#pojangmacha

[eirikswood]

Ajumma 24/7

In Korea, the pop-up food stalls, snack carts, and tent bars that cater to evening commuters are known as pojangmacha / 포장마차 (“covered wagons”). Many are unregistered, makeshift operations staffed by ajummas (older aunties), as there are far fewer employment opportunities for rural-born elder generations in Korea’s urban, industrial post-war economy.

[kwilquib]

Pojangmacha

(if your unfamiliar with the word, its the red bar tent you often see on streets of South Korea).

Minnie X Male Reader (Yunjae) ft. Park Jiwon (Fromis_9)

Word Count: 18k+

Notes:

This is my first Fic, any feedback is appreciated :)

If you're expecting Jiwon smut, I'm sorry there's none, I just really need a reason for Minnie's insecurity

just for additional context, the second pojangmacha scene happened around during G-idle's haitus.

I used the name Yunjae because i didn't like the "y/n" format actual name feels more immersive. I picke the name Yunjae randomly though

You swirled your soju glass in silence, staring at the swirling liquid like it held answers to questions you couldn’t ask.

“Yunjae,” Jiwon’s voice broke through your thoughts, soft but pointed. “You’re killing yourself like this.”

You laqughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Am I? Feels more like I’m just surviving.”

“Same thing,” she shot back, leaning closer. “You’re stuck, Yunjae. You’ve been stuck for years. It’s like you’re waiting for something to change when you’re the one who won’t move.”

Her words cut close to the bone. You wanted to argue, to deflect, but what was the point? She was right, and you both knew it.

“It’s not that simple,” you muttered, your eyes dropping to the faint gleam of your wedding ring.

Jiwon’s gaze followed yours, and her lips tightened into a line. She never said it outright, but the ring was always the elephant in the room.

“Why do you stay?” she asked quietly, her tone softer now. “If it’s really this hard—if she doesn’t even care anymore—then why?”

You looked up sharply. “You don’t know that,” you said, more defensively than you intended.

Her brows arched, her disbelief evident. “Oh, really? When was the last time you two actually talked? And I don’t mean the polite, ‘pass the salt’ kind of talk. I mean really talked.”

You didn’t answer, because you couldn’t.

Jiwon leaned back with a sigh, her frustration bleeding through. “Yunjae, you’re wasting your life waiting for something that’s never going to happen. You’re loyal to a fault, I get that, but maybe it’s time to let go.

"Four years," you muttered, swirling the last remnants of soju in your glass. "Four years since we said, 'I do.' And what do I have to show for it?" Your laugh came bitter, tinged with self-loathing. "We don’t even talk anymore."

Jiwon's expression softened. She reached across the table, her hand resting lightly on yours. "You've said that before, Yunjae. Let's call it a night."

"I just don't get it..." you continued, your voice tinged with confusion, ignoring Jiwon's request for now. "We had our reasons, sure—convenience, mutual benefits. But maybe I expected more. At the very least, I thought we could remain friends, not this distant... this nothingness."

You sighed, frustration building inside you like a tidal wave. You grabbed the Soju bottle and poured its contents into your glass, emptying it in one swift motion. The liquid burned as it slid down your throat, the sensation both comforting and familiar.

Jiwon’s eyes flickered with something unspoken, her silence speaking volumes. She hesitated, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed she might voice the truth lingering between you. But instead, she looked away. "I don’t know either," she said softly. "If it were me…" Her voice trailed off, leaving the rest unsaid.

You furrowed your brow and locked your gaze on hers, the unspoken thoughts echoing in the empty space between you. You already knew what she meant—you were childhood friends who had lost contact but reconnected years later. In the time that had passed, her intentions had changed, and you sensed that she was well aware of your realization. The tension grew palpable as the truth hung there, waiting for a moment of honesty to break the silence.

The heavy silence pressed in on you, demanding acknowledgment. You knew you had to confront the elephant in the room, to end it once and for all, lest it lingered in doubt. "Jiwo-"

But Jiwon interjected before you could finish, her voice steady as she changed the subject, "Anyway, it's pretty late. We've been here since 7 PM, and it's almost midnight now."

You nodded, your heart heavy with the unsaid words between you. You straighten your sitting posture, gather yourself. “Right. You can go first, thank you for being here”

She hesitated, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I can’t leave you alone like this."

“I’ll be fine, I'll just stay here for a couple minutes to sober up, then I'll take the cab,” you explained. “Promise”.

A pang of frustration flickered across Jiwon's face, her sympathetic gaze lingering on your burdened spirit. She fidgeted with the strap of her purse, and you caught sight of a fleeting flush on her cheeks. It seemed as though she might have been embarrassed by whatever thoughts she harbored or the words she almost spoke, using your suggestion as an escape.

"Alright. Promise me you’ll go straight home." she sighed, her feigned surrender tinged with uncertainty as to where the two of you would stand in the aftermath of this night.

“I promise” you answered.

With a final glance, she stood and left, her figure disappearing into the night. Alone once more, you reached for the soju bottle, pouring what remained into your glass. The cold burn slid down your throat, offering little comfort.

Park Jiwon, she is an excellent friend, but her role in your life had remained firmly in the platonic realm. You couldn't see her romantically, and not being platonic with a friend is exactly how you found yourself in this situation in the first place. Plus there's another reason why you couldn't be with anybody else right now.

Your fingers toyed with a ring on your ring finger, the silver two strands intertwining like an infinity sign. A row of tiny diamonds adorned it, capturing light in their faceted depths. You lifted your hand, eyeing the ring as though presented with a cruel joke—how something so beautiful could symbolize the absence of light in your life.

The promise to Jiwon lingered, as did the knowledge that you should head home. Yet, you hesitated, aware that returning to your cold home on this day would only accentuate the issues plaguing you. In the back of your mind, a part of you yearned for a shred of hope, an irrational belief that perhaps something miraculous might transpire here. This bar had become a place of hope, however fleeting or destructive, from the reality awaiting you at home.

Your gaze lingered on the ring as memories began to resurface. Drowsiness crept in, pulling you into the haze of a dream. When you opened your eyes again, the scene hadn’t changed. The same table, the same empty glasses. But the person sitting across from you was no longer Jiwon.

—

 "Ya!! Are you listening? I'm paying for the drinks, and you're ignoring me?" Minnie's voice jolted you. She sat opposite you, her sharp eyes narrowing in frustration. her chopsticks pointed at you like a weapon.

The sight of her stirred something in you—a pang of nostalgia, a mix of joy and regret. "But I’m paying for the meat," you retorted weakly, though she ignored you entirely, continuing her tirade.

She sighed dramatically, slapping the table for emphasis. "Can you believe my parents? My career is on the line, and they want me to just drop everything and go home to Thailand?" She let out an exasperated sigh, her words tumbling over each other.

Deciding to give her your full attention, lest her tirade be endless, you asked, "Can you tell me again why they wanted you back?"

Minnie hesitated, her face contorted with a mixture of confusion and irritation. "They said I've done enough; it's time to think long term, find myself a partner, a husband. That's their reason, at least," she explained.

She then continued murmuring under her breath, "I think they just want me to be married off to a royal bloodline so our family could get even closer to being Thai royalty."

Silence enveloped you both, acknowledging the gravity of her situation and your shared understanding that she desired nothing more than a sympathetic ear.

Minnie's frustration reached a crescendo as she let out a frustrated "Aggghhh!!"

You found yourself staring at her, the sight of her distress oddly endearing. A smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. you don't know when it started but at some point during your history of friendship, without realizing it, you were falling for your dear friend, Minnie. Afraid to jeopardize the relationship, you concealed these feelings deep within, unable to pinpoint one singular reason for your infatuation. It could have been her alluring smile, captivating personality, soulful gaze, lithe frame, or an intoxicating blend of all these traits.

Minnie's sharp eyes caught you in the act of smiling, "Ya!!" she teased, "Look at you smiling, it must be fun having a grandfather who's the opposite of my parents.".

"He's giving you all of his as an inheritance," Minnie remarked, her tone laced with indignation as she nibbled on the pork you had purchased. "I don't know why I'm paying for you when you're rich."

You corrected her gently, "Well... not yet."

Minnie started to question whether your grandfather was still alive, but you interrupted her. "I didn't mean it like that!" You realized you had raised your voice, yet Minnie appeared unfazed as she continued drinking from her beer mug.

When she signaled for you to continue, you explained, "I can't have the inheritance right now, and if I don't get married before turning 30, I might lose it." You paraphrased your grandfather's words: "I don't want all this wealth given to a house bum; you need to have at least a family.”

Minnie's arm remained in midair, her mouth hovering over the mug as she paused, processing the gravity of your situation. After what felt like an eternity, she gently set it down and fixed her gaze on you. Silence pervaded the table as she mulled over your words.

Finally breaking the silence, she said, "So you need to be married to get your inheritance?" Her eyes held a mix of concern and curiosity. You found yourself furrowing your brow, unsure where this revelation would lead.

"And my parents don't want me to continue with my career because..." She mimicked air quotes, "Think long term, find a good husband."

It was then that you noticed your fingers were entwined with the silver pair of rings hanging around your neck on a chain, their design intricate and familiar. An heirloom from your grandfather, their intricate design held meaning beyond just the gift itself. In this moment of realization, you knew where this conversation would eventually take you—back to a familiar crossroads, one you'd faced before, yet helplessly watched unfold.

"Why don’t we just get married?" Minnie proposed, the words hanging in the air like a question that demanded an answer. 

You blinked, convinced you’d misheard her.

"What?"

"Let’s get married," Minnie said again, her tone firm. "Why not? We’re already close, we get along, It solves your problem, and mine. You can be my excuse for my parents not to worry, and you secure your inheritance like you said."

The scene felt eerily familiar yet disjointed from your reality, causing you to laugh nervously.

"Are you serious?" you asked, while laughing.

Minnie's tone turned sharp when she yelled, "Of course I’m serious." Her voice softened, the faintest hint of vulnerability slipping through her usual bravado. 

"Unless marrying me is that funny to you?" Her distress at your laughter was apparent. 

"No, it’s not that," you said quickly. It hit you then: she wasn't joking, despite the alcohol. Both of you were clear-headed and sober enough to be making this decision. "I just—"

"You’re insane," you said, trying to mask the way your chest tightened.

"Maybe," she admitted, her tone lighter now. She was already reaching for the grill, flipping pieces of meat with practiced ease. "But you can’t deny it makes sense."

Your heart twisted at the suggestion, an unfamiliar blend of hope and dread coursing through you. For years, you’d hidden your feelings for Minnie—feelings that had grown quietly, relentlessly, despite your best efforts to suppress them.

"Okay, If you're serious. You're suggesting a marriage of convenience, right?" You asked, seeking clarification even though the thought of Minnie proposing to you elicited an immediate, overwhelming 'yes.' However, you had to temper your enthusiasm given the pragmatic nature of her proposal. It wasn't love or a confession; it was an offer mutually beneficial for both of you.

Minnie looked surprised by your question, replying, "Yeah... Yeah, of course, marriage of convenience, what else could it be?"

Perfect. You almost laughed agian at the irony. For her, it was a convenient solution to a problem. For you, it was a chance to stay close to her in a way you’d never dared to hope for.

You reached out for her hand, and Minnie complied, placing her hand on the table. You took off the necklace—the pair of silver rings meant for your grandfather's heir. A hazy sense of déjà vu washed over you as you removed the rings from the chain. The air seemed thick with unspoken words, and you felt your chest constrict as if this scene had played out before. This weight pressed against your consciousness, but you couldn't discern why.

"This is an heirloom," you began. "My grandfather’s. If we’re going to do this… it has to be with these rings. We really have to get married, we can’t trick my grandfather" Your heart pounded as you extended the ring.

Minnie’s eyes widened slightly as you placed one of the rings in her hand. The moment felt surreal, yet inevitable, like you were playing out a scene you’d already lived.

For a moment, something flickered across her face—something soft, almost vulnerable. Then she smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re such a sentimental idiot,” she said, though her tone lacked its usual bite.

"Nicha Yontararak," you whispered, your voice steady despite the tremor in your chest. "Will you marry me?"

Her response came quickly, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. "Yes."

The dream fractured then, the edges dissolving as reality crashed back in. You woke up with a start, slumped over the table where the conversation had once unfolded. The bar was empty now, save for one figure standing over you. A cold metal brushed against your cheek—the ring finger of a hand, as if beckoning you.

"Yunjae," the voice said, familiar and unmistakable. You looked up to see Minnie, her face obscured by a cap and mask.

"Why?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question carried the weight of four years of silence. "Why did you say yes?"

Her expression was unreadable as the world around you faded to black.

–

Your eyes flickered open to reveal the interior of a car, the engine's low hum the only soundtrack to this moment. You turned your head toward the driver, the faint glow of city lights illuminating her form in a fleeting manner. As your vision cleared, you recognized Minnie behind the wheel. She was dressed in a sleek pink suit jacket with matching pants, her attire immaculately tailored to fit her figure. Beneath the jacket, a cropped top peeked through, adding a casual edge to her otherwise professional look.

Questions flooded your mind. How did she find you? Did she remember that place? And most importantly, does she know the significance of today's date?

Your gaze lingered on her outfit, and a thought struck you—she must have come straight from work. The slight crease in her sleeves and the faint traces of fatigue around her eyes hinted at a long day, but she carried herself with an air of determination. Whatever had brought her here, it was enough to pull her directly from her world and into yours.

Before you could fully explore these thoughts, Minnie spoke, "Jiwon called me. She told me you refused to go home." The answer felt like a slap, and you couldn't help but laugh at your own naivety. Of course, Jiwon had informed her.

Your gaze fell upon Minnie's hand resting on the steering wheel, the silver ring glinting. A deep sigh escaped your lips as you pondered the question: "Where did it all go wrong?" Your mind whirled with memories and regret, searching for answers to a past you couldn't change.

—

In the aftermath of your impromptu proposal in the pojangmacha, you and Minnie knew you had to convince your grandfather of your relationship's authenticity. To achieve this, you devised a plan that entailed showing affection publicly—holding hands, sharing stolen kisses, and spending time together.

You had fallen for Minnie well before this event, but enacting your love intensified these feelings. The line between your performance and genuine emotions blurred, as your heart yearned to reveal your true sentiments. Your unrequited love swelled with each passing moment that deepened your connection. You could only hope that your efforts would ignite the same burning desire in Minnie's heart.

Similarly, you had to convince Minnie's parents that you were indeed the ideal husband for their daughter. You showcased your commitment, respect, and dedication to making her happy. You took an active role in family gatherings, bonding with Minnie's siblings, and proving your worth as a son-in-law.

Once these obstacles were overcome, everything else seemed to happen at breakneck speed. Wedding plans came together swiftly; invitations were sent, venues booked, and the big day loomed closer. In the blur of excitement, you found yourself standing at the altar, about to exchange vows with Minnie. The transition from pojangmacha proposal to nuptials felt almost dreamlike—too quick to fully process.

The ceremony took place in a remote chapel far from unwanted attention. Pews were populated with guests that were thoroughly selected, aside from close family only few were invited.

As you stood before the altar, the chapel filled with the soft hum of anticipation, you could see her—Minnie—beginning her journey down the aisle. Through the delicate veil that framed her face, a smile bloomed, and even from this distance, it was impossible for you not to be entranced. With each measured step, she approached, each stride bringing you closer together.

Your eyes trailed over her dress, so resplendent and elegant, as she moved with the grace of a dancer. The sunlight filtering through the chapel's stained-glass windows bathed everything in an ethereal glow. Each hue, dancing and twirling across the floor, seemed to celebrate our union.

The air in the small, candle-lit altar was heavy with quiet reverence, the murmurs of a few close witnesses fading as the officiant began to speak. It was an intimate affair—just as they had planned. No grand celebrations, no sea of faces, only the people who mattered most.

You stood across from Minnie, your palms slightly damp as you held the delicate silver ring between your fingers. The ring’s intricate design seemed to weigh heavier in your hand than it should, its symbolism pressing on you more than you cared to admit.

Minnie, radiant in her understated elegance, met your gaze with that familiar mix of mischief and something else you couldn’t quite name. She looked calm, collected—but you knew her well enough to catch the flicker of hesitation in her eyes.

“This is it,” the officiant said, his voice steady. “The vows you exchange today will bind your hearts and lives together. Do you wish to proceed?”

You glanced at Minnie, searching her face for any sign of regret. She gave him the faintest of nods, her lips curving into a small, reassuring smile.

You cleared your throat, your voice quiet but firm as you began.

“Minnie, I know we’re standing here today not for the reasons most couples do. We’ve always been practical, and this… this is no different. But I want you to know that I’ll honor this vow, not just as your husband, but as your friend.

I promise to be there when you need someone to lean on, to laugh with, and even to argue with when the mood strikes. I promise to keep our trust unbroken and to stand by you, no matter how complicated life gets.

This isn’t just a promise for today, but for every day after. Not out of duty, but because you’re someone I respect, someone I’ve always believed in. And if that’s the foundation of our marriage, then I think we’ll be alright.”

You made a commitment to yourself although some might consider this marriage as a fraud, to you at least you didn’t want your vow to be a lie.

Your voice softened as you slipped the ring onto her finger, your hand lingering a moment longer than necessary. For a second, you thought you saw her eyes glisten, but she blinked it away before it could fall.

Minnie took a small breath before she began, her tone steady but tinged with something deeper.

“Yunjae, you’ve always been the kind of person who sees things through—whether it’s fixing a broken coffee machine or helping me dodge my family’s relentless matchmaking.

Today, I stand here because I trust you. I trust that no matter what, you’ll keep your word.

I can’t promise that I’ll always be the easiest person to deal with, or that life will suddenly make sense because of this decision. But I can promise that I’ll try. I’ll try to be someone who doesn’t let you down, someone who holds up my end of this partnership.

And who knows?”—she allowed herself a small laugh—“Maybe we’ll surprise each other along the way.”

She slid the matching silver band onto his finger, her touch light but deliberate. For a fleeting moment, her fingers brushed against yours, and it felt like more than just an accident.

The officiant’s voice broke the silence that hung between them. “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may seal your vows with a kiss.”

You hesitated, not out of reluctance, but because the moment felt heavier than you had anticipated. You leaned forward slowly, your lips brushing hers in the lightest, briefest of touches—enough to be proper, yet leaving a quiet ache in its wake.

When the two of you pulled apart, Minnie’s eyes met yours again, and for the first time that day, her smile reached all the way to her eyes.

The witnesses applauded politely, and the ceremony moved on, but You couldn’t shake the lingering warmth of her lips or the quiet weight of her words.

For a marriage born out of convenience, the moment felt startlingly real.

—

The silence of the apartment was heavy, oppressive, and electric all at once. Every tick of the wall clock echoed like a heartbeat, a relentless reminder of the moment you now found yourself in. This wasn’t just any night. It was your wedding night.

Minnie lingered by the doorway, her fingers gripping the strap of her bag like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. You didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to break the silence that stretched between you like a live wire, taut and humming with unspoken tension.

You leaned against the counter, your jacket slung over your arm, your tie loosened just enough to breathe. But breathing felt impossible now, every inhale shallow, every exhale trembling.

“It feels strange,” she said suddenly, her voice soft but slicing through the stillness like a blade.

You glanced at her, catching the way her eyes darted nervously around the room, avoiding yours. “What does?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“This,” she said, gesturing weakly at the space around you. “Us. Here. Like this.”

You let out a dry laugh, more out of habit than amusement. “Yeah. It does.”

She moved further into the room, her steps slow and deliberate, as if she were testing the ground beneath her. Her hand trailed along the edge of the couch, her touch light but deliberate, sending a shiver down your spine. “I guess I should change,” she murmured, still not meeting your eyes.

You nodded automatically, your throat tight. “Yeah. Me too.”

You retreated to the guest room, the cool air brushing against your skin as you stripped off your wedding attire and slipped into the silky pajamas. The fabric clung to your body, soft and cool, but it did nothing to quell the heat simmering beneath your skin. When you returned to the living room, you collapsed onto the sofa, your mind racing.

A few moments later, you heard the soft click of a door opening. Your head turned instinctively, and there she was. Minnie. She stepped out from the bedroom, her long, black hair cascading over her shoulders like a midnight waterfall. The sight of her stole the breath from your lungs.

She wore a gown of white lace, the fabric sheer enough to hint at the curves beneath, yet modest enough to leave everything to your imagination. The delicate material clung to her body like a second skin, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal the faintest shadow of cleavage. A slit ran up one side, exposing the smooth expanse of her thigh, and your gaze lingered there, tracing the line of her leg with a hunger you couldn’t suppress.

The air between you grew thick, charged with something primal and undeniable. Your pulse quickened, a throbbing ache building low in your abdomen as your eyes roamed over her. The swell of her hips, the curve of her waist, the way the lace hugged her breasts—every detail was a temptation, a provocation.

She hesitated by the doorway, her hands fidgeting slightly, her lips parting as if she were about to speak but couldn’t find the words. Her eyes met yours, and in that instant, it was as though the world had stopped. The tension between you was palpable, a magnetic pull that neither of you could resist.

“Minnie…” you said, your voice rough, strained with desire.

Her gaze flickered to yours, holding it for a heartbeat before dropping to the floor. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You didn’t,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could think. “You’re not.”

She took a tentative step closer, her bare feet silent against the hardwood floor. The scent of her perfume—something floral and intoxicating—wafted toward you, filling your senses. “This is… different, isn’t it?” she said, her voice carrying a vulnerability that made your chest tighten.

You nodded slowly, your throat dry. “Yeah. It is.”

The space between you seemed to shrink with every step she took, the air growing heavier, hotter. Her eyes searched for yours, dark and unreadable, but there was something in them—a flicker of desire, of uncertainty, of need.

“Yunjae,” she began, your name trembling on her lips. “Do you think we should…?”

Your chest tightened, your heart pounding in your ears. You knew exactly what she was asking, even without the words to complete the thought. You leaned back against the counter, running a hand through your hair to buy yourself time.

“I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice low and rough. “Do you want to?”

Her breath hitched, and you could see her struggling to find the answer. “I don’t know either,” she confessed, her honesty cutting through you like a knife. “This isn’t how I pictured…”

“Me neither,” you said quickly, desperate to ease her discomfort. “But here we are.”

The air between you crackled with something unspoken, something electric and terrifying all at once. You took a hesitant step closer, your pulse hammering in your ears. The heat of her body radiated toward you, and you could almost feel the warmth of her skin against yours.

“We don’t have to do anything we’re not ready for,” you said, your tone firm, though you weren’t sure if you were reassuring her or yourself.

She dropped her gaze, her fingers twisting in the fabric of her dress. “It’s not about being ready,” she said, her voice so soft you almost missed it. “It’s about what it would mean.”

“What do you think it would mean?” you asked, your throat tightening as you waited for her answer.

She lifted her eyes to meet yours, and the vulnerability there made your breath catch. “That this is real,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “That we’re not just pretending anymore.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Of course it was real—how could it not be? But hearing her say it, seeing the fear and hope mingled in her expression, made it feel all the more tangible.

“It is real,” you said, your voice rough. “But that doesn’t mean we have to rush anything.”

She took a step closer then, and you could feel the warmth of her presence, the gravity of her drawing you in. Her hand reached out, her fingers brushing against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body.

“Yunjae,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “what do you want?”

The question struck you like lightning, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. You wanted to say something, anything, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you reached out, your hand hovering near her face before you finally let it rest against her cheek.

Her skin was soft, warm, and you could feel the faint tremor in her as she leaned into your touch. “I don’t want to hurt you,” you said, your voice raw with emotion.

“You won’t,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving yours.

Her breath was warm against your skin, her closeness intoxicating. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to close the gap, to let go of the restraint that had held you back for so long. Your other hand found her waist, the lace of her gown smooth beneath your fingertips, and you pulled her closer, your bodies almost touching.

Her lips parted, her breath hitching as your foreheads brushed together. The tension between you was unbearable, the air thick with desire and hesitation. You could feel the rapid beat of her heart, the way her body trembled against yours.

But just as you let yourself imagine it—just as you felt the pull to kiss her, to lose yourself in her—the sharp, jarring ring of your phone shattered the moment.

You froze, the sound cutting through the silence like a knife. Minnie blinked, her eyes wide with surprise, and you reluctantly pulled away, your hand falling from her waist as you reached for your phone on the counter.

The screen lit up with the name “Grandfather.” You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the answer button, before glancing at Minnie. She took a step back, her arms wrapping around herself as if to shield herself from the sudden intrusion.

“You should get that,” she said softly, her voice tinged with both relief and disappointment.

You nodded, your chest tight as you answered the call. “Grandfather?”

“Yunjae,” his voice boomed through the phone, loud and commanding. “I just wanted to make sure you two made it home safely. How’s married life treating you so far?”

You forced a laugh, your eyes flickering to Minnie, who was now standing by the window, her back to you. “It’s… it’s good, Grandfather. We’re just settling in.”

“Good, good,” he said, his tone softening. “Take care of her, Yunjae. She’s a special one.”

“I will,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you. Then, almost as an afterthought, your grandfather added, “Oh, and by the way, Jiwon just returned from overseas. She asked about you.”

The name hit you like a bolt of lightning. “Jiwon?” you repeated, louder than you intended, your voice carrying across the room.

Minnie turned sharply at the sound of the name, her eyes widening slightly. You could see the curiosity flicker across her face, though she quickly masked it, turning back toward the window.

“Yes, Jiwon,” your grandfather continued, oblivious to the tension his words had just created. “She’s back in town. I thought you’d want to know.”

“Right,” you said, your mind racing. “Thanks for letting me know, Grandfather.”

After a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set the phone down, the silence of the apartment pressing in on you once more. Minnie turned to face you, her expression unreadable but her eyes sharp with questions she wasn’t asking.

“Everything okay?” she asked, her voice quiet but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Yeah,” you said, running a hand through your hair. “Just my grandfather checking in. He, uh… mentioned that an old friend of mine is back in town.”

“Jiwon,” she said, her tone neutral but her gaze piercing. “I heard.”

You nodded, unsure of how much to say. “Yeah. We grew up together. She’s been overseas for a while.”

Minnie nodded slowly, her arms still wrapped around herself. “That’s… nice,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction. She hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching yours, before turning toward the bedroom. “I think… I’m going to head to bed. It’s been a long day.”

You nodded, the ache in your chest intensifying. “Yeah. Of course.”

She hesitated at the doorway, her hand resting on the frame as if she wanted to say something more. But instead, she simply said, “Goodnight, Yunjae,” before disappearing into the bedroom.

The soft click of the door closing behind her felt like a finality, a punctuation mark on the night. You sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. The weight of the day—and the night—pressed down on you, suffocating and inescapable. The memory of her body, her warmth, her scent, lingered in your mind, a tantalizing reminder of what could have been.

—

The memory lingered like a phantom, the weight of her warmth and scent still wrapped around you. Yunjae closed his eyes, trying to shake it off, but the pull of what could’ve been was stronger than he liked to admit.

The soft hum of the car engine brought him back, the rhythmic vibration beneath him grounding him in the present. His eyes fluttered open, the dim glow of passing street lights illuminating Minnie’s face, her features etched with a quiet tension.

“Why did you drink that much?” Minnie’s voice broke the silence, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You glanced at her from the passenger seat. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles pale, but her focus remained on the empty road ahead. The streetlights cast fleeting shadows across her face, accentuating the tension in her jaw.

“And why go all the way to that pojangmacha?” she continued, her voice steady but probing, cutting through the silence.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer. “I could ask you the same thing,” you finally muttered, leaning your head back against the seat.

She let out a small, humorless laugh. “That’s not an answer, Yunjae,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of frustration and concern.

You looked out the window, watching the world blur past in a haze of light and shadow. “I just… needed to clear my head,” you said after a moment, your tone low.

Minnie glanced at you briefly before returning her eyes to the road. “And drinking was the best way to do that?” she asked, her words sharper now.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “Maybe,” you admitted. “I didn’t plan to drink that much. It just… happened.”

She didn’t respond immediately, but the silence between you was far from comfortable. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional noise from the tires against the asphalt.

“Why?” she asked again, quieter this time. Her voice had lost its edge, replaced by something softer, something closer to worry. “What were you trying to forget?”

The question hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. You swallowed hard, your mind flashing back to the memories that had surfaced earlier—the echoes of laughter, the warmth of shared moments, the way everything once felt so easy between you. Your relationship had been so bright back then, a beacon of connection and understanding. But now, the contrast was stark, almost painful, like a photograph faded with time.

“Nothing,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper.

Minnie shook her head, her grip on the steering wheel tightening. “You’re terrible at lying,” she said, her tone a mix of exasperation and something else—something closer to sadness.

You didn’t respond, the weight of the moment pressing down on your chest. Instead, you turned your gaze back to the window, hoping the passing scenery would offer some kind of distraction.

…

The silence stretched, and you couldn’t take it anymore. Turning to her, you blurted out, “Why are we like this, Minnie?”

She froze, her fingers flexing against the wheel, her lips parting slightly as if she didn’t expect the question. Slowly, her voice leaves her mouth, as if she was hesitant. “What… do you mean?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“This,” you gestured between the two of you, the frustration clear in your tone. “The silence, the distance. It wasn’t like this before. What happened to us?”

The silence in the car felt suffocating, your words hanging heavy between you both. Minnie’s hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white. Her lips pressed together into a thin line as her gaze stayed locked on the empty road ahead. For a moment, you thought she wouldn’t respond.

But then her voice cut through the tense air, sharp and brittle. “You think I don’t wonder the same thing?” she shot back, her tone trembling just slightly at the edges.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head in frustration. “Then why don’t we talk about it? Why do we keep pretending like this is fine when it’s not?”

She glanced at you briefly, her eyes flashing with something between anger and pain. “What should we talk about, Yunjae? Should we just end this? Is that what you want?” Her words came fast now, a barrage of questions that hit you like punches, each one sharper than the last. “Sure, okay, why not? Let’s get divorced. That’s what you want, don’t you?”

Your chest tightened, the venom in her voice cutting deeper than you thought possible. Your mouth opened, but no words came out. For a moment, you just stared at her, stunned by her sudden outburst. The word “divorce” lingered in the air, harsh and unyielding.

And then it hit you—that question wasn’t entirely meant for you. The way her voice cracked, the way her eyes darted to the side for just a second—it was as though she was asking herself, questioning everything just as much as she was questioning you.

Memories of the past came rushing in, unbidden. Even before your marriage, she would jokingly throw out remarks about divorce whenever you two had playful arguments. Back then, it was just a bad joke, something you brushed off easily. But over time, as the relationship began to sour, the sarcasm faded from her tone, replaced by something heavier. Something real.

Your hands clenched into fists in your lap, your nails digging into your palms as the realization settled in. It felt like a cruel irony, the weight of her words suffocating you. And yet, something in you snapped.

“Sure,” you said, your voice low but laced with anger. “Yes, let’s get divorced. It sounds like that’s what you’ve wanted all along. At this point, why not? I’d wish for it too.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, each syllable fueled by frustration and hurt.Her foot slammed on the brakes, the car jerking violently to a halt in the middle of the empty road. The force of it threw you forward, the seat belt digging into your chest as you caught yourself against the dashboard. Your head snapped toward her in disbelief, but the fiery glare in her eyes made you freeze.

It was as if your words had ignited something even angrier within her, a flame that she refused to let die down. The weight of the moment pressed down on you, and though the sudden halt had taken your breath away, it wasn’t the car’s jolt that had you reeling—it was her.

You glanced out the window and realized with a start that you were already in front of your apartment building. The neon lights from the convenience store across the street flickered, casting a dull glow on the car's interior. But Minnie didn’t say a word, her expression unreadable now as her hand moved to the gearshift.

The silence returned, thick and oppressive, as she slowly released the brakes and guided the car into the underground garage. Her movements were controlled, deliberate, as though she were holding herself together with the thin thread of composure she had left.

You wanted to say something, anything, to ease the crushing weight of the silence. But the words refused to come. The hum of the engine was all that filled the car, its persistent noise somehow highlighting how alone you felt.

The car jerked to a stop, and without a second thought, Minnie threw the car door open with a slam, the sound sharp and final. The anger in her movements was unmistakable—each action deliberate, each step away from you carrying the weight of something you weren’t ready to face. You could feel the sting of her frustration in the air, and it made your chest tighten.

You sat there in the car for a moment, paralyzed. Everything had happened so quickly, faster than you could process. Her words, the anger, the sudden shift in the air—it felt like the end of something. Your heart beat in your ears as your mind raced, trying to make sense of it all. Was this really the end of everything? Was this what your relationship had come to?

But no. You couldn’t let it end like this, not without confronting the mess you’d both created. You shook yourself out of the daze, forcing your body to move, to take action. This conversation—no, this argument—wasn’t finished. It needed to end here and now.

You opened the car door, your breath shallow, and rushed after her, ignoring the heavy feeling in your chest. You barely made it to the elevator before the doors closed. You caught a glimpse of her, just a fleeting moment, but it was enough. Her eyes met yours, as her face was slowly covered by the closing metal doors.

Your heart raced as you watched the elevator ascend, and you cursed under your breath. You weren’t going to let it go like this. You couldn’t. Not when everything felt so broken, but so fixable at the same time.

You pressed the button for the elevator, your hand gripping the edge of the doorframe, waiting for it to return. The silence in the garage seemed to stretch on endlessly, and with every passing second, the weight of what was happening only seemed to grow heavier.

You stepped in to the elevator, the slow, rhythmic ping of the floor numbers echoing in your mind. The numbers on the screen flickered, counting up, but in that moment, they felt more like a cruel countdown rather than progress. Each number, each floor felt like a heavy weight pressing down on your chest, giving you just enough time to think—too much time to think.

You tried to recall the last moment you saw Minnie, the brief glance exchanged before the elevator doors shut between you. It had been only a second, but in your mind, it felt like a lifetime. Your thoughts were in conflict, each memory fighting for dominance, each one pulling you in a different direction.

The numbers on the elevator’s display shifted slowly, and you watched them one by one.

"One..." You could almost feel the heat from her glare again, that fiery anger that had burned through the car earlier. It was all too real, too raw.

"Two..." But was it really that? You thought back, trying to see beyond the anger. Had her gaze been cold? That piercing coldness that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Three..." It wasn’t that simple, was it? Maybe it wasn’t anger at all. Maybe you saw sadness in her eyes—real, raw sadness that had made your chest tighten, your breath catch in your throat.

"Four..." Or maybe it wasn’t any of those things. Maybe you had been too clouded by your own frustration to truly see her. Maybe, just maybe, there had been a tear glinting in her eye, too fast to catch, but real.

"Five..." The numbers came to an end, and the harsh ding of the elevator doors opening brought you back to the present.

You stepped out of the elevator, your mind still swirling with conflicting thoughts, but you knew you had no more time for hesitation. The door to your apartment was right there in front of you, yet it felt miles away. You approached it slowly, every step feeling heavier than the last. Your hand reached out for the door handle, and as you gripped it, you hesitated for a moment. The door felt impossibly heavy, almost as if it were holding you back, forcing you to confront whatever lay on the other side.

You pushed through the weight, twisting the knob and stepping inside. The apartment was eerily quiet, the dim lighting casting long shadows on the walls. It felt so different now, so foreign. The last few years had drained the warmth, the life, from this place. And now, here you were, standing in the same space with Minnie, but it felt like a universe separated the two of you.

You closed the door quietly behind you, the sound echoing in the empty apartment. You didn’t know what to say or do, but you knew that this couldn’t be ignored any longer. This silence, this tension—it was unbearable.

The tension in the room was suffocating. You stood in the middle of the living room, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, your breath shallow as you tried to keep your emotions in check. Minnie only a few steps away, hunched over the sofa facing the window, deliberately facing away from you. The dim light from the single lamp cast long shadows across the walls, the space between them feeling like an unbridgeable chasm.

“Minnie,” you said, your voice firm but edged with exhaustion. “We can’t leave this conversation here.”

She finally faced you locking her eyes to yours. You noticed her eyes were swell as if she had just recently cried, yet her face was a mask of indifference. It was the look she always wore, the one that had become her shield. But you weren't about to let her hide behind it tonight.

She let out a sharp laugh, bitter and mocking. “You’re so eager to end this, aren’t you?”

Her words stung, and you clenched your fists at your sides. “Don’t kid yourself, Minnie,” you shot back, trying to keep your tone measured. “You know I’m right.”

She raised an eyebrow, her gaze sharpening. “Right about what?”

You took a breath, steadying yourself. “You’re more successful in your career now than ever before. Your parents can’t pressure you like they used to.”

She frowned, clearly unimpressed. “And what does that have to do with anything?”

You stepped closer, your voice dropping as you tried to make her see reason. “This agreement—this marriage of convenience—it’s outlived its purpose. We don’t have to do this anymore. We don’t have to be together anymore.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything. Her lips parted slightly, as if the words had caught her off guard. But then her expression hardened, and she shot back, “What about your inheritance? You still need to be married to get it. You’ve got over a year left before you even qualify.”

Her tone was biting, but there was something else beneath it—something you couldn’t quite place.

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat.

She seized on your silence, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “Is that what this is about? Ending this so you can run off to be with the woman you actually love? Jiwon, wasn’t it?”

The accusation slammed into you, the air in the room growing heavier. It wasn’t the first time she’d brought Jiwon into a fight, and it stung just as much as every time before.

You inhaled sharply, trying to keep your temper in check. “Minnie, how many times do I have to say this?” you said, your voice low but trembling with frustration. “Jiwon is just a friend. She has always been just a friend.”

But she didn’t waver. Her gaze stayed locked on yours, sharp and unrelenting. “Am I wrong? You went out drinking at some far-off pojangmacha with her, of all people, in the middle of the night. Then suddenly, you’re bringing this up now, like this is some big revelation. What else am I supposed to think, Yunjae?”

You stared at her, disbelief and anger surging in equal measure. “Do you even hear yourself, Minnie?” you demanded, your voice rising. “This again? Jiwon again? How many times are we going to do this?”

Her silence spoke volumes, but you didn’t let up. “You keep throwing her name in my face like I haven’t explained myself a thousand times already. You think I enjoy repeating myself? Telling you over and over that there’s nothing there, just to have you ignore me every time?”

Her lips pressed into a tight line, but she didn’t respond.

“Do you even know what day it is today?” you asked, your patience cracking under the weight of it all. “Do you know why I was at that far-off pojangmacha?”

Her shoulders stiffened, but she still didn’t answer.

“Do you really have no idea, Minnie?” you pressed, your voice growing louder, harsher. “Today is our anniversary, for fuck’s sake. Instead of celebrating with you, instead of being with my wife, I was sitting there drinking alone, drowning in my own goddamn misery while you were nowhere to be found.”

Her lips parted slightly, but no words came, and the disbelief in her expression pushed you further.

“And Jiwon?” you continued, your voice sharp now, cutting through the tension. “She was there because you weren’t. She sat with me, talked to me, did the one thing you couldn’t—she showed up. She was a companion. A friend. That’s all she’s ever been, no matter how many times your insecurities tell you otherwise.”

Her breath hitched, her shoulders trembling slightly, but you weren’t done.

“It might’ve started as a marriage of convenience,” you said, your voice steady despite the emotions threatening to overwhelm you, “but I’ve never treated it as a joke. Not once. I’ve given it everything—my patience, my effort, my whole goddamn self. I’ve tried to be a good husband, or at the very least, a friend you could count on.”

You took a step closer, forcing her to meet your gaze. “But you, Minnie? You’ve avoided me. Treated me like a stranger. Like I wasn’t even worth the bare minimum effort to make this work. And every time you bring up Jiwon, every time you accuse me of something like this, it’s like you’re trying to justify shutting me out. To make me the villain instead of facing whatever it is that’s really going on.”

Her hands clenched at her sides, her head bowing slightly as if your words had physically struck her.

“The least you could’ve done,” you said, your voice quieter now, but no less firm, “was trust me. Trust what I’ve told you, over and over again. And try to preserve what we had—our friendship, at the very least.”

Her arms dropped to her sides, her fingers twitching as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

You pressed on, your words gaining momentum. “I tried to be understanding. I told myself it was your job, that it was just too taxing. But there’s only so much I can compromise, Minnie. Do you know how much it hurts every time I think about what we used to be? What we’ve thrown away because of this… this stupid marriage?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. For the first time in the entire argument, she looked vulnerable—small.

“Isn’t that why you’ve grown distant?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost pleading. “You regret this, don’t you? That’s why you’re like this. Isn’t it? Tell me, Minnie. Why did you say yes in the first place?”

She stared at you, her eyes wide, her breathing shallow. For a moment, you thought she wouldn’t answer. But then, her voice broke through the silence.

“Because it made sense,” she said, her tone flat, almost mechanical.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. “Of course. That’s the reason. ‘It made sense.’”

“It’s not just that!” she snapped, her voice breaking, the anger and frustration spilling out all at once. “It’s not only because it made sense.”

“Then tell me!” you shouted, your voice echoing off the walls of the apartment. “Give me another reason why we should continue this, Minnie, because what we have right now—whatever this is—isn’t worth keeping!”

Her hands balled into fists, and for a moment, you thought she’d lash out at you. But instead, she took a shuddering breath, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Because I was scared!” she yelled, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Because I thought I was going to lose you!”

Her confession hung in the air, raw and heavy, piercing through the anger like a blade.

“What?” you whispered, your voice faltering, confusion overtaking your frustration.

“I acted that way because I was afraid,” she repeated, her voice cracking. “Because this marriage meant we can’t go back. Because I realized too late that if I lose you in this marriage, I’d lose you forever.”

Her words lingered, their meaning teetering on the edge of something deeper, unspoken. She looked away, her arms wrapping around herself as if shielding something she couldn’t bring herself to admit.

You stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in, the truth cutting deeper than you anticipated.

Her voice wavered as she continued, a hint of desperation slipping through. “Being with you, acting like a couple—it made me happy. Too happy. But then it all started feeling too real. It felt like I was enjoying it too much.”

Your breath hitched as her meaning sank in.

“Minnie…” you said, your tone softer, a tremor of realization in your voice.

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with everything she couldn’t say and everything you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

But she didn’t stop. Her voice trembled as her emotions spilled out, years of fear and pain surfacing all at once. “And then it hit me. This wasn’t real. It was never real. I was so scared of losing you, I regret agreeing to something I didn’t even understand. And every day, I kept thinking, ‘What if he wakes up and realizes he doesn’t need me? What if he decides to leave?’ So I distanced myself. I thought it’d hurt less that way. But it didn’t. It just made it worse.”

She drew in a shuddering breath, her voice dropping to a whisper. “It felt like I was taking advantage of you. Like I was holding you hostage in something you never wanted. Every time I looked at you, I felt guilty. It felt like I was coveting something I didn’t deserve. And I… I didn’t know what to do with that. I thought if I kept some distance, it’d hurt less when…” Her voice faltered as she swallowed hard. “…when we finally ended this.”

Her voice broke entirely as the tears finally came, streaming down her face in uncontrollable waves. She brought her hands up to cover her face, but her sobs filled the room, raw and unguarded.

You froze, the sight of her unraveling like this rendering you speechless. All the anger, all the frustration that had built up inside you, dissolved into something else—something achingly tender.

Without thinking, you stepped forward, closing the space between you. Gently, you reached out, your hands trembling as they brushed against her arms, then her shoulders, before finally pulling her into a hesitant embrace.

She stiffened at first, but then, as if the dam inside her finally broke, she leaned into you, clutching at your shirt as though letting go might shatter her entirely. Her sobs wracked her body, her pain and fear pouring out into the silence between you.

And for the first time, you found yourself holding her not out of obligation, but because you didn’t want to let her go. Slowly, carefully, you reached out, your hand trembling slightly as you brushed the tears from her cheeks.

She flinched at first, but when she felt the gentle press of your fingers, she stilled. Her hands fell to her sides, and she stood there, her sobs quieting as you wiped away her tears in silence.

Your thumb lingered on her cheek for a moment, and then another, your touch soft, unhurried, as if you were trying to erase not just her tears but the pain they carried.

“Minnie,” you finally said, your voice a low murmur. “I had no idea…”. You cupped her face wanting to meet her eyes

Her shoulders shook again, but this time she didn’t pull away. She leaned into your hand, her tears still falling but slower now, her breathing uneven.

“All this time…” you murmured, your voice barely audible. “You’ve been scared. And I—”

You stopped, your throat tightening. The realization struck you hard, the truth you had avoided for so long staring back at you. You had been scared too. Scared of the vulnerability, of admitting how much she meant to you, of risking it all and losing her in the end.

For the moment, your eyes finally met with hers, but neither of you spoke. The silence was heavy but not unbearable, filled with something fragile yet unspoken.

The tension in the room didn’t disappear, but something shifted. For the first time in what felt like forever, the truth was out in the open. And even though it hurt, even though it felt like your chest was being torn open, it was a start.

But words weren’t enough. Not tonight. Not when the air between you was still crackling with something raw and unspoken. Not when she stood there, her long black hair falling over her shoulders, her bangs slightly tousled, her slim frame trembling with the weight of her confession, her vulnerability laid bare.

Before your mind could think, your body moved.

In one impulsive motion, you closed the distance between you, your hands cupping her face as your lips crashed into hers. The kiss was sudden, reckless, and charged with all the emotions you’d been holding back. Her lips were soft, warm, and trembling against yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop.

But then your brain caught up, and you jolted away, your breath ragged, your heart pounding in your chest. “Minnie… I—” you stammered, trying to explain yourself, to apologize for the impulsiveness of it all.

But before you could finish, her lips found yours again, cutting off your words. This time, it was her who closed the gap, her kiss just as desperate, just as messy, as if she couldn’t bear to let you pull away. Her hands clutched at the front of your shirt, her fingers twisting into the fabric like she was afraid you’d vanish if she let go.

“Yunjae,” she whispered against your lips, her voice breaking. “Don’t leave me.”

The plea was raw, unfiltered, and it shattered whatever restraint you had left. Her lips were soft but insistent, trembling with a vulnerability that mirrored your own. You could feel the dampness of her tears as they spilled over, mingling with the heat of your kiss. She kissed you back with a hunger that matched your own, her fingers tangling in your hair as if she was trying to anchor herself to you.

In one swift motion, you scooped her up into your arms, her body light and trembling against yours. Her arms instinctively wrapped around your neck, her fingers tangling in your hair as she clung to you, her breath hot against your skin. She felt fragile in your arms, her slim frame fitting perfectly against you, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart as you carried her toward the bedroom.

Her pink jacket and pants were still partially on, the fabric soft against your skin, but the black sleeveless crop top she wore underneath clung to her body, revealing the delicate curve of her waist and the faint outline of her ribcage. Her long black hair spilled over your arm, her bangs slightly messy from the intensity of the moment, and she looked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes.

You kissed her again as you walked, your lips brushing against hers in a slow, heated kiss that made her gasp. Her hands tightened around your neck, her nails digging into your skin as if she was afraid you’d let her go. But you didn’t. You held her closer, your arms tightening around her as you carried her into the bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows across the walls. You laid her down gently on the bed, her dark hair fanning out around her like a halo. She looked up at you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes wide and vulnerable as she reached for you, her hands trembling as they traced the lines of your chest, your stomach, your hips.

“Minnie if you want me to stop…” you asked for confirmation.

“Yunjae,” she whispered again, her voice breaking as she pulled you closer. “Please.”

You kissed her again while taking off her jacket, your lips trailing down her neck, her collarbone, her chest. She gasped, her hands clutching at your shoulders as you moved lower, your lips brushing against the edge of her crop top. Her breath hitched as you pulled her crop-top over her head, putting into full view her whole upper body, the well defined lines of her stomach, the delicate curve of her waist. Her ribcage was faintly visible as she arched into your touch.

You kissed her stomach, your lips brushed against her skin as your hands slid down to the waistband of her pants. She let out a soft moan, her hips lifting slightly as you undid the button and zipper, sliding the fabric down her legs. She kicked them off, leaving her in nothing but her black lace underwear, her body trembling under your gaze.

She was beautiful. Her long black hair fanned out around her like a halo, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked up at you with wide, uncertain eyes. Her ribcage was faintly visible as she took a shallow breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. You could see the faint outline of her collarbone, the delicate curve of her waist, the way her body seemed to tremble with every touch.

Her hands slid down to your chest, her fingers fumbling with the buttons of your shirt as if she couldn’t get close enough to you. You helped her, shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor, your skin prickling under her touch. Her breath hitched as her palms flattened against your chest, her fingertips tracing the lines of your collarbone, your shoulders, your arms. Her touch was hesitant at first, almost shy, but there was a hunger in her eyes that made your breath catch.

But then her hands moved lower, her fingers brushing against the waistband of your pants. She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of nervousness and desire. “Can I…?” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she looked into your eyes, her dark gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

You nodded, your breath catching as you reached for her hands, intertwining your fingers with hers as you guided her to the button of your pants. “Go ahead,” you murmured, your voice low and rough as you pressed a kiss to her forehead.

She nodded, her hands trembling slightly as she undid the button and zipper of your pants, her fingers brushing against your skin as she pushed them down your legs. You kicked them off, leaving you with only your boxer. Her breath hitched as she took in the sight of you, her dark eyes wide with a mix of awe and desire.

Your lips met again, and this time, there was no hesitation. The kiss was deep, desperate, and full of all the things you couldn’t say. Her tongue clashed with yours, the heat between you building as she kissed you with a ferocity that left you breathless. You could feel her trembling against you, her hands clutching at your shoulders as if she was afraid you’d pull away.

But you didn’t. You kissed her back just as fiercely, your hands sliding down to her waist as you pulled her closer. Her body pressed against yours, her slim frame fitting perfectly against you, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart as she moved against you.

Her aggressive kissing pushed you back, and before you knew it, your back was against the headrest, her body on top of you as she straddled your lap. Her hands roamed over your chest, her touch frantic and desperate as if she was trying to anchor herself to you. Her breath hitched as your lips trailed down her neck, her collarbone, her chest, and she let out a soft moan that sent a shiver down your spine.

Your hands slipped underneath her bra, your fingers brushing against the soft, warm skin of her chest. She gasped, her body arching into your touch as your palms cupped her breasts, your thumbs brushing over her nipples. They were already hard, sensitive to your touch, and she let out a soft whimper as you teased them, your fingers rolling and pinching gently.

But as your hands moved to the clasp of her bra, fumbling clumsily in your haste. Her hands reached behind her back, and with a practiced ease, she unhooked the bra herself, letting it fall away. Her breasts were now bare, her nipples hard and sensitive in the cool air of the room.

“Yunjae,” she whispered, her voice breaking as she clung to you. “Please.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Your lips trailed down her neck, her collarbone, her chest, and you took one of her nipples into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. She gasped, her hands clutching at your hair as she arched into you, her body trembling with every touch.

Your lips returned to her neck, your hands tracing the curves of her hips, leading to her midriff. Your touch was deliberate, exploring every inch of her as if committing her to memory. Your hand moved downward, sliding over the smooth skin of her stomach until your fingers brushed against the fabric of her panties. She was already drenched, the wetness seeping through the thin material, and her entire body jolted as your finger made contact.

You rubbed her gently, the wet sounds filling the room as her hips instinctively rocked against your hand. Her crotch throbbed with every movement, her breath hitching as your fingers slid against the fabric, teasing her through the damp material.

“You’re so wet…” you murmured, your voice low and rough with desire.

Her eyes trembled, her lips parting as if she wanted to explain, to justify the way her body reacted to you. “Yunjae… I—” she began, her voice shaky and breathless.

But before she could finish, you slipped a finger inside her, and her words dissolved into a sharp, breathy moan. Her body tensed, her back arching as she instinctively pressed herself closer to you, her hands gripping your shoulders for support. She was warm and tight, her walls clenching around your finger as you moved slowly, giving her time to adjust.

“Yunjae…” she gasped again, her voice breaking as her hips rocked against your hand, seeking more of your touch. Her nails dug into your skin, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you added a second finger, stretching her gently.

Her moans grew louder, more desperate, her body trembling as you curled your fingers inside her, hitting a spot that made her cry out. Her thighs clenched around your hand, her hips moving in rhythm with your fingers as she chased the pleasure building inside her. Her breath came in short, shallow gasps, her nails digging into your shoulders as she clung to you, her body taut with tension.

“Yunjae… I’m—” she gasped, her voice breaking as her body began to shake. Her walls clenched around your fingers, her hips stuttering as the pleasure overwhelmed her. Her back arched, her head tilting back as a sharp, breathy cry escaped her lips. Her entire body tensed, then shuddered as she came, her release washing over her in waves.

Her strength gave out almost immediately, her body slumping against yours as she buried her face in the crook of your neck. Her breath was hot and ragged against your skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. Her hands, which had been gripping your shoulders so tightly, now rested limply against your back, her fingers trembling as she clung to you.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice soft and hoarse, her lips brushing against your skin. Her body was still trembling, her legs shaky as she tried to steady herself. She felt small and fragile in your arms, her vulnerability laid bare in the aftermath of her release.

But as she shifted slightly, trying to catch her breath, she became acutely aware of the hardness pressing against her through the thin fabric of your boxers. Her crotch, still clad in her damp panties, was now positioned directly over your cock, the tip of it protruding past the garter of your boxers. The sensation made her gasp softly, her eyes widening as she realized just how much you wanted her.

She looked up at you, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of curiosity and nervousness. Her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, she bit her lower lip, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for the waistband of your boxers. Her movements were hesitant, her fingers fumbling as she tried to pull them down, her inexperience evident in the way she hesitated.

“Minnie…” you murmured, your voice gentle as you reached for her hands, stopping her. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. Her eyes met yours, and there was a determination in them that surprised you. “It’s my turn now. Let me… let me make you feel good, Yunjae.”

You nodded, letting go of her hands and giving her the space to continue. She took a deep breath, her fingers trembling as she finally managed to pull your boxers down, freeing your hardened length. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the sight of you, her breath hitching as she reached out, her touch tentative as her fingers brushed against you.

“Is… is this okay?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with uncertainty.

“More than okay,” you assured her, your voice rough with desire but gentle, encouraging her.

She nodded, her fingers wrapping around you hesitantly, her grip loose at first as she began to stroke you. Her movements were clumsy, her touch unsure, but the sensation of her hand on you was enough to make your breath hitch. She watched your face carefully, her eyes searching for any sign of discomfort or pleasure, her cheeks flushing as she realized just how much her touch was affecting you.

“Like this?” she asked, her voice trembling as she tightened her grip slightly, her hand moving a little faster.

“Yeah,” you groaned, your hips bucking instinctively as her fingers brushed over the sensitive tip. “Just like that, Minnie.”

Encouraged by your response, she continued, her movements growing more confident as she found a rhythm that made you groan. But then she hesitated again, her eyes flickering down to your cock before she looked up at you, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Can I…?” she began, her voice trailing off as she gestured toward her mouth.

You nodded, your breath catching as she leaned down, her lips brushing against the tip of your cock before she took you into her mouth. The sensation was overwhelming, her warm, wet tongue swirling around you as she began to move her head. Her movements were slow and tentative, her inexperience evident in the way she hesitated, but the sheer fact that she was trying, that she wanted to please you, made it all the more intense.

“Minnie…” you gasped, your hands tangling in her hair as she took you deeper, her tongue pressing against the underside of your cock as she sucked. The wet sounds of her mouth on you filled the room, her moans vibrating against your skin as she worked to bring you pleasure.

But she wasn’t done. She pulled back slightly, her lips still wrapped around you as she looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of curiosity and determination. She took a deep breath, her cheeks hollowing as she sucked you deeper, her tongue swirling around you as she moved her head. The sensation was overwhelming, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you as she worked to bring you pleasure.

“Minnie…” you groaned, your hands tightening in her hair as she took you deeper, her tongue pressing against the underside of your cock as she sucked. The wet sounds of her mouth on you filled the room, her moans vibrating against your skin as she worked to bring you pleasure.

Her free hand reached up, her fingers intertwining with yours as she looked up at you, her eyes dark with desire. She didn’t need to say anything—her actions spoke volumes, her determination to make you feel good evident in every movement. Her lips tightened around you, her tongue flicking against the sensitive spot just below the tip, and you felt yourself nearing the edge.

“Minnie… I’m close,” you warned, your voice strained as your hands tightened in her hair. “You should… stop…”

But she didn’t. Instead, she looked up at you, her dark eyes glinting with determination as she took you deeper, her lips tightening around you as she sucked harder. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive tip, her movements growing more confident as she focused on bringing you over the edge. The sensation was overwhelming, her warm, wet mouth enveloping you as she worked to bring you pleasure.

“Minnie, I—” you tried again, your voice breaking as your hips bucked instinctively, but she didn’t pull away. Her hands gripped your thighs, her nails digging into your skin as she held you in place, her mouth working tirelessly to push you closer to the edge.

And then it happened. With a low groan, you came, your release spilling into her mouth as she continued to suck, her movements slowing but not stopping. Her eyes fluttered shut, her cheeks hollowing as she swallowed, her throat working to take everything you gave her. The sight of her like this—her lips wrapped around you, her face flushed, her mouth full of you—was almost too much to bear.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were glistening, a faint trace of cum lingering at the corner of her mouth. She looked up at you, her dark eyes wide and dazed, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she tried to catch her breath. Her tongue darted out, licking her lips clean before she swallowed again, her cheeks flushing as she realized what she’d just done.

“Minnie…” you murmured, your voice rough with emotion as you reached for her, pulling her into your arms. She came willingly, her body collapsing against yours as you laid back against the pillows, her head resting on your chest. Her long black hair fanned out around her, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked up at you, her eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and vulnerability.

“Did I… do okay?” she asked, her voice soft and hesitant as she traced circles on your chest with her fingertips.

“More than okay,” you assured her, your voice gentle as you pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You were amazing, Minnie.”

She let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing against yours as she nestled closer, her head resting in the crook of your neck. Her breath was warm against your skin, her body still trembling slightly from the intensity of the moment. You held her close, your hands stroking her back as you tried to steady your own breathing.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet, the only sounds the soft rustle of the sheets as you shifted slightly, pulling the blanket over the two of you. Minnie’s body was warm against yours, her slim frame fitting perfectly against you as she lay on top of you, her legs tangled with yours. Her hair, messy and slightly damp, brushed against your neck, and you could feel her steady breath on your skin.

“Minnie…” you whispered, your voice soft, almost hesitant.

She hummed in response, her head resting against your chest, fingers lightly tracing patterns on your arm.

“When did it start?” you asked, your words hanging in the quiet air between you.

She tilted her head, looking up at you with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

“When did it start?” you repeated, your voice a little firmer now. “Was it after the marriage?”

Her brows furrowed briefly before the realization dawned on her. Understanding your question, she shook her head.

“No?” you asked, a hint of surprise in your tone. “Then… was it during our wedding day? During our first night?”

Minnie hesitated, her gaze flickering away for a moment.

“Or when we exchanged vows?” you pressed, your curiosity tinged with something deeper, almost like hope.

Her lips parted as if to respond, but instead, she shook her head again. “Earlier,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Earlier?” you echoed, confusion lacing your tone. “When were we convincing our parents?”

This time, she didn’t answer right away. Instead, a faint smile appeared on her lips, the kind of smile you hadn’t seen from her in a long time—soft, genuine, and tinged with something unspoken.

That smile was enough.

Your heart clenched, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. “Minnie…” you said, your voice cracking slightly.

She didn’t say anything else, just nestled closer against you, her fingers still idly tracing shapes on your arm. Her smile lingered, and though the silence between you stretched, it was no longer heavy with doubt or regret.

But then, something shifted. The air between you grew warmer, heavier, as if her smile had unlocked something deep inside you. You couldn’t help it—you leaned in, your lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss. She froze for a moment, her breath hitching, but then she kissed you back, her lips trembling against yours.

The kiss was slow at first, almost hesitant, but it didn’t take long for the tension to build again. Her hands slid up to your chest. Your hands found her waist, your fingers digging into her skin as you deepened the kiss, your tongues clashing in a heated dance.

“Yunjae…” she gasped, her voice breaking as she pulled away slightly, her breath hot against your lips. Her eyes were dark with desire, her cheeks flushed as she looked up at you, her lips swollen from the intensity of the kiss.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you kissed her again, your hands sliding down to her hips as you pulled her closer. Her body pressed against yours, her slim frame fitting perfectly against you, and you could feel the rapid beat of her heart as she moved against you.

But then she surprised you. With a sudden shift of her weight, she pushed you back against the pillows, her hands pressing against your chest as she straddled your lap. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked down at you, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of determination and desire.

Then she shifted, her hips rolling against yours in a slow, deliberate motion that made your breath catch. The damp fabric of her panties rubbed against your hardened length, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. Her movements were slow at first, almost teasing, but it didn’t take long for her to find a rhythm that made your hips buck instinctively.

“Yunjae…” she gasped, her voice breaking as she rocked against you, her body trembling with every movement. Her breath was hot against your skin, her moans soft and desperate as she moved with you, her body trembling with every thrust.

You couldn’t take your eyes off her. The way her body moved, the way her hips rolled against yours, the way her breath hitched with every movement—it was mesmerizing. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked down at you, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of determination and desire.

“Minnie…” you groaned, your hands tightening on her hips as you guided her movements, your fingers digging into her skin as she rocked against you. The damp fabric of her panties rubbed against your hardened length, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through you.

Her moans grew louder, more unrestrained, as she moved against you, her body trembling with every thrust. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she chased the pleasure building inside her.

“Ah!” Minnie suddenly moaned, her body tensing as her climax neared. With her release just within reach, you pushed her hips down and thrust your hips up, the sudden additional stimulation catching her off guard. Her body, unprepared for the intensity, collapsed, her arms barely catching herself just before her face met yours. Now, you were close enough to exchange breaths, your lips inches apart as you both gasped for air.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she looked into your eyes, her dark gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

“You’re so wet…” you murmured, your voice low and teasing as your fingers toyed with her pussy, the damp fabric of her panties pushed to the side. Her breath hitched as your fingers brushed against her sensitive folds, her body trembling with every touch.

“Do you want it?” you asked, your tone playful but laced with desire as you looked up at her, your fingers still teasing her.

She didn’t respond with words, just nodded, her cheeks flushing as she looked down at you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

“But if I don’t loosen you up beforehand…” you began, your words trailing off as you shifted your position, with her still kneeling with you underneath, you positioning your face between her open legs. Her breath hitched as you leaned in, your tongue brushing against her sensitive folds, the taste of her overwhelming as you began to lick her.

“Yunjae…” she gasped, her hands tangling in your hair as she arched into your touch, her body trembling with every movement. Her moans grew louder, more unrestrained, as you continued to pleasure her, your tongue swirling around her sensitive bud as you worked to bring her to the edge.

You started slow, your tongue tracing delicate patterns over her folds, savoring the taste of her as she writhed above you. Her thighs clenched around your head, her hips rocking instinctively against your mouth as you teased her, your tongue flicking against her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. Her breath hitched, her moans growing louder as you increased the pressure, your tongue pressing harder against her sensitive bud.

“Ah… Yunjae…” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she clutched at your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she tried to steady herself. Her body was trembling, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you continued to pleasure her, your tongue working tirelessly to bring her closer to the edge.

But then you decided to take it further. Your tongue dipped lower, tracing the entrance of her pussy before pressing inside. She gasped, her body jerking slightly as your tongue entered her, the sensation new and overwhelming. Her hands tightened in your hair, her nails digging into your scalp as she tried to steady herself.

“Yunjae…” she moaned, her voice trembling with need as she rocked against your mouth, her hips moving in rhythm with your tongue. Her breath hitched as you continued to explore her, your tongue moving in and out of her in slow, deliberate strokes. The sensation was overwhelming, her body trembling with every movement as you worked to bring her closer to the edge.

You could feel her thighs shaking, her body tensing as she neared her climax. Her moans grew louder, more desperate, as you focused on her clit, your tongue swirling around it in tight, rapid circles while still pressing inside her. Her hands tightened in your hair, her hips bucking against your mouth as she tried to chase the pleasure building inside her.

“Yunjae… I’m… I’m going to…” she gasped, her voice breaking as her body tensed, her thighs clamping around your head as she reached her peak. Her back arched, her head tilting back as a sharp, breathy cry escaped her lips. Her entire body shuddered as she came, her release washing over her in waves.

You didn’t stop, your tongue continuing to lap at her as she trembled above you, her body still twitching with the aftershocks of her climax. Her hands, which had been gripping your hair so tightly, now rested limply against your head, her fingers trembling as she tried to catch her breath.

“Yunjae… I can’t…” she whispered, her voice soft and hoarse as she slumped against you, her body collapsing onto the bed beside you. Her breath was hot and ragged against your skin, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady herself. Her long black hair was damp with sweat, her bangs sticking to her forehead as she looked up at you with wide, dazed eyes.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm as you pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can’t wait anymore either.”

You shifted slightly, your hands moving to her hips as you gently rolled her onto her back. She looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, her breath hitching as you leaned down to kiss her again. Her lips were soft and warm against yours, her hands tangling in your hair as she kissed you back with a hunger that matched your own.

But then you pulled away, your hands moving to the waistband of her panties. She froze for a moment, her breath catching as she realized what you were about to do. Her cheeks flushed, her hands trembling slightly as she reached for yours, her fingers intertwining with yours as she looked up at you.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she looked into your eyes, her dark gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

“It’s okay,” you assured her, your voice gentle as you pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got you.”

She nodded, her hands falling away as you gently slid her panties down her legs, the damp fabric clinging to her skin as you pulled them off. She was completely bare now, her body trembling with anticipation as you settled between her legs, your hands resting on her hips as you looked down at her.

“Minnie…” you murmured, your voice rough with desire as you leaned down to kiss her again, your lips brushing against hers in a slow, heated kiss that made her gasp. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you positioned yourself at her entrance.

“Are you ready?” you asked, your voice soft but firm as you looked down at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation.

She nodded, her hands tightening on your shoulders as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and desire. “Yes,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she arched into you, her body trembling with every movement.

All you needed was her confirmation. With a slow, deliberate motion, you pushed inside her, her body tensing slightly as she adjusted to the sensation. For you, the feeling was indescribable. The warmth and tightness of her around you was overwhelming, a sensation that sent a shiver down your spine. Her body was soft and yielding, yet so incredibly tight, as if she was made to fit you perfectly. The way her walls clenched around you, hot and wet, made your breath hitch, your hips instinctively rocking against hers.

“Yunjae…” she gasped, her voice breaking as she arched into you, her body trembling with every thrust. Her breath was hot against your skin, her moans soft and desperate as she moved with you, her body trembling with every movement.

“Does it hurt?” you asked, your voice low and concerned as you stilled inside her, giving her a moment to adjust. Your hands moved to her hips, your thumbs brushing against her skin in a soothing motion.

She shook her head, her hands clutching at your shoulders as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire. “No… it’s just… a lot,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she arched into you, her body trembling with every movement.

You nodded, your hands moving to her hips as you gently guided her movements, your fingers digging into her skin as she rocked against you. “Tell me if it’s too much,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm as you looked down at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort.

She nodded, her hands tightening on your shoulders as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and desire. “I will,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she arched into you, her body trembling with every movement.

As you continued to move, the initial tension in her body began to ease. The pressure gave way to a deeper, more pleasurable sensation, a warmth that spread through your lower abdomen and made your toes curl. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as she chased the pleasure building inside her.

You couldn’t take your eyes off her. The way her body moved, the way her hips rocked against yours, the way her breath hitched with every movement—it was mesmerizing. Her long black hair cascaded down her back, her bangs slightly tousled as she looked up at you, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of determination and desire.

But then you noticed something—a few strands of her hair had fallen onto her face, sticking to her damp skin. Without thinking, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing the hair away from her face. She looked up at you, her dark eyes wide and vulnerable as you caressed her cheek, your thumb brushing against her lips.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice trembling with need as she looked into your eyes, her dark gaze filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

You didn’t respond with words. Instead, you leaned down to kiss her again, your lips brushing against hers in a slow, heated kiss that made her gasp. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you continued to move, your hips rocking against hers in a slow, steady rhythm.

But then you pulled away, your fingers brushing against her lips again. This time, you pressed them gently against her mouth, her breath hitching as she realized what you were about to do. Her lips parted slightly, her tongue darting out to lick your fingers as you pushed them into her mouth, her warm, wet tongue swirling around them as she sucked.

“Yunjae…” she moaned, her voice trembling with need as she looked up at you, her dark eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and desire. Her hands clutched at your shoulders, her nails digging into your skin as she clung to you, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps as you continued to move, your hips rocking against hers in a slow, steady rhythm.

As you thrust deeper, the outline of your length became faintly visible against her lower abdomen, the subtle bulge a testament to how deeply you were inside her. Her slim frame made it impossible to ignore—every movement, every push and pull, was mirrored in the way her stomach tensed and relaxed. It was a sight that made your breath catch, a visual reminder of how intimately connected you were.

“Do you feel that?” you murmured, your voice low and rough as you pressed a kiss to her neck, your hands gripping her hips to guide her movements. “How deep I am?”

She nodded, her breath hitching as she arched into you, her body trembling with every thrust. “I… I can feel all of you,” she gasped, her voice breaking as she clung to you, her nails digging into your skin. “It’s… so much…”

“You’re taking me so well,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe as you watched her body respond to yours. Her hips rocked against you, her legs hugging your hips locking you in, her movements growing more desperate as she chased the pleasure building inside her.

“Yunjae… I’m… I’m going to…” she gasped, her voice breaking as her body tensed, her thighs clamping around your hips as she reached her peak. Her back arched, her head tilting back as a sharp, breathy cry escaped her lips. Her entire body shuddered as she came, her release washing over her in waves.

You didn’t stop, your hips continuing to move against hers as she trembled beneath you, her body still twitching with the aftershocks of her climax. Her hands, which had been gripping your shoulders so tightly, now rested limply against your back, her fingers trembling as she tried to catch her breath. Her legs, which had locked around you moments ago, now lay idle on the bed, completely spent and devoid of strength.

Feeling her body go slack beneath you, you slowed your movements, your own breath ragged as you leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. “You did so well, Minnie,” you murmured, your voice rough but tender. As you pulled back, your cock slipped out of her, the sensation making her gasp softly, her body twitching in response.

You took a moment to admire her—Minnie, laid bare and utterly spent on the bed. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her long black hair fanned out around her like a dark halo, damp with sweat and clinging to her skin. Her bangs stuck to her forehead, and her lips were slightly parted as she tried to catch her breath. Her eyes were half-lidded, her gaze unfocused as she looked up at you, her expression a mix of exhaustion and contentment.

She was beautiful, completely undone by the intensity of what had just happened. But even as she lay there, utterly spent, the fire inside you still burned. The sight of her like this—her body trembling, her skin glistening with sweat, her lips swollen from your kisses—only stoked the flames further.

“Minnie…” you groaned, your voice rough with need as you looked down at her, your eyes searching hers for any sign of hesitation. You knew she was exhausted, but the primal part of you couldn’t let go just yet.

She nodded, her dark eyes glinting with a mix of anticipation and desire, even through her exhaustion. “It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice trembling but resolute. Then, softer, almost shyly, she added, “I want you to… inside me.”

Her words snapped something primal within you, a deep, instinctive need to claim her, to make her yours in every way possible. You gave her only a second to rest before you lifted her legs, draping them over your shoulders. Before she could react, you were already pushing inside her again, your length sliding deep into her warmth.

“Hmmphh…” she gasped, her exhausted body arching slightly as she let out a muffled sound of pleasure. Her eyes fluttered open, wide with surprise at the new depth she hadn’t experienced before.

“Yunjae!!” she cried out, though her voice was weaker now, softened by exhaustion. Her hands gripped the sheets tightly, her body trembling as she tried to adjust to the overwhelming sensation.

You started slow, each thrust deliberate and deep, the weight of your body pressing her into the mattress. With every movement, you could feel her walls clenching around you, her body responding even as she lay there, spent and overstimulated. Her moans grew louder, more unrestrained, as you gradually increased your pace.

“Yunjae–... you’re… so deep…” she managed to gasp between breaths, her voice breaking as her body writhed beneath you. Her hands moved frantically, unsure of where to grip—one moment clutching your arm, the next clawing at the sheets, then flying up to cover her mouth as her cries grew louder, more desperate.

You caught both her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand, while the other moved to her mouth, your fingers slipping past her lips to muffle her screams. She sucked on them instinctively, her tongue swirling around your digits as her muffled moans vibrated against your skin.

The sight of her like this—completely at your mercy, her body trembling with overstimulation, her eyes glazed with pleasure—was almost too much to bear. You could feel your release building, the pressure in your lower abdomen growing with every thrust.

“Minnie… I’m… I’m close…” you groaned, your voice strained as you fought to hold on just a little longer.

“Yunjae… I’m… also… Inside me… please…” she screamed, her voice unhinged by pleasure, her body arching into yours as she begged for your release.

You couldn’t hold back any longer. With a few more deep, punishing thrusts, you felt yourself reaching the edge. Your body tensed, and with a low, guttural groan, you came, your release spilling inside her in hot, unending waves. The sensation was overwhelming, a warmth that spread through your lower abdomen and made your toes curl. Her body tightened around you, her walls clenching as if trying to draw every last drop from you.

Your release was so intense that it pushed your cock out slightly, the excess spilling out of her and pooling on her stomach. Her pussy dripped with your cum, her body spasming uncontrollably as she rode out the waves of her own climax. Her cries were unrestrained now, her voice breaking as she clung to you, her nails digging into your skin.

When it was finally over, the room fell silent except for the sound of your ragged breaths. Minnie lay beneath you, her body still trembling, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to steady herself. Her eyes were half-lidded, her gaze unfocused as she looked up at you, her lips parted as she gasped for air.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice barely audible, soft and hoarse. “You… came inside…” Her tone was a stark contrast to the unrestrained screams from moments ago, now filled with a quiet awe, as if she was asking for confirmation that it had really happened.

You nodded, your own breath still uneven as you leaned down to kiss her forehead. “I did,” you murmured, your voice gentle but firm. “I couldn’t hold back… not with you.”

She smiled faintly, her fingers brushing against the pool of cum on her stomach, her touch almost reverent. “It’s… warm,” she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper. Her smile widened slightly, a soft, contented expression that made your chest ache with something deeper than desire.

You leaned down to kiss her again, this time on the lips. It was slow and tender, a stark contrast to the raw intensity of what had just happened. Her hands moved to your face, her fingers trembling as they traced the lines of your jaw, your cheeks, as if she was memorizing every detail.

“Yunjae…” she whispered against your lips, her voice trembling with emotion. “I… I love you. I’ve loved you for so long… I just didn’t know how to say it.”

Her confession hit you like a punch to the chest, your breath catching in your throat. You pulled back slightly, your eyes searching hers, looking for any hint of doubt. But all you saw was sincerity, her dark eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Minnie…” you murmured, your voice rough with emotion. “I love you too. I’ve always loved you. Even when I didn’t know how to say it… even when I thought I couldn’t have you. You’ve always been it for me.”

Her lips trembled as she smiled, a single tear slipping down her cheek. You wiped it away with your thumb, your touch gentle as you leaned down to kiss her again. This time, it was slow and sweet, a kiss that spoke of all the things you hadn’t been able to say before.

When you finally pulled away, she nestled into your chest, her body still trembling slightly as she tried to catch her breath. You reached for the tissues on the nightstand, cleaning yourself off before gently wiping her stomach and the mess between her legs. She watched you quietly, her eyes soft and filled with affection as you took care of her.

When you were done, you collapsed beside her, pulling her into your arms. She fit perfectly against you, her head resting on your chest as her fingers traced idle patterns on your skin. Her breathing slowly evened out, her body relaxing as exhaustion finally claimed her.

“Yunjae…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she drifted off to sleep. “Don’t let go…”

“I won’t,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m here, Minnie. I’m not going anywhere.”

As her breathing steadied and she fell into a deep sleep, you held her close, your own exhaustion finally catching up to you. But before you let yourself drift off, you whispered one last thing, knowing she couldn’t hear it but needing to say it anyway.

“I love you, Minnie. Always.”

—

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, its golden rays falling across your face. You stirred, your body slowly waking. As you opened your eyes, the events of the night before rushed back to you in vivid detail. Minnie’s words, her touch, her warmth—it all felt so real, so vivid.

But the bed was cold beside you.

Frowning, you turned to the empty space where she had been. The sheets were smooth, the faintest hint of her scent lingering on the pillow. You sat up, running a hand through your messy hair, your heart sinking slightly.

“Minnie?” you called out, your voice hoarse.

There was no response.

You swung your legs over the edge of the bed and stood, wincing slightly as you stretched. For a moment, you expected a hangover to hit you, but you felt fine—physically, at least. Emotionally, though, a heaviness settled over you as you searched the room for any sign of her.

She wasn’t in the bathroom.

She wasn’t in the living room, either.

Disappointment crept in as you moved through the apartment, checking every corner, every room. By the time you circled back to the kitchen, your chest felt hollow. After everything that had happened last night—her confession, her vulnerability, her promise—she was gone.

And then you saw it.

On the table was a neatly prepared breakfast. A plate of rice, eggs, and a bowl of soup sat perfectly arranged, steam still rising faintly as if she’d just finished making it. Beside the plate was a small folded note with your name scrawled in her neat handwriting.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up, unfolding the paper.

—

Yunjae,

I’m sorry I couldn’t be here when you woke up. I really didn’t want to leave, especially after last night, but I had to. All I could do was make you breakfast before I left. Please eat it while it’s still warm.

And one more thing—don’t eat dinner alone. Promise me, okay? I’ll be back, but it’ll be late. Wait for me.

-Minnie

—

After reading the letter, you sat back in your chair, the note still clutched in your hand. For a moment, you simply stared at it, rereading her words over and over again. The tone of her writing—it struck you. It wasn’t just thoughtful; it was so unmistakably her.

It reminded you of how she used to be, back when things between the two of you were simpler. Back before the distance, the hesitations, the quiet battles you both fought without words.

You could almost hear her voice, playful and teasing yet tinged with warmth, as she used to remind you to take care of yourself. Back then, her care wasn’t forced or overshadowed by guilt—it was natural, effortless. And this note, with its soft insistence that you not eat dinner alone, was a glimpse of that.

Your chest tightened with a mixture of longing and hope.

Is this what healing feels like? you wondered.

You thought back to the way she’d smiled last night—the first real smile you’d seen from her in what felt like ages. The kind of smile that made your chest ache with memories of days when her laughter filled the air around you, unguarded and free.

Back then, there were no walls between you, no shadows of doubt hanging over every exchange. And now… now, for the first time in years, it felt like you were finding your way back to that place. To her. To what you had been before.

As you set the note down and picked up the chopsticks, a small smile tugged at your lips. She was right here with you, even when she wasn’t physically present. And maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe in this again—in you, in both of you.

The breakfast she’d made tasted like home, each bite carrying with it a sense of care you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed.

As you finished your meal, you glanced at the note again, her words echoing in your mind.

“Don’t eat dinner alone. Wait for me.”

You leaned back in your chair, exhaling deeply. The apartment felt a little less empty now, the hope lingering in the air making everything seem lighter.

For the first time in a long while, it felt like the cracks in your relationship were starting to mend. Like you were no longer walking on separate paths but finding your way back to one another.

And for the first time, you felt certain that when she came home tonight, you’d be ready to meet her with the same hope and love she was slowly, carefully showing you again.

[serenitiesbloom]

pt 2 to this!  Fluff, slowburn ;), slight angst. spoilers!! 637 words (pt 3 will be the finale of this so bear with me (╥﹏╥) )

There’s something off about Jinwoo lately. It began with small actions. Small acts of service, draping his coat over your shoulders, opening doors, pulling out chairs. Of course you chalked it up to him just being nice. Then it got to sharing meals, walking you home, gifting you daily necessities that you just happened to be running out of. strange. how did he know? But before you knew it, you had settled into a comfortable rhythm with Jinwoo. He had once again wormed through the crevices of your walls and settled in your heart. Spring had arrived, along with the first blooms of love. Along with a bag of grape candies and a note on your desk.

‘dinner?’

-jw♡

Under the message was a hastily scrawled address. You feel your cheeks burn from the length of your smile.

As the evening slowly deepens into night, you find yourself sitting in a cozy pojangmacha with Jinwoo. Deep-fried fritters, rolled omelettes, two bottles of soju. His shadow ripples, you close an eye. Your cups clink. The omelette is salty on your tongue. He smiles, you laugh. A hand brushes your fingertips, featherlight caresses. Was it liquid courage or a fool’s dare? But you find yourself squeezing that hand back. You part ways with a giddy bounce in your step and a kiss on the back of your hand. 

Jinwoo meanwhile smiles softly as he sees your figure skip home. His smile slowly curls into a smirk as he sees the multiple wisps of the soldiers he had hidden in your shadow. It could be argued that sending so many shadows to guard you that your own shadow seemed to have a life of its own could be overkill, but for him, you were worth that and more. It did seem too little for someone as important as you. Jinwoo sighs. He shall need to ensnare your heart and tie you down to him soon. After all, there is no safer place than by his side. 

You love Jinwoo. 

After countless nights of tossing in your sheets over the new developments in your relationship with the ebony-haired hunter. Especially that night you shared dinner with him…if you hadn’t  A new wave of butterflies erupt in your tummy, a sliver of doubt creeps into your mind. So far everything, up to your arrival has been proceeding smoothly. Has your arrival into this world changed anything? Surely not. Well whatever, it's not like you would ever have anything to do with the plot, much less change anything. For now, you hold these warm feelings close to your heart.

ḁ̴̛͚̖̳̈́́̑̒̈́̍́͆͑̐̇͒̀̄̂ř̸̳̰̜̙̞͕̥̓̏̂̇̌͘̕ȇ̸͔͙͌̂͌̆̄̍̽̔͊̽͒̐̕͝ ̶̼͇̿̀̌̈́͐̏́̋̅̚ͅͅý̷̛̗̬͖̄͑̅̆́̂̈́̑̀̊̈́̾̓o̷̬͍̦͔͉͈̣̬̓̉ͅű̴̧̻̐̽͗ ̷̨̧̨̨̼̲̗̟̩͓̼̹̼͔̘̒̉͐̏̇̊̏̀͐̎̍̈́̔̃̕͜s̸̨̻̱̳͍̠̔̈́̎͝ụ̴̟͉̜͇̊̏͌͗̎r̶̢̧̢̮͔̺̣͉̅͗̃̚͜͝ẻ̷̛̼̖̥͕̞̮̿̓̉͊̆̓͆̂̈́͐͘?̷͓̽   

Before long, after many, many, many days of working alongside each other, you and Jinwoo had grown comfortable with each other, exchanging soft greetings and inside jokes. However there was still an unspoken..tension. You, while yearning for Jinwoo, felt the surge of insecurity rear its ugly head as the list of Jinwoo’s achievements grew by the day along with his fame. Jinwoo, worried about scaring you away because of the shadows in his heart. Would you still want to be with someone who sunk into darkness a long time ago? Thus, the both of you carefully inch past each other everyday, never delving too deep or letting the mask of friendship slip. Sometimes you long for an opportunity to spill the flood of feelings in your chest out but each time, you face wall after wall of obstacles. Someday, you promise yourself. Someday, I’ll tell him.

The days soon start to blur together. Until,

The Federal Bureau of Hunters released the list of invited guilds for this year’s International Guild Conference. Ahjin Guild has been selected to represent South Korea.

And thus, Guildmaster of Ahjin guild Sung Jinwoo, Vice-guildmaster Yoo Jinho and third founding member, you set out for the states.  

a/n: pt 3 coming soon! spoiler: Jinwoo gets mad :D. once again i swear pt 3 will be longer!! ૮꒰ ˃̣̣̥ ◠ ˂̣̣̥ ꒱ა i hope i tagged everyone apologies if i missed out anyone!

[yoongissweetdream]

4:52PM | Song Mingi

Pairing: Song Mingi x Reader

Requested: by anon

Synopsis: Mingi and Readers date gets cut short when it rains.

Warnings: established relationship. small mention of Mingi being in his underwear/naked. This was originally for a drabble challenge over on my old account. This is a repost from my now deactivated blog. More of an explanation in my pinned post.

Wordcount: 400

Mingi Masterlist | ATEEZ Masterlist | Taglist Sign-Up

“That rain really did come out of nowhere,” Y/N says to Mingi as she walks out of the bathroom, a towel in her hand as she dries her hair. They'd been on a date at the park not far from his dorm building when the sky suddenly decided to open its floodgates. In that moment, Y/N regretted teasing Mingi because he thought it might rain.  

“You didn’t notice the dark clouds?” he scoffs rolling his eyes.  

“I was having too much fun with you to notice the sky changing,” she says giving him a cute smile. “A part of you must have thought it wouldn’t either because you didn’t bring a coat or umbrella.”  

“You were making fun of me!” he defended himself.   

She pouts, “I’m sorry for making fun of you. Forgive me?”  

“Buy me food first,” he says pretending to be mad at her. “And then I might consider it.”  

“What do you feel like?”   

He quickly rattles off all the food he wants to eat and adds a couple drinks because he plans on sharing it all with her. She orders everything, her stomach rumbling at the thought of all that food. The rain had blown their chances of eating at one of the pojangmacha that’s near the entrance of the park.   

Curling into Mingi’s side, seeking his warmth, she places a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for today.”  

“Even though we got soaking wet?” he questions.  

She nods, resting her head on his shoulder and pulls her knees to her chest. The clothes he lets her borrow while hers are on the rack drying, swim on her but she couldn’t care less.   

“Thank you for letting me use your clothes. I might just have to steal this hoodie too,” she smiles.   

“Keep it. It looks better on you,” he says what he says every time she suggests stealing his clothes. He knows she's joking even though 9 times out of 10 she ends up taking the hoodie home and forgetting to give it back to him. He only shrugs and tells her he can buy more or go steal one of Yunho’s.  

Y/N giggles, an image of Mingi walking around in only his underwear because he’s given all his clothes to her, plays in her head. “You’ll be walking around naked if you keep giving me your clothes.”  

He shrugs like it’s no big deal.   

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. 

© 2024 yoongisssweetdream - do not copy/modify/repost anywhere. reblog instead.

TAGGED: @staytiny2000 - @dancelikebutterflywings - @kpopmenace143 - @treehouse-mouse - @alexxavicry - @jedi-dreea - @rainydayteacups - @green-agent

[armpirate]

Kalla | Choi San || Chapter 30

MASTERLIST Previous || Next

Pairings: CEO!San x fem!reader

Genre: smut, angst, fluff, strangers to lovers.

Warnings: dom!San, sub!reader, voyeourism, use of sex toys, bondage, dirty talk, BDSM, exhibitionism, rough sex.

Summary: She was surprised by how fast her life went from the perfect fairytale to the destructive mess it had turned into. Dealing with a cheater ex boyfriend, having to move out to a different place because the house she lived in belonged to that man she once dreamed of spending the rest of her life with, while continuously being underappreciated at work... It was as if life was telling her to stop dreaming big, to go back to her small town, Bibury, and help her parents run the small farm her family had owned for decades.

At least until she received a call from her friend.

A sudden vacancy as an assistant showed up on one of her friend's system, having her being encouraged to take that big step and apply for it. She had no hopes for it. Mainly because she didn't have any experience on the field, and she didn't comply with most of the requirements that were added on the offer -and which most of them sounded ridiculous and exaggerated for the position, making her wonder who was the freak who needed so many guidelines in order to hire someone to pick up the phone and schedule events. 

Although that hotel she'd be working on was much more than anything she could've come up with. 

Choi San wasn't someone easy to deal with. After his previous assistant presented his resignation letter on his desk, he felt forced to start the whole selection process again -after merely two months. 

Sure that he was being way too strict, enough to find that anyone who applied for the position wasn't enough, he asked one of his friends to be in charge of the interviews and the selection of the most adequate candidate. 

Little did he know Wooyoung would hire the imperfectly perfect candidate for him, sure that she'd help him in many ways other than just in dealing with the responsibilities of his position. 

A new challenge will come their way as soon as she steps inside the hotel. 

Y/n will have to learn how to mold onto him and deal with all his small habits and requirements, and San will find himself trying to open up and let out all those same things that turned him into the person he was. 

The more she digs in Kalla and all of its secrets and exciting corners, the deeper she'll dive into San's heart and soul... Although, maybe, she won't be able to take it. 

Kalla opens its doors to you, sharing the vast amount of filthy and erotic plans it offers, and that you can join with a partner... Or maybe just by yourself. 

Hope you enjoy your stay.

Chapter duration: 21 minutes

Chapter warnings: smut, dirty talk, dom!San, punishment, spanking, cockwarming

San blinked his eyes open, his head heavy from the previous night's drinking. The soft light of morning filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room. As his senses slowly returned, he realized something was different -he wasn't alone. Something felt light on his stomach.

Y/n was beside him, her body curled under the blanket, breathing softly in her sleep. For a moment, San just stared, his mind still foggy, trying to piece together the events of the night before. The pojangmacha, the drinks, his clumsy attempts at being romantic... and then somehow, they had ended up here.

He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb her and making sure her arm would remain around him, but his eyes couldn't help lingering on her face. She looked peaceful, her features relaxed and soft in sleep. San felt a strange mix of emotions wash over him -part of him wanted to pull away, to create some distance, but the other part... the part he usually kept buried deep... wanted to stay close.

Y/n stirred, her eyes fluttering open slowly. She blinked up at him, still half-asleep, and caught him staring. For a moment, there was a silent exchange between them -no words, just the quiet realization that they were in bed together, inches apart. Sex wasn't to blame for it. And, honestly, alcohol wasn't it either. He was dizzy, just a funny drunk that could've managed himself if she had decided to send him back home in a taxi.

—Good morning —she mumbled, her voice still groggy as she smiled lazily at him.

San's heart skipped a beat. He didn't know why, but something about this moment -about her looking at him like that- made him feel more exposed than any of their nights together had before. He swallowed, unsure of what to say.

—Morning —he finally muttered, his voice rough from sleep.

Y/n shifted, stretching slightly before turning back towards him, her hand resting gently on his chest. The gesture was casual, as if she'd done it a hundred times before, but it sent a jolt through San's entire body. He stiffened instinctively, not used to that type of closeness outside of one of their sessions or the aftercare that came with it.

She snuggled into him, her head resting against his shoulder, her body molding to his side. San's heart raced in his chest, his muscles tense as he tried to process what was happening. That wasn't part of their usual dynamic -it was something softer, something that felt more... vulnerable.

For a few seconds, he debated pulling away. This kind of closeness, this kind of tenderness -it wasn't something he was used to. But as he felt the warmth of her body against his, the steady rhythm of her breathing, something inside him softened.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he allowed himself to relax. His arm, which had been stiff at his side, moved slightly, wrapping around her shoulders in a loose embrace. He felt her sigh contentedly against him, her fingers tracing light patterns on his chest. The touch was so gentle, so intimate in its simplicity, that San found himself exhaling a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. And that made her smile. The man that always kept a safe distance, and that assured her he felt different about her, was letting himself go, just accepting what she was giving him.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself feel the weight of her in his arms, the quiet peace that came with holding her like this. It was foreign, yes -but not unwelcome. In fact, it was something he'd secretly been waiting for. Wanting, even if he'd never admit it aloud.

Y/n shifted slightly, adjusting to get more comfortable against him, her head tucked under his chin now.

—You're warm —she murmured, her voice soft and content.

San's lips quivered into a small smile, one she couldn't see. It was such a simple and random compliment, yet it almost made him fold.

—So are you —he replied quietly.

The silence between them stretched on, but it wasn't uncomfortable. For once, San didn't feel the need to say anything, to explain himself or fill the gaps with words. Being there, with her in his arms, felt enough.

And as he held her close, feeling her presence settle against him, San realized that this -the quiet, intimate moment- was something he had been missing. Something he had been waiting for, without even knowing it.

He wasn't sure where things would go from there, or how he felt about the emotions stirring inside him. But for now, he was content to just be there, with her.

—What are you thinking?

—Did I make a fool of myself last night? —he asked, eyebrow lifting when he looked down at her.

—Hmm... no... just a little bit —she confessed—. It was cute though.

—Cute?

—Really cute —she nodded—. It's the first time someone has tried to mold into what I like —she mumbled, playing with the neck of his shirt—. Can I ask you something?

San didn't answer with words, instead he looked down at her, giving her a look that assured her she could ask whatever she wanted.

—The other day you said our dynamic was different, that your needs with me were different, you talked about exclusivity outside the Spadix, and now you're trying to fit into the type of guy I like —her eyes shined for a brief moment before asking the question—, do you like me?

—Yes.

—I'm not talking about attraction. Our chemistry is insane, sex is mind-blowing, but I'm talking about something deeper.

—I know —he nodded—. I like you. I think about you when you're not around, I can't keep my eyes off you when you're in the office, and I don't feel like hiding everything about me, because I know I can trust you in opening up.

Y/n had noticed the way San left the door to his office open, the same one that always remained closed when she started working for him. She also noticed how San went from speaking to her in Korean all the time, to making random questions in English to get her to speak, to going on full conversations in English despite her controlling her oral expression in his language. All of them were such small gestures that she didn't notice them for what they were, and now all of them were hitting her like a brick.

—Is it the type of "like" that's temporary, or is it the type of "like" that makes you want to know that person better and think of building something?

—I'm not an expert in dating, but for what I know, there's only one type of liking someone, the rest is all bullshit.

Her cheeks started to burn by the way he was looking at her, and it took San only a second to move his dumb over the light red skin while smiling.

—If I'm not wrong, it's nice to know if the other person feels the same way.

—Hmm, I don't know...

She tried to move away, attempting to get out of the bed, but Y/n was only able to sink her knee on the mattress and pull her torso up before San grabbed her by the wrist and pushed her back on the bed. All she could do was giggle when he was over her, a hand on the curve of her neck to feel how her pulse kept racing up with his touch.

—Don't play with me.

—I might like you —his other hand pinched her side, making her squirm under him—. Okay, okay... I like you.

But the way her tone wasn't clear, and there were some words floating in the air without her mentioning them alerted him there was more to it.

—But I want to take it slow —she confessed.

Although it had been months since she got out of her relationship with Andy, she wanted to make sure everything worked between them. She wanted to be able to see the red flags before they were all over her face the way it happened with her ex boyfriend. They needed time, they needed deep conversations, they needed dumb conversations, they needed quality time. And, more specifically, she needed to make sure San was serious about his confession before she got her hopes up, because she knew just how hard it was to get up from such a hard crash.

—Vocal and clear, just how I like it.

San's lips trapped hers while she was still waiting for another response from him, feeling overwhelmed by how easily he always made her mind go blank and her worries wash away. Her back slightly arched when he moved his fingertips on the scalp of her nape.

But before he could slide his tongue inside her open mouth, the door was wide open, with Seonghwa quickly realizing he got in the middle of something.

—I didn't... that you were here —he nervously mentioned, pointing at San—. Sorry.

Y/n moved under him, dragging her body up to sit in front of him, dedicating an apologizing look.

—I made Kimchi pancakes! —he screamed from the other side.

Y/n and San exchanged a look, bursting into laughter as soon as they were finally aware of the situation.

Misuk strode confidently into the hotel lobby, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor as she adjusted the sleek jacket draped over her shoulders. Her eyes scanned the elegant surroundings, the plush furniture and modern décor that spoke of the luxury San had so carefully crafted. But her attention wasn't on the design of the place -it was on San. The same man who had always been out of reach since they crossed paths.

She had arranged the meeting under the pretense of discussing potential business ventures, though her true motives lay elsewhere. Misuk had always admired him from afar, intrigued by his quiet intensity, his aloof demeanor that only made him more enigmatic. There was something about him that had drawn her in, and she wasn't the type to shy away from what she wanted.

As she approached the reception desk, her gaze landed on San, standing just beyond the main desk, discussing something with one of his staff members. His sharp suit, the composed way he carried himself -everything about him exuded authority and control. Her heartbeat quickened at the sight.

But then, her eyes shifted to the woman standing beside him. Y/n.

Something about the way Y/n moved, the way she glanced at San with a familiarity that Misuk hadn't seen before, made Misuk pause. She squinted slightly, her brows knitting together as she studied her. There was an air of something unspoken between them, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. It was subtle, but there.

As she approached them, she couldn't quite tell what was so familiar about her. She had the feeling that there was something escaping her. Misuk couldn't shake the feeling that she had seen her somewhere before, but she couldn't place where. Her mind raced, flicking through memories like a rolodex of faces and places, but nothing concrete came to mind.

San, noticing Misuk's approach, glanced up and offered a polite nod in greeting.

—Misuk —he said in that low, measured tone of his, always formal, always just out of reach—. You're early.

—It's not often we catch up —Misuk smiled, pushing the thoughts of Y/n aside for the moment—. I didn't want to waste any of your time —she replied smoothly, stepping closer to him.

San's response was a curt nod, his expression unreadable as always. But even as he spoke with Misuk, Y/n's presence remained like an unspoken tension in the air.

Misuk's gaze flicked back to the woman next to him, who was quietly waiting to be acknowledged. Something about her posture, the way she carried herself, nagged at Misuk's mind. She had this aura -confident, but also slightly withdrawn, like someone who had seen more than she let on.

San's voice brought Misuk back to the present.

—Let's head to my office —he said, gesturing toward the hallway that led to his private meeting room.

Y/n followed them up close, as soon as they began walking, only stopping when Misuk suddenly stopped in front of his door to turn to her.

—You can wait here —she commanded, in such an entitled tone that left her confused.

—She'll come —San snapped back, letting Misuk know he was the one making those decisions—. Y/n is my assistant and she is professional, whatever we discuss here won't leave these walls —San glanced at her, his expression remaining neutral—. Come in, Y/n.

Misuk smiled, faking as much comfort as she could, before she finally nodded. It was so curious to her how San went from hurrying to kick her out to including her in his meetings.

San didn't respond, his eyes remained focused ahead as he walked towards his seat, but Misuk couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to this woman than met the eye.

Y/n stood by the door, her back straight and her hands clasped neatly in front of her. She wasn't supposed to be involved in that meeting -it was just a quick discussion between San and Misuk about some potential changes he had been thinking about- but San had asked her to be present as a witness, and she wasn't one to question his requests.

The meeting room was quiet, the air cool from the soft hum of the air conditioner. Misuk sat confidently across from San, her body language assertive, leaning slightly forward as if she were trying to close the distance between them. The conversation had started off professionally enough -Misuk talking about potential investments, market trends, and how they could expand the hotel's offerings. But it didn't take long for the atmosphere to shift.

Y/n noticed the change almost immediately. Misuk's tone grew softer, more personal, and she began to steer the conversation away from business. Her laughter became more frequent -light, overly sweet, and aimed solely at San. Her posture, too, had shifted. No longer focused on the business at hand, she seemed more interested in him, her eyes lingering on him longer than they should. And Y/n wondered if that woman even remembered that she was there.

—So, San —Misuk said, her voice honeyed and low—, it's been quite a while since we've had any time to talk... outside of business. It's so difficult to catch you —she gave him a coy smile, one that was obviously meant to draw him in.

San, however, remained completely unfazed. He sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable as always, his fingers tapping lightly on the armrest.

—I have a lot on my plate, Misuk —he replied evenly, his voice cool—. The hotel requires my full attention.

Undeterred, Misuk leaned forward slightly, her gaze locking onto his. His attention wasn't only on the hotel, and she knew. The fact that he was acting like she hadn't caught him with someone in the Spadix almost felt insulting, but she let it pass.

—Oh, I'm sure you could make time for the right kind of company —she said, her tone suggestive—. After all, it's not just business that keeps a person going, right? You should know that better than anyone.

Y/n felt a strange, uncomfortable twist in her stomach as she watched the interaction unfold. She wasn't surprised by Misuk's approach -it was painfully obvious what she was trying to do- but the subtlety of her desperation was almost unbearable to witness.

San, on the other hand, seemed immune to it. He glanced at Misuk briefly before turning his attention to the tablet in front of him, tapping through some documents.

—I appreciate the offer —he said flatly—, but I'm not interested in mixing personal matters with business. It never works out.

Y/n had a brief moment of panic when he pronounced those words, although the quick comforting glance he dedicated at her, and that went unnoticed to a self-absorbed Misuk, calmed her down almost instantly.

Misuk's smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she quickly recovered, her tone shifting to one of playful insistence.

—Oh, come on, San. Surely you can relax a little.

There was a brief pause, during which San's eyes flickered up again, meeting Y/n's from across the room. For a moment, something passed between them -an acknowledgment of the absurdity of the situation, perhaps- and Y/n made sure to let him know while rolling her eyes for a brief moment.

—I find my work fulfilling enough —when San finally responded, his voice was even more distant than before—. Besides, I prefer to keep things professional —he said, his tone final.

Misuk laughed again, though this time it sounded more forced.

—Always so serious —she repeated, shaking her head with a mock sigh—. You really should let loose sometime, San, let go of all those rules. I'm sure it would do wonders for you.

—Rules have always worked for me.

—It seems like you've been letting go of some of them though.

Her reply went instantly back to the mystery woman she saw him with. If she knew something about San, it was how strict he was on who he spent time with in the Spadix. Face exposed so he knew who he was doing it with, no alcohol involved to make sure that person was able to be completely conscious of everything going on. Yet he was seen with a woman covering her face.

Y/n shifted slightly where she stood, trying to suppress the urge to roll her eyes. It was almost embarrassing, watching how hard Misuk was trying, how transparent her attempts at flirting had become. She didn't even seem to care that Y/n was in the room, witnessing every awkward, one-sided advance. At some point it even seemed she was doing it on purpose, marking a territory that didn't need to be marked, because San's opinion was clear.

But he wasn't giving in. He remained polite but distant, making it clear with every response that there was no possibility of them becoming anything more than business acquaintances. His words were cold, detached -he wasn't playing into her game, no matter how many times she tried to push the conversation into more personal territory.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Misuk seemed to realize that her efforts were going nowhere. She straightened up slightly, her smile now more strained than before.

—Well —she said, her tone suddenly businesslike again—, I suppose we should wrap up. Thank you for your time, San.

San nodded, standing up from his chair with a calm, composed grace.

Thank you for coming —he said, his voice polite but distant—. We'll be in touch if we move forward with any of the proposals.

Misuk stood as well, through her eyes lingered on San for just a moment longer, as if she were hoping for some last-minute change of heart. When none came, she turned to leave, her heels clicking sharply on the floor as she walked toward the door.

As she passed Y/n, Misuk gave her a brief glance, something almost predatory in her eyes. There was an unspoken challenge in that regard, as if Misuk had realized there was more to Y/n's presence than just business. And, of course, she wasn't going to miss the chance to push her buttons.

—If you ever look for someone new, you know I'm always ready for you —she turned to him—. We almost did, and it was amazing.

Y/n held her ground, her expression neutral. She wasn't about to give Misuk the satisfaction of reacting, even if the entire exchange had left her feeling unsettled.

As soon as the door closed behind Misuk, the room fell into a heavy silence. San remained by his desk, his hands resting on the surface as he let out a soft sigh, his expression hard to read.

Y/n didn't say anything at first, unsure of whether or not to break the silence. But then, San's voice cut through the quiet.

—Did that look as desperate as it felt? —he asked, a rare hint of dry humor in his tone.

Y/n couldn't help but smile faintly, her tension easing just a bit.

—She was persistent —she replied, keeping her tone diplomatic.

—Persistent is one way to put it —San glanced at her, a small, knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his lips—. What's with the long face?

—You almost did? —Y/n's eyes narrowed, with her hands placed at her hips, unable to hold back the question— I thought you never had anything with her.

—It was long before you came into the picture —he assured her—. I made the mistake of thinking having sex with her was a good way to get you out of my head. It was over before we could start.

San lifted his hand, moving his fingers in the air to motion her to walk in his direction, but Y/n stood in that same position.

—If I'm the one who has to go there, you won't like the consequences.

But instead of moving, her head tilted to the side while glancing at him one challenging look. She wasn't bothered anymore about that one Misuk's comment, but she certainly wanted to see what that consequence would consist of.

His tongue slid down his upper teeth, while he smiled looking away from her. His palm laid on the table to get up from his place, walking towards her slowly, like he was walking towards a prey. Unconsciously, she stepped back, until her back was trapped against the wood and her chest against his body.

His hand moved past her waist, turning the lock to make sure no one would disturb them, the click making her throat close under his intimidating gaze.

—Get naked.

—N... now?

He didn't answer, he knew the answer to that question was obvious.

San moved away from her again, walking towards the two chairs in front of his desk to pull one of them out and turn it in her direction. His sigh was heavy as he sat on it, watching her take off each one of her clothes, except for her underwear, his lifted hand once she got rid of her pants stopped her from completely exposing her body.

—Now come here.

She gulped thick, slow, hesitant, forgetting how to breath once San sat straight and motioned her to bend over his legs.

—No.

—Did you just say no?

—I'll fall.

—Y/n, bend over.

Her core throbbed at his authoritative tone, willing to do whatever he wanted as long as he kept that tone with her.

His legs felt hard against her stomach as she laid over his lap and, despite being able to find some support on her legs, she felt like losing balance at any time. His hands were soft when he traced the curve of her ass, only to bring her back to reality when he pulled up from her panties, making the fabric slide through her folds to completely expose her cheeks.

—This ass is going to look so good in red after those ten spanks —he mumbled, caressing her soft skin—. Count out loud each spank. If I don't hear you, I'll add five more. Got it?

—Yes.

When he laid the first spank, she was shocked by the way it echoed among the silence rather than the itchy pain on her skin, taking a little too long to process what was going on before she started to count. With each loud clap of his palm, her legs trembled and her body moved forward, her voice started to crack after the fourth one, hand gripping on his dress pants. She thought her main worry would be not losing her balance and falling, but there she was, trying to distract herself from the fact that she was as aroused and needy as never before, feeling her panties drenched and her clit asking for attention. And it only got worse when she felt his bulge on her side, making her think of the ending that could have.

She was eager for it to end, especially when he moved his hand from one cheek to another, barely touching her core. Y/n was sure San would do her right there, moving her body as he pleased, sitting her on his lap and moving his legs up before he pounded into her until they both got to their release.

The last spank was laid, and his fingers moved her panties aside, letting her hear how wet she was when he moved his digit over her entrance. That image in her head was closer to reality, she knew it.

—You're so wet and ready for me to slide in right now —he groaned.

It was happening, she was sure.

—Too bad it's not what I planned.

Her hopes flew out the window when he moved his fingers away, placing her panties properly and helping her get up.

—Why does it always have to be what you planned? —she complained, as soon as she was able to face him.

—What did you want?

—I want to be fucked, here and now —she exploded—. And I know you want it, too.

San didn't answer right away. He stood up, his boner clearly visible under those pants as he got closer to tower over her, two fingers pinching her chin to force her to keep her gaze on his eyes when she felt too weak and too tempted to look away.

—If I had to follow what I wanted, my cock would be buried in you all the damn time. So hard and rough you'd be begging me to stop.

Instead of scaring her away, he knew the look in her eyes when he confessed how bad he wanted her.

—You want my dick in you so bad, huh? —he traced her lower lip with care— Pick up all of your clothes and put them inside that closet over there —he pointed with his head towards the small gabinet at the right of the door—. Your panties and bra, too.

Y/n did what he asked, ready to lose her senses, to feel her throat burning by keeping her moans to herself. But when she turned around, she was confused at finding him sitting behind his desk again.

—Unlock the door and come here.

And again, she followed. The click announced that anyone could walk in on them and, instead of making her nervous, it created a new rush in her that encouraged her to walk towards him.

His length was free, hard and thick outside his pants, with the tip shining while being coated with some of the precum leaking at just the sight of her naked.

—Sit on it —he commanded—. And don't move. I gotta work on something that needs to be done by eleven.

Her channel was so ready for him that he slid in with no problem when she moved down, legs hanging on each side of his, before he dragged his chair forward to start typing on his laptop like they weren't connected under the table.

Her frustration peaked the first few minutes, feeling herself leaking down on him, unable to move because she knew the aftermath of it would be even worse than that.

It wasn't until fifteen minutes later that he drew his attention back to her. His fingers moved slowly on her clit, getting all the hairs in her body to raise while he enjoyed her desperation for some relief.

—No one will step here without knocking first —he assured her, calming down a worry that didn't even cross her mind at that point—. But I doubt you're even worried about someone walking in without my permission, and catching you this way. You don't care at all.

Her back arched when he twirled some circles closer to the swallow button, squeezing tight his length.

—Stop clenching around me —he warned her, moving his fingers away—. I have little self control towards you, so don't give me a reason to give up on it, for your own good. Sunshine? —he called her, after not hearing any response from her.

—I just need you so bad —she whined.

—I know —he kissed her shoulder—. But behave well, and I'll give you the surprise I prepared for you tonight.

If before she needed to find excuses to push him to the edge and get what she wanted, now she needed to control herself so he wouldn't take back whatever was ready for that night. 

Taglist: @brown88

[yayathefangirl]

🛻✨ ACNH Food Truck Row Build Alert! ✨🛻

Just posted a new video where I turned the front beach of Neerich into a bustling food truck row! We've got tacos, gelato, boba, corndogs, fish & chips, and a cozy Korean pojangmacha tucked at the end 🌮🍦🧋🍢

There was a lot of placing, re-placing, and re-re-placing items (very me), but it all came together into a super fun, city-core hangout spot by the water.

🎥 Watch it here: https://youtu.be/NCjr_e9gwkE?si=t9hArTGbwSsJmdZ3

[vendobarro]

Após acomodar a mãe no quarto de hotel, a última coisa que Woojin queria era ficar por ali e lidar com o irmão, por isso, após a mãe finalmente dormir saiu para caminhar um pouco. Estava cansado do dia esperando por notícias e todo o resto, mas não era como se fosse conseguir dormir naquele momento.

Caminhou um pouco pelo entorno da hospedagem até que avistou uma pojangmacha, uma barraca de lona com mesas e cadeiras que vende comida e bebida. Sentou-se em uma cadeira, pediu cerveja e soju. Beber o ajudaria a relaxar um pouco.

Não sabia se era com ele ou não, nem entendeu direito o que ouvi, apenas reagiu com seu sarcasmo usual. "claro que estou aqui. onde mais eu estaria?"

[imvgincs]

i have never believed i'm fit to be loved by any person. [Axel & Taeyang]

. 𓇬 𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖘 .

it happens in the middle of a pojangmacha. and here in korea, they’re not famous enough to be recognized on the street. not yet, at least. for the time being, the two can still sit in the comfort of a vinyl-covered tent, shielded by plastic walls, surrounded by the warm hum of evening chatter. the ahjumma who greets them is cheerful, her smile reminding taeyang of the older women from his neighborhood back home. there’s something comforting in her energy, and despite his introverted nature, taeyang feels himself drawn to connection, always has.

maybe that’s why he sparks up a conversation with her as she sets down their plates. he recognizes her accent immediately—jeolla, like his own—and they spill into the dialect effortlessly. their words, thick with familiarity, sound out of place in the middle of seoul, but taeyang doesn’t care. he’s warmth itself, and the ahjumma beams at him like he’s her own nephew. by the time she walks away, she’s brought them a free plate of pajeon to go with their soju, waving off his thanks with a motherly, “eat well, boys.”

but he thanks her anyway. that’s just how he is.

while taeyang chats, axel stays quiet, nursing his drink. his glass doesn’t sit on the table long—each time taeyang glances over, it’s closer to empty. at first, the younger doesn’t think much of it. they’ve been through hell these past few weeks, and axel deserves to relax. but when he turns back from the server, something shifts.

the sun has dipped lower now, casting the tent in warm golds and oranges, but axel’s voice breaks through it, quiet and raw.

the words hit him harder than they should—like a comet colliding with the earth, leaving craters in its wake. for that, he stills, his glass halfway to his lips. the words hang there between them, sharp and jagged, and taeyang knows. he knows this isn’t just drunken nonsense, isn’t some dramatic exaggeration born of too much soju. he knows because axel’s voice doesn’t sound that way when he jokes. it only does when he means it.

taeyang sets his drink down carefully, slowly, like the gravity of axel’s words might tip the glass and spill everything inside. he looks at axel—really looks—and sees the slump of his shoulders, the way his face reminds him of all that time ago when axel broke down to him for the very first time, the way his hair falls into his eyes like it’s trying to shield him.

“axel,” taeyang says softly, testing the name on his tongue. it feels heavy. feels fragile.

without thinking, taeyang reaches out, brushing aside the strands of hair that have fallen into axel’s face. his hand lingers there, fingertips gentle against axel’s temple, and he doesn’t know if the touch is more for axel or for himself.

“i don’t know what made you feel that way,” taeyang says, his voice steady despite the ache beneath it, “but i don’t believe it. not for a second.” he shakes his head slowly, careful not to disturb the quiet between them. “if someone like me—someone who’s seen everything you are—knows you’re worth it, then maybe it’s not about being ‘fit’ at all. maybe you were just waiting for the right person to see it.”

the words taste bittersweet in his mouth. he means them, every single one, but they feel like they’re scraping something raw inside him. because axel is more than he lets himself believe he is. taeyang sees it, knows it, and it tears at him that axel doesn’t.

“ax,” he murmurs, the nickname falling from his lips like second nature. his hand moves again, absent-mindedly smoothing axel’s hair, slow and soothing. “you don’t have to be ‘fit’ for anyone. love doesn’t work like that.”

love wasn’t meant to be proven. taeyang knows this as deeply as he knows axel’s presence beside him. love was meant to be given—freely, without restraint, without expectation. and yet, here he is, aching for someone he can never have.

“lots of people love you,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost like he’s reassuring himself instead.

“alright,” taeyang offers after a moment, softening further. “i’m going to get the check, okay? and then i’m getting you home.”

his fingers linger just a second longer before pulling away, but his warmth stays, settling around axel like the soft light of the setting sun.

[kangji-yoocircleguard002]

“A Name for Debt”

Name:Ji-Yoo (지유)

Age: 24

Hometown: Incheon, South Korea

Current Location: Run-down rooftop unit (옥탑방, oktapbang) in Bupyeong District, Incheon

Likes: Reading fantasy novels, rainy days, soft piano music, tangerines, collecting pressed flowers

Dislikes: Phone calls, banks, broken promises, yelling, her birthday

---

Lore:

Ji-Yoo was born with a beautiful name—“wisdom and kindness”—but the world rarely treated her with either.

She lived in a crumbling oktapbang above an aging four-story building in Bupyeong. The walls were thin, the roof leaked in summer storms, and in winter the wind crawled in through cracked windowpanes. Her sanctuary was a small corner of the room with a worn mat, a stack of library books, and a cardboard box where she pressed flowers between pages.

Her mother, Min-Jung, was always chasing dreams—business ventures, cosmetic clinics, cryptocurrency, pyramid schemes. But every dream came with debt. And when she needed money, she used Ji-Yoo’s name like a key.

“I need the loan for my daughter’s education.”

“She’s sick, we need hospital bills covered.”

“My daughter is preparing for university.”

But Ji-Yoo had never been to a real school. Her records were forged. She became a ghost: only real when she was useful, only loved when someone was watching.

At 14, she found a letter her mother had hidden: her name used to secure a ₩10 million loan. That day, Ji-Yoo realized she wasn’t a daughter—she was a signature. A tool.

She tried to run away once. But she came back—not out of love, but guilt. Fear. That her mother might vanish beneath her own lies and drag Ji-Yoo’s name with her into the void.

By 16, Ji-Yoo had gone quiet. She saved her words like coins. She stopped responding to her mother and kept her treasures hidden—books, dried flowers, a folded piece of paper with her name written in her own careful script. A small, defiant act of ownership.

---

The Black Mask

One rainy night, after washing dishes past midnight at a grimy *pojangmacha*, Ji-Yoo found a square black envelope tucked into her locker. No stamp. No name. Just a symbol: ○.

Inside, a card. A number. A promise of a better life, no strings attached.

At first, she thought it was a scam. Then she thought it was a test. But curiosity won. Or maybe it was weariness. Ji-Yoo dialed the number.

She didn't join the Squid Game as a player. No. Her debt was too tangled, her identity too hidden. But someone needed to enforce the rules.

Ji-Yoo became a Circle Guard—the lowest rank. The watchers. The carriers. The ones who cleaned up blood and handed out food and dragged bodies through pastel-colored hallways.

Her face was hidden, her voice unused—perfect. She was invisible, again. But this time, she chose it.

Her uniform was stiff, too big for her frame. Her mask pressed against her nose. But she wore it like armor. A cocoon.

Her guard dormitory was a surreal parody of comfort—bunk beds arranged with militant precision, lit by flickering neon signs with bizarre, cheery slogans:

“A SMILE IS A STRAIGHT LINE TO EFFICIENCY :)”

“EVERY DAY IS A GOOD DAY TO WATCH PEOPLE DIE!”

The walls were decorated with creepy-silly murals:

* Cartoon rabbits chasing terrified stick figures.

* A painted sun vomiting coins over a playground.

* An enormous squid wearing a birthday hat with the caption: “YOU WIN WHEN YOU OBEY!”

Ji-Yoo’s assigned locker had a sticker of a winking emoji holding a taser. Someone had scribbled in permanent marker: “Hurt feelings cost points.”

She never spoke. Never laughed. But at night, when the others snored or stared blankly at walls, Ji-Yoo would pull out a book she'd hidden beneath her mattress and read under the dim red emergency light. She still pressed flowers—leaves plucked from artificial trees inside the game arena, flattened between pages of a children’s Bible she’d found in the break room.

---

Now

Ji-Yoo moves like a shadow through the game’s twisted world. She delivers food to players without making eye contact. She mops blood from candy-colored floors with robotic efficiency. She's ignored, overlooked, underestimated—exactly how she survived in the world above.

But inside, something is growing. Not hope—something sharper. The awareness that she now knows the system. The rules. The architecture of power and cruelty dressed up in circus colors and slogans. And maybe, one day, she can turn it inside out.

For now, Ji-Yoo endures.

Not for revenge. Not for redemption.

But to own her name—not as debt, not as disguise, but as something that, in the end, will mean her.

[i-cant-stand-you-but-also]

I can't stand you (but also)

Chapter 2: Projects, Soju, and Something in Between

There’s a specific kind of horror that hits when you wake up and don’t remember how you got home — like your soul briefly left your body for a 3 a.m. street-side soju party and is now filing a missing report with your dignity.

I blinked at my ceiling, still wearing last night’s hoodie and one sock. My phone had 12% battery, 47 unread messages, and a blurry photo of me squinting at a samgyeopsal grill with my chopsticks raised like a weapon. In the background: Kang Seung-cheol, mid-eye roll.

Ugh.

Campus was still buzzing from last night’s welcome dinner. I could barely get to the Media Lab without someone snickering, “Did you really throw a lettuce wrap at him?”

“Yes,” I muttered to Na-kyung, who was walking beside me with a suspiciously large coffee.

“And you called him... what was it? Emotionally constipated?”

“I will drop out,” I said politely.

But there he was, already seated inside the lab, in his usual black hoodie and noise-canceling headphones, pretending not to see me.

Good. Because one thing was crystal clear after that disaster of a night: I did not like Kang Seung-cheol. Not his smugness, not his stupid symmetrical face, and definitely not the way he made my brain short-circuit mid-argument.

Avoid. Evade. Ghost. I was going full digital detox from him.

So naturally, the very next day, Professor Yoon announced we were going to be paired for a mid-semester media project.

“Sun-hee and Seung-cheol — you two will handle concept development and video direction.”

My brain short-circuited again. “Wait. No. I—I have an eye infection. I can’t look at him.”

But it was done. Our fates were sealed by a sadistic Excel spreadsheet.

The week that followed was pure agony. We met every day, usually in stony silence, surrounded by open laptops, camera equipment, and mutual resentment.

“Your script lacks narrative tension,” he muttered one afternoon without looking up.

“My tolerance for your existence lacks narrative reason,” I snapped.

Yet... there were moments.

Like when our hands brushed while adjusting the tripod. Or when we both reached for the same SD card and paused, eyes locking for half a second too long. The air felt weird then — not electric, not romantic — more like... static. Awkward static that buzzed in your ribs.

I ignored it.

Repeatedly. Aggressively.

That Friday, Joon-ho declared another team dinner. This time at a cozy pojangmacha near Hongdae. The kind with orange plastic tents, metal stools, and a warm grill in the middle.

The soju flowed. Fast. Faster than last time.

“I think he likes you,” Na-kyung whispered to me, nodding toward Seung-cheol, who was currently in a heated debate with Joon-ho about frame rates.

“He likes arguing with me. There’s a difference.”

Most of the team left by midnight. Joon-ho stumbled into a taxi. Na-kyung air-kissed me goodbye while recording one last Instagram story.

And then it was just us.

Me. Him. Half a bottle of soju. And a lot of silence.

Until he suddenly blurted out, “Why do you hate me so much?”

I blinked. “What?”

“You act like I murdered your dog.”

“You were rude on your first day!” I said, dramatically jabbing a fishcake skewer in his direction. “I was holding iced coffee, sir!”

“You tripped on my suitcase!”

“You parked it in the middle of a hallway like a monument to your ego!”

We were both slurring, hands flailing, voices just shy of shouting.

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” he mumbled. “It was my first day. I didn’t know anyone. And then you glared at me like I was the second coming of plagiarism.”

I stared at him. “You were so smug.”

“You were so loud.”

“You said my framing was crooked!”

“It was crooked!”

We sat in silence. Breathing. Flushed. Kind of vibrating.

Then, for reasons I’ll never understand, I reached out and cupped his face.

It was warm. Soft. And tragically symmetrical.

“You’re not that bad,” I slurred. “Still annoying. But not... murder-level annoying.”

“Thanks,” he deadpanned, lips twitching.

We shook hands like war generals forming a temporary ceasefire.

“Alliance,” I said solemnly.

“Alliance,” he agreed.

“I’ll take you home, ma'am,” he said confidently ten minutes later, except he was definitely drunker than I was and had no idea where my home was.

We stumbled out into the cold Hongdae night, laughing too loud, trying to walk straight.

“You walk like a baby giraffe,” I teased.

“You walk like you’re auditioning for a zombie film.”

We nearly tripped over a stack of delivery scooters. I turned to yell at one that zoomed past too fast, but another one came from the side and—

He yanked me back just in time.

I crashed into his chest. His arms around my waist. The city noises faded for a second.

My breath hitched.

His hand was still on my back. His face... close. Closer. His eyes dropped to my lips.

And then—

[lyrics365]

내게 말해줘 (Say You Miss Me)

uyeonhi majuchin neowa na useulji jjinggeurilji molla gojang nanne cham eosaekhagedo ne soneul dureugo inneun dareun yeojaga itgo seullipeoreul jikjik kkeulgo naon naneun wen geojikkorine an haneuni mothan nuninsareul hae machi eopdeon ilcheoreom dahaengiya ireogerado naneun neoreul ijeul gyegiga piryohaesseo uri joahadeon geu pojangmacha gan ji oraedwaesseo mundeungmundeuk nega saenggangnal…

[kwilquib]

On the Cliff,

Part 3

Part 1 | Part 2

Park Jiwon (Fromis_9) X Male reader Word Count: 10k+ Switching POV

a/n: Plot. Also some reference to Pojangmacha fic

The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor filled the dimly lit hospital room. The antiseptic scent clung to the air, thick and suffocating. You stood at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, jaw clenched. Your father looked smaller than you ever remembered—sunken cheeks, pale skin stretched thin over brittle bones. The man who had once loomed over you, larger than life, now lay powerless, staring at the ceiling with vacant eyes.

When he finally spoke, his voice was a rasping whisper, barely audible over the machines.

"It was that woman."

Your body tensed.

Your father exhaled shakily, his fingers twitching against the stark white sheets. "She played me. Played all of us. Your mother… she never recovered." His gaze shifted to you, eyes dark with something too raw to name. "I loved your mother, but I— I was weak. And that woman knew it."

You didn’t move, but inside, something twisted. You had known the story—or at least, you thought you had. You had pieced it together through hushed conversations, through your mother’s silent suffering, through the slow, agonizing decline of your family’s name. But hearing it now, spoken in the last breaths of a dying man, made it feel like a noose tightening around your ribs.

"She came to me looking like salvation," your father continued, his voice thick with regret. "She was young, beautiful. The perfect bait. And I— I was a fool. I let her in. I let her take everything." His lips curled in disgust, whether at the woman or himself, you couldn’t tell. "She made me believe she cared. I was blinded by it, convinced she was loyal to me. But she had her own ambitions, her own alliances. She turned on me the moment I was no longer useful, leaked my weaknesses to the board, let our enemies carve us apart piece by piece." A bitter chuckle rattled in his throat. "And your mother… she couldn’t bear it. Couldn’t bear me."

The weight of those words landed like a hammer. You had spent your whole life hating that woman. And now, your father’s words only cemented that hatred.

"She destroyed our family," your father choked out, eyes burning with a desperation you had never seen before. "She pretended to be innocent. Sweet. But underneath it—she was poison. Never trust a woman like that." The beeping of the monitor slowed. Your father’s breaths grew shallower.

"Promise me." His trembling fingers gripped your wrist with surprising strength. "Promise me you’ll never let a woman like that fool you. Never fall for their lies." You stared down at him, your jaw tight, your chest burning. You swallowed hard and nodded.

"I promise."

Your father exhaled, a final, ragged breath. Then—silence.

The silence lingered, stretching far beyond the confines of that hospital room. It clung to you, heavy and suffocating, even as the memory began to fade.

"Promise me."

Your father’s words echoed in your skull, the weight of them pressing against your ribs like a vice. You had spent years honoring that promise—guarding yourself, sharpening your instincts, never allowing another woman to wield the same power over you.

Never letting yourself fall.

A sharp knock at the door shattered the stillness.

"Sir?"

You blinked, the hospital walls dissolving into the dark wood paneling of your office. The sterile scent of antiseptic was gone, replaced by the faint traces of whiskey and leather. Your hands, once clenched into fists, relaxed over the mahogany desk. The past bled away, leaving only the present.

Junho stood at the doorway, sharp-eyed and expectant, his fingers resting against the stack of files he carried. He hesitated, his usual confidence tempered by caution. "You didn’t hear me the first time." It wasn’t a question.

You exhaled, pushing a hand through your hair. "What is it?"

Junho stepped forward, placing the documents on your desk. “The arrangements for the wedding are proceeding as planned. But are you really going to marry her?” His gaze flickered, unreadable. “You haven’t met her since the dinner.”

Your fingers tapped against the desk, slow and deliberate. The dinner.

The memory surfaced instantly—the soft clink of silverware, the hushed murmur of conversation, the weight of expectation pressing against your spine. Jiwon sat across from you, wide-eyed, uncertain. But it wasn’t her you had been focused on.

No. It was her.

Jiwon’s stepmother.

The woman who destroyed your mother.

Who led your father to ruin.

Who nearly dragged your entire legacy to the ground.

And now, she sat at the same table, smiling as if none of it had happened, as if the past wasn’t soaked in betrayal and blood.

Your grip on the armrest tightened. The realization was slow, creeping like rot beneath the surface. This was too much of a coincidence. Too perfect.

Jiwon, the innocent, the naive. The girl who had walked into your life like fate itself, who had clung to you in desperation, who had let you take her apart in the dark. A woman like her stepmother wouldn’t leave things to chance.

The scandal.

The convenient fallout.

The marriage proposal wrapped in necessity.

You had walked straight into their hands.

Your stomach twisted, rage curling deep in your chest. Was she always a part of this?

Had every look, every stammer, every trembling touch been nothing but a carefully placed act? A perfect imitation of innocence—just like the woman who came before her?

Your pulse pounded in your ears. I won’t be played again.

This marriage—this whole situation—it was nothing more than a beautifully orchestrated trap. And Jiwon…

Jiwon had led you right into it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The past few weeks had been nothing short of surreal.

Jiwon sat still, her hands resting lightly on her lap, fingers twisting the edge of her lace gloves as strangers filtered in and out of the room, offering polite smiles and murmured congratulations. The air was thick with the scent of fresh flowers, the soft hum of conversation filling the space, but none of it felt real.

It was almost laughable—how quickly everything had changed.

For years, she had been invisible. A ghost in her own home. Her father barely spared her a glance, and when he did, it was with disappointment or indifference. Her stepmother had dismissed her presence altogether, treating her with a cool detachment that bordered on contempt. Jiwon had long since learned to exist quietly, to take up as little space as possible.

But now…

Now, her father greeted her with warm smiles, his voice laced with an unfamiliar fondness whenever he spoke her name. Her stepmother—who had never once held her, never once stroked her hair—now caressed her cheek, whispering about how beautiful she looked, how proud she was.

Everyone who had once ignored her suddenly saw her. Acknowledged her.

It should have felt like a dream. Instead, it felt like a carefully crafted illusion, one she had no control over.

And the man who had promised to stand by her—the man who swore she wouldn’t be alone—

He wasn’t here.

Not once had he checked on her. Not once had he appeared in the past weeks, leaving her alone to navigate this overwhelming shift in her world.

Jiwon swallowed, staring at her reflection in the gilded mirror across the room. The woman who gazed back at her was unfamiliar—dressed in layers of silk and lace, adorned with delicate jewelry that sparkled under the light. Elegant. Poised.

But beneath it all, she felt like a girl lost in the wrong story.

A flurry of voices interrupted her thoughts. More guests approached, smiling, offering their congratulations. Cameras flashed, capturing a moment she wasn’t sure belonged to her.

In just a few minutes, she would walk down the aisle.

And the man waiting for her at the end of it…

He felt further away than ever.

"Hey, Jiwon. You okay? You look… unsure."

Jiwon blinked, snapping out of her thoughts as her friend studied Jiwon with quiet concern.

She forced a smile, pushing aside the unease coiling in her stomach. "I'm fine. I'm just happy you could make it."

"You think I'd miss this?" He scoffed lightly, a teasing lilt to his voice. "Besides, you never really made new friends after coming back from abroad. Someone had to show up for you."

She huffed a small laugh, the familiarity of his presence briefly easing her nerves. "I appreciate it."

"And I still owe you that drink," he added with a smirk, though his gaze softened.

Jiwon hesitated before carefully broaching the subject. "Yunjae…” Jiwon started with his name.

“How’s… everything been? Since that night?"

Yunjae’s expression flickered—just a brief moment of reflection before he gave a small, almost sheepish chuckle. "Well, as you’ve probably heard, a lot changed. Minnie and I… we’re in a much better place now. That night—talking to you—helped me see things clearer. We just needed to actually listen to each other."

Jiwon’s lips parted in surprise before a genuine smile found its way onto her face. "I’m really glad."

"Yeah, me too," he admitted. Then, after a pause, he exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Look, I know this might sound funny coming from me, considering how things started, but… congratulations, Jiwon. I really hope you’ll be happy."

Something tightened in her throat. She wished she could say the same for herself with certainty.

"Thank you, Yunjae."

He gave her a small, knowing smile. "I should head inside. Minnie’s probably already waiting for me."

With a final nod, he turned and walked away, leaving Jiwon alone with the weight of everything unsaid.

Just as the silence settled, the doors swung open with a sharp thud. The sound jolted Jiwon, her heart lurching, but the sheer weight of her dress kept her rooted in place.

Her father entered first, shoulders squared, a proud smile curling his lips—too wide, too polished. The kind of smile that never quite reached his eyes. Her stepmother followed closely behind, her movements smooth, calculated, as she shut the doors behind them with a soft click. That same alluring smile played on her lips, a stark contrast to the cold calculation gleaming in her eyes.

Jiwon’s fingers curled into the fabric of her gown. She had expected them, of course. But something about the way they carried themselves—like victors surveying their conquered prize—made the room feel smaller, suffocating.

Her father was the first to speak. "You look beautiful, Jiwon," he mused, his voice warm, almost doting. A mockery of affection. "It’s a proud day for our family."

Jiwon swallowed hard. "I—"

"You're securing our future, after all," her stepmother interjected smoothly, stepping closer. "A true daughter of the Park family."

Something in her tone sent a shiver down Jiwon’s spine. There was a weight behind those words, a meaning she had yet to grasp—but she could feel the edges of it pressing in on her.

Her father hummed in agreement. "And, of course, this marriage is just the beginning. The real victory comes next."

Jiwon’s hands tightened in her lap. "Next?"

Her stepmother tilted her head, feigning sympathy. "Come now, Jiwon. You must understand by now." She let out a soft laugh, as if they were discussing something amusing rather than something terrifying. "A wife’s duty is to bear an heir."

The words dropped like a stone in Jiwon’s stomach.

Her father’s smile didn’t waver. "With a child, we’ll have an unshakable claim over the family. You, Jiwon, will be the mother of the next generation. And once that happens…" He trailed off, his fingers tapping thoughtfully against his wrist.

Her stepmother finished for him, voice like silk. "Once that happens, your husband’s presence in the family will no longer be… necessary."

Jiwon’s breath caught in her throat.

She knew they had their ambitions—had known all her life that her father was ruthless, that her stepmother was cunning. But this—this was something else entirely.

Her father chuckled at her silence. "Don’t look so pale. It’s not as though anything will happen to him—so long as he remains useful."

Jiwon shook her head, her voice trembling. "I won’t—"

Her stepmother tsked, stepping forward until she loomed over Jiwon, her manicured nails ghosting over the fabric of Jiwon’s sleeve. "Jiwon, darling," she murmured, "you’re not rejecting your own father’s wishes, are you? After all he’s done for you?"

Jiwon pressed her lips together, her pulse hammering in her ears.

The older woman sighed, feigning disappointment, before her expression softened into something almost gentle. "Perhaps… you need a little more motivation?"

Jiwon stiffened as her stepmother leaned down, her lips close to Jiwon’s ear.

"Your mother," she whispered. "Did you know? She’s still alive. Hospitalized. Somewhere… far away."

Jiwon’s breath hitched.

Her stepmother smiled, slow and satisfied. "Your father is the only one who knows where. He’s been taking very good care of her all these years."

Jiwon’s stomach twisted violently.

"Would be a shame," her stepmother mused, straightening, "if something were to happen to her, too."

The words weren’t loud, nor were they laced with open malice. But the meaning was as clear as day.

Jiwon’s hands trembled in her lap.

This wasn’t a request. This wasn’t something she could refuse.

Her father exhaled, pleased. "You understand now, don’t you, Jiwon?"

She swallowed back the bile rising in her throat, eyes burning, as she slowly—reluctantly—nodded.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The corridors of the estate were quiet, the air thick with the scent of fresh flowers and polished wood. You barely registered it, your mind occupied with the conversation you had just left behind.

"At least check on her," your grandmother had insisted, her voice laced with exasperation. "She's about to be your wife, whether you like it or not."

You had intended to avoid her—intended to keep your distance until you figured out what exactly you had walked into the night of the dinner. But even you could admit that perhaps you had been too hasty, too quick to assume the worst.

Jiwon wasn’t like her stepmother. Not at first glance, not in the way she carried herself, not in the way she had looked at you that night with startled, hesitant eyes. And yet—

You inhaled sharply, shaking the thought away as you neared the room. The door was slightly ajar, the soft murmur of voices filtering through the gap. You hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. But the moment you caught Jiwon’s father voice, low and brimming with satisfaction, you stilled.

"With a child, we’ll have an unshakable claim over the family."

A chill curled down your spine.

"Once that happens, your husband’s presence in the family will no longer be… necessary."

Your breath stilled.

"It’s not as though anything will happen to him—so long as he remains useful."

Something inside you snapped taut, the words sinking their claws deep into your chest.

You stepped back before you could stop yourself, your pulse pounding in your ears. The voices continued, but you heard no more.

Your presence was temporary. You were a stepping stone. A means to an end.

And Jiwon—

A sharp, bitter laugh nearly escaped you.

Jiwon was part of it, after all.

That innocence, that wide-eyed hesitation—it had all been an act. A carefully constructed lie, just like her stepmother before her. And like a fool, you had almost believed otherwise.

Your jaw clenched as you turned away, footsteps measured, calculated, as you left.

You had been right all along.

Jiwon had trapped you. And now?

Now, she would have to live with the consequences.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jiwon remained in her seat long after the door had closed, the silence pressing in around her like a tightening noose. Her fingers curled around the hem of her dress, knuckles turning white. She had agreed.

She had agreed.

The words rang in her head, hollow and inescapable. It wasn’t that she hadn’t seen it coming—the moment her father’s voice had turned cold, she had known there would be no escape. But knowing and feeling were two different things. And now, sitting alone in this unfamiliar room, the weight of her decision finally began to settle in her bones.

Her mother.

Jiwon’s throat tightened. The moment she had seen the frail woman’s trembling hands, the way her thin fingers clutched at her sleeves, she had known. Her mother had always been her weakness. Not because she was weak, but because she had once been Jiwon’s entire world. Before the stepmother, before the decline.

Before everything fell apart.

Even when their father had been cruel, even when he threw words like stones, they had each other. She could still remember the nights spent huddled together, her mother brushing her hair and whispering stories about a future where they would be free. A future that never came.

The timing had never been lost on Jiwon. Her mother’s health had started declining not long after the woman who now called herself her stepmother arrived. At first, it had been subtle—exhaustion, small lapses in memory, a persistent cough. But as the months passed, she had withered, shrinking into a shadow of the woman Jiwon once knew. By then, her father had already turned his affections elsewhere. And Jiwon, too young and too powerless, had been forced to watch as the person she loved most in the world was quietly erased.

A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She barely had time to compose herself before it swung open.

He stepped inside, his presence filling the room like an approaching storm. It was the first time she had seen him since the dinner, and if she had harbored any hopes of warmth, they died the moment his eyes met hers.

Cold. Distant. Unreadable.

Her fingers clenched tighter around the fabric of her dress.

The man who had decided her fate stood before her, and yet, she still couldn’t tell if he saw her as anything more than a piece in a game she didn’t understand.

He studied her for a long moment, the silence stretching between them like a blade poised to strike. Then, finally, he spoke.

“Our arrangement,” he said, his voice smooth but edged with something unreadable, “will be simple.”

Jiwon remained silent, waiting.

“I won’t interfere with your life, and you won’t interfere with mine. We will play the roles required of us, but beyond that, you are nothing to me.”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver through her. It wasn’t a declaration; it was a challenge. As if he expected her to protest, to resist. But she didn’t.

His gaze flickered, as though he had anticipated something more from her. He took a step closer, and she forced herself not to recoil.

“You should know,” he continued, tilting his head slightly, “I could have backed out at any moment.”

Jiwon’s breath hitched.

“I still could,” he added, his tone calculated, measured. “But I won’t. If your father thinks he can push me into a corner, he’s mistaken.”

The implication was clear. He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough to recognize her father’s ambitions. And yet, he had chosen to go through with it anyway.

Before she could think of how to respond, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small bottle, placing it on the table between them.

“Take one every day,” he instructed. “If you miss a dose, I’ll know.”

Jiwon stared at the container, her stomach twisting. Birth control.

He was ensuring that no matter what, there would be no child between them.

“If you want to stay married to me,” he said, voice quiet but firm, “you’ll take these until the day you die.”

Jiwon swallowed. There was no room for refusal. And so, as always, she didn’t disagree.

The wedding hall was vast, lined with golden chandeliers and pristine white florals, a vision of perfection that felt strangely distant to Jiwon. The sea of guests blurred together, a collection of unfamiliar faces, their expressions unreadable. This was not a day of love or joy—it was a spectacle, a performance they were expected to play their parts in.

She walked down the aisle, each step measured, her fingers clutching the bouquet like a lifeline. Her dress trailed behind her, heavy with fabric and expectation. At the end of the aisle, he stood waiting.

The man she was to marry.

His expression was unreadable, his stance composed and indifferent. He did not offer his hand, did not look at her with warmth. There was no illusion between them, no false pretense of affection. Only an arrangement, a binding contract disguised as vows.

Their words were hollow, exchanged with a detachment that felt suffocating. Promises of forever that neither of them believed. When it came time for the kiss, she braced herself.

And then he kissed her.

It was not soft. Not hesitant. His lips pressed against hers with a force that stole the air from her lungs. There was nothing tender in the way he claimed her, nothing gentle. It was hunger—raw and unapologetic, a quiet declaration of possession rather than devotion.

When he pulled away, she barely had time to catch her breath before the ceremony continued. Applause rang in the air, meaningless and distant. The rest of the night was a blur of faces, empty smiles, and whispered congratulations that felt like a cruel joke. Jiwon drifted through it all, numb, her mind unable to process the weight of what had just happened.

By the time they arrived at their new home, exhaustion clung to her like a second skin. The large estate loomed before her, unfamiliar and unwelcoming. He entered first, not sparing her a glance, not offering a single word.

Jiwon followed, struggling under the weight of her luggage. He didn’t moved to help her, didn’t acknowledged her struggle. And as she stood at the threshold, her fingers tightening around the handle of her suitcase, she realized—this was how it would be.

Alone.

She stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind her, sealing her fate.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sit at the edge of the master bed, the soft glow of the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the room. The exhaustion of the day settles deep in your bones, but the weight pressing on your chest has nothing to do with fatigue. The remnants of the wedding still cling to you—the scent of roses, the suffocating formality, the hollow vows exchanged before strangers.

Dressed in a fresh bathrobe, your damp hair cools your skin as you skim through your tablet, searching for a moment of solitude. The bed behind you remains untouched, pristine except for the rose petals carefully arranged in the shape of a heart—an unspoken expectation you refuse to acknowledge.

Then, a knock at the door.

You don’t react at first, your eyes still fixed on the screen. Silence stretches between the knocks and the inevitable click of the door unlocking. You already know who it is.

Jiwon steps inside, wrapped in a bathrobe identical to yours. The delicate scent of soap and damp skin trails after her. She hesitates, closing the door behind her with quiet deliberation, her fingers curling into the fabric of her sleeves. Uncertain. Guarded.

You lift your gaze, watching her.

The sight of her stirs something sharp in your chest. Hatred, you tell yourself. Resentment. She’s an intruder in your life, a pawn willingly placed by her father, another person trying to get too close. And yet, beneath it, there is something darker. Something possessive.

Your grip on the tablet tightens for a second before you set it aside.

“You’re here,” you say, your voice unreadable.

You knew she would come. Expected it. She had no choice but to. And yet, the fact that she approached you first—however hesitant—baffles you. It almost amuses you, the way she’s trying to be brave.

She must really be that obedient to follow her father’s scheme.

Your gaze lingers on her, unreadable. Then, with quiet authority, you break the silence.

“Why are you just standing there?” Your voice is steady, edged with something unspoken. “Come here.”

She flinches—barely—but obeys, her steps hesitant yet quick, as if afraid of hesitating too long.

Now she stands before you, close enough that you can see the way her fingers clench at her sleeves, the way her breath is measured, controlled. You remain seated on the bed, watching her.

Studying her.

Her face is calm, carefully composed, but it does little to hide the truth. She’s visibly nervous—fidgeting, hesitant—looking so vulnerable, so innocent. Almost convincing.

But you know better.

You know her goal, the schemes she’s woven with her father—the quiet ambition hidden beneath her downcast eyes. To bear your child. To secure her place.

Still, as she stands before you, fragile in the dim light, you find yourself wondering… which one is real?

You stand up, walking past her toward the bedside drawer.

Her eyes follow your every movement.

“Did you take what I gave you earlier?” Your voice is calm, measured, as you retrieve an identical container to the one you had given her before.

Behind you, her voice wavers. “I—I did.”

Hesitation. A crack in her certainty. You don’t trust her.

“Did you really?”

You turn to face her, closing the distance between you. She tilts her head back slightly, forced to meet your gaze.

“Ye—”

Before she can finish, you grip her cheeks, prying her mouth open as you shove the birth control pill inside, pressing it down with your fingers.

Her eyes widen in shock, a muffled protest escaping as her tongue instinctively fights against the intrusion. But she swallows—she has no choice.

Your fingers linger, pressing down on her tongue, feeling the warmth, the slick resistance. When you pull away, you grip her tongue briefly, tilting her chin up as you inspect her mouth. No tricks. No lies.

A thin strand of saliva clings to your fingers as you finally release her.

She coughs slightly, breath unsteady, staring at you in disbelief. “What was that?”

You sit back on the bed, meeting her gaze as you bring your fingers to your lips, sucking them clean with deliberate ease.

“Extra precaution.”

She stood still, accepting your answer without question.

"Strip."

The command hung in the air, firm and unquestionable. She flinched, surprise flashing across her face, but she obeyed.

With hesitant fingers, she loosened the knot at her waist. The bathrobe slipped from her shoulders, gliding down her smooth skin before pooling soundlessly at her feet.

A deep blush spread across her cheeks, her hair falling forward in a vain attempt to shield her shyness. Her arms instinctively crossed over her chest, hiding the soft curves of her bare peaks.

The ambient glow of the bedside lamp cast a warm sheen over her stomach, the smooth expanse of skin taut with restrained tension. Her legs pressed together, her posture curling inward as her hand covered the last remnant of her modesty.

"Good girl."

Your praise was quiet, yet heavy with meaning.

Reaching out, you grasped her wrist, pulling her closer. She resisted—barely—but you easily moved her hand aside. Your other hand traced along her thigh, parting them ever so slightly, revealing her core, wet by her own liquid.

A smirk tugged at your lips.

"What a good wife you are," you murmur, your voice laced with a disturbing amusement. "Already so ready to please me."

Her response catches in her throat—"I—I…"—the words failing her as if the weight of expectation leaves her speechless.

Your hand slides along the curve of her folds, teasing and tracing the delicate creases of her skin. With each measured stroke, your finger becomes slick with her natural arousal. A muffled moan escapes her as her free hand flies to cover her mouth.

Gently, yet inexorably, you press your finger deeper—soaked in her arousal—until it enters her fully. A small gasp betrays her internal struggle as she adjusts to your unyielding pace.

You begin slowly, gradually increasing your movements. Her soft moans rise in hesitant tempo, each one matching the growing rhythm of your advances. Then, you introduce another finger. Her head tilts back involuntarily as you refuse to give her a moment’s reprieve.

"Ahh— no, wait..." she pleads, her voice laced with desperate uncertainty. Yet you do not relent. Instead, you curl your fingers in a deliberate arc, eliciting a sharper shriek from her. With practiced precision, you place your hand over her clit, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles.

"I… can't... Nnnnggfff..." she struggles against the tide, her words a broken plea amid the mounting intensity. Her hands grip your arm, desperate to slow you down, as her back arches from the force of your intrusion. Her legs tremble, slowly giving out as her body leans on you for support.

"Ah— nnghh..." she murmurs, the sound a conflicted blend of surrender and resistance. Her hand reaches for your shoulder, seeking any anchor to stave off the overwhelming surge. Her body spasms; the tension in her inner walls tightens around your finger, and a rush of her arousal escapes in a final, quivering release.

Abruptly, you withdraw, moving swiftly to grasp her waist as her legs buckle beneath her. You catch her, steadying her as she struggles to remain upright. Her eyes lift to meet yours—wide, searching, and filled with the heavy cadence of labored breaths as she fights to reclaim control.

You watch her, admiring the way her eyes close in ecstasy, and a sudden realization washes over you.

"Haven't I been spoiling you?" you murmur, recalling every stolen moment—in the hotel, in the car—where you’ve consistently taken the lead, always giving pleasure without receiving the same in return.

"I always take the lead. You’ve yet to return the favor," you add, your tone both teasing and expectant.

Jiwon’s expression betrays a mix of understanding and uncertainty. Unsure of how to respond, she remains silent. You close the distance between you, capturing her lips in a deep, hungry kiss. Your tongues meet and clash in a fervent dance, exchanging heated promises with every breath.

Abruptly, you break the kiss, gently pushing her chin aside to examine her flushed, expectant face. "Kneel," you command.

Without hesitation, she sinks slowly between your knees. Her head lifts to meet yours as you cradle her chin, holding her in place. Her hand wanders to your lap, her eyes shimmering with anticipation as if silently asking what will come next. You trace a slow, deliberate path along her lips with your thumb, savoring the soft warmth as they part slightly.

Leaning in once more, you capture her lips with another searing kiss. You deepen the kiss, then abruptly pull back—a teasing farewell that leaves her yearning for more.

"Well… it’s about time you did something," you say, guiding her hand toward the concealed promise beneath your robe. Her gaze shifts from your eyes to the unmistakable bulge, and with trembling fingers she slips aside the fabric, revealing your erection in all its evidence.

For a long moment, she stares at it, as if trying to reconcile the raw desire before her with the uncertain spark in her own eyes. Gently, you take her hand, guiding it to the sensitive flesh. Her skin is warm under your touch, and as she hesitantly grasps you, you can almost feel the electric pulse of her uncertainty mingling with burgeoning confidence. With measured strokes, you lead her hand along the length of you, the sensations building slowly into an undeniable rhythm.

"That's it... good girl," you murmur, your voice a deep, approving rumble as you watch her confidence grow with every careful stroke. You cup her cheeks, tilting her head upward so that your eyes lock in a wordless conversation of need and surrender. Her hands come to rest momentarily, leaving her lips glistening with anticipation. You trace your fingers along her parted lips, sliding them open with deliberate slowness, savoring the taste of her warm, inviting mouth.

Meeting her gaze again, you softly command, "Jiwon... I want to feel them."

Her hesitant whisper, "Y-you want me to...?" trembles in the charged air, and with a barely perceptible nod of your head, she understands. Inch by inch, she moves closer, positioning herself more deliberately between your legs. You sense the gentle quiver of her skin as she aligns herself, every inch of her body alive with a mix of trepidation and desire.

"I don't know how..." her voice quavers, uncertainty mingling with desire as she prepares herself.

"Kiss it," you instruct, your tone both commanding and gentle.

She leans in, and you feel the delicate warmth of her breath caress the sensitive tip. Her lips make contact—a tentative, feather-light tap that soon deepens as they press against you. You close your eyes for a moment, the sensation of her soft, pliant lips against your skin sending a surge of pleasure rippling through you. Her tongue, at your urging, begins a slow, deliberate exploration, its texture smooth and almost liquid as it swirls around you like a whispered promise.

Without pausing, she takes you deeper, her mouth enveloping you with a hunger that is both raw and exquisitely controlled. "You don’t have to take it all," you murmur, a playful lilt in your voice, "just take what you can. Don’t be greedy." Her movements adjust, each soft, rhythmic bob eliciting a cascade of sensations that pulse through you like electric fire. The soft, wet sounds of her ministrations blend with your own heavy breathing, creating a symphony of raw desire.

"You're a natural," you praise, urging her, "use your tongue." Her eyes lift to meet yours—a silent challenge and invitation—and her tongue resumes its languid, swirling dance.

A low groan escapes you, and you weave your fingers through her hair, feeling its silky texture, as you grip it firmly. Her hand returns to you, stroking with a confident rhythm that matches the escalating heat coursing through your veins. "Jiwon, I'm close..." you confess, the words vibrating with urgency. Instantly, her pace quickens, her motions becoming a blend of gentle precision and fervent need.

The sensations build—each movement, each taste, each whispered moan intensifies the delicious pressure that coalesces within you. With a sudden, overwhelming rush, you climax. You pull her head closer, guiding her to savor every drop of your release as it spills out in hot, heavy waves. The warmth of your essence mingles with her taste, a heady cocktail that electrifies every nerve ending. Her hand instinctively grips your legs, a desperate effort to slow the inevitable tide, tears form in her eyes, yet you hold her firmly in your embrace.

As you finally relent, you gently free her, steadying her trembling form as she staggers slightly, breath ragged and eyes wide with the aftershocks of pleasure. Her lips, still glistening with the remnants of your intensity, part in a silent, awe-filled query.

You cradle her face once more, your fingers soft yet insistent as they squeeze her cheeks and pry open her mouth. "That’s bad etiquette, your supposed to show it to me next time." you explain, your voice a low murmur of possessive satisfaction. In that charged moment, the heady blend of taste, warmth, and the lingering thrill of domination cements the unspoken pact between you—a promise of indulgence, control, and an ever-deepening exploration of every tantalizing sensation.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Jiwon slowly gathered herself, she could still feel the lingering warmth of his release on her skin, the taste and texture of him clinging to her fingertips as she involuntarily spat out the remnants. The cool air of the room mingled with the residual heat of their union, and she shivered—not solely from the chill, but from the tumult of emotions that surged within her.

Before she could collect her scattered thoughts, she felt his gentle touch on her cheeks. Kneeling beside her, his presence was paradoxically tender and possessive as he reached out with the soft fabric of his bathrobe to dab away the tears staining her flushed skin. The unexpected care, so unlike the harshness that usually followed, startled her into a fleeting blush.

“Tha—thank you,” she managed in a trembling whisper, her voice thick with conflicting gratitude and apprehension.

“You did a good job,” he murmured, his tone imbued with a chilling mix of praise and predation. “Now, it’s time for your reward.”

“Wha—”

Jiwon barely had time to react before he lifted her with ease, placing her back onto the bed. Her breath hitched, body still trembling from the mix of emotions left in the wake of his touch. Gentle one moment. Cruel the next. She should have expected it.

Her hips teetered at the edge of the mattress, and he stood between her parted knees, his hands firm against them, keeping her exactly where he wanted.

‘He's watching me.’

‘Studying me.’

She swallowed as his smirk deepened.

“Isn’t it the wife’s duty to bear a child?”

Jiwon’s nails pressed into the sheets. There it was. The test. The first of many, no doubt.

“Isn’t that what you want?”

Her throat tightened. What she wanted? If she laughed, would he see how bitter it sounded? If she cried, would he believe it was an act?

“To be bred?”

Her stomach twisted. He was daring her to reveal herself. Daring her to slip—to prove that she was exactly what he thought she was.

But she couldn’t slip. Not now. Not ever.

‘I didn’t want this.’

‘But I can’t fight it, either.’

‘I have to stay.’

‘I have to endure.’

‘Because if I leave, I lose him completely.’

Her father’s threats still echoed in her head. She could see the cold calculation in the man standing before her, waiting for her reaction, waiting to confirm his suspicions.

So she took a slow, steady breath, willed her expression into something soft, something patient—something that might make him hesitate, just for a second.

And then, she whispered…

“If that’s what you think I want…”

She lifted her gaze to his, unblinking, unwavering.

“Then take me, husband.”

His smirk faltered. Just for a moment. But she saw it.

Without a second's pause, his throbbing cock slammed into her. The suddenness made her bite her lip hard—she gritted her teeth as his tip plunged deep, stretching her tight, yet her slick walls clamped down like they were hungry for every inch. He didn't hesitate at all; he moved inside her like a man on a mission.

“Ahh—please take me…” she moaned, voice raw and desperate.

He shifted, hoisting himself up so that his weight crashed into her hips, pounding her hard against the bed. Every thrust sent a brutal surge of pleasure through her, her mind turning to mush as he filled her up relentlessly.

“Mmngh… it feels… good…” she managed between ragged breaths.

He leaned in close, his pace only ratcheting up as he grabbed one of her breasts and sucked on it roughly. With every forceful stroke, her knuckles went white from gripping the sheets. She could feel him pulsing inside her, each burst of heat making her walls grip him tighter.

“Fuck… Jiwon, I'm cumming,” he growled, his seed erupting deep within her.

As he exploded, her body shuddered, spasming beneath his relentless pace. Her insides burned with warmth as she felt his hot liquid flood through her. Gasping for air, she lay there, staring blankly at the ceiling as the raw intensity washed over her.

Jiwon barely had time to catch her breath before he flipped her over, her legs straddling his waist, her sore, used core pressing against his still-hard cock. Her body twitched, overstimulated, slick with sweat and his release.

Her breath hitched—hot, shaky. She could still feel him inside her, the raw stretch, the pulsing heat of his cum coating her walls. It was filthy, overwhelming, and worst of all, addictive.

Her thighs trembled as she tried to adjust, but his hands gripped her hips, keeping her locked in place. Dominant. Demanding.

“You’re not done,” he murmured, voice low, rough.

A whimper caught in her throat.

Her body knew what he wanted before her mind could protest. The ache between her legs burned, but the way he stretched her, filled her—owned her—sent another pulse of heat straight to her core.

She bit her lip, dizzy, drunk on the mix of pain and pleasure.

She should resist. She should fight. But instead, her hips rolled forward, sinking down onto him again.

And just like that, she was his all over again.

You feel her soft, slick heat as her hips roll forward again, claiming you once more. Every thrust drives home that undeniable truth: she’s yours—if only for this moment. With a low, possessive growl, you murmur in her ear, "You're mine now, Jiwon. My wife. You belong to me." The words slice through the heavy air, and you see a flicker in her eyes—a mix of desire and submission that only fuels your obsession.

Each powerful thrust becomes a tease, a reminder that she’s married to you now. You hammer into her with relentless precision, your hands gripping her hips like anchors, as you whisper, "You're married to me, baby. And every time you give in, you show me you're mine." The admission is as raw as it is maddening—there’s a burning need inside you to claim her completely, even as a bitter edge lingers knowing she isn’t fully yours.

Your movements grow more intense, faster, as you savor her muffled moans and the way her body trembles beneath your control. "You're mine, all mine," you taunt, your voice rough with desire and a hint of anger at the parts of her still beyond your reach. Every time she shudders against you, it only deepens your fixation, stoking the fire of your obsession.

The rhythm builds—a brutal, primal cadence that leaves both of you teetering on the edge. You feel the mounting pressure in your core, each pulse of pleasure a desperate claim staked on her body. With a final, powerful surge, you push her to the brink, the heat of her response mingling with your own as you both climax in a searing explosion of raw, unyielding passion.

In that explosive moment, as you collapse into a ragged pant and feel her trembling around you, you remind yourself: she’s yours, even if not completely. And that thought, as addictive as it is infuriating, leaves you craving more—more of her, more of the thrill of the chase, and more of the undeniable power that comes from claiming her, if only for tonight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first thing Jiwon noticed upon waking was warmth.

A steady, suffocating heat pressed against her back, an arm locked firmly around her waist, pinning her in place. For a moment, she forgot where she was, the scent of unfamiliar cologne pulling her from the haze of sleep. Then, as the memories of last night settled in, she froze.

His grip was possessive even in sleep, fingers curled against the fabric of her nightgown as if unconsciously staking his claim. His breathing was steady, deep—utterly at ease, unlike the man she had faced hours ago.

Jiwon turned her head slightly, careful not to disturb him. His face, relaxed in slumber, lacked the sharp edges of cruelty he wore so easily when awake. It would have been easy to mistake this moment as something tender, something intimate.

But she knew better.

Slowly, delicately, she moved. His hold tightened briefly before slackening, and with a patient, measured effort, she slipped from beneath his grasp. The sheets rustled as she sat up, brushing her hair back as she exhaled softly.

She had endured.

And she had won.

A quiet, wry smile played on her lips as she recalled the flicker of hesitation in his eyes last night. A test, he had called it, but wasn’t she testing him too? Every step she took, every word she spoke—each one was carefully measured, carefully placed. She would prove herself, not through grand gestures or desperate pleas, but through patience.

Through endurance.

With renewed resolve, Jiwon rose, slipping into a robe as she made her way to the kitchen.

Cooking had never been something expected of her, but she had learned in the moments she needed to. And today, she needed to.

The kitchen was unfamiliar but elegant, the kind of space meant for functionality rather than warmth. She moved quietly, tying her sleeves back as she set to work. By the time the sun fully broke past the horizon, a modest breakfast had been laid out—a bowl of warm rice, side dishes arranged neatly, and a pot of fresh tea waiting beside them.

Jiwon sat, fingers brushing the rim of her teacup, waiting.

The sound of a door opening signaled his arrival.

He emerged from the bedroom fully dressed, his presence effortlessly commanding as he adjusted his cufflinks. He didn’t spare her a glance at first, his focus entirely on the watch he fastened around his wrist.

Then, finally, his gaze flickered toward the table.

Jiwon straightened, offering a soft smile. “Good morning.”

He didn’t return it. Instead, his eyes swept over the meal before returning to her, unreadable.

“You’re eager,” he remarked, voice edged with something she couldn’t quite place.

Jiwon remained composed, lifting the teapot to pour him a cup. “I thought it would be nice to eat together.”

His lips curled, but it wasn’t a smile. “You’re rather good at this, aren’t you?”

She stilled slightly, glancing up. “At what?”

“At playing the role.”

The words were sharp, cutting.

“You act like the perfect wife—cooking, smiling, waiting patiently.” He stepped past the table, reaching for his coat. “But devotion doesn’t come so easily, does it?”

Jiwon’s fingers tightened around the porcelain cup, but her smile never wavered.

He shrugged on his jacket, glancing at her one last time. “Keep pretending, Jiwon. You’re good at that.”

Then, without another word, he turned and left.

The door shut behind him with a soft but final click.

Jiwon sat there, the morning light spilling across the table, the warmth of the untouched meal cooling by the second.

She exhaled, forcing down the sting of his words.

He didn’t appreciate her effort. That much was clear.

But that was fine.

She had known from the start that this wouldn’t be easy.

So she would endure.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The day drags on longer than it should.

You sit in your office, drowning in paperwork, drowning in thoughts you don’t want to have. No matter how many meetings you sit through, how many reports you skim over, your mind keeps circling back to her. Jiwon. Her voice, her presence, the way she had looked at you this morning with quiet understanding despite the venom in your words.

It frustrates you. It infuriates you.

You don’t want to think about her.

And yet, as the day turns to night, as the city lights blur past the window of your car, you realize you’re anticipating the sight of her waiting at home.

By the time you step through the door, the house is silent, but not empty. The first thing you see is her—head resting on folded arms, her body slumped forward against the dining table. The soft rise and fall of her shoulders tells you she’s asleep.

Your gaze shifts. The table is set. A meal untouched, slightly cooled, waiting for someone who never arrived.

You pause. Something twists in your chest, unfamiliar and unwanted.

Then, as if sensing you, she stirs. Her lashes flutter, and she blinks sleepily, eyes meeting yours.

She doesn’t complain. Doesn’t scold. Instead, she straightens, quickly smoothing her hair, adjusting her her blouse, straightening her skirt as if she had never dozed off. A small smile finds her lips.

"You're home," she says softly, as if the hour doesn’t matter, as if she isn’t tired.

She moves to tidy the table, but you step forward. Closer than she expects.

She stills.

The space between you shrinks, suffocatingly close. You see the way her breath catches, the way her fingers twitch slightly, caught off guard.

"Sit," you say, voice lower than intended. "Eat with me."

She hesitates for just a second before nodding, slipping into obedience like it’s second nature. She acts perfect. Too perfect.

Not a single question about why you’re late. No complaints, no discontent, just quiet acceptance. She plays the role of a devoted wife flawlessly.

So flawlessly it’s insulting.

Her eyes hold nothing but innocence, and that alone makes you hate her.

How can she look at you like that? As if she’s pure, as if she’s untouched by the circumstances that brought you together. As if she isn’t just as tangled in the lies, in the schemes, in the things left unspoken between you.

It’s condescending.

It’s infuriating.

And before you realize it, you’re closing the distance completely, fingers curling around her wrist as you pull her toward you. She barely has time to react before your lips crash against hers.

A gasp. A shiver.

Then she melts.

Not fighting. Not pushing away.

Because of course, she wouldn’t.

You lift her with ease, carrying her toward the bedroom. A blur of heat and desperation, of control slipping through your fingers.

She lets you take her. Because she wants you to trust her.

Because she wants to.

You sit her at the edge of the bed, standing before her, watching. Her breath is uneven, her flushed face tilted up, eyes locked onto yours. There's something different now—a shift. The same hesitance lingers, but beneath it, a quiet resolve. A waiting.

You pause, searching her expression, hoping—no, daring her—to break the silence, to say something that isn’t just compliance. But before you can push, before you can test her further, she moves first.

Jiwon reaches for you, her fingers brushing your jaw, then gripping, pulling you closer with a force that surprises you. And then her lips crash into yours—clumsy, desperate, but deep.

For the first time, she takes the lead.

You stiffen, startled, but the hesitation is brief. Her kiss is unpracticed, unsteady, but there's no mistaking the hunger behind it. It’s raw, unfiltered, and it ignites something sharp in your chest. A slow-burning ache.

You let her pull you down, her body shifting back as you follow, both of you sinking into the bed. The warmth of her beneath you, the way her breath hitches as your weight presses her down—it feeds something dark and possessive inside you.

She’s yours.

But is this surrender, or something else? A game? A test?

You pull back just enough to look into her eyes, searching, challenging. She meets your gaze, lips parted, her fingers still gripping you as if afraid you'd slip away.

She’s not afraid.

She wants this.

And that realization undoes you more than it should.

You lean in, pressing your lips against her neck and trailing heated kisses along the sensitive skin, feeling her soft gasps escape as your mouth travels toward her throat. Your hands work quickly, unbuttoning her blouse to reveal the delicate line of her bra. With a swift motion, you pull it aside, exposing her supple breast, which you immediately take into your mouth, sucking on it with an eager, possessive hunger. Her low, purring “Hnnng…” vibrates against your lips.

Never pausing, your hands move to loosen the rest of her clothes. Her hips respond instinctively—lifting as her skirt slides away to pool at the bed’s edge. You trail your kisses down to her stomach, letting your lips brush softly against her skin as your hands adjust, preemptively parting her thighs to guide you toward her center.

You slide her panties aside, exposing every enticing curve of her wet folds. Breathing in her arousal, you plunge your tongue inside, tasting her heat. A soft “Ahn—” escapes her as you explore her depths, your tongue playing over her sensitive core. You flick her clit teasingly before taking it fully into your mouth, sucking with a deliberate, insistent rhythm. Her wetness mixes with your saliva as you delve into her, every movement igniting sparks of desire.

“Jiwon… you keep gushing out, no matter how much I suck,” you murmur with a husky edge, a mixture of amusement and dark satisfaction in your tone.

“Wait—” she protests, her voice tight with the mounting pleasure.

You don’t relent. “I said—wait—” you command, though your actions speak louder than any pause ever could.

“Please… I’m… cumming—” she gasps, and her body betrays her words as it surges toward climax. In an explosive moment, her release splatters across your face—hot, sticky, and all-consuming. “Ahh…” she cries out as her body arches in ecstasy, then adds with a hint of mortification, “I—told you to wait—.”

“No problem…” you reply, wiping your face casually as her body continues to convulse on the bed. “Jiwon—you’re still twitching,” you tease with a grin, your voice low and laced with possessiveness.

Gently, you shift her so that a soft pillow cradles her head, offering her a brief moment of rest as you unzip your pants and pull out your throbbing cock. She watches every movement with wide, anticipatory eyes. Positioning yourself between her spread legs, you begin to rub your length along her slick, inviting entrance.

“Don’t worry, just relax and I’ll put it in—” you whisper. You search her face for signs of nervousness, but instead find her eyes locked on your cock—not with hesitation, but with burning anticipation and a subtle, impatient squirm of her hips. You almost laugh at the transformation: the Jiwon who once carried an air of innocence now succumbs to raw lust, unable to wait any longer.

“Ah… haah…” she pants as you slowly push inside her, pausing to savor her reaction. For a moment, she looks up at you in confusion, then stammers, “You— you can move,” her embarrassment masking the depth of her desire.

Her words barely register as her moans intensify. “It’s so deep…” she murmurs through gasps, the sensation overwhelming her senses. The sound of her voice provokes you, and you grip her feet, pressing them together while your hands hold her ankles high, forcing her thighs closed around you. Her hips rise instinctively as you tease, “Do you like it deep?” ramping up your pace, every thrust a declaration of ownership.

“You fit me so well, Jiwon…” you murmur, the possessiveness in your tone unmistakable. Her hands fly to her mouth, as if to stifle her own words, but you’re far from finished. You move her hand to her lips and then guide her mouth to your ear, demanding, “Let me hear you, Jiwon—moan for me… tell me how good you feel… swear for me.”

You set aside her legs and lean in closer, folding her over you as you pump her harder, each thrust a wild rhythm that echoes through the dark room. “Fu—fuuckk… it feels so good,” she swears hesitantly, her voice raw with lust and surrender.

“Good girl,” you praise her, your tone a mix of command and satisfaction as her moans grow louder. “I’m… close…” she confesses, breath ragged as the heat and pressure push her toward her peak.

You lean in, your voice a low growl as you demand, “Whose wife are you, Jiwon?”

“Yours,” she gasps, the truth spilling out in the heat of the moment.

“Whose cock are you getting off to?”

“You… yours,” she replies without hesitation.

“Who owns you?” you press, your words a final, irresistible challenge.

Before she can complete her sentence, your own climax hits. With one final, desperate thrust, you release deep inside her, your seed marking her as undeniably yours.

“Good girl,” you murmur again, a possessive smile tugging at your lips as you gaze into her eyes—eyes that reflect satisfaction, comfort, and an undeniable, reluctant affection.

As her body slowly relaxes and her moans fade into soft breaths, you catch a whispered, unexpected question. “Do—do you want more?”

That single query ignites you anew. With a fierce grin and a burning need, you pull her close, ready to continue the savage dance of desire. The night stretches out before you—each moment a relentless, raw reclamation of her body and soul. You fuck her repeatedly as the hours melt away, every thrust, every whispered command forging an unbreakable link between you two.

With each round, your dominance and obsession deepen—a potent mix of pleasure, pain, and the undeniable thrill of claiming what is half-yours, half-her own. As the night fades into a haze of lust and sweat, you continue your brutal, passionate conquest, knowing that in this dark, endless moment, she is irrevocably and utterly yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jiwon stirred awake, warmth enveloping her in the quiet of the morning. The sheets tangled around her bare skin, the lingering scent of last night still present in the air. She turned her head slightly, eyes landing on him—peaceful, unguarded in sleep. His arm was draped over her waist, his fingers curled lightly against her side, as if unconsciously holding onto her.

A small, secret smile formed on her lips.

For a moment, she allowed herself to believe. To believe that last night had meant something. That the passion he had poured into her, the way he had claimed her over and over again, was more than just a response to his own torment. That maybe, just maybe, he was beginning to let her in.

Carefully, she reached up, her fingertips ghosting over his cheek, tracing the strong line of his jaw. He had been different last night—less cruel, less guarded. She had whispered his name like a prayer, breathless and undone beneath him, her body surrendering completely, her voice filled with lewd, desperate pleas for more. And he had given her everything.

Last night, she had belonged to him in every possible way.

Her fingers trailed lower, brushing against his lips.

Then, his eyes opened.

For a moment, there was something soft in them—something almost like contentment. He stared at her, the corner of his mouth twitching, as if on the verge of a smile.

Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

His gaze darkened, his expression turning to stone. Without a word, he flicked her hand away, the contact breaking as if it burned him.

Jiwon barely had time to process the shift before he was already moving, throwing the sheets off as he sat up, his back to her. Without sparing her another glance, he stood and strode toward the bathroom, the door closing with a sharp click.

The warmth she had felt just moments ago faded, replaced with something hollow.

She swallowed, forcing herself to breathe. Then, slowly, she gathered herself, slipping out of bed and into her robe.

If last night had taught her anything, it was that she couldn’t let this shake her.

By the time he emerged from the room, freshly dressed and ready to leave, Jiwon had already set the table, breakfast neatly arranged. She turned to greet him, her voice soft, carefully measured.

“Good morning.”

His steps faltered for the briefest second, his expression tightening as he took in the sight of her. The tension in his shoulders increased, his scowl deepening as if her very presence offended him.

Then, without a word, he walked past her, grabbing his coat on the way out. The door shut firmly behind him, the sound echoing in the empty space.

Jiwon stood still, her hands resting lightly on the back of a chair. Her gaze lingered on the untouched plates, the food now growing cold.

Last night, she had felt closer to him than ever before. The way he had touched her, the way he had whispered against her skin, the way she had surrendered to him, her voice raw with devotion—it had felt real. But now, in the light of morning, he was more distant than ever.

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening against the wood.

She had changed, hadn’t she? The innocent girl from before would have never acted the way she did last night. She would have never begged for him, never cursed in her moans, never admitted—without shame—that she was his.

He had ruined her.

Or perhaps… she had let him.

a/n: Part 4 comming....

[intcrpol]

Trying to figure out stuff for @gcldfanged's PokeVerse, esp. his home region which is essentially Pokemon but Korea.

Like K Beauty is a big thing all over the world, so maybe Pokemon Salons are a new thing- Like Pokemon Centers, but more luxurious. They don't just heal injuries, they assess other health concerns while the 'mons are evolving and also do grooming. Generally spending the dosh on Salons means increased bonding time with your pokemon as well.

Maybe a new form of high speed transfer, storage, and trading system too.

New snack to make with your 'mons could be something like gimbap or varied items from pojangmacha (stalls that sell street food w/ drinks), so there could be a lot of different things like meat skewers, hotteok, noodles, and sweets.

[yoongissweetdream]

Princess of the Sea | Han Jisung

Pairing: Han Jisung x Mermaid!Reader 

Request: No

Synopsis: There is more to the woman Jisung met the night before.

Warnings: Mermaids/sirens. An attempt at being lured to death. This was part of my Halloween series from my old account.

Word Count: 645 

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Walking along the beach, Han Jisung thinks about why he came here in the first place. Deciding he needed some time to himself, he took a week off work and rented out a pension house on Jeju Island. The best way he can describe his reasoning for coming is an urge that’s unexplainable.  

He only realizes how far he’s walked when he reaches the rocky end of the beach. Climbing up onto the rocks he looks out at the water. Despite the weather being gray and stormy the day before, the water is a beautiful shade of deep blue, light blues, and different shades of turquoise. The ocean has never looked so beautiful, in his opinion.  

The sun and the soft breeze feel warm against his tanned skin. He closes his eyes, enjoying the warmth and taking in the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks and the seagulls off in the distance. His mind drifts to the woman he met last night at a Pojangmacha. He was so nervous when she came over to introduce herself, but he found himself quickly feeling at ease after she laughed at his lame jokes.   

Soon a beautiful soft melodic voice fills his ears and gradually gets louder. He opens his eyes and falls into a deep trance-like state. The sounds of the waves crashing and the gulls in the distance are no longer heard as the voice continues to lure him in. His feet move towards the edge's rocks on their own volition.  

“Stop!” A piercing, desperate scream could be heard cutting off the melodic voice and breaking the trance Jisung is under.   

Noticing how close he is to the edge of the rocks; he falls backwards and fumbles back to what he deems a safe distance. His heart thumps loudly against his chest, unsure and frightened by what just happened. He can hear arguing coming from the water, but he can’t bring himself to move.  

“Jisung,” he hears a familiar voice call to him.   

He looks up to find the same woman from last night standing in front of him with turquoise bathing suit on. “Y/N?” he questions, confused.  

“Are you okay?” she asks kneeling down in front of him as her eyes scan him for any injuries. She’s relieved when she finds none.  

“What just happened?” he replies with his own question, his eyes moving past her to the ocean.  

“I told them to leave you alone,” she sighs, a frown making its way on to her face at the other mermaid’s disobedience. “I’ll make sure it never happens again.”  

“Did they just-?” He cuts himself off, not wanting to think about it and what could have happened. “Who are you? What are you?”   

Y/N stands back up and holds her hand out towards him. He takes her hand, standing up with her help. Keeping hold of his hand, she decides to introduce herself properly to him in hopes it doesn’t scare him away.   

“My name is Y/N and I’m the princess of the sea.”  

“Princess?” He questions, his eyes going wide with shock. “You’re not just a mermaid, but a princess? Should I bow to you?”  

“No bowing,” she assures him. “I don’t take my royalty as seriously as my parents would like me to. It’s not like I’m ever going to be queen.”  

“Queen?” he continues to question, unsure of what to think about this whole situation.  

“It’s a long story,” she replies. “I could tell you over dinner tonight?”   

He nods without hesitation. Despite everything she just revealed, he still wants to see her. “Should we meet where we met last night?”  

“Is 7pm okay with you?” she asks. He nods again. She smiles and steps backwards towards the edge of the rocks. “I’ll see you later.”  

“See you later,” he says as he watches her dive back into the water. 

Likes, Comments & Reblogs are welcomed and appreciated. 

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[superhyp01]

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[yayafirefly]

✔️under a pojangmacha

✔️fishcake in myeongdong

✔️korean barbeque