingers still holding her open. She screamed, a raw, broken sound, her entire body convulsing in violent spasms. You didn’t stop—byou sucked, drank every drop, and she sobbed, her fingers buried in your hair, tugging wildly.

"I CAN’T… I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE… PLEASE—"

But you kept going, pushing her straight into another peak, even more intense than the first. This time, she couldn’t even form words—just high-pitched whimpers, her legs shaking, the wet sound of your tongue against her filling the room.

When you finally pulled away, she was gasping, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes glazed over. You sat up, licking your lips slowly, and she covered her face with her hands, embarrassed.

"You… you’re insufferable."

You smirked, pulling her into a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on your lips.

"So you squirt? Fuck, can you stop getting sexier, Kim Taeyeon? At this rate, I’ll have to knock you up."

She visibly shuddered at the idea, and then you grinned. Ah. So that was what she wanted? To carry your child?

Your fingers found her entrance again, this time two fingers plunging deep inside her heat while your mouth recaptured her swollen clit. She screamed, her body caught between the mattress and your dominance—completely at your mercy now.

"See how wet you get for me?" You murmured against her skin, feeling her walls clench around your fingers. "All this mess just for me… my greedy little wife."

She tried to muffle her moans with her hands, but you pinned her wrists above her head, holding them with one hand while the other continued its relentless work. Precise curls, deep thrust, the obscene sound of her slickness filling the air. You felt the moment her muscles started trembling again—she was so close…

"Come." You ordered, nipping at her thigh. "Squirt again. Now."

Your command shattered something in her. With a muffled scream, another gush burst from her, even more intense than before, spilling over your hand, dripping onto the sheets beneath. Her body jerked as if electrocuted, her eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure completely overwhelmed her.

You didn’t give her time to recover. In one fluid motion, you lifted her hips and buried your tongue deep inside her, drinking every drop as she thrashed.

"STOP! I… I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE…!" She sobbed, her legs trembling violently.

You lifted your face, your chin glistening with her. "Liar." You smirked, lining your throbbing length with her dripping entrance. "You can take so much more."

And with one sharp thrust, you sheathed yourself to the hilt, her eyes widening as one last weak spurt escaped between your joined bodies.

"That’s… that’s too…!" She couldn’t form sentences, her nails digging into your back.

You started moving, each thrust calculated to grind against that perfect spot inside her. "Say it. Say what you are."

She shook her head, resisting, but her body betrayed her—growing wetter, tighter around you.

You slowed your pace, nearly pulling out completely before slamming back in. "Say it."

"Y-YOUR… YOUR WHORE…!" She screamed, and you felt her walls begin to clench again.

That was all you needed to hear.

Gripping her hips, you fucked her mercilessly now, the sound of skin against skin, her cries, your own growls—all blending together as you drove her to the edge once more.

Until you stopped. You flipped her onto her stomach, your hands firm on her hips as you pulled her up, leaving her on all fours on the sofa. She tried to protest, but you were already sliding into her from behind, a rough groan escaping your throat as you filled her completely.

"N-no… like this it’s… too—"

Deep. That’s what she meant to say, but the words were lost as you started moving, each thrust aimed at that spot that made her see stars. Her hands clawed at the sheets, her knuckles white from the strain, as you controlled the pace—slow and cruel at first, then faster, until the wet slap of skin dominated the room.

She tried to brace herself on her arms, but you pulled her back, her spine pressed against your chest, one hand wrapped around her throat while the other slid down to rub her clit in quick circles.

"You’re not running now, princess."

She screamed, her entire body shaking, and you felt her walls pulsing around you, clenching as if trying to milk every inch. You didn’t stop—you couldn’t stop—pumping into her as she remained oversensitive, each movement wrenching another moan from her.

When you finally dropped her back onto the sofa, she was completely boneless, her breath ragged, her eyes unfocused. But you weren’t done.

You lifted her, wrapping your arms around her as you pressed her against the wall, her legs locking around your waist.

"Hold on."

She obeyed, her arms looping around your neck, and you sank into her again, **even deeper this time**, the angle perfect for wringing another scream from her.

"O-oh God… like this I… I’m gonna—"

And she did.

Another gush, even more intense than the first, spilling down your thighs as you kept moving, relentless. She buried her face in your shoulder, her teeth sinking into your skin to muffle her cries, but you wanted to hear her.

"No one else will ever make you feel like this."

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears—happy ones this time.

"You only cry like this for me, understand, you slut?"

"U-uhuh! Oh yes, fuck, I’m gonna break, baby I’m gonna..."

You laid her on her back at the edge of the sofa, her legs bent against her chest, exposing her completely as you stood, gripping her ankles. She tried to cover herself, but you pinned her wrists above her head, quickly binding them with her own pyjama top.

"Y-You’re not going to—"

But you were already inside.

The penetration was brutally deep at this angle—every stroke grinding directly against her G-spot, the tip of you hitting a place that made her eyes roll back. She tried to speak, but only a choked "Nhgn—!" escaped, her fingers twisting in the makeshift restraints.

You gripped her hips and lifted her into the air, using her thighs as leverage to slam her back onto you with each thrust—blike a medieval catapult breaking through castle walls.

"S-STOP! I’M GONNA— CUMM—"

She didn’t finish.

Her body arched violently, a transparent gush spraying uncontrollably as you kept pounding, using her slickness to slide even faster. The sight was obscene—her stomach trembling with each impact, her breasts bouncing wildly, her expression completely lost in pleasure.

Then you changed positions, untying her hands, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, your hands gripping her thighs as you pressed her against the wall. She had no support. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, her arms clung desperately to your neck, and you felt her racing heartbeat against your chest.

"Y-You’re going to drop me…"—her voice was a breathless whisper, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and pure arousal.

You answered by thrusting deeper.

She shrieked as you buried yourself in one stroke, the angle brutally perfect. Every movement now controlled not just her pleasure, but her very breath—when you lifted her higher, she writhed; when you let her slip down slightly, her legs tightened around you, begging for more.

"I-I can’t… think…"

That was the point.

You used her as you pleased—lifting and lowering her body in your rhythm, feeling her grow tighter, more desperate. When your fingers found her clit, she lost control—another hot gush spilled between you, and she buried her face in your shoulder, crying from sheer ecstasy.

You didn’t stop. Not until she trembled endlessly, her legs too weak to hold on, her entire body ruled by your movement.

When you finally couldn’t hold back any longer, you buried yourself deep and emptied weeks of pent-up seed into her womb, and Taeyeon could do little more than whimper and twitch helplessly through another mini-orgasm—this one not quite as loud.

When you laid her back on the sofa, exhausted, you realised she had simply passed out from all that overstimulation.

---

Six months ago, your life had been turned upside down—in the best way possible. Taeyeon, your Taeyeon, was finally back in your arms. After so much time apart, you had both decided to face your insecurities together, diving headfirst into therapy. And to your surprise, she was taking it seriously—more seriously than you ever thought possible. She read books about relationships, jotted down reflections in a journal, and sometimes even initiated deep conversations in the middle of the night when anxiety struck.

But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for the whirlwind that was her pregnancy.

When those two little lines appeared on the test, your heart nearly burst with happiness. A little girl. Your little girl. You had even already chosen a name—Ha-eun—and agreed to get married when she turned three, giving yourselves time to adjust your lives, careers, and, most importantly, for Taeyeon to feel secure again.

But the pregnancy brought with it a Taeyeon who could switch between angel and devil in a matter of seconds.

She would laugh at a silly meme on her phone, and the next second, she’d be crying because you "breathed too loudly" and it "deeply bothered her." Once, she flew into a rage because you "chewed a biscuit too aggressively," and ten minutes later, she was clinging to you, apologising while licking the salty tears off your face.

If she used to love your scent, now, all it took was you approaching her after work for her to wrinkle her nose and say in disgust, "You reek of man." And worse—if she was having a bad day, just seeing you made her nauseous. Once, you walked into the bedroom, and she literally sprinted to the bathroom, laughing and vomiting at the same time. "Sorry, it’s the baby that hates you!" she yelled between gags.

Ah, but nothing topped the jealousy. Nothing.

If you so much as glanced at the barista for half a second, Taeyeon would go icy. If you replied to a message in the work group chat—which, by chance, included a female colleague—she would scowl, her eyes narrowing like a cat about to pounce.

And the peak? When the neighbour from the flat upstairs—a 60-year-old woman —said good morning to you in the lift, and Taeyeon hit the emergency button just so you could get out faster. "She fancies you, I saw the way she smiled," she growled, while you tried to process the fact that your pregnant fiancée was jealous of a grandmother.

It was an ordinary Saturday—or at least, it should have been. You and Taeyeon had gone out for a romantic dinner—something increasingly rare, as the pregnancy left her exhausted and irritable most nights. But today was different. She woke up in a good mood, even suggested getting dressed up to go out, and you, of course, didn’t question the miracle.

The restaurant was cosy, dimly lit, with wine glasses (grape juice for her) and a menu she had chosen after three days of indecision. You were laughing, talking about baby names again—she insisted Ha-eun sounded too formal and now wanted something "cute but not tacky"—when it happened.

The waitress came to clear the plates. A young woman, smiling, nothing out of the ordinary. You, being polite, thanked her with a "Cheers, that was lovely" and a brief nod. That was it.

But as the waitress turned to leave, Taeyeon froze. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, and her hands—clutching the napkin—tightened until her knuckles turned white.

You realised too late.

"Taeyeon? You alright?" you asked, still oblivious to the danger.

She didn’t answer. Just stared at you with an expression that mixed betrayal, fury, and pure existential dread.

"You… you looked." Her voice came out in a trembling whisper, as if she were holding back a tsunami of emotions.

"Looked at what?" you frowned, genuinely confused.

"AT HER ARSE. YOU LOOKED. I SAW IT.'

You swallowed hard. No. You hadn’t looked. Swore you hadn’t. But Taeyeon was already boiling.

"Taeyeon, love, I just thanked her—"

"NO. You did that little glance. That ‘oh, what a cute little thing’ look. I KNOW THAT LOOK."

"But she doesn’t even have… an ‘ar—’"

"STOP. TALKING. ABOUT. HER. ARSE."

She threw the napkin on the table, grabbed her bag, and stood up with the trembling dignity of a betrayed queen.

"I’m leaving."

"Taeyeon, wait—"

"NO. STAY HERE. CHAT MORE WITH HER. SINCE YOU’RE SO CLOSE."

You tried to hold her arm, but she shook you off as if your touch burned.

"I don’t even know the waitress’s name!" you argued, desperate.

"OH, SO YOU WANT TO KNOW, DO YOU? GONNA ASK FOR HER INSTA NEXT?"

The surrounding tables began to whisper. An elderly couple looked on with pity. The waiter pretended he wasn’t listening, but he clearly was.

With great difficulty, you convinced her to go home. Though she didn’t look at you the entire way.

"Kim Taeyeon, What the Bloody Hell Was That?"

You muttered, irritated enough to roll up the sleeves of your dress shirt, ready for a proper row. Until you noticed her frozen, eyes locked onto your flexed bicep, biting her lips so hard they nearly bled.

And then you understood.

"Ah… So that’s how it is?" Your voice dropped to a rough whisper, deliberately slow, as a wicked grin spread across your lips. "Naughty little girls…" You undid your belt with a dramatic click, watching her shudder. "...deserve punishment. Especially the ones who make a scene in public…" A step forward, and she stumbled back against the wall. "Isn’t that right, mummy?"

Taeyeon’s eyes widened, a moan escaping her throat—loud, desperate, as if she couldn’t believe what that word did to her.

"You—!" She tried to protest, but you were already there, one arm braced against the wall beside her head, the other tilting her chin up.

"You started this." Your hot breath against her ear. "Humiliated me in front of everyone. Treated me like rubbish. And now you’re looking at me like this?" Your hand slid down her waist, firm, possessive. "So easy…"

Taeyeon tried to turn away, but you tightened your grip on her chin, forcing her to face you.

"Say it."

She trembled, lips parted, eyes already glazed over.

"…I hate you."

You laughed, darkly, and captured her mouth in a filthy, dominant kiss, your hand tangling in her hair to pull harder. She moaned again, fingers clutching your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

And Christ—if that woman wasn’t the most perfect thing when she surrendered like this…

You broke the kiss abruptly, leaving her gasping, and whispered:

"I’ll go easy on you only because of our little girl in there, understand?"

You massaged her six-month bump and smirked, finally sliding your trousers off.

"Open your mouth, you filthy whore."

"You call me a whore?"

Her voice trembled, eyes brimming with unshed tears—stubborn, just like her. A chill ran down your spine, but you didn’t back down.

"I do." Your hand moved from her belly to her chin, squeezing firmly. "My slag. Only mine."

Taeyeon’s breath hitched, lips parting. You saw the conflict in her eyes—anger, desire, submission, pride—all tangled in the pregnancy hormones that made her so sensitive.

"You... you can’t—"

"I can." You cut her off, dragging your thumb across her lips. "And you love it. Love it when I put you in your place. When I remind you that no matter how much you scream and throw a fit, in the end... you’re mine."

She shuddered, a moan trapped in her throat.

"Open."

For a second, she hesitated—stubborn to the last—but then, slowly, her mouth opened.

You grinned.

"Good girl."

"Choke on it properly, you disgusting bitch."

You shoved your cock down her tight throat, feeling the muscles spasm in panic around your throbbing head. Taeyeon gagged violently, nails digging into your thighs as spit and tears streaked her mascara-smudged face.

"That’s it, take every inch like the knocked-up slut you are," you growled, yanking her hair as you bottomed out. "Gonna cry? Gonna make a scene now, you filthy whore?"

She tried to pull back, but you held her firm, fucking her throat ruthlessly. Every gag was music, every tear a confession—she was yours, a wet, sobbing toy made to take your anger and lust.

"Feel that? Feel how your throat was made for this? For choking on my cock like the desperate slag you are?"

Taeyeon whimpered, body shaking with need as you used her mercilessly. When you finally pulled out, she coughed and spat, lipstick ruined, eyes glazed with submission.

"P-please..." she rasped, voice wrecked from gagging on you.

You laughed darkly and gripped her chin.

"'Please' what, whore? Say it."

She swallowed hard, tears and desire swimming in her eyes.

"...Please fuck me until I forget my name."

So far, you’d done nothing but foreplay—just that. She was afraid of hurting the baby, but if the urge struck, you’d made a reasonable agreement—while she carried your daughter, no vaginal penetration. Only anal, and carefully. After all, Taeyeon had always been the prim, almost naively innocent woman—the one who’d watched you grow up, who blushed at innuendos, who covered her eyes during sex scenes in films.

Or so you thought.

Because the moment you slid your fingers between her arse cheeks, feeling how absurdly wet she was just from the idea, you realised something was very wrong—or very right.

"B-Bloody hell, Taeyeon…" you growled, feeling her tight ring give way easily under your fingers. "Have you… done this before?"

She bit her lip, eyes darting away, but her body arched into your touch. "N-No… just… thought about it… a lot…"

"Thought about what?" Your voice came out rougher than intended, fingers pressing deeper, feeling her clench around them.

Then she let out a filthy, desperate moan and confessed:

"You… taking me from behind… like I’m just a hole for you to come in."

Fuck.

You nearly lost it right then.

"Taeyeon…" Your voice was hoarse, veins standing out on your wrists as you pushed your fingers to the last knuckle. "You mean to tell me this innocent little face… was always hiding an anal slut?"

She whimpered, fingers digging into your thighs, face burning with shame—but her body begging for more.

"O-Only… only with you…"

And Christ, if that wasn’t the dirtiest thing she’d ever admitted.

Now you understood why she always flinched when you brushed there during sex. Why she blushed when you complimented her arse.

She wasn’t embarrassed.

She was fantasising.

And now, with the perfect excuse of pregnancy, she could finally give in without guilt.

"So that’s it?" You pulled your fingers out, watching her clench instinctively, trying to keep them inside. "My proper little wife… is actually an anal slut who dreams of being used like this?"

But first, you’d make her clean up her mess.

With a rough motion, you dragged your spit-slick cock over her face, marking her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, even her trembling eyelids. "Lick. Everything. Every last drop."

Taeyeon obeyed like a good girl, her hot tongue frantically lapping from base to tip, swallowing every trace of herself mixed with your precum. She looked addicted, eyes rolling back as she savoured her own taste on your skin.

"Now turn over, you slag." You landed a sharp smack on her round arse, watching the red imprint of your hand bloom on her soft skin. "Want to see that pregnant belly shake while you moan like a bitch in heat."

She got on her hands and knees, her rounded belly hanging sensually between her thighs, her cunt dripping wet. You spat on her pink clit before plunging two fingers inside, making Taeyeon scream.

"See this? Sopping wet over a cock that hasn’t even fucked you yet." You laughed as she moaned louder, fingers pumping in and out. "Gonna come just from this? You filthy, desperate little thing?"

Taeyeon shook her head, but her body betrayed her—her inner walls fluttered, her clit throbbing visibly. You yanked your fingers out.

"No. You only come when I say."

Then you finally lined yourself up at her tight entrance, feeling her tremble in anticipation.

"Now repeat: I’m only yours."

"I-I’m only yours—"

"A knocked-up, obedient slut."

"A k-knocked-up— AH! AAAH!"

You buried yourself to the hilt in one thrust, splitting her open, her virgin arse taking every inch like it was made for you.

"Feel that, Taeyeon? Feel how this tight little arse was made for me?" You snarled in her ear as you pounded into her, each thrust making her pregnant belly sway obscenely. Her hands clawed at the sheets, knuckles white, as strangled moans spilled from her ruined throat.

"Look ahead," you ordered, pulling her hair back. "Look at that belly shake every time I fuck you."

Taeyeon screamed, shame and pleasure overflowing in her teary eyes. "S-stop… please… don’t say those thi— AH! AAAAH!"

You laughed darkly and landed another smack on her reddened arse, feeling her clench violently around you. "Liar. You love it. Love being used like this, knocked-up and marked up, taking cock like there’s no tomorrow."

Your hips slapped against her arse with wet smacks, the brutal sounds of fucking echoing through the room. You could feel her tightening, growing hotter—ready to break.

"Wanna come, you Bitch? Do you?"

Taeyeon nodded frantically, swollen lips trembling. "Y-yes… p-please… let me… let me come!"

"Fine. Come."

Then you pulled her back against your chest, one hand gripping her throat while the other circled her swollen clit. "But not without remembering who you belong to."

Three fingers in her cunt.

A smack on her rosy arse.

Your teeth sinking into her shoulder.

And Taeyeon shattered, her whole body convulsing in a violent orgasm, her arse squeezing your cock like a hot, wet fist. You held her tight, fucking her through it, until your own release boiled over.

"Take it. Take it all, you whore!"

With a final animalistic growl, you buried yourself to the hilt, spilling inside her, each hot pulse marking your claim.

Taeyeon went limp in your arms, panting, her body covered in your marks—from your teeth, your hands, your cock.

You smirked, satisfied, and laid her on her side, your hand resting on her rounded belly.

"We’ll do this again tomorrow."

[othernightslikethis]

Working on something. I hope to post what I'm finishing in a few hours 😉

[othernightslikethis]

Love the format for the Karina fic a lot more than others. Please keep that format for future fics, makes reading a lot easier imo

Yeees sir! Thank you for taking the time to read my work, btw <3

[othernightslikethis]

Sorry if this has been asked before, but which groups do you usually follow? And which idols do you find most attractive?

I'm what you would call oldie in a way! So SISTAR, Girls’ Generation and Wonder Girls. You can include Twice, Black Pink, Red Velvet and MAMAMOO and the current generation Aespa and Itzy

If I had to put together a list it would be difficult, But if I could only choose one, I would say Jennie Kim!

[othernightslikethis]

TMW

Maybe this has a little bit of personal experience.

Male Reader x Ningning

1,8k Words.

Anguish

"I warned you a dozen thousand times not to mess with Ning Yizhuo."

She was the kind of girl who set universes ablaze without even trying. Not because she was untouchable—but because her light was so democratic that everyone was drenched in it, whether they wanted to be or not. Her laugh was like glass shattering in slow motion: sharp, beautiful, impossible to ignore. Ning Yizhuo didn’t just occupy space—she expanded the places she passed through, as if physics itself bent to accommodate the excess of her.

And you?

You were the calculated counterbalance.

Not by accident, but by survival. Your silence wasn’t shyness—it was heavy artillery against a world that always demanded too much. Parties were minefields, conversations, traps. You hid behind headphones and one-word answers like someone building walls against invaders. But deep down, deep down—

You wondered how someone like her could even look at someone like you.

Her, who danced in the rain without caring about the stares.

You, who calculated every step to avoid slipping on your own sweat.

Her, who hugged strangers like they were old friends.

You, who flinched when your own mother tried to touch you.

The Problem Was That Ning Yizhuo Loved You.

In a way that defied logic.

She watched you like you were a piece of art in an empty museum—unique, valuable, hers alone. When you cracked one of those dry jokes that made others frown, she laughed until she doubled over, as if you’d invented comedy. Your fingers found hers under the table, and without a word, she squeezed your hand like she was saying "I choose you, again and again."

And you?

You sabotaged it all.

It was your fear that pushed her away. Your sharp words, spoken in the dead of night when the wine spoke louder than love. You accused her of using you as an emotional crutch, of keeping you out of pity, of laughing at you behind your back—and every syllable was a bullet, piercing that gaze that always saw you as human, not as some broken project.

And yet, she came back.

Four times.

Four times you swore through tears that you’d do better. Four times she took you back, hands trembling but open, as if she believed in a redemption even you couldn’t see.

But the fifth time—

The fifth time, the miracle ran out.

You dragged yourself to her like a shipwrecked man begging for shore. Flooded her phone with unanswered messages, showed up to her rehearsal with wilted flowers and rehearsed apologies. And when she finally looked at you, there was something new in her eyes: exhaustion.

— Just. Leave. Me. The fuck. Alone.

It was the first time she’d ever raised her voice at you.

And you understood.

This wasn’t punishment—it was mercy.

Because Ning Yizhuo loved you to the marrow, but all you ever gave her in return was rocks shaped like love.

And now, in this bar, the universe was getting its revenge.

---

The air smelled of crushed lemons and cheap vodka, but what really poisoned you was the scent of her perfume—that same one, with hints of peach and something sweeter you could never name.

Her hair wasn’t just blonde—it was a declaration of war. Platinum, almost white, as if the strands had been bleached by indifference. You knew she hated dark roots, but now there was a deliberate contrast, like she was telling the world, "Look, I’ve been reborn."

Giselle was glued to her, and that was the worst part. The Japanese girl’s hand rested on Yizhuo’s waist with a familiarity that made you swallow hard. You knew every inch of that waist—knew how she shivered when you traced it with your fingertips, how she’d squirm and laugh if you blew on it. Now, that skin belonged to someone else’s map.

And then—like an accident you see coming but can’t stop— she saw you.

Just a flicker.

A blink.

Her nose wrinkled like she’d caught a whiff of something sour. Not hatred—disgust. The kind that only exists when love has burned to ash. In one fluid motion, she turned her back, leaning the nape of her neck against Giselle’s shoulder. You could see her fingers drumming against her glass, tap-tap-tap, in a rhythm you recognized—the one she did when she was bored.

Your throat tightened.

Was it fair? Of course. You dug this grave with your own hands. But seeing her there—so beautiful, so far away—made your chest ache like someone had reached between your ribs and squeezed your heart until it bled.

The ice in your glass had melted, diluting the whiskey into dirty water. You stared at the amber liquid, remembering the last time you drank together—her with some ridiculous umbrella cocktail, you with your bitter drink. She’d steal sips from your glass, making a face, and you’d complain—but smile.

Now, her glass was full of something pink.

Like diluted blood.

— You’re so pathetic... Kang [Y/N]...

The voice came from behind you—harsh, familiar.

You didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.

Winter.

Kim Minjeong.

Your best friend. Your ex-best friend, now.

She slid onto the stool beside you, eyes narrowed like knives.

— She’s happy, you know? — Winter spat, swirling her own glass. — Finally.

You didn’t answer. What could you even say? That you regretted it? That you wanted her back? Winter laughed, as if she could read your thoughts.

— She even forgot your number, you know? — She took a sip, letting the words hang like a noose. — Literally. Deleted it and doesn’t even remember it now.

— Good for her, I guess.

Your voice came out sharper than you intended, laced with an irony even you didn’t believe. It was the kind of automatic response, rehearsed in the mirror during too many sleepless nights—armor against the pain Minjeong knew she was driving into you.

She let out a short laugh, almost a scoff of disdain.

— You never change, do you?

Her eyes scanned your face like a lie detector, finding every crack, every weakness you tried to hide. Minjeong had always had that gift—seeing right through your walls as if they were glass. And now, with Yizhuo out of the equation, she had no reason left to be kind.

— As if you’re not rotting from the inside.

She raised an eyebrow, daring you to deny it. You didn’t.

With one last look that mixed pity and exhaustion, Minjeong stood, her fitted dress sliding smoothly off the stool. She didn’t even glance back as she rejoined the group—her group, Yizhuo’s group. You watched, helpless, as she slotted herself between Giselle and Karina, laughing at something you’d never hear.

The air outside was icy, a punch to the chest after the stifling heat of the bar. You took a deep breath, the metallic taste of the night mixing with the bitterness of whiskey still on your tongue.

Your phone weighed heavy in your hand like a brick.

You stared at the screen, at the wallpaper that was still that photo—Yizhuo, in profile, laughing at something you’d said. It was from a year ago, maybe more. You’d never had the courage to change it.

Your phone vibrated again.

You laughed a little more, still caught up in their joke, trying to ignore the emptiness that was eating away at your ribs from the inside. But then you looked at the screen

And the world stopped.

The biting night wind coiled between the two of you, making Ningning hug herself tighter, fingers digging slightly into the flesh of her elbows. The streetlight’s reflection made her eyes glisten like wet glass, and for a moment—just a moment—your body moved before your mind did. Your fingers were already twitching toward your jacket zipper, muscle memory stronger than pride.

But you stopped.

Almost.

She noticed. Of course she noticed. A small, crooked smile flickered across her lips before she bit them, like she was holding back a sharp remark.

— So. What do you want?

Your voice came out rougher than you meant it to, laced with exhaustion that wasn’t entirely meant for her—it was self-directed. Because you knew, even now, your first instinct was still to protect her.

She laughed, low and joyless, her gaze fixed on some distant point behind you, as if the answer were scrawled on the bar’s wall.

— This is why we broke up.

Her eyes finally met yours, and there was something in them—something disappointed, something that hurt worse than anger.

— Even now, you can’t be kind.

You felt the weight of it like a punch to the gut. But instead of yielding, you doubled down.

— Kindness died with the relationship. — You shrugged, feigning indifference you didn’t feel. — No need to fake it anymore.

Her laugh sharpened, but didn’t reach her eyes. It was hollow, almost disbelieving.

— Jesus… — She shook her head, as if replaying every argument, every time you chose to be difficult instead of human. — How did I waste so much time on someone like you?

You didn’t answer. Because there was no answer.

She took a deep breath, the steam of her exhale curling between her lips like smoke.

— Whatever. — She changed the subject abruptly, as if tired of her own question. — Minjeong misses you. She won’t say it, but she does. You two were close, after all.

You caught the thread of provocation in her tone.

— What? — You tilted your head, a fake smile stretching your lips. — Don’t tell me that’s jealousy?

She didn’t take the bait.

— Jealous? Why? — She raised an eyebrow, challenging. — We’re nothing now. Even if I were jealous, it’s not my business anymore.

A pause. The wind whistled between you.

— Just… can we be friends? — She finally let out, shoulders relaxing slightly, like she was letting go of a weight. — Keep things civil, so it’s not weird for everyone else.

You looked at her—at the blonde hair that wasn’t the shade you knew, at the eyes that didn’t light up for you anymore, at the posture that no longer leaned in your direction.

And then, you lied.

— Sure. Whatever.

She smiled. Relieved? Skeptical? You couldn’t read her anymore.

— Cool.

She took a step back, the end.

— See you around, then.

You didn’t reply.

Because there was no "around."

And as she turned and walked back to the bar, back to Giselle, Minjeong, Karina—back to her world, the one that wasn’t yours anymore, you stood there, watching.

Until the cold—or something worse—finally made you walk away.

[othernightslikethis]

COYS 🤍🤍🤍🤍

[othernightslikethis]

I hope you get better author 🙏

Thanks 🙏

[othernightslikethis]

I just ended a two year relationship. You'll get to see me more often now folks

[othernightslikethis]

I ended up spraining my wrist while playing basketball. I'll probably write again next week.

My reaction to not going to work for a whole week 👇

[othernightslikethis]

Inter x PSG In the Champions League final. If you told me this five years ago, I would have said you were crazy.

[othernightslikethis]

Thinking about one shots inspired by Novacane, any suggestions?

[othernightslikethis]

ARE YOU ENGAGED?

3,9k words

smut

Karina (Aespa) x Male Reader

Hey there, folks, it's been a while. I'm trying out new writing styles, so bear with me! This was supposed to come out on Karina's birthday, but a few things happened that caused quite a delay! That's it

Yuu Jimin.

Your Brother’s Damned Bride.

You didn’t even know who she was when you had her. When your hands gripped that slender waist, when your lips met the smooth curve of her neck, when you buried your balls deep inside her tight cunt in the loo of some upscale club—she was your brother’s fiancée.

But let’s start at the beginning.

Two years ago, you and your older brother had a row that began as something trivial and ended in irreparable damage. No one even remembered the reason—money? Jealousy? Some drunken comment after too much soju?—but the result was you packing your bags and leaving for London without a second glance.Life there wasn’t easy at first. You drowned yourself in work, in parties, in random bodies you couldn’t remember the next morning. It was liberating, but hollow. Your parents called occasionally, but your brother? Complete silence.

Until that bloody invitation arrived.

"We request the pleasure of your company at the wedding of..."

You nearly spat out your coffee reading it. He was getting married. And worse—he wanted you as his best man.

Your first instinct was to ignore it. But something—guilt, maybe, or longing—made you reply "Yes" before you could think twice.Yet returning home wouldn’t be so simple. Your old room no longer existed (now a posh office for your father), and staying in a hotel seemed too depressing. That’s when Hwang Hyun-jin, your brother-from-another-mother since school days, came through with a solution:

"Just crash at mine, yeah? Still got that ugly sofa with your name on it."

On your first night back in Seoul, Hyun-jin already had plans.

"There’s a new place in the city centre—expensive drinks, beautiful people, perfect for forgetting you’re here for a wedding.

"You didn’t resist. And that’s when everything went wrong.

You were on your third whisky when she appeared.

Sitting alone at the bar, wearing a tight black dress that left little to the imagination. Hair dark as ebony, lips painted red, legs that went on forever. She smiled when she caught you staring, and you—drunk, stupid, completely oblivious—didn’t hesitate before approaching.

"Here alone?" you asked, in slightly rusty Korean

.She laughed, the sound low and husky, twisting something in your gut.

"Depends. Are you offering company?"

It was too easy. She leaned into you, her fingers playing with the collar of your shirt, her perfume—sweet with a hint of something forbidden—filling your lungs. When your hand slid along the curve of her waist, she didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she pressed herself even tighter against you.

"You kiss well... for a lost boy," she murmured against your mouth.

You didn’t even process the comment before she tugged your belt and whispered:

"Bathroom. Now."

---

She threw herself into the cubicle like a hurricane of sedition and pent-up desire. Her high heels slipped slightly on the damp bathroom floor as she lunged at you, but it didn’t stop her—her blood-red nails dug into your waist as she shoved you with animal force against the cold wall. You staggered, feeling the hard edge of the toilet press into your thighs, but you didn’t fall. Not when she was there, warm and insistent, smelling of jasmine and lust.

"Someone’s in a hurry," you growled, but any teasing died in your throat when she dropped to her knees with the fluid motion of a geisha, her knees meeting the filthy bathroom floor without hesitation.

Your leather belt creaked as she tugged it free with sharp teeth, the metal buckle clattering against the tiles with a final click. Your zip was down in a blink—you hadn’t even noticed when she’d undone your trousers, but there they were, sliding to your knees, your boxers yanked down with a firm motion from someone who knew exactly what they wanted.

Your cock was already throbbing, swollen with need, the vein pulsing visibly as it met the humid bathroom air. Her eyes dilated like a feline’s before prey—dark pupils swallowing her russet irises as her wet tongue dragged slowly over wine-red lips.

"Fuck," she murmured, her voice a rough whisper as her manicured hands wrapped around your length, measuring, comparing. "You’re… much bigger than him." A low, husky laugh escaped her throat as her thumbs smeared the pre-cum already beading at your tip. "Much."

You almost asked who "him" was, almost questioned why she was here alone in a bar, almost showed a shred of decency. But then she opened that sinful mouth and swallowed you to the hilt in one smooth motion, and all rational thought evaporated.

"Fuuuuck," you moaned, your voice echoing off the cramped bathroom walls as her throat constricted around you. She gagged, eyes watering, but didn’t pull back—instead, she took you deeper, nostrils flaring as she fought her reflex. You could feel every spasm, every clench of that hot, tight throat, and when you looked down, the sight was near pornographic:

Your cock disappearing between her swollen lips, spit dripping from the corners of her mouth, her makeup slightly smudged. And then you saw—she’d hiked up her tight black dress to her waist, revealing nothing underneath. Nothing. Just that perfect body, skin smooth as silk, and that…

"You really are a little slut, aren’t you?" you snarled, fingers tightening in her ebony hair.

"Left home without knickers, knowing you’d spread for someone tonight?"

She answered by pulling back until only your tip remained between her lips, her burning eyes locking onto yours as her right hand slid between her own legs. The sound she made when her fingers found her swollen clit was something between a moan and a stifled laugh.

"I knew… I’d find… a proper cock today," she gasped between slow licks at your head, each word punctuated by a flick of her tongue that made your abs clench. "He… ahhh… he never fucks me like this." Her fingers were now plunging into herself with quick, filthy strokes, the wet sound filling the small space between you. "Never… makes me… feel… like this…"

Doubt hammered at your mind like a distant echo—should I really be doing this?—but every moral thought dissolved the moment your hands fisted in her dark hair, guiding your cock back into that hot, obedient throat.

She didn’t resist. Didn’t pull away.Just opened her eyes and stared up at you, pupils blown with want, as you used her mouth as you pleased. Your hips moved on instinct, slamming against her face with a savage rhythm, each thrust taking her deeper until your balls hit her wet chin.

"Take it, slut. Swallow it all," you growled, fingers tightening in her scalp.

She choked, tears welling, but didn’t stop. Her hands clutched your thighs, nails digging in as if begging for more.

When you finally yanked her back, a thick string of spit still connected her lips to your cock. She gasped, lipstick smeared, face flushed with effort—and yet, she smiled.

It was then that you fixed your eyes on those breasts.

She understood immediately.With a deliberately slow movement, she pulled her dress down, freeing those perfect tits—large, firm, her nipples already hardened with arousal. She swayed them in front of you, letting them slap together, and the moist sound of flesh against flesh nearly made you lose control.

"Come on, big boy," she teased, her voice hoarse from sucking. "I know you want it."

Before you could react, she had already trapped your cock between them, squeezing with perfect pressure. Hot. Soft. A heavenly grip.

You groaned, your abdominal muscles tensing involuntarily as she began moving her body back and forth, rubbing her breasts around your cock like a second cunt.

"This is what you wanted, isn’t it?" she whispered, her lips curling into a filthy smile.

You didn’t answer. You just grabbed her hair again and started thrusting between them, losing yourself in that heat, in that forbidden sensation.

She laughed, low and dirty, as she watched your face twist with pleasure.

"Come. I want to see you cover them."

Your cock pulsed violently between your sweaty bodies, a brutal contraction signalling the inevitable.

"Fucking—" you snarled, but the words were lost in a rough groan as the first thick ropes of cum erupted from your tip, streaking across her perfect face in hot white lines.

She didn’t flinch.

On the contrary—she smiled, those red lips parting as your semen dripped down her cheeks, spilling onto her chin and exposed tits. You were still coming when she wrapped her mouth around the head of your cock, sucking the last spurts with an obscene "glug", her tongue working frantically as she swallowed every drop.

"—Fuck, you came so much..." She laughed breathlessly, wiping the corners of her mouth with the back of her hand before licking her own breasts, devouring every drop that had landed on her skin.

You watched her, still breathing heavily, your cock still throbbing, still hard against your thigh.

She started pulling her dress back up, her breasts returning to the confinement of the fabric, but you grabbed her by the hip and shoved her against the wall again, lifting her leg in one sharp motion.

"Wh—?" She looked confused, until her dark eyes drifted down...And saw.

You were still erect.Her lips parted slightly, her swollen mouth still trembling from the sucking.

"...Bloody hell."

And then—that smile. That catlike smile that knew exactly what it was doing. She bit her lower lip, her fingers rising to grip your neck, nails digging into the back of your skull as she pulled you closer, the heat of her body burning against yours.

"Fuck me then, you bastard."

It was all you needed to hear. You turned her towards the wall, her hands pressing against the cold tiles as you lifted her leg higher, exposing her completely.

"You’re definitely the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen," you growled in her ear, feeling how wet she already was, her entrance pulsing just from the head of your cock pressing against her.

She moaned—a rough, filthy sound—her hips arching back in an obscene invitation.

"And what are you waiting for?"

With a single brutal motion, you filled her to the hilt, feeling her insides clench around you like a hot fist. She cried out, fingers scratching the tiles, her head thrown back as you started fucking her with anger, with desire, with the sheer need to mark her as yours.

The sounds she made now were uncontrollable—loud moans, slurred words. You shoved her hard against the bathroom wall, your body moulded against hers as your cock drove in and out with a rhythm that made her hips slam against you. She was so wet that the slick sound of the two of you echoed in the cramped bathroom, each thrust filthier than the last. If anyone was outside, they’d hear just how loud you were.

"Like that, fuck—! Harder!" she screamed, her voice a mix of command and plea, her nails raking down your back through your shirt. You obeyed.

Grabbing her hair, you yanked it back, arching her spine as you kept fucking her mercilessly. Her tits bounced with each impact, her hard nipples dragging against the cold tile.

"Just like—! Ah, fuck!" She moaned loudly, her body trembling around yours. "You—you’re fucking me so good—"

That’s when you felt it—her tightening even more. Her inner muscles squeezing around your cock as if trying to suck every inch deeper.

"Gonna come for me, you slut?" you snarled in her ear, teeth sinking into her neck as you picked up the pace.

She didn’t answer—just screamed, a raw, animal sound, her body convulsing in pure ecstasy as another orgasm ripped through her. You felt your cum dripping down your thighs, her pussy so drenched it overflowed with every thrust.

But you didn’t stop.

"You think it’s over?" you whispered, your voice rough with lust. "You think I’ll let you leave this bathroom without filling you up again?"

She turned her head to face you, eyes glazed, lips swollen and red like crushed cherries.

"Don’t stop," she ordered, her voice a mix of defiance and submission. "Fuck me until I forget my own name.

"You spun her roughly against the wall, her black dress now hitched at her waist, her breasts perfectly exposed—large, heavy, with dark pink nipples so hard they looked like gemstones. Your fingers dug into the soft flesh, squeezing tightly as your cock plunged back into that already ruined cunt.

"AH! FUCK! YES!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the tiny bathroom as you buried yourself to the hilt in one brutal thrust.

Her tits jerked violently with each slam, hitting the wall with a wet "smack", her skin reddening from the friction. You could see the veins beneath her delicate skin, how her nipples puckered with every thrust.

"These tits are mine now," you growled, squeezing hard until she moaned, your fingers leaving red marks on her perfect flesh.

She was so wet that cum and her own fluids dripped down her thighs, pooling on the floor in obscene puddles. The smell of sex and cheap perfume filled the air, intoxicating.You yanked her hair back, forcing her into a dramatic arch as you sped up, your balls slapping against her clit with a filthy "slap-slap-slap".

"COME AGAIN, BITCH," you commanded, spitting down her back before licking the salt from her skin.

She obeyed like a bitch in heat—her body convulsed, her cunt clenching around your cock like a hot fist, her tits shaking as fresh streams of fluid trickled out.

You couldn’t hold back—with an animalistic snarl, you hilted yourself and unloaded your second load deep inside, spurting so hard you felt the hot liquid leaking down her thighs.She collapsed against the wall, completely ruined, her breasts now marked red, her makeup smeared, her lips swollen.

"We... need... to stop..." she whimpered, even as her legs trembled uncontrollably.

You smirked, your cock still throbbing between you.

"Who said we’re done?"

You didn’t know where you found the stamina, but your hips kept slamming into her with an animal rhythm, wet skin making a lewd sound with every impact.

"He... ah!... he never filled me like this..."

Your cock twitched violently inside her at those words. You gripped her waist harder, fingers sinking into soft flesh as you picked up the pace. Raising your hand, the bathroom filled with the sound of spanks. You loved watching her arse jiggle and redden with each slap.

"Never?" you snarled, spitting on the back of her neck before licking a salty trail up to her shoulder.She shook her head frantically, her tits swinging like sweat-soaked pendulums. "Never... never... never..." Each word was a hoarse moan, synced with your brutal thrusts.

You pulled her hair forward, forcing her to look down and watch your cock plunging in and out of her. "Look how you’re taking my cock, slut."

She saw—her red, swollen cunt stretching around every inch of your length, her plump lips clinging to you with each withdrawal. "Fuck... you... stretch me so wide..."

Your heavy balls slapped against her clit with every thrust, the wet sound maddening. You saw in the reflection how her eyes rolled back when you hit that spot inside her.

"Does he make you scream like this too?" You didn’t even know who the poor bastard was, but you taunted her, hammering exactly where it made her fingers claw at the tiles.

"NO! NO! FUCK, NO!" she screamed, her body quivering like a leaf in the wind. "Only you... only you... OH, GOD!"

Her tits bounced violently, her nipples so sensitive that she pinched them between her own fingers, moaning louder with each tweak.

You felt the heat building again, your cock swelling even thicker inside her. "I’m going to fill you again," you warned, teeth sinking into her shoulder. "Until it’s dripping down your legs at the altar."

She came instantly, a hot gush coating your cock as her womb pulsed uncontrollably. "YES! FILL ME! FILL THIS SLUT UP!"

It was enough to make you explode—with a snarl, you hilted yourself and pumped what must’ve been your second or third load deep inside (you’d lost count by now). So hard that you felt the hot liquid leaking down her thighs immediately.

She slumped against the wall, completely ruined, her breasts marked red and bitten, her makeup smudged, her lips swollen from screaming.

"That was definitely good, but I need to go, stud," she whimpered, even as her legs shook uncontrollably.

And you were already spent, pulling out of her, watching the sheer amount of cum you’d dumped inside her leak out. She brought her fingers to her well-used cunt, rubbing gently as if gathering your seed, then brought them to her lips.

"Mmm... delicious."

---

The daylight stabbed into the room like a knife, and you could barely open your eyes. Every ray of sunshine felt like a needle piercing your brain. Your mouth was dry, with the metallic aftertaste of a hangover and regret. When you finally managed to focus your vision, there was Hyunjin, standing beside the sofa, holding a steaming cup of coffee with that mischievous grin you knew so well.

"Good morning, gorgeous," he sang, sarcastic. "Or rather, good afternoon. You look like you’ve been run over by an elephant.

"You groaned, trying to sit up, but the world spun violently. Your hands trembled as you held the cup, and the smell of coffee, which would normally be comforting, now felt like a direct assault on your churning stomach.

"Bloody hell..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes with your knuckles as if you could wipe away the pain.

Hyunjin flopped onto the sofa beside you, jostling the cushions in a way that made your stomach turn over.

"So, shall we talk about last night?" he asked, that glint of malicious curiosity in his eyes. "Because you came home saying some… interesting things."

Your heart stopped for a second. Fragments of the previous night came back in torturous flashes—the packed nightclub, the deafening music, the shots that had seemed like a brilliant idea at the time. And her. Dark hair, a dangerous smile, a wedding ring glinting on her finger.

"Oh, no..." you murmured, covering your face with your hands.

Hyunjin laughed, a bright, cheerful sound that should be illegal for anyone in your condition. "Ah, so it’s true! You actually hooked up with a girl who’s taken!"

"I didn’t know!" you protested, but even your own voice sounded guilty.

"Sure, sure," he replied, sarcastic, shaking his head. "And I believe in fairies. But relax, your drunken charm probably convinced her never to tell you her name, right?"

You threw a cushion at him, but he dodged with a laugh, grabbing your arm in a suffocating hug.

"If you die—and at this rate, I wouldn’t be surprised—I’m taking your PS5, your flat in London, and your sneaker collection. Deal?"

That line came with the fakest, sweetest smile he could muster—the one that made people forgive any rubbish he said. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help a half-smile.

"Keep dreaming," you muttered, shoving him lightly.

Hyunjin just laughed again, releasing you and stretching out on the sofa like a satisfied cat. "Just saying... if her boyfriend shows up with a baseball bat, I’m pretending I don’t know you."

You threw another cushion, but this time he caught it and hugged it, lying on his side to stare at you with pure amusement.

"The guilt’s eating at you, isn’t it?" It was. It really was. But you’d never admit it out loud. Instead, you buried your face in the sofa and let out a long groan while Hyunjin laughed—loud, merciless, and thoroughly pleased with the chaos your life had become.

---

The air felt heavier in front of that house. You stood frozen on the pavement, your fingers gripping the straps of your rucksack so tightly your knuckles turned white.

It had been years since you’d last set foot there. Did they still remember your face? You weren’t the same person anymore—not the scruffy teenager who spent nights glued to the computer, fuelled by energy drinks and instant noodles. Adulthood had reshaped you: strict diet, gym routines, skincare regimens. But none of that mattered now.

With a heavy sigh, you stepped forward and rang the doorbell. The sound echoed inside the house, and your heart raced as if it might explode.

"Just a moment!" a woman’s voice called from within.And then the door opened.It was her.

She was there. The girl from last night.Without the heavy club makeup, without the dim bar lights masking her features. Just her, her skin slightly creased from sleep, her eyes still heavy. Beautiful. Horribly familiar.

"Ah... s-sorry," your voice came out in fragments, syllables shattering like glass—"I think I’ve got the wrong house.

"Your fingers tingled. Breakfast threatened to come back up. You were already stepping back when another voice cut through the air:

"Babe? Who is it?"

Your brother.Your body reacted before your brain could—a wave of heat surged from your chest to your ears. You knew he was engaged. Of course, that was why you’d returned to Korea. Now, your brain made the connection.

And there he was, in pyjamas, his hand resting on her shoulder. The way she leaned slightly into him… it was intimate. Natural.

"Bloody hell!" Your brother stepped forward, eyes wide. "You vanish for years and just show up like this?!"

Your throat tightened. You could feel sweat trickling down your back. The girl—your brother’s fiancée, his bloody fiancée—frowned. You saw the exact moment she recognised you:

First, a vague flicker of familiarity.

Then, her eyes tracing your face.

Finally, the shock. Her hand flew to her mouth.

"Wait…" Her voice was barely a whisper, "last night at… at the…"

Your brother looked between the two of you. His grin faltered, shifting into confusion, then something darker.

"Last night where?"

The silence hung like a brick. You could hear the ticking of the hallway clock. Somewhere in the house, a tap dripped.

"At… at the restaurant!" you blurted, your voice three octaves higher than usual. "I saw you! At that place we used to go to as kids! Alone! And I thought, ‘Wow, she’s gorgeous,’ and… and…"

Her hand tightened on your brother’s arm. Her eyes glistened—with panic? With anger?

"That’s right," she cut in, too quickly. "I mentioned it to you later, remember, love? That annoying customer who wouldn’t stop calling the waiter?"

Your brother hesitated. You saw his jaw tense—that same tic he’d always had when processing lies.

"Right…" he drew the word out, eyes fixed on you. "Then why are you acting so weird?"

"Jet lag," you muttered, fingers twisting behind your back. "Flight was rubbish. Think I’ll… go buy fags. Or throw myself under a bus. Either works."

Your brother opened his mouth to reply when she intervened:

"Love, leave him, he looks half-dead. D’you want coffee, at least?"

Your brother just laughed and pulled away from her, crushing you in a bear hug.

"Missed you, mate!"

[othernightslikethis]

I should be back to work soon, folks.

[othernightslikethis]

It’s nearly 4 in the morning, and since I can’t sleep, I’ve been thinking about... writing one-shots of K/J-drama characters, including blokes as well—no idols, though. I don’t know many male idols, so I’ll have to pass on that

As for ‘White Emperor’, I’ll have to hold off on a few chapters. The story should be ten max—and I already know the ending—but I’m struggling to get there and flesh out the characters properly.

[othernightslikethis]

HToday there was supposed to be a Karina One-Shot thanks to her birthday... But well...

Priorities guys, priorities.