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kwilquib · 2 days ago

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Red String: Tangled

Word Count 4.6k

Liz - I’ve (🐈‍⬛) x Yeji - Itzy (🐈) x MReader 📖

a/n: i was going to post this after the part 4 of promised 9, but it might take a while so i decided to post this one first instead.

The coffee table was already a battlefield of indulgence—half-eaten strawberries bled onto napkins, the rim of a cake sagged from being sliced unevenly, and the growing graveyard of empty bottles clinked whenever someone shifted. Warm, golden light from a lone floor lamp softened the chaos, casting shadows that swayed gently across the walls.

You were sunk deep into the couch, the alcohol dulling your senses into something languid and warm. Liz, draped against your side like a sleepy cat, had long stopped sipping her wine and started murmuring nonsense into your shoulder. Her fingers loosely hooked around your arm, her hair tickling your jaw with her every breath.

On the floor, back resting against the couch, Yeji nursed the last of her only bottle for the night, as she stared at the flickering candlelight.

“Shall we call it a night?” you asked low.

Yeji looked up at you, then sideways at Liz nestled against you. A short scoff escaped her lips, sharp but not exactly hostile.

You shifted carefully, slowly prying your arm free from Liz’s hold. She mumbles a trifling protest in her sleep but doesn't wake as you lay her down gently across the couch, sliding a pillow to rest her head.

“She didn’t last,” she muttered, with just enough bite for her meaning to latch.

You smirked despite yourself. The tension between them was unspoken but undeniable—at least on Yeji’s part. Liz floated through the days with effortless charm, never rising to Yeji’s jabs, while Yeji simmered, her competitive nature flaring in little comments, lingering glances, subtle one-ups.

“She had more than you,” you said, lightly teasing. “You were sneaking her your shots.”

Yeji raised her chin defiantly. “Not my fault she’s that susceptible.”

“She’s gonna be hungover and dramatic tomorrow.”

“She’s always dramatic.”

Chuckling for a moment, and the silence that followed wasn’t awkward, just… quiet. Safe. The night had dulled at the edges, the candle’s aroma roamed the space, soft and warm, the alcohol warming your veins. But Yeji’s gaze lingered now—longer, steadier. You noticed.

“So…” you started, tilting your head toward her. “You really don’t like losing to her, huh?”

Yeji didn’t answer immediately. She stepped closer. Then another step. Before you realized it, she was standing directly in front of you, her expression unreadable, but her eyes holding yours without flinching.

“You’re always trying to one-up her,” you said, gentler this time. “Like you’re in some kind of race.”

“I’m not competing,” she shot back, voice tight.

You didn’t push. Just looked at her.

Her glare wavered, and something behind it faltered.

A sigh, then she dropped down to sit in front of you, settling between your legs, her arms resting casually across your knees. “I just… this was different to what I expected when I signed up for the program.”

“How different?”

“I’m not gonna tell you—” She hesitated, then smirked faintly. “How about you go first?”

“Oh wow,” you said, grinning. “Curling it back to me. Real smooth.”

You leaned back into the couch.

“Where do I start? Shitty life, barely surviving, scraping by. Then I heard about the program—matchmaking, state incentives, guaranteed housing, government support if you start a family. Sounded like a dream. A new life handed to you on a silver platter.”

Yeji listened quietly, eyes on your face.

“I didn’t have the luxury to dream about love or family,” you went on. “But if some algorithm could give me a guaranteed match? Sure. Seemed easier to believe in data than in people.”

“The Red String Algorithm,” Yeji said, her voice quiet but undeniably proud. “It extracts every meaningful signal from your history—psych profiles, communication patterns, even the way you process conflict—and uses it to find a true match. Ninety-nine point six percent success rate.”

You snorted. “Right, sorry—Miss Researcher.”

She shot you a look. “You’re living with one of its core developers. You should at least remember the name.”

There was a pause. Her tone softened.

“I always knew the algorithm could work. I just didn’t expect it would… work on me.”

You glanced at her. “It saved my ass, I’ll admit that. But if I’d known back then we’d be matched as a trio instead of a pair…”

You trailed off.

“Then…?” Yeji prompted, cautious.

“Are you saying you regret it?”

“No.” You answered quickly. “Definitely not. Just… it caught me off guard. That’s all. But one thing’s for sure—I’d never go back to before this.”

A silence settled. Not heavy. Just thoughtful.

“…Well,” you said, nudging her lightly. “Your turn. Remember?”

“Same as you.”

“Wow, I feel cheated.”

“Okay, not exactly the same,” she relented. “But I also joined because it made sense. When I applied, they told me my research would get priority status—more funding, less red tape. I didn’t have time to date. The idea of some system finding me a perfect match felt like… a neat solution. Just another algorithm doing its job.”

She gave a short, dry laugh. “And the benefits weren’t bad either.”

You didn’t interrupt. Just waited.

“I thought I knew exactly what I was signing up for,” she said, voice softer now. “I prepared for everything—sharing space, building habits, managing intimacy like a checklist. But the system knew better.”

Her gaze flicked up to you.

“I didn’t expect… you. Her. Us.”

Your breath caught slightly. There was something flickering in her eyes—uncertainty dressed in composure, like she wasn’t quite sure how much to reveal.

You were about to respond when a soft groan broke the moment.

Liz.

She stirred beside you, shifting slightly, her arm flopping over the couch’s edge.

Both you and Yeji turned to look.

“She’s gonna whine tomorrow,” you said, chuckling under your breath.

Yeji tilted her head. “Assuming she waits till morning.”

a small chuckle.

You smiled, the last threads of laughter still lingering in your chest, and without thinking, you leaned forward—closer to Yeji, who was still sitting on the floor between your knees.

Your arm brushed against her shoulder.

She didn't flinch. If anything, she tilted her head slightly, as if encouraging the contact.

Your laughter faded, leaving behind a sudden, charged silence.

Yeji shifted, angling her body to face you more fully. Her hands came up, resting lightly on your thighs—steadier than her breathing.

Her voice dropped, low and coaxing.

“We still have tonight.”

The weight of her words sank deep into you.

Your breath hitched.

The distance between you was barely anything now, measured only in heartbeats. Her thumbs brushed slow, thoughtless circles against your legs, a touch so featherlight it made you hyper aware of every nerve ending.

“Yeji—” you began, but it came out rough, unsteady.

She smiled—small, almost mischievous—and leaned in.

Close enough that her breath fanned against your mouth.

Close enough that you could count the tiny flecks of gold in her dark eyes.

“You’re drunk,” you whispered.

“Weak excuse,” she murmured, brushing her lips against yours. “You know I’m not.”

Her lips brushed yours, soft, almost there, a ghost of a kiss that left you aching for more.

“We can’t do this.”

“We’re married—on paper,” she replied between kisses. “This is exactly what we’re supposed to do.”

“I mean not now—not here.”

A soft groan broke the moment—Liz, stirring restlessly on the couch.

You both turned to look at her, your hearts tripping over themselves.

But when you looked back, Yeji was already watching you again, emboldened by the interrupted moment.

“Liz is here—”

“You're picking favorites?” with her voice low, almost a warning.

“What? No—”

She kissed you again, firmer this time, her hands sliding a little higher along your thighs, anchoring herself to you.

You should stop this. You knew you should.

But when her tongue teased at your bottom lip, asking—no, daring—you to let her in, your resistance cracked completely.

You kissed her back.

Yeji shifted—settling back down to her knees, now between your legs. Her palms slid smoothly over your thighs, grounding you in the moment as her eyes locked with yours.

The warmth of her hands seemingly seeping through the fabric. Her thumbs brushed a small, absent circle through the fabric. You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but words dissolved in your throat when her fingers moved to your waistband. Slow. Testing.

“Yeji…” a futile warning, knowing it's not you who’s in control.

She glanced up, lips parted, eyes locked. “If you want me to stop, say it.”

Your silence was her permission.

A slow, satisfied smile curved her lips as her fingers undid the button, then the zipper—slow, methodical—and peeled your pants away with a patience that only made it worse.

And better.

Your breath caught in your throat as the cool air hit you, the warmth of her hand came after—then the heat of her mouth.

She widened her mouth, opening to welcome you deeper, her head bobbing with growing urgency. Wet sounds filled the room—the slick slide of her lips, the soft, breathy gags as you hit the back of her throat, the faint brush of her hair against your stomach as she leaned in harder, more desperate.

It was overwhelming—too much, too good.

And maybe that was why, somewhere in the fog of pleasure, a sharp thread of worry slipped through.

Your chest tightened. You turned instinctively to your side, the sudden need to check, to make sure—

“Fuck. Yeji!” You shoved her mouth off your cock, not far, not harsh, just enough to break the seal of her lips—just enough to expose her slick grin and the spit-slick strand still connecting her tongue to your tip.

Liz.

She was awake.

Hands covered her face like she was trying to deny what she was seeing—yet her fingers parted just enough for you to catch her eyes, wide and shimmering, veiling its shame. Caught between wanting to watch and wanting to flee, flushed.

“Liz, it’s not—” you stammered, cock still wet, still hard, still twitching under the ghost of Yeji’s mouth.

“For someone touchy, you’re surprisingly shy.” Yeji cuts in before you could reason.

“It’s normal to be shy in situations like this!” Liz croaked, voice cracking mid-protest, eyes locked on you as if she was calling for you to be on her side.

Yeji only laughed softly, the sound dripping with knowing amusement. “Is it also normal to be shy when it’s just you two, too?”

Your mouth opened—but nothing came out. Words tangled in your throat, hot and useless. “How—”

“The walls are thin, you know,” Yeji said, voice lazy, almost indulgent. Then she glanced at Liz—deliberate, slow. “Plus, you’re awfully loud.”

A tiny sound escaped Liz behind her hands—a muffled whimper, not fear, not disgust. Something else. Excitement, tangled with shame, twisting hot and helpless in her gut.

Yeji stretched her arms languidly behind her, a cat waking from a satisfied nap, then leaned in, voice sultry and slow. “Well,” she said, her gaze locking onto Liz’s, “are you just going to stare?”

“Yeji—” you warned, already knowing it was too late.

She tossed her hair over her shoulder, all liquid confidence, and purred, “Maybe you should head back to your room, little voyeur.”

The words wrapped around Liz like smoke—seductive, heavy, inescapable. But Liz didn’t move.

“I—I’m not going to leave,” Liz stammered, voice so small it barely reached across the couch. But it did. Every syllable landed like a drop of oil on fire.

Her eyes narrowed, gleamed like a predator’s in low light—sharp, cutting, approving. She sat back on her heels, head tilting slightly as if appraising Liz under new light. Her hand didn’t leave your cock. She held it steady, fingers curled at the base, glistening with spit, the exposed length twitching under her grip.

“Cute,” she finally said, slow and velvety. “Come here, then.”

Liz hesitated only a heartbeat before leaving her hoodie on the couch. Shoulders bare. Tank top clinging to soft curves. No bra. Her nipples pressed like little beads against the fabric, hard from watching. From wanting. From finally deciding.

.Yeji watched her approach without blinking.

You sat frozen between them—cock soaked, heart pounding, thighs trembling from restraint.

Liz knelt beside Yeji, movements quiet, cautious, like she was stepping into a hot bath—both terrified and aching to be swallowed.

“Ever done this?” Yeji asked, without malice, just curiosity sharpened by thrill.

Liz shook her head, biting her lip, cheeks blooming red. “No… not like this.”

“Oh princess.” Yeji’s smirk deepened. “Follow my lead.”

And just like that, Liz lowered herself.

Her hand reached first—tentative, warm fingers brushing your shaft like you might disappear. Her touch was featherlight, reverent, like she was holding something sacred. Yeji guided her, sliding her hand on top of Liz’s, the contrast striking—Yeji’s grip firm, Liz’s trembling.

You groaned.

Yeji started stroking again, this time with Liz’s hand moving under hers, both palms working you together, one bold and commanding, the other shy and curious. Flesh slid slick and smooth under their hands, your hips twitching against the sensation of two women touching you at once.

“Go on,” Yeji said, voice a breath against your thigh now. “Try it.”

Liz leaned in.

Her lips parted just slightly, tongue flicking out like she was testing temperature. She kissed your tip, soft, barely there, then pulled back with wide eyes.

Yeji’s hand never stopped moving.

“Again,” Yeji coaxed. “Open wider. No teeth.”

Liz nodded. Obedient. Blushing.

She leaned in again and wrapped her lips around your head, warm and wet and cautious. She sucked gently, cheeks hollowing slightly, dimple flashing as she bobbed forward—then pulled back, letting your cock pop wetly from her mouth.

You gasped.

Yeji growled, something primal. “Not bad.”

Then she dove in again.

Her mouth engulfed your length beside Liz’s, taking more, taking deeper, her tongue a skilled, relentless force. Liz followed with wide eyes, licking the side of your shaft Yeji wasn’t occupying, kissing the base, moaning softly every time she tasted you.

Their mouths moved in tandem. Yeji’s deep and possessive, Liz’s light and fluttering.

You were being devoured.

“Fuck—shit, girls—ah—” Your voice shattered, your thighs spread wider, hips rolling into their mouths, body caught between Yeji’s dominance and Liz’s eager submission.

Yeji sucked harder. Her eyes snapped up, locking with yours. Commanding.

Liz’s tongue curled around your base, her hand cupping your balls, soft fingers trembling with effort and excitement. Her lips were pink and swollen now, a line of drool running down her chin as she moaned against your skin.

Yeji pulled back and let a long string of spit fall from her tongue to your cock, coating it more. “Good girl,” she muttered to Liz, then slapped her ass gently. “But don’t just play. Take him. Like this.”

She shoved her mouth down again—deeper, fiercer, throat clenching around you as she gagged slightly, then pulled back with a slurp, gasping. “That’s how you suck cock.”

Liz’s eyes sparkled, wet and wide. She swallowed nervously. Then she tried again, this time deeper, more committed.

You could barely hold on.

“God, you’re both—fuck—” you groaned, voice barely there, one hand buried in Yeji’s hair, the other tangled in Liz’s.

They licked you like it was a competition. A dance. Heat and wetness and rhythm. Yeji guiding Liz, licking the underside while Liz took your tip, her lips wrapped around it so gently you thought you might lose it. Then they’d trade—Yeji taking you all the way, Liz licking what she couldn’t reach. Spit soaked your thighs. Their mouths met at your base, licking each other’s tongues, sharing the taste of you.

You were shaking.

Yeji grinned against your cock. “Cum for us,” she whispered.

Liz whimpered. “Please…”

Your breath caught—lungs seized like a misfiring engine, every nerve in your body tightening to a razor’s edge. Their mouths moved in perfect sync now, wet, rhythmic, obscene. Yeji’s tongue flicked just beneath the head as Liz suckled the tip, cheeks drawn in with hunger and awe. You could barely tell whose hand was whose—soft skin wrapped around your shaft, stroking in tandem, squeezing you up toward the inevitable.

“F-Fuck, I’m—” The words barely left your lips before your hips bucked, spine arching off the couch.

Yeji pulled Liz back at the last moment, hand gripping the base tight, lips parting as your cock erupted.

Hot, thick spurts of cum painted Yeji’s tongue, her mouth, her throat. She moaned, her eyes rolling slightly, lashes fluttering, her throat working as she swallowed it down. But not all of it.

She didn’t swallow it all.

She held some—warm, white, thick—pooling on her tongue like a decadent gift.

“Ahhn…” she exhaled, eyes flicking to Liz. Still kneeling. Still flushed. Still trembling from watching you explode.

Yeji grabbed her by the jaw.

Firm but not cruel. Her fingers pressed into Liz’s cheeks, and Liz gasped as Yeji leaned in—mouth open, cum heavy inside—and kissed her.

No time for hesitation.

Their lips met in a sticky, messy, desperate kiss. Yeji pushed it into her. Tongue sliding in, sharing the load. The mix of slick spit and seed spilling from one mouth to the other in thick, slow dribbles.

Liz’s eyes went wide—but she didn’t pull away.

She moaned.

Yeji groaned back, fingers now buried in Liz’s hair as she deepened the kiss, mouths locked, tongues swirling, swapping the taste of you like something sacred and filthy all at once.

You watched, dazed, cock twitching even in its aftershock.

Yeji pulled away finally, a thin strand of cum still stretching between their lips, shining in the low light.

Liz swallowed.

Hard.

She wiped the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, then smiled at you—shy, glowing, a little breathless, dimple showing even now.

Yeji licked her lips. “Now that,” she said, voice hoarse with triumph, “is how you share.”

Liz giggled—sweet, almost innocent—but her thighs were pressed tight together, her chest rising fast.

Yeji turned to you again, stroking your thigh lazily. “Bedroom?” she whispered, licking the last drop off her thumb.

Your cock twitched.

You weren’t done. Neither were they.

They stood, both of them still licking their lips—one smug, the other dazed—while you slumped back against the couch, cock twitching from oversensitivity, slick with their spit, your legs weak with afterglow. But for Yeji, for them it had just started.

She grabbed your hand. “Come. Now.”

Yeji stood first. Confident. Graceful. She rose like sin personified, the wet gleam on her lips catching the low light. Then she turned, reached out, and grabbed your wrist. “Bedroom,” she said, no room for argument in her tone. She was already moving, pulling you off the couch with Liz scrambling up after, nervous but burning with adrenaline, her thighs rubbing as she followed you both down the dim hallway.

Your room was barely lit—warm shadows, rumpled sheets, faint perfume in the air—but it didn’t matter.

Yeji pushed the door shut behind you with her foot and turned to Liz.

“Well?” she asked, voice low, like a dare wrapped in silk. “You’ve been watching. Want to feel it now?”

Liz hesitated, biting her lip again. Then, slowly, she nodded.

Yeji smirked. “Clothes off. On the bed.”

Liz obeyed. Her tank top peeled up over her head, revealing soft, pale skin and pert breasts tipped with flushed pink. She shimmied her shorts and panties down together, stepping out with one leg at a time, her movements hesitant but fluid, like a dream she wasn’t sure she was awake for.

She lay back, legs closing instinctively. Yeji clicked her tongue.

“Open,” she said, climbing onto the bed beside her. “Don’t hide now.”

Liz parted her legs, slowly, her pussy glistening already, folds pink and puffy with anticipation. She covered her face for a second with one hand, but peeked through her fingers just like before—watching you.

You were already hard again.

Yeji crooked her finger at you. “Come here,” she said. “She’s ready.”

You crawled up between Liz’s spread legs, your cock bobbing, already aching again from the scene you’d just watched unfold. Yeji knelt beside her, hand sliding up Liz’s inner thigh, spreading her gently, two fingers brushing over her slick entrance.

“She’s soaked,” she said, glancing at you with heat. “Give it to her slow.”

You nodded, guiding yourself to Liz’s entrance, the heat of her making you groan before you even pushed in. The first inch was heaven. Wet, tight, squeezing you like she’d been made for it.

Liz gasped, her back arching, hand flying to your arm. “Oh my god…”

You went deeper, inch by inch, feeling her stretch around you. She was snug, fluttering around your cock like her body was shocked by how full she felt. Her eyes fluttered, mouth parting in a moan she tried to swallow.

Yeji leaned in, kissed her neck. “Breathe. Let him in.”

You bottomed out with a grunt, hips pressing flush against her, Liz’s breath catching in her throat as her nails dug into your shoulder. You held still, letting her adjust, your cock twitching inside her walls.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” you whispered.

Liz whimpered.

Yeji’s hand slid over her breast, pinching a nipple, making her buck slightly beneath you.

“Move,” Yeji ordered you. “Let her feel it.”

You started to thrust—slow, deliberate strokes, dragging along her slick walls. Liz moaned louder now, hips rising to meet yours, the tension melting from her limbs as pleasure took its place.

Yeji watched you both, her hand dipping between Liz’s thighs, fingers finding the little pearl at the top of her slit. She rubbed it in slow circles, matching your thrusts.

Liz cried out—short, breathless sounds that only made you pound harder.

“You like that?” Yeji purred into Liz’s ear. “You like being fucked while I touch you?”

Liz nodded frantically, eyes glassy, mouth falling open in a silent moan as her legs locked tighter around your waist.

Yeji leaned in, kissed her—slow and deep—her fingers still working between Liz’s thighs, circling faster now. Then she pulled back, lips slick, eyes glowing, and turned her gaze on you.

There was a glint in them—mischievous, luring. She leaned closer to you, a breath’s warmth brushing your lips just before she claimed them in a kiss.

It was deep. Hungry. Her mouth molded to yours, tongue sliding against yours with deliberate control, a slow burn of desire made real. Her fingers curled into your shoulder to steady herself as her body pressed against yours.

Your hand, once gripping her thigh, faltered—drifting upward instead to cup her jaw. You kissed her harder, pulling her in, drowning yourself in the heat of her mouth.

Everything else blurred—until Liz moved beneath you.

A soft whimper broke through, her hips rolling upward again, slick heat clenching around you, desperate for motion. She hadn’t stopped.

Your eyes cracked open as Yeji pulled back just enough to see.

She followed your glance. Saw Liz writhing below, breathless, impatient.

A smirk bloomed across her face. “Faster,” Yeji murmured, voice like silk catching flame. “She can take it.”

You obeyed. Your hips slapped against her thighs, your cock plunging deeper with every thrust. Liz was gasping, writhing, caught between your rhythm and Yeji’s touch. Her body trembled under the intensity, and her eyes locked with yours—wide, pleading, filled with wild pleasure.

“Y-Yes, fuck—ahh, please—” Liz sobbed, her back arching, body clenching around you so tight it stole your breath.

“She’s close,” Yeji said, licking her fingers before sliding them back down. “Don’t pull out.”

“I wasn’t going to,” you growled.

You drove into her harder, faster, relentless now. Her wet heat clung to you with every stroke, and the sound of skin slapping, Liz’s cries, and Yeji’s breathy moans filled the room like music.

Liz shook, her thighs trembling, hands clawing at the sheets. Her pussy squeezed around your cock like a vice, milking you as her orgasm crested.

“Cumming—oh god—fucking—!” she screamed, her whole body snapping taut beneath you as she came, walls fluttering and pulsing.

Yeji didn’t stop touching her. She kept rubbing, helping her ride the wave while watching your face.

You weren’t going to last.

Not with Liz gripping you like this, still spasming, not with Yeji’s eyes on you like she owned you.

You buried yourself as deep as you could, every muscle tensing, balls drawing up.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck—!”

And then you were spilling inside her.

Thick, hot pulses of cum shot into her womb, and she gasped as she felt it, body still twitching around you, milking every last drop. Your hips jerked with each burst, and Yeji moaned softly, her hand slipping down to press lightly against Liz’s belly as if she could feel your cum filling her from the outside.

“Good boy,” she whispered, eyes dark and satisfied. “Fucking bred her good, didn’t you?”

You collapsed forward, panting, still buried in Liz’s quivering body, her pussy sucking on your softening cock like it didn’t want to let go.

And Yeji?

She wasn’t done.

Yeji shifted atop you, still catching her breath, your cum dripping from her slowly with every subtle movement of her hips. Her fingers pressed into your chest as she sat upright again, grinding once more just to feel it—feel you still inside her, thick and twitching, softening slightly but not quite done.

She clenched.

Hard.

Your body jolted under her.

“Still got more in you,” she whispered, her voice low, husky, coaxing. “I want mine.”

She leaned forward, bracing herself on your chest, rolling her hips with practiced control. Slow, deliberate circles that pulled sounds from you like wringing a soaked cloth. Your hands gripped her thighs, slick with sweat, watching her move like liquid heat above you—hair plastered to her face, eyes locked on yours with fire and intent.

Liz stirred beside you, still flushed, her fingers resting at her slick entrance, too tender to touch but too affected to stop watching. Her gaze flicked between your face and the way Yeji rode you, her lips parted in silent awe.

Yeji slammed down again. And again.

You choked on a breath, overstimulated but captivated, your cock responding to her no matter how raw you felt. She twisted her hips on each downward thrust, her pussy still impossibly tight, her insides sucking you deeper, using your last reserves.

She moaned—deep and feral, each sound dragging from her throat like a battle cry and a prayer at once.

“I want it,” she said again, breathless. “All of it.”

You couldn’t stop if you tried.

Your nails dug into her ass as you started thrusting up into her, meeting her pace, driving harder, faster, the slap of skin echoing through the room. Yeji's back arched, hands splayed against your chest as her body began to quake. She was close—so close you could feel it in the way her walls fluttered, clamped.

“Right there,” she hissed. “Fucking—yes—don’t stop—”

You slammed into her.

Once. Twice. Deep.

And you broke.

Hot cum burst inside her again, thicker this time, pressure building in a final desperate wave. Yeji screamed—actual screamed—her orgasm snapping through her like a whip, her body locking up as her pussy milked your cock for everything. Her head tossed back, spine a perfect bow, mouth open wide as she came hard, spilling over you.

You pulsed inside her, filling her again, until she collapsed forward, full, dripping, her breath hot against your throat.

“Fuck…” she whispered, barely audible.

Your arms wrapped around her without thinking. Liz curled tighter into your side, her fingers lacing with yours. Yeji lay across your chest, one hand resting on Liz’s hip, all three of you tangled, sweating, sticky and still twitching from the echoes.

The room smelled of sex—thick, raw, heady.

None of you moved.

Yeji shifted once, just enough to sigh, cum seeping from her slowly, spreading warmth between your thighs.

Liz murmured something soft, a barely-there breath of contentment, her head tucked into the crook of your neck.

You could feel the last of your strength ebbing away, your muscles too relaxed to hold anything but this—this perfect, fucked-out stillness. A puddle of limbs, moans fading, breath evening out.

The dark wrapped around you all.

And then sleep took you.

A/n: Part of Woolly's prompt event!

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #itzy smut #ive smut #yeji #Liz #Liz smut #yeji smut #Itzy #Ive #RedString #qwib-series #qwib-itzy #qwib-Ive

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kwilquib · 2 months ago

Text

Naori

Rei (🐥) X Male reader (📖)

word count: 3.2k

T.W.: This story contains themes of terminal illness, talks about death, and emotional distress.

A/N: Played around with the formatting, formatted for mobile reading.

"I'm home," you call out into the dark room, eerily quiet, starved of light. The dark was unusual, unexpected—unnatural.

Few steps forward, each footfall weighed unease. You found yourself in the living room

"Darling?" Again your voice is swallowed by the empty living room.

Then—suddenly—light floods the space, blinding you. Before your eyes adjust, sharp pop cracks through the silence.

"Surprise!!"

A familiar voice rings out. You turn, heart pounding, only to see her peeking out from behind the kitchen counter—apron still on, gloves half-removed, hair loosely tied back. Her laughter, that unmistakable laugh, spills into the air, filling the once-eerie silence with warmth.

"For what?" The tension in your chest eases, you smile, bewildered, as you continue toward the couch.

She pulls off her gloves, untying the apron with practiced ease before rounding the counter to meet you. "For the birthday, of course."

"Birthday? That's tomorrow?" Bewildered but exhausted, you drop onto the couch.

Rei follows, sinking beside you before resting her head on your lap. "Yeah, I wanted to surprise you."

You blink down at her, still trying to piece together her logic. "Yeah, you did... but it's your birthday."

She grins smugly, eyes oozing with pride—like she'd ‘got’ you.

“So, what did you cook?” You play along.

“Surprise me.”

She hands you her phone, screen already open to a delivery app, order page waiting.

You glance back at her, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"

She shrugs. "I used up all my energy deciding what to cook."

You exhale a small laugh, shaking your head. dialing your orders, "We've been married for how many years?"—a rhetorical question—"and I still haven’t figured out how your mind works."

"You’re just not reading hard enough."

Before you can protest, she reaches up, fingers threading through your hair, and pulls you down.

Her lips meet yours—soft, familiar, and laced with quiet laughter.

Excitedly, you blindly reach for the paper bag beside you, pulling out a stuffed toy, small, but enough to cover her face. “It’s a bit early, but…” You present it to her, holding it up beside her face. "Here. Doesn't it look like you?"

A yellow duck, its tiny fabric twintails mirroring hers.

She squints at it, then at you. The resemblance is uncanny—even she can’t deny it. Instead, she pouts.

You chuckle, gently patting her hair. She naturally leans into your palm, settling there like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"So, what do you want to do for tomorrow?"

She blinks, off guarded by the question.

"I requested a day off, of course. Simple picnic by the river?"

She scrunches her nose. "No… too many people exist these days.”

“Then… fancy dinner, just you and me?”

She snorts, eyes half-lidded with amusement. "You can only say that if you actually have money to spend."

"Ouch." You clutch your chest in mock offense. "Dinner at home it is then, let's—no, I'll cook for you this time."

She smirks. "Is that a mating display? Because it's working."

“Is that so?” You lean down, internding a gentle peck, but she surges forward, her lip’s hunger devouring any softness you’d planned. The kiss deepens, urgent and consuming, until you both pull apart, breathless and flushed.

She smiles—a triumphant, knowing curve of her lips. This time she really got you. “You think I was joking?”

Rising from your lap, she holds your gaze, her eyes sly, alluring. With fluid grace, she settled back into you, stradling your thighs. Her arms are already working your belt.

“You’re tired. Relax” She kisses you again, just as drawing as before— a pull you can’t resist. When she finally breaks away, her breath touches your face as she whispers, “My gift to you. I need to remind you why you need to pay the bills.”

Her hands are already done with your pants, pulling down your briefs, releasing your cock. Now her hands stroke your length.

“Rei…” your body surrenders.

Fully erect in her grasp. Rei shifts, lifting her hips, her fingers setting aside panties beneath her skirt. She guides your tip pressing in into her slick folds, teasing just at her entrance—coating you with her arousal, warm and wet.

“Fuck… Rei…”

Satisfied with her teasing, she lowers herself, hips sinking down to yours. Her walls clench around you, tight and welcoming, enveloping your cock in heat. She pauses, letting the moment to settle, her breath hitch faintly. Then, with a slow roll of her hips, she begins to grind, drawing you deeper.

Small whimpers from her lips are enough to fill the room. Her hands cradle your face, drawing you closer to her lips, muting her moan as you kiss. ”Give it to me darling.” her voice full of need. Her forehead pressed against yours, her breaths hot and ragged. “Fill me up….”

Her pace quickens, hips grinding with desperate need, her walls tightening around you. “Rei…” The pressure builds fast, the nearing you limit faster than you expect. She nods, breathless—”Do it.” One final thrust shatters you both: she cries out, trembling as she clenches around you, and you release inside her, a sharp, dizzying rush.

Panting, she slumps against you, her body pressed close, the air heavy with your mingled breaths. Then, a soft laugh rumbles in her chest. She lifts her head, meeting your puzzled look with a mischievous smile. “Sorry, I just didn’t expect us both to be in such a rush.”

Her point draws a grin from you, and you lean in toward her lips.

“You missed,” she teases, tilting her head just out of reach. “Try again.”

Rei. Your wife. The love of your life.

As eccentric as she was, she was the sunshine in your every day.

Life wasn’t perfect. But with her, every day was.

Almost a year has passed since then.

You swore to do your best, to stay with her for the rest of her life, to stay with her until the end, to stay with her until her final year.

Timed by her Ill fate.

—-

You walk—dragging your steps from work to the hospital, pausing just before the door. You take a deep breath, forcing a half-smile onto your face. A routine you've practiced in a year’s time.

You slide the door open.

Rei sits on the bed, pillows stacked behind her back—an effort to ease the pain with comfort. Her gaze is distant, locked onto something far beyond the window. Her frame looks even smaller against the sterile white sheets, the IV lines hanging high trailing down to her arm like threads tethering her to this world. A headset covers her ears, a barrier between her and reality.

The hospital room now is the usual yet unexpected—unnatural.

"Rei…" you call, waving just at the edge of her vision.

"Shit!" A muttered curse, barely audible but meant to be heard. She doesn’t turn to you. Instead, she pulls out her phone, avoiding your face. "Didn’t I tell you to knock?!"

"Ah, sorry! I—" You hold onto your smile. "Have you eaten yet?"

She clicks her tongue, impatient, clearly letting you know she’s annoyed. With a sigh, she pulls her headphones down to her neck.

"The laundry is over there. Take it and leave." She gestures toward the foot of the bed.

You step forward to grab the basket—only for a cloth to be thrown over your head.

It doesn’t hurt. It shouldn’t. Yet—.

You peel the fabric off and toss it into the basket, looking up to meet her glare. Her eyes are sharp, dark, as if warning that she would throw harder if not for her condition.

She quickly turns away after meeting your eyes.

The best you can offer is a smile.

What you feel is insignificant compared to what she’s going through.

"Then I’ll get going so you can rest," your smile widening—perhaps to cover the pain swelling in your eyes. "Keep fighting, okay? Your schedule for your next treatment is soon."

She turns away, curling into her blankets.

"You don’t have to tell me," she mutters. "That’s all I can do. Fight… only to die later."

The words sting, finally cracking your false smile. But worse than the words themselves is the fact that you have no comfort to offer her. Nothing that would make a difference.

All you can do is walk away.

"Wait." Her voice stops you just as you reach the door. Still turned away, she adds, "Leave my allowance in the drawer."

You check your wallet, counting the bills. In the end, you leave most of the money, only keeping just enough for yourself.

Just before leaving, you hesitate.

"Hey, Rei—" But before you can finish, she’s already on the phone.

"Can you believe my husband?!" she complains, voice laced with frustration. "He’s the worst. Can’t he be a bit more considerate? Everytime, I have to explain to him… ugh, all men are the same."

You stand there for a second longer.

Then, quietly "Ah… sorry. I’m going home."

And you close the door behind you.

—-

“I’m ho—” The words die in your throat.

The dim home greets you in silence. The same home that once brimmed with warmth, with laughter, with the light of the person who made it all feel alive.

Now, it stands hollow, as usual, as expected, yet it feels unnatural.

You drop onto the couch—the same couch where the two of you used to laze around on slow weekends, tangled in blankets and each other.

~~~~

“If I stare hard enough, you think the meaning of life will show up?”

Rei’s voice, soft and amused, drifts through your memory. She lies by the couch, absently staring at the ceiling, her expression caught between curiosity and boredom.

“What are you up to now?” you ask, approaching with two cups of coffee.

She straightened up with your voice, reaching for the mug with both hands. You sit beside her, your eyes drifting toward the morning view beyond the window.

She takes a careful sip, then pauses. “…Why are you staring?” A suspicious look crosses her face. “If this kills me, you’re paying for my funeral.”

She drinks anyway, watching you over the rim of her mug.

“Not bad.”

“That’s it? I paid extra for this,” you huff, taking a sip from her cup just to confirm. “My co-workers swore this was “‘the’” coffee.”

“Why are you pretending like there’s a difference?”

~~~~

And she's right, there wasn’t. As now, you sit in the same spot, sipping the same coffee, in the same silence, the only thing illuminating the room is the dim glow of a single lamp.

You don’t need a bright room. It’s just an extra expense.

You don’t need the internet, or cable, or dinner.

You finish your coffee muted in its taste, convincing yourself it’s enough.

You don’t need a meal.

You don’t need—

You close your eyes, gripping the empty mug in your hands.

…You don’t need to think about it.

You shift your focus to your phone, scrolling through your expenses. Your balance barely hovers above zero. A quiet sigh of relief escapes you—at least for now, you’ve made it through. Your abstinence hasn’t been for nothing.

Your eyes scan the list, searching for anything you can shave off.

Hospital bills? Out of the question.

Bus fare? Maybe you could walk some distance.

Groceries? You’ve been stretching meals thinner each week—maybe instant noodles again.

Allowance?

A significant amount. Rei would always ask for it during every visit. You gave it without question, but even now, you don’t understand—why would a patient need that much money anyway?

No. You quickly shake off the thought. Now isn't the time for that. You’re just exhausted. The constant headaches aren’t helping, making your mind wander into places it shouldn't go.

You close your eyes again, hoping sleep will clear your thoughts as easily as it dims your vision.

Sleep—it’s your only escape.

Clear from problems.

Clear from worries.

Clear from responsibilities.

Clear from exhaustion.

Clear from her—

R e i , W h e n w i l l y o u d i e ?

The thought jolts you awake, scared.

Not because it was a nightmare to be afraid of.

But because you’re terrified it might have been a dream.

A fantasy that someday you fear you might say out loud.

—-

A buzz from the edge of your desk pulls you from work. Even from afar you recognize the sender instantly.

You press on your temples attempting to press back your splitting head. Skipping lunch to save money—bad idea. You regret it, but regrets won’t help. The afternoon is only halfway through, and you still have hours to go before you can rest.

With a sigh as you tilt your head back, resting your eyes for a second.

Rei.

~~~~

“I thought of you”

~~~~

You relive the time from before this ailing plight, when a single message from her was enough to push you through work.

You open your phone, yearning for that illusion.

“Just bring me a cake later, I don't want to hear any of your superficial cheering.”

Your heart sinks deep with her demand, more disappointed to yourself, expecting something more. Regardless you move forward, you had no choice, even if you had you couldn't, wouldn't, shouldn't.

—-

You find yourself walking the same hospital corridor again.

As you near the nurses' station, their voices drift into earshot.

“…Have you seen Mrs. Naoi’s husband?”

“He never fails to visit her. Tragic, she’s so young yet, constant treatment…”

“She just did one, out of all days it has to be at her birthday—”

They stop when they notice you.

You offer a small, awkward smile. “For my wife… Is her treatment done? I’m a bit early today.”

One of the nurses brightens. “She just got transferred back to her room. I can let her know you’re here—”

“No,” you cut in gently. “Let her rest. I’ll wait outside.”

Your steps halt just before her door, mistakenly left slightly open.

Tying to close the door, your eyes naturally peered inside.

Rei lies on her side, facing the wall. Her breathing, slow, serene. Asleep, you assume. Sapped by the therapy, lost in some dream removed from her decaying sitch.

You start to pull the door shut, slowly so as to not make a sound.

“It hurts.”

Your hands freeze on the handle.

A voice, you easily could’ve missed if it was not from inside, if it was not from pain, if it was not from hers.

You should close the door. Let her rest. Pretend you didn’t hear.

But before you can step away, a quiet laugh follows. Careful. Restrained. Afraid.

“Ah… that's annoying, even laughing now feels painful”

You know she would want you to ignore it, to walk away like you heard nothing. But your body refuses to listen. Instead, you step inside.

“You know what's more annoying? My husband.”

Rei shifts slightly, sitting up, still unaware of your presence. Her gaze is fixed downward, her fingers curled around the small stuffed toy you gave her on her birthday.

“He looks so pathetic, it's so annoying.”

She exhales shakily, as if saying the words aloud solidifies the reality she's been trying to swallow.

“It makes me mad, I can't help but throw a tantrum because I know the reason why that is… Me. His ailing wife.”

Her thumb idly traces the plush toy’s fabric.

"I know I’ve been mean. Selfish. Asking for everything, even though I'll leave." She speaks to the toy, her voice trembling. "I’m a bad wife, aren’t I? Making him suffer with me."

You see her forced smile wavers, then fades completely.

"When I learned about my illness, I first thought of the future… Not mine… His."

She tightens her grip on the toy. "And I decided. I’m going to be the absolute worst. So that when it’s over, he’ll think—" a breath, a pause, then—

"'Ah, I’m glad it’s finally over.'"

A grim joke, yet she laughs. Tears slipped down her cheeks, soaking into the plush fabric.

"I want him to enjoy the rest of his life. Not be a widower."

Her voice is barely above a whisper, cracking under the weight of her confession. "Pathetic, isn’t it? Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t look him in the eyes… otherwise, I’d break."

She buries her face into the toy, once again Rei obstructs her face from your sight, as she had always done all this time.

"But… It's working. Little by little, I can feel it—he’s losing his feelings for me."

She clutches the plush tighter, sobs muffled against the fabric.

"So please." Her voice is strained, desperate. "Please… keep this a secret between us."

Before she can say another word, you rush forward, as you try to snatch the toy away.

"Rei!!"

Your voice comes out sharp, raw with emotion. Are you angry? Hurt? Betrayed? You don’t know. You don’t care.

All you know is that your wife—the love of your life—is breaking right in front of you.

And you refuse to let her do it alone. Not after what you've heard. Not anymore.

She flinches as you step forward, quickly turning away.

“How many times do I have to tell you? Knock before you come in!”

She still won’t look at you. Even now, when you finally understand why.

“What you just said—”

"I don’t need the cake anymore." Her arms tighten around the stuffed animal. "Just leave. You’re disturbing my rest."

If she’s going to keep playing pretend, then so will you.

“If you're just going to stand there, then just leave already”

You ignore her. Instead, you step forward and wrap your arms around her from behind, holding her close.

"Listen carefully." Your voice is steady, even as everything inside you trembles. "This is what you wanted to hear, right?”

“‘I hate you.’”

“‘Why are you still here?’”

“‘Just die already.’"

You press your forehead against her shoulder, your voice barely above a whisper.

"I’m begging you.’”

She shatters.

So do you.

Tears fall. Her grip tightens. Crying echoes through the small hospital room. Emotion flows in choked sobs, in words neither of you fully mean but can’t stop from spilling.

"I wanna die right now…"

"Okay."

"You’re the worst."

"I see."

"Let go of me. Just leave already."

"Sure."

Neither of you move.

At that moment, it feels as if the time has turned to what was a year ago.

Maybe because that was the day when your wife—Rei’s greatest shenanigans—came to an end.

—-

You step into the house, slipping off your shoes at the entrance.

"I'm home," you call out, your voice carrying into the quiet. The afternoon light filters through the windows, painting the walls in warm, golden hues—soft, familiar, inviting.

The scene of your home, usual, expected, natural.

You can't help but take a deep breath out of relief.

Your feet move on instinct, following a path you’ve walked countless times before. But this time, you stop just short.

A small shrine sits before you.

The plush duck sits at the center, its small form nearly lost beneath the weight of her headphones. You remember how you pout whenever you tell her it looked like her. Now, it leans against something held close in its embrace, something smooth, something quiet.

You pat the duck’s head, just as you once did with her. But it doesn’t fit your hand the same way. It doesn’t lean into your touch, doesn’t ask for more. It only sits there—steady, unmoving, permanent.

You exhale slowly, a smile tugging at your lips—gentle, aching.

"I'm home, Rei."

A/n: Part of suchsweetstories' prompt event! This one's for Valentine Drifter. (This is the smut version.)

#kpop fanfic #kpop smut #smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #ive smut #rei smut #naoi rei #ive #rei #male reader smut #qwib-short-story #qwib-Ive

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