usedpidemo

[usedpidemo]

Married to a Cute Psycho

(m!reader x IVE's WONYOUNG) - part II

masterlist

Summary: Your wife is sweet, stunning, and maybe just a little too obsessed with you. But hey, what's marriage without a little clingy love and control right? Too bad you have no idea she's actually a full blown yandere. And to her, forever means forever, no matter what it takes.

Tags(?): marriage life, fluff, sweet but psycho, dark romcom, love you to death, crazy shit, i don't even know man

WONYOUNG x yourself/Original Male Character

Word count: ~7.1k - wonyoung mentioned she's been watching kimi ni todoke lately and said it was her style. my gf got the same taste as me, guys.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You woke up to the soft weight of Wonyoung draped across your body and the scent of her expensive shampoo tickling your nose. Yesterday’s memories slowly came back to you in pieces.  Wonyoung’d been obsessed with “Kimi ni Todoke” lately, like really obsessed. She made you watch it with her every night this week, quoting lines under her breath, randomly hugging you from behind and whispering "Kazehaya~" in that dreamy voice that always made your ears burn. 

When you got back from work today, she’d taken it up a notch. The moment you walked through the front door, Wonyoung was already waiting - hair tied up but still effortlessly pretty, beautifully dressed, makeup freshly done.

“Take me out, honey~” she demanded sweetly, tugging on your tie.

“Hmm. What is my Vicky plotting?”

You smiled, all the stress from work melting away the second you saw her. 

“I wanna get my bangs cut, oppa. Like Sawako.” she wrapped her arms around your neck, swaying side to side like a lovesick girl.

“Your what now?” your hands travelled to her waist and back, pulling her in closer.

“My bangs. Just like Sawako.” Wonyoung insisted, giving you those impossibly big eyes, lips in a pout.

“Pleaseee? You said you liked that one scene where Sawako cried and Kazehaya comforted her. I want us to be like that~”

You chuckled softly, already weak at Wonyoung’s tone. Your wife really knew how to press your buttons. You then leaned down, brushing a kiss against her bare forehead and murmured.

“You sure, honey? I kiss your forehead better this way, no bangs.”

“Ahh~ but bangs are cute!” she puffed her cheeks out in full aegyo mode, pulling back to cup her face with her hands, batting her lashes like she was in the anime and speaking in that sugary voice of hers.

 “Imagine coming home and seeing me in bangs, oppa.”

Wonyoung then rested her cheeks against your chest, fingers playing with the buttons on your shirt. 

“You’d fall in love with me all over again~ like the first time.”

You grinned, unable to help yourself. “You’re making it hard to say no, baby.”

“That’s the plan.” she replied sweetly, peeking up at you with those big, hopeful eyes. “Come on hubby, pleaseeee~”

“What do I get in return? I’m kinda tired right now.”  you tilted your head, playing along now. Switching back to her aegyo mode, Wonyoung suddenly stepped up on her toes to kiss your cheek.

“You get to stare at your pretty wife all night in freshly cut bangs, acting all shy just for you.”

“Hmm~ Extra shy, you say?”

“Mm.” Wonyoung nodded enthusiastically, arms sneaking around your neck again. “Like… I’ll be all flustered and clingy and... maybe even let you pick the movie tonight, oppa.”

You tightened your hold around her waist. “You’re spoiled, you know that?”

“And you love spoiling me~”

You sighed in defeat, already reaching for the door.

“Fine. Let’s go, Sawako-chan.”

But just as you turned the handle, Wonyoung suddenly gasped, eyes widening like she forgot something important.

“Wait- wait! Go wait for me in the elevator, oppa! I forgot my lip balm!” she chirped. “Just two seconds, promise!”

“What? Your bag is literally on your shoulder, baby.”

“Just go~” Wonyoung pouted, pushing you gently out of the door. “It’s a special one, oppa. Limited edition~”

You rolled your eyes with a fond smile as you stepped out of the door and headed to the elevator. As soon as you were out of sight, Wonyoung turned on her heel and padded quickly into the kitchen. The air shifted with her quiet steps, her face was eerily happy - no more aegyo, pure focus. She was far too gentle and measured for someone who had just been pouting about bangs. Wonyoung reached behind the spice rack, expertly prying open the back of the cabinet - her little secret, possibly her favorite in the whole apartment, except for the places you slept, sat or breathed in. A slim bottle with a soft pink label slid out easily into her palm. The pills clicked slightly as Wonyoung tilted the bottle, counting with her eyes. 

Still enough.

Her fingers closed around it before tucking it into the hidden pocket of her jeans - always kept closest to her body. Just in case…

In case someone gets too close. In case you forget you’re mine…

Don’t worry, oppa~ I love you so, so, so much~

Wonyoung closed the cabinet gently. With a deep breath, she fixed her expressions. Lips curling into the same bright, sweet smile you’d fallen for, wide enough to melt thousands of men, practiced enough to deceive anyone in South Korea. She even did her so-called “Wonyoung’s turn” that you loved so much in front of the microwave reflection like nothing had happened.

“Coming~” Wonyoung called out, voice sweet as candy. She skipped her way to the elevator - light steps, swaying hair, carefree. The bottle in her jeans pocket clinked softly with each bounce but she didn’t seem to notice.

All she saw was you. And that woman - Ahn Yujiin. She was close to you, way too close.

Yujin was wearing the kind of outfit that screamed “I’m hot and I didn’t even try” but still managed to look hot, dangerously hot. Her long wavy hair was decorated with two little clips.  A white crop top hugged her figure, soft grey hoodie and shorts combo gave the illusion of innocence even though there was nothing innocent about the way she looked at you.

And that annoying flirtatious smile? It was aimed directly at you. She was giggling at something dumb you said. Her hand lingered on your bicep, like you’d just said the funniest sentence ever in the history of mankind. It stayed there way too long, fingers tapping.

Wonyoung did not like that. Not one bit.

Her steps to you were silent but her presence snapped Yujin’s gaze before you even noticed. You barely had time to register what took Yujin’s attention away when Wonyoung was already by your side, lacing her fingers with yours. 

“Honey~” Wonyoung sang. With no hesitation, she slid her other hand to your stomach and caressed your abs which was not appropriate at all for the middle of the hallway. She did it so casually, like she owned you. Well... in Wonyoung’s mind, she completely did.

“B- Baby, we’re outside-” you hissed and glanced around the hallway. Your cheeks flushed red as you tried to tug her wrist away. But Wonyoung’s smile only grew wider. Her fingers curled into the fabric of your shirt right above your abs and gripped it. 

“I know~” she whispered. “But someone was getting way too comfortable with my husband.”

Wonyoung then quickly tugged you down by the collar and pressed her lips to yours. The kiss was possessive and unashamed. True to Wonyoung’s nature. You almost lost your balance due to how intense her kiss was. But you didn’t pull away, you knew better. This was Wonyoung, your wife, and you were too whipped. 

The entire time, her eyes did not leave Yujin’s. Yujin’s flirty smile had already cracked, jaw tensed as Wonyoung finally pulled back. When Wonyoung finally broke the kiss, she turned toward the older girl with a sickly sweet smile. Her fingers were still fisted in your shirt, her body pressed to yours, holding you close like a trophy. 

How’d you like that, you bitch?

“Oh unnie, I didn’t expect to see you here. My husband was about to take me out, you know~”  her voice was all honey and sugar. You were still drunk from the kiss.

Yujin, however, stiffened. “Really? I was just asking how he was doing, Wonyoung-ah. Happy to see him still handsome and well.” she fired back.

Wonyoung’s smile didn’t falter but you could feel the subtle shift in her grip on your shirt, nails digging in. Still the sweet Wonyoung on the outside but something sharp and territorial was now bubbling under the surface.

“Oh? That’s so sweet of you, unnie.” she said, acting as if she was genuinely touched. “Though… I think you were standing a little too closely, don’t you think?” 

You glanced nervously between the two women. Yujin smiled back at your wife.

“Can you blame me?” Yujin replied, eyes flicking down to your abs where Wonyoung’s hand still rested possessively. “He was always a bit too kind for his own good.”

That did it. Wonyoung then let out a breathy giggle, hands moving up to fix your perfectly fine collar with too much intimacy.

“Isn’t it a good thing he’s married? Isn’t it amazing what love and just a little bit of… structure… can do for a man, unnie?”

Wonyoung’s tone was still cheery. Her nails lightly raked over your collarbone like a silent warning. To you or Yujin? You weren’t even sure. Yujin then laughed softly, brushing her hair back.

“Oh right. Of course. You’ve always been good at keeping things under control, Wonyoung-ah.”

“Mm~ Especially what’s mine, unnie.” Wonyoung beamed. With that, she tugged you a little closer, planting another kiss right on your cheek, slow and lingering. Then she looked back at Yujin with a twinkle in her eye.

A few moments later, the elevator doors slid open with a soft chime, and unfortunately, Yujin stepped in behind you both. Wonyoung didn’t even bother to glance her way now. Your wife turned to face you and pressed you against the cool back wall of the elevator. Her arms slid around your neck, fingers brushing the back of your hair. Her chest was pressed lightly to yours, perfume wrapping around you. 

“Wonyoungie, we’re with Yuji-” 

Wonyoung’s eyes sharpened, stern and slightly dangerous. That one look she always used whenever you pissed her off and made you fall silent. You could only sighed in surrender.

“I don’t care, oppa.” she dropped the dangerous expression immediately and cooed, smiling up at you. Before you could say anything back, she gently grabbed your wrist and guided them to her waist.

“There. That’s better. Keep them there, hubby.”

You were flustered, hands resting on the curve of your wife’s hips. Your vision darted sideways for just a second as you could feel the weight of Yujin’s stare boring into you both. Wonyoung didn't care. She leaned in closer, her lips brushing your jaw as she whispered. 

“Let’s make sure everybody knows exactly who you belong to.” 

Wonyoung titled her head to steal a kiss. Her hands moved slowly to cradle the back of your neck and her eyes fluttered closed. She was savoring every second of it. You were dizzy by the time Wonyoung broke the kiss. Still holding you close, she finally turned her head and looked at Yujin.

“Oh! Sorry, unnie~ Was that too much PDA? Newlyweds, you know~ I just can’t help it sometimes.” her voice came out cheerfully.

Yujin said nothing, gaze drifting somewhere else. But just when Wonyoung turned back to you, she blinked at you and blew you a kiss. You swallowed instinctively, a little startled.

Yujin’s silent kiss caught you off guard. Thankfully, Wonyoung didn’t catch it. She was too busy playing the cute wifey, smoothing down the collar of your shirt, humming to herself.

“Hmm~” Wonyoung hummed softly, tilting her head as her thumb brushed the corner of your mouth. “You always looked a little dazed after I kiss you, honey. It’s so cute.”

“Do I?” you laughed weakly. Wonyoung nodded, completely unaware of anything else happening around her. Yujin shifted behind her, silent and still. Wonyoung leaned in again, lips brushing against your cheek this time as she whispered.

“Let’s go home after I get my hair done, oppa. No more dinner. I’m feeling clingy tonight.”

As if I'm wasn’t always clingy.

You nodded stupidly, already forgetting the unspoken tension earlier at the sight of your wife. 

Wonyoung was glowing. Yujin was simmering. And you…? Stupidly whipped.

Behind all the polite smiles and usual neighborly exchanges, Wonyoung and Yujin had a long, complicated history - one built on subtle war and unsaid threats. Yujin knew the truth about Wonyoung’s obsessive love for you. The way she kept you wrapped around her fingers with sweet manipulation and quiet control. She knew about the pills, the isolation tactics, the possessive games masked as affection. But Wonyoung knew things about Yujin too. Your wife knew Yujin had liked you for a long time, maybe even before you got married. And she saw how Yujin still clung to every opportunity to be close to you, touching too long, laughing too loud.

Your dumbass? Not a single clue. You just thought Yujin was a little too flirty sometimes, and maybe a bit jealous of your wife.

When the elevator finally dinged at the basement level, you had no time to blink before Wonyoung’s fingers looped around your tie.

“Let’s go, oppa~” she tugged your forward like a misbehaving dog. “Come on before it gets late.”

You barely managed to glance back.  Yujin silently stepped out, arms crossed, face slightly irritated. But your wife didn’t give you a chance to say goodbye to your neighbor. She yanked you forward with surprising strength, the silky material of your tie slipping tight around your neck as she led you across the dim parking space. She practically shoved you in the driver’s seat with a soft huff. When she got in and slammed the door shut, the atmosphere inside shifted.

“That bitch was touching you, oppa.” Wonyoung’s voice was light but you knew what was about to happen.

“It wasn’t lik-”

“Laughing too.” she interrupted, fixing her hair in the mirror. “Giggling like a school girl, brushing her hand over my husband like that.”

You stared ahead, both hands on the wheel even though the engine was still off.

“I didn’t even say anything funny…” you muttered. 

Wonyoung’s gaze snapped to you. “Oh? So you noticed she was laughing for no reason?”

You cursed under your breath. Her smile returned, wide and cold.

“Oppa~ you’re too nice. That’s the problem.” Your wife leaned in, fingers grabbing your throat firm enough to make your breathing catch. Her long nails brushed the skin there and her eyes gleamed, testing how tightly she needed to squeeze for you to listen.

“What did wifey tell you about that bitch?”

You swallowed.

“That I shouldn’t talk to her…”

Her nails pressed into your skin. “Louder, baby.”

“That I shouldn’t talk to her…” you repeated.

“And?” Wonyoung whispered, lips brushing your cheeks as she leaned closer. “What else did I teach you?”

“That… she’s not just being friendly. She’s trying to get close to me.”

Wonyoung giggled. That high, breathy sound didn’t match the way her hand gripped your throat at all.

“Good boy~ See? You do remember.”

Even with Wonyoung’s hand wrapped around your neck, all you could think about was how beautiful she looked like this. Eyes glowing, voice laced with possessiveness, pink on her cheeks. No one in this entire world could do this to you but her. Your wife moved closer until her lips ghosted over yours.

“I don’t like repeating myself, oppa. I don’t like sharing. And I really don’t like it when another woman touches what’s mine.”

You nodded apologetically. “I know. I’m sorry, baby.”

“Mmmm~ you always say sorry” her hand loosened, fingers trailing down your chest. “But you still smile at her, still let her touch you. Are you that easy, baby? One stupid giggle and you forget who you belong to?”

“No… Of course not. I belong to you.”

“Say it again.”

“I belong to you, Wonyoung.”

“Louder now~”

“I belong to you.”

A smile finally bloomed on her lips. That dazzling, radiant smile you’d fallen in love with, so full of sweetness and warmth it almost made you forget the cold grip she had on your neck not even a minute ago.

“There’s my good husband.” Wonyoung purred, planting a soft kiss on your lips. “You always make me so proud when you listen.”

And just like that, her voice turned light again. She tucked her hair again behind her ear, reaching for her seatbelt. 

“Let’s go then, oppa~ I wanna go to that salon I always go to in Apgujeong. Maybe if I look even cuter, you won’t forget who you’re married to, hmm?”

“As if I could ever.” you chuckled weakly, still hopelessly in love.

“Mm~ you better not.” Wonyoung winked, lacing her fingers with yours. “If you do… I’ll have to remind you and you know how I get when I remind you.”

You were so damn addicted to it.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You drove her to her usual salon in Apgujeong, her fingers laced with yours the entire ride, head resting on your shoulders at red lights. Clingy as always, she tugged you inside with her like she couldn’t bear to be apart for even a second. Almost everyone at the salon seemed to know her. Stylists and staff greeted her with warm smiles, calling her name like she was a favorite regular. Well, she was. You took her here all the time. And to them, Wonyoung was the perfect picture of charm: bubbly, bright, polite, nice, married to a sweet and handsome man.

You just sat quietly in the back, letting the atmosphere wash over you as Wonyoung chatted with the stylist, pointing at the Sawako references on her phone with playful enthusiasm. You watched her in the mirror - cheeks slightly puffed, hands animated, that smile lighting up the whole room. And you couldn’t help but fall in love with her all over again.

After a while, the stylist gently combed Wonyoung’s hair forward, clipping back the side with pins. Her long locks were draping perfectly over the white cape. Then the stylist placed the tissue lightly across her eyes as she carefully trimmed the new bangs she’d been obsessing over all week.

“Just like Sawako~” Wonyoung giggled beneath the tissue. 

From where you sat, you watched the entire process with a quiet awe. It was such a small thing. Only a hairstyle change but for some reason, seeing your wife all excited and playful, trusting the stylist and waiting for a surprise like that made your heart squeeze a little.

Dang, she was cute.

You pulled out your phone quickly, aiming the camera at her.

“Say hi, baby.”

Wonyoung didn’t hesitate to hold up a V sign with her fingers, lips twitching slightly. She didn’t ask how she looked and just trusted you with the photo. Of course she did, Wonyoung spent a lot of her time training you during the three years you dated before marriage.

Snap

You took the photo and smiled to yourself, knowing it was going to be your new favorite.

“You’re such a weirdo, Wonyoung-ah.” you teased.

“And you’re obsessed with me, oppa.” she clapped back, smug under that little tissue veil.

It was true. You were obsessed with her, no lie in that.

You drove home with one hand on the wheel and the others in hers, sneaking glances at her bangs every change you got. Wonyoung kept playing it cool, acting like it was no big deal but she knew how good she looked.

“You keep staring, oppa~” she sang softly.

“Can you blame me?” you replied. “You’re too pretty. I’m obsessed.”

Wonyoung giggled, satisfied, leaning over to rest her head on your shoulder for the rest of the ride home. 

Back in the apartment, the second the door closed behind you, you wrapped your arms around her from behind and buried your face in her neck. Wonyoung’s hair smelled like salon shampoo, fresh and addictive. Arguably the top 20 smell of all time. Maybe top 15, if you were being honest.

“You look so good, baby.” you murmured with your nose still in her neck. She laughed softly, leaning back into you.

“See? I told you your wife would look so good in bangs.”

“That’s an understatement.” you whispered, trailing kisses up to her neck. “You look so unreal. Just like Sawako~ How are you real, Jang Wonyoung?”

“Mm~ keep going.” Wonyoung hummed satisfiedly, basking in the attention.

“I’m serious. You look like you just stepped out of an anime. I feel like I’m just a lucky background character who got lucky and married the main girl.”

Wonyoung giggled again, turning in your arms so her hands could rest gently on your chest.

“And I feel like I married the sappiest man in Korea. But… I’ll allow it.” she teased, eyes filled with amusement. You tightened your arms around her, smiling.

“No, seriously. I could stare at your bangs all night. They look so good on you it’s dangerous, baby.”

“Told you~ you should always listen to your wife.”

“I do.” you said immediately. “Religiously.”

“Mmm~” Wonyoung tilted her head, eyes fluttering as you pressed another kiss just below her jawline. “You’re being extra clingy tonight, oppa. I like it.”

“You cut your bangs. Of course I’m clingy.”

Wonyoung laughed again before suddenly sliding her hands up to your shoulders, firmly pushing you back.

“Okay, hubby. That’s enough~”

“Huh?” 

“Go shower. Now.”

“What?”

Wonyoung’s expression was still sweet and smiling. Her eyes didn’t waver as she stepped back just out of your reach. But tonight… something in you wanted to test the waters. Maybe it was her new bangs. Maybe it was the way she’d kissed you in front of Yujin. Maybe it was genuinely just Wonyoung being Wonyoung. Whatever it was, you didn’t move toward the shower. Instead, you stepped closer to her.

“Oppa…” your wife warned quietly, already sensing one of your stupid tricks that she knew too well. You wrapped your arms around her waist, ignoring the stiffening in her body and picked her up without a second thought.

“Yah-” Wonyoung gasped. “Put me down!”

“Nope.” You smiled, tightening your grip, resting your chin in her collarbone as you carried her across the apartment. “You’re too cute to be scary right now.”

Her fingers gripped your shirt.

“Oppa…” she spoke up again. “Put me down right now. I’m not joking.”

But you were already grinning like an idiot, walking lazily through the hallway.

“What if I don’t want to? Hm? What’s the worst Wonyoungie can do?”

“Do you think this is funny?” Wonyoung glared at you.

“Yeah~” you chuckled, bouncing her just a little just to be extra annoying. “You’re always so bossy. I’m rebelling tonight.”

You expected a pout, a smile, or a half hearted threat. But no, Wonyoung went quiet. Then, she suddenly grabbed a fistful of your hair on one hand, the other gripping your cheeks - hard.

“Ah! Baby, it hu-”

She yanked your head back and forced your eyes to meet hers - dark and serious. Her nails now scraped your scalp just enough to make it sting and her hold on your face made it impossible to look away. Gone was the playful and sweet wife Wonyoung. What stared back at you was cold and controlled fury.

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” The calmness in her voice made it worse. You really fucked up now.

Smack

Wonyoung slapped you. Her palm connected with your cheeks in a clean, sharp slap. You just stood there in stunned silence, scared. The sting quickly spread across your skin like fire.

“Bedroom. Now.”

You swallowed and obeyed, lifting Wonyoung carefully this time. Just a few steps on the way to the bedroom, she pinched your ear between two fingers.

“Argh!”

“Not so funny now, huh?” she murmured, tone deceptively light. Then her other hand twisted into your hair and yanked again. You winced but knew to stay silent. By the time the two of you reached your bedroom, your heart was pounding and your entire body was on edge. You gently set Wonyoung down on the side of the bed. Wonyoung patiently crossed her legs and pointed down before you could step back.

“Kneel.”

Hesitation was visible on your face as your lips parted.

“I said kneel, oppa.” she narrowed her eyes. Oh man did you messed up big time.

You dropped to your knees in front of her, head lowered, hands trembling slightly against your thighs. Wonyoung studied you in silence for a moment before crossing her arms.

“Do you actually think I would forgive you that easily just because you were doting on my new bangs?” she asked. “Is that it? Did you forget what you do today?”

You didn’t dare to speak up.

“You let that bitch touch you. You let her look at you like that. You let her breathe in the same space as you. Ahn Yujin had no right to do that!”

Every word of Wonyoung's dripped with pure disgust and betrayal.

“And what? We came home, you picked me up like nothing’d happened. Even after I warned you. You think that saying my bangs are cute is enough to erase it?”

“I didn’t m- mean to…”

“You didn’t mean to?” Wonyoung snapped. She leaned forward, eyes sharp. “That’s your excuse? You think I’m one of those dumb chicks who just smiles and forgives because her husband calls her pretty?”

“I…”

“She touched what’s supposed to be mine, oppa. I saw everything.”

Her hands then moved, cupping your face with a false softness. Her thumb brushed your cheeks slowly, calming herself more than you.

“I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore. I want to hear you apologize, oppa."

You swallowed once.

“Because if you think I’m going to let go… if you think I’m just going to forget the way Yujin looked at you like you were hers-”

Wonyoung leaned in to rest her forehead against yours.

“Then you don’t know your wife at all, hubby.”

Your heart pounded. You knew what Wonyoung wanted to hear.

“I’m sorry…” you began. “For not pulling away when she touched me.”

Smack

You winced but kept going. “I’m sorry for smiling at her, for laug- laughing, for not thinking how it would make my wife feel...”

Smack

The other cheek now. Wonyoung didn’t blink at all.

“I’m sorry for lett- letting her get too close, for not saying anything, for not remembering w- who I belong to…”

Smack

Your head turned slightly with the impact this time, eyes stinging. Maybe it wasn’t from the pain but from the sheer intensity of her anger and disappointment.

“I’m sorry for disrespecting you, for making you feel like you weren’t enoug-”

Smack

This one lingered. Wonyoung’s palm then pressed against your face for just a second longer, her breathing slow and steady. But still, your wife didn’t seem to be satisfied.

“Baby, please. I’m really sorry…” you looked up at her, voice shaky.

“Not enough.” Wonyoung shook her head slowly. “ Still not enough. I can still see that bitch on you, oppa.”

Her hands moved down to the knot of your tie next. She began to untie it, eyes not leaving yours. Once it became loose, she slipped it from beneath your collar and let it slide through her fingers. And then, Wonyoung looped it back around your neck - tight, maybe too tight. She pulled the ends sharply, yanking you closer to her face until your face was just a few centimeters from hers. Her perfume hit you again in waves. Clean, sweet and intoxicating.

“Baby, I can’t brea-”

Wonyoung pulled once more, enough to make your words catch in your throat.

“Shut up. I didn’t give you permission to speak.”

Your lips parted, struggling to breathe. Her gaze held you completely still. 

“There. That’s better. Look how quiet you get when you’re scared.”

Her fingers brushed your jaw, tie still firm around your throat.

“What are you going to do to make up for being so stupid today, hmm?”

“I- I’ll stay at home all day tomorrow. Just me and y- you. I won’t leave the apartment.”

She tugged on the tie. “Not enough.”

“I’ll st- stay at home all weekend, baby. No phone, no distractions.” 

Her lips curled slightly, eyes sparkling with satisfaction. “Continue, hubby~”

“I- I’ll take you out tomorrow morning.” you rushed on. “Anywhere you want. I’ll carr- carry your bag, hold your hand, spoil you all day. We’ll... do anything you want.”

Her grip on the tie loosened a tiny bit, allowing you to finally get more air.

“You’ll do all that?” Wonyoung purred.

You nodded quickly. “Yes, baby. Anything you want.”

Wonyoung released the tie altogether and let it slide from your neck to the floor. With a smile so sweet it almost hurt, she crouched down in front of you. Her hands cup your face possessively. She squished your cheeks between her palms, titling your head side to side like you were some adorable little stray puppy she found on the street.

“Aigu~ look at my dumb little husband.” she cooed, voice soft and teasing now. “You get all red and teary and obedient the moment I get serious~”

You stayed silent, letting Wonyoung baby you. You liked it too much anyway. Her thumb dragged across your bottom lip as she tilted her head, grinning. 

“Hubby is really whipped for me, huh?”

You nodded, too quickly. Wonyoung leaned in, placing a tiny kiss on the tip of your nose.

“So cute~ I should’ve punished you the moment I saw you talking to Ahn Yujin. You’re much more lovable when you’re like this.”

To be honest, you didn’t hate any of this. Somehow, after everything, you loved her even more. Even after the slaps, the choking, the fear, the commands… you were still hopelessly, stupidly in love with your wife. You weren’t afraid of her anymore. Okay, maybe you were but that didn’t really matter right now. Deep down, you knew that was all you’d ever wanted. 

To belong to Wonyoung. Completely and forever.

She finally let go of your cheeks, standing up to her full height. Her fingers casually smoothed her jeans before her eyes flicked down to you again.

“Take off your shirt, oppa.”

Your heart skipped.

“Oh… uh-” your voice cracked a bit.

“Sexy time? Right now?”

Your dumb ass didn't know how to read the room at all. Wonyoung didn’t seem to be in the mood.

“Did I say it was sexy time, dummy?”

“Oh… sorry.”

Her foot nudged your thigh. “I told you to take it off, not to speak.”

You nodded submissively. “Oh… Right. Sorry, baby. Yeah, yeah- Okay.”

Your hands fumbled for the buttons of your shirt, suddenly more aware of every millimeter of skin Wonyoung might see. You were on display for your wife now. You peeled it off slowly, folding it without thinking and holding it up with both hands. Your face flushed a little, a little embarrassed, anticipating and… "something else" you clearly wanted but didn’t want to name.

Wonyoung watched the whole scene unfold with a smirk tugging at her lips, eyes dark and knowing. She bent down slightly, one hand taking the shirt from you. The other? It trailed along your bare shoulder, fingers brushing the line of your collarbone before sliding down. Her nails scraped lightly across your skin to raise goosebumps. 

And then, she pinched - a sharp little twist just above your chest. 

“Agh-” you flinched. 

Wonyoung smiled, amused.

“Don’t get too excited now, oppa. I’m still mad.”

Her hand didn’t move away. If anything, it slid lower until it rested all over your chest, this time fully grabbing a handful of you with no hesitation. She squeezed, lovingly of course.

“Mm~ It was a good decision to make you start working out again.” she purred and began massaging a little too roughly. “My man~”

Your ears burned. Your face flushed and ego stung a little - but in the strangest, most pathetic way, it also inflated. Her praise did that to you, always had. You were her husband, hers only. And the way she said “My man~” made your chest puff for a second before she knocked the breath out of you with her next words.

“I wonder…” Wonyoung murmured. “Do your employees know how submissive you are at home?”

Her hand still stayed exactly where it was - on your chest.

“They all think you’re so confident and capable, hmm? The chairman~” Wonyoung mocked softly, eyes gleaming. “Stern voice, expensive suits, serious face during meetings.”

She giggled, her grip softening just a little as her nails raked across your chest again, this time claiming.

“But I bet if they saw you like this… kneeling shirtless, blushing like crazy while your wife gropes you and gives you orders… They’d never take you seriously again.”

“I- I just..." you looked down to the floor, too embarrassed to look your wife in the eyes. 

“They’d probably ask me if I’ve got you trained. And you know what I’d say?”

“No, baby…” you shook your head slightly. Wonyoung leaned down closer to the side of your face, lips grazing your ear.

“I’d say ‘Yes, of course I do. He’s only scary outside. At home, he’s just my little puppy who does exactly what he’s told’."

She paused for a few seconds, letting those words settle before pulling back. 

“Isn’t that right, oppa?”

You finally looked up and nodded. “Yes, baby… that’s right.”

“Good boy~”

Wonyoung smirked and ruffled your hair affectionately, fingers messing it up on purpose.

“Eghh~ Look at this fluff.” she said playfully. “Gotta make hubby cut his hair tomorrow too. I found something that suits you while I was scrolling on Instagram this morning.”

“Really?” you asked, trying not to smile despite the heat in your cheeks.

“Mm hmm.” Wonyoung stood upright now, still holding your shirt in one hand. “We’ll go after brunch.”

Then she added. “Now go get my perfume, baby. The one on the vanity.”

“Now?”

“Yes. Now.”

No need for her to say anything else. You stood up and did exactly what she told you to. After you got her favorite perfume, you quickly returned to Wonyoung with it in your hand, carefully handing it out. She took the bottle without looking at you and sprayed it generously all over your shirt - layer after layer until the fabric was soaked in the scent she liked. Then, she lifted the shirt to her nose, sniffed and froze. Her happiness vanished as her nose scrunched up.

“... It still smells like her.”

“What?”

Her eyes shot to yours, cold and angry. “I said it still smells like that bitch.”

Your heart dropped straight into your stomach.

“B- baby… How is it possible?”

Wonyoung's expression darkened immediately.

“Oh~ talking back to your wife? You’re something different today, oppa.” her tone was venomous.

“No, no- baby, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

You quickly stepped forward and pulled Wonyoung into your arms, hugging her tightly. Your grip was desperate, pleading with her.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” you whispered over and over, face buried in her neck. “I didn’t mean to question you. You’re right. You’re always right.”

Wonyoung didn’t say anything back. And you kept going.

“I’m sorry for being so stupid today. I let you down and I'll never let it happen again.”

You waited, praying your wife’d forgive you or at least say something back. Anything was better than that silent. While still wrapped in your arms, Wonyoung threw the shirt down to the floor like it was contaminated. Her next words were restrained with anger. 

“That’s one of my favorite shirts on you. I bought you that one, hubby.”

You fucked up real bad today. Wonyoung exhaled loud and sharp through her nose. She then raised the perfume bottle and sprayed it directly against your bare skin while still nestled in your arms. The perfume hit you sharp as the cold mist coated your chest, collarbone… 

“We’re also going shopping tomorrow…” she said eerily. “You’ll wear whatever I pick, and I’m burning that shirt. Is that okay?”

“Yes, baby. Anything you want.”

The bottle clattered softly onto the bed as she dropped it. Then her arms finally slid around your waist, hugging you back for the first time in what felt like forever. But... it wasn’t comforting at all. 

Her nails dug in, clawing up and down your back purposefully with too much pressure. It was deep enough to leave marks on you that would still be there in the morning. You hissed, shoulders twitching but didn’t pull away.

“My good boy~” Wonyoung sang sweetly.

“Now go shower.”

Wonyoung leaned back with a new expression - that calm, composed, sweet face that she wore so well. “And don’t piss me off again, oppa.”

You nodded quickly before finally letting go of her, hand coming up to scratch the back of your neck awkwardly.

“Uh… can I have a kiss before I go?” you asked, sheepish. “Just one. Please?”

Wonyoung was amused by your sudden softness, by the way you turned so small and eager the second you wanted something. After a few quiet seconds, you looked down, already regretting even asking. 

“If not it’s fine, I’m sor-”

She leaned forward and placed a slow kiss on your lips. That was already enough to make your knees wobble. When she broke the kiss, her voice was back to that soft and sweet but still demanding tone.

“Don’t forget to use everything I bought you in the shower.”

“Of course, baby.” you smiled like an idiot.

Wonyoung’s gaze lingered on you. She gave a small hum of approval while watching the way your whole face lit up just from a single kiss, already forgetting the slaps, the scratches…

Just how I like it~

“And don’t take too long, oppa.” she called out sweetly. “I want you back in my arms as quickly as possible.”

Your heart practically exploded when you rushed to the bathroom while grinning like a fool.

Wonyoung waited. She listened carefully until she heard the sound of the bathroom door being closed and the rush of  water. Only then did your wife move.

She walked quietly into the kitchen and opened the cabinet, pulling out your favorite glass - the one you always used after a hot shower. Wonyoung filled it with water before slipping her hand into the hidden pocket of her jeans, pulling out the pill bottle. 

Usually your wife only gave you one. One was already enough to make you docile, a little slower, a little more attached, a little more hers. But tonight? You let Yujin smile at you. You let Yujin touch you. You acted like an idiot. So… three was reasonable. She popped the lid open and tapped three small pills into her palm. Her fingers hovered for a bit, lips forming a soft pout.

“I wouldn’t do this if you were so careless today, baby.” she whispered to no one, dropping the pills into the glass one by one. They dissolved quickly.

“I love you so much, you know that? This is for us, for you.” Wonyoung’s voice softened as she stirred the glass. She then brought the glass closer to her nose and sniffed - just to be sure - satisfied that there was no trace of anything unnatural. She placed the glass neatly on the dining table.

“This way… you’ll sleep better. Think clearer and be mine just a little more.”

Then all of a sudden, Wonyoung giggled. Your wife clasped her hands together and swayed lightly on her feet, eyes wide with excitement. She looked like a girl daydreaming about her crush. That crush was you, by the way.

You, tomorrow. Taking her out to brunch, holding her bag, smiling only at her, buying new shirts together, maybe even matching shirts. That was all she ever wanted for the rest of your life together.

But her little fantasy didn’t last long, unfortunately. Her mind shifted as it always did when it came to that one person she absolutely despised - Ahn Yujin.

Wonyoung hated everything about Yujin. The laugh, the fake modesty, the way her eyes lit up when she saw you. Wonyoung knew that look too well, she noticed it months ago and she remembered what she did about it. 

It wasn’t that hard, really. A casual invite and a tray of food was all it took. She made Yujin some food with… You guessed it~ Just the right amount of something extra. Not to kill Yujin though. Nah, Wonyoung wasn’t that stupid. She just needed the woman out of the way. And Yujin eventually had to spend three whole days in the hospital.

“Food poisoning” the doctors said. She came back thinner, paler. No one ever suspected a thing, except for Yujin. The way she looked at your wife after that completely changed. Her smile became strained and shallow. She barely made small talk or waved from her balcony. She never accepted food from Wonyoung again. But she didn’t back off from you either.

Wonyoung knew that too and it really infuriated her. Eventually, without knowing, the line between them became crystal clear - no longer neighbors, they had become nemeses. The kind with soft voices but dark intentions.

Wonyoung knew she would always do anything to win. And if she had to… she’d do far worse than drugging the food next time.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning, your head felt light. Your limbs were a little heavier than normal. But Wonyoung? She was already dressed and glowing.

You were at brunch now - at some cafe in Cheongdam she’d picked, filled with overpriced food and drinks. The food was already on the table, beautifully plated and untouched. Your wife sat across from you, skin glowing under the morning light, her makeup simple but perfect, lips oh so kissable. Her new bangs suited her so well. She leaned slightly to the side, angled her phone just toward the mirror behind her and took a selfie. Not before putting that "effortless but still very dreamy" princess look on her face. That look alone could stop wars if Wonyoung ever wanted to.

Snap

Your wife he knew she looked too good with her new bangs, shoulder slightly tilted to show off the straps of the dress she chose for today.

You were obviously staring, tired. Still a little sluggish from those three pills Wonyoung so lovingly put into your water. But then again… so, so in love. Your eyes were struggling a bit to stay open but you couldn’t look away, not when she looked like that. You watched her through the slight fog behind your gaze, heart thudding. Wonyoung turned back toward you, phone in one hand when she caught you staring.

“What, oppa?” she asked, teasing but she already knew.

You smiled lazily, chin resting in your palm. “Nothing, Sawako-chan. You’re just so pretty~”

Wonyoung laughed at that, eyes sparkling. “Sawako-chan?”

“Uh… nah, you’re much cuter.”

“You’re such a fool for me, oppa.” she said, not bothering to hide it now.

“Yeah… I am.”

You meant it, all of it. 

Then Wonyoung reached across the table to tap your cheek with her palm before pinching it lovingly.

“Good boy~” she cooed. “Now take pictures for me, oppa.”

You nodded, fumbling for your phone while still smiling like an idiot. If Wonyoung wanted the world to see how she looked with her new bangs, you were going to be the one holding the camera.

And your dumbass would love every single second of it.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

should I make Yujin a recurring character in this series?

[usedpidemo]

made me audibly go “what the fuck”

[usedpidemo]

we’re about to get real cinema folks

[usedpidemo]

Pegging & Penetration: Part III

NMIXX's Oh Haewon & tripleS' Yamada Kaede x Male Reader

1.3k words

Despite the geopolitical tension that exists between the two states, moreso heightened by the fact that this is the fucking Olympics, these two women seem to cooperate together nicely.

One question, however, and it's not about the fact that Kaede and Haewon are working on you in tandem.

What are the chances that someone would bring a strap-on to the biggest sporting event on Earth?

The ribbons — two of them — are restraining you, yanking your frame back and forth by the neck. Kaede and Haewon have their hands on their medals, using them to pull you on their will. Haewon plays it more violently with her silver from the back — loser's rage, perhaps. It's harsh, the way she thrusts her hips into your asshole, multiplied by the speed you're being tugged back towards her body. Her strap dick is splitting you open. It's difficult to breathe, and you are sputtering weakly due to the lack of air against Kaede's plastic cock. Her golden, shiny medal is doing a lot of leverage against your autonomy.

You're more than thrilled to serve these women, however. Your dick's fucking twitching like crazy down there, beading out precum onto the bed.

"What a slut, sucking my cock like a champ," Kaede coos, ruffling your hair akin to a puppy, not that you don't want to be one for them, anyway. Kaede's fake cock throbs inside your mouth, gagging you with the sheer size and girth. The taste is invasive — so synthetic, so bitter. You can barely fit all of it inside your mouth, and you just make retching sounds through the hollow of your throat. "Fucking whore."

You only moan as a stifled response into Kaede's shaft, while your frame writhes from being split open mercilessly by two synthetic cocks. Your brain is lost in the haze of Kaede's scent of sweat and lust and dominance. The poor bedsheet is all crumpled from the rough fucking the three of you are engaging in.

"He's so mine, isn't he?" Haewon inquires, pulling your head back by the runner-up medal in her hand firmly. Her other hand, holding a badminton racket, gives your ass a spank, and you can do nothing but half-moan-half-sputter into Kaede's cock fucking your mouth — so brimmed with lust.

"He's mine, loser," Kaede snarls, stuffing your mouth with her silicone digit deep inside between your pretty lips, pushing hard into your throat, and she rests there. Her hands grip the sides of your head. Your air reeks of Kaede's filthy post-game sweat and the scent of her wet cunt. You can almost taste her, and that almost is driving you insane. God, you just need to get a taste of her pussy. Instead, you get a rough choking from her shaft and a tug from her ribbon — running tears, barely able to breathe, a bulge in your throat.

Gold medal in men's singles, certified cockslut. You just don't know what title to pick when interviewed back at home.

"Ugh, you're a bitch, Yamada. Stop stuffing his mouth and let him talk," Haewon roars, reaching forward to push Kaede away lightly. She tumbles backward into the wall, and you finally get that much-needed relief. Spit falls out of your mouth onto the bed, dripping wet spots all over. You take a deep, deep breath for the sake of your lungs while Haewon fucks you over from behind, plowing your puckered hole open with her strap member. With each thrust, the tip attacks your prostate vigorously into oblivion, sending wave after wave of shocks through your frame, pushing you closer to the edge.

And oh, you can only keep moaning like a licensed slut into the cold air.

"I'm not going through this again, Oh. I got the gold, I get the boy. He's sleeping at my room tonight," Kaede shouts with boiling anger, body glistening under the room's amber light — her shoulders, her abs, her tits — goodness gracious, she just looks seraphic, even while she's slapping your face absentmindedly with her length.

"Fuck you. If I make him cum, which I am fucking doing right now, I get him," Haewon bites back. You're not saying anything, of course, like they'd listen to your opinions. Plus, you win either way, on-court and off-court.

"This is going nowhere. Let's meet halfway, then," Kaede says with a dying fury. "We're staying here, fucking his holes all night. How does that sound?"

Splendid.

"Ugh, fine," before Haewon yanks her ribbon a little harder — a little harder to breathe — and Kaede puts her digit inside your mouth once more. "We're all done here, anyway."

Your hands grab the bedsheets tightly, struggling not to land your stomach on the cushion that's reek of your blending sweats and spits. Though you just feel so weak. Your arms wobble under the weight of your body.

And you fall, and their cocks slip out of your holes, Haewon's medal falls on your back.

You hear Haewon and Kaede giggle as you try to push yourself back up from the fabric of the bed, unsuccessfully. Your body feels so fragile under them, and you can't just get back up, somehow. Then, Haewon gives you another spank with her racket. You yelp pathetically between their bodies.

"Guess we're doing prone bone now," Haewon quips, before splitting your cheeks with her lubed cock again. Your eyes can do nothing but roll into the back of your head. You rasp whorishly into the cold of the air — high, stuttered. Your body shakes violently as the walls are split open with a rod of silicone.

On the other side, Kaede pushes her shaft back into your mouth, having you get used to that synthetic, heaving-inducing taste of her silicone again. Your tongue lolls out lewdly on the underside of her cock. Mind's too far gone now.

"God, if the committee knows how much of a slut their gold medalist is." Kaede says, ruffling your hair mockingly, plowing your mouth with ever-increasing vigor.

Haewon quickens her thrusts into your prostate, each attack bringing you closer to the precipice. Your throat makes these slutty, mind-broken sounds into the thick air of your bedroom. What a fucking whore.

A few more poundings and you're close. Your thighs strain on the bed with Haewon and Kaede pumping their cocks into your body.

You can only scream into Kaede's cock when you cum.

The spurts got shot down onto the bed, wetting it with your white, delicious essence. Your body trembles as the orgasm crashes through you akin to a tsunami. The women seem to sense your explosion, before they slow themselves down to a halt, resting their cocks inside your holes idly.

Your body comes down from the high, eventually. The breathing steadies. You can focus on Kaede's gorgeous face with your eyes again, not so teary as before. Your hands push her away gently, and she lets you do it. She's probably as exhausted as you are. You take a deep, deep breath once her cock is out of your mouth. God, this feels great.

Haewon drags herself out of your ass, leaving you with a heaving hole that's (slightly) missing its filling. Your body relaxes, and you slowly crawl onto the pillow for a good night's rest.

"Look at him, he's so cute," Haewon says, kneading your ass softly. You make a low hum at the touch.

"I'm gonna miss him so much when I'm back in Japan."

And a beat. And Haewon declares, "Let's make tonight a good night, then, shall we?"

[usedpidemo]

so cool! how many kpop idols have you met or interacted with?

I’ve done hi-touches/hi-wave with all of IVE and Kiss of Life.

In terms of just waves/noticed gestures from afar, there’s STAYC’s Sumin, Isa, and Yoon, NMIXX’s Haewon, Lily, and Kyujin, NJZ’s Hanni, a bunch of boy groups I have no idea who’s who (lol), Red Velvet’s Seulgi and Joy, and finally, all of Le sserafim <3

[usedpidemo]

How aren’t you dead after what le sserafim did to you? so jealousss

what makes you think i haven’t melted every time i replay their interactions/fanservice bro.

[usedpidemo]

catching up on 2025...so far. (storytime!)

So for this edition of storytime with pi, you get not one, not two, but three episodes in one entry! This is a general summary and personal journal of the events/concerts I've been a part of in 2025 so far. From the wet, to the poorly timed, to the what the helly, it's been such a blessed year so far despite the challenges I've had personally.

Let's get started. My memory of the first two might be poor, so they aren't a 1-to-1 of everything that happened, but it is what it is :>

Waterbomb (Day 1) (February 22)

First one is one of those events I never thought I'd get to personally experience, especially since I thought it was exclusive to Korea, but there was a Waterbomb that took place early in the year! 2024 was when they started doing Waterbomb festivals internationally, including the one that was supposed to happen in Los Angeles, but was ultimately cancelled cause they be bullshitting over there with the prices. I think its gonna be an Asia tour moving forward, so I can't wait for what they'll do in 2026.

Anyway, I decided to only attend one day of the two, Saturday, since Miss Waterbomb herself Eunbi and Chaeyeon were slated for the lineup, and one of my goals is to have seen all the IZ*ONE members in-person no matter how many events I have to attend, so the decision was a no brainer. Sunday had VIVIZ, Sunmi, and Oh My Girl (fuck, seeing that Arin [you know the one] would have been killer), but overall, Saturday had a way stronger lineup.

$150 got me an absolutely phenomenal list. Aside from the IZ*ONE girls, there was also Hwasa, STAYC, DynamicDuo, EXO's Chanyeol, NUEST's Baekho, B.I, and Epik High. Like genuinely, I don't know any other event where I could see these guys live, since most of them barely come here to begin with, so it was oh so worthwhile. Honestly, the best part was that it was nice to have a festival that was relatively uneventful and peaceful. Like you could just slot in and out between sets to eat, buy merch, sit, or change clothes and still have a nice spot to come back to whenever an artist you like was about to perform. Probably cause there was like 4 other concerts happening around the city at the same time too (like Taeyang and Day6, but still), so there wasn't quite the packed crowd that I thought for something like freaking Waterbomb.

Obviously, you go to Waterbomb to get blasted, and holy shit, we were perpetually soaked. Bought a waterproof bag for my stuff just for this. Photo quality went down behind some layer of plastic, so I eventually took it off and just timed whenever they would start spraying and/or dodging their hits. This might be the closest I get to attending raves or something like Ultra/Tomorrowland, because the DJ sets were mostly fire and stole the show for me. The guys who put on K-pop were fun cause I kept doing that Leo DiCaprio pointing meme whenever they played a familiar song. So from 3:00 in the afternoon till 11:00 at night, it was just an absolute blast all around. Even if it wasn't that successful, I hope we get a second one next year cause I'd love to go for both days next time.

Kiss of Life (April 4)

Talk about worst timing ever.

There's no getting around discussing them these days without addressing the elephant in the room, and that being their controversial birthday live literally two days before this concert. Yes, they have apologized numerous times since then, and they still have their fans, but the international K-pop fandom has completely cancelled them, even lost them a spot at KCON this year. While I do think its right that they were held accountable for their actions, and while I may not be the POC they offended, I do believe in second chances, and they seem genuine in their efforts to be better. Plus, there's people in the industry that have got away with much, much worse and are still actively working to this day.

Anyway, to the actual event itself. I was genuinely paranoid since the incident was still fresh in everyone's minds, that there would be attempts at hijacking the show and something bad would happen. Thankfully none of the sort occurred, and while I think there were people who brought signs asking them to apologize, there was no scene whatsoever. And the energy remained consistent throughout; I think most of the people who attended were unaware of what happened online. Another lesson in why touching grass actually helps.

Color me surprised when they switched up their setlist! For the US and Europe legs of the tour, they would have a random fan sit on a chair on stage and they'd perform for the lucky girl, but in Asia, the members did their solo songs, which was a welcome twist and better than what the rest of the tour got.

But yes, during their ending speeches, they kinda sorta addressed what happened; it wasn't directly mentioned at all, but you can tell by how somber Julie looked (especially after they played the fan video that the local fanbases made) that it was implied. Gosh, its so difficult to write outside of the incident, but aside, they were really impressive for a relatively new group. Belle was hitting those notes left and right, and Julie was really something as a dancer. I hope they can bounce back and reach those highs they had during Igloo, but I highly doubt it, just because K-pop stans have an insanely high purity clause. Which is a shame, because they're right next to Babymonster in terms of raw, genuine stage presence and talent for 5th gen groups.

Also, they performed at a theater inside one of the country's oldest universities, and I don't think I'll go out of my way to travel to an unconventional venue like that again. Price was $150 as well, and even included a hi-touch after the show, so I just said, "Thank you for coming, you were phenomenal" to the girls and got to hear Julie and Haneul say thank you back.

Le sserafim (August 2)

Finally. I can talk about the most recent show I've been to. Pardon the incoming glaze.

This isn't the first time I saw Le sserafim. It was all the way back in December 2023 when they were here for the Asia Artist Awards alongside NJZ, NMIXX, ITZY, and so on (even did a storytime on that, heh). Even from afar and back then, they were already insane performers. The fact they went right after NewJeans and managed to keep the energy going for another 10 minutes, if not surpass it at times, is the mark of a special group, and holy fuck—they really had the sauce. This was before Coachella 2024, before K-pop fans suddenly cared about live singing again all of a sudden.

Even after all that, it was still quite far, and I had a bad camera, so I couldn't capture them in all their glory. We didn't get Flame Rises back in 2023, so this was their first proper solo outing here. Again, you know you're a special group when you can manage to sell out after numerous Korean acts have failed to do so (including the last ITZY and IVE concerts here), so its quite the accomplishment.

Gonna shoutout my friend Val here since I assisted him in buying his ticket and we met up to have lunch and hang out before the show. They had us running straight into the venue instead of queueing a second time for some reason? Also heard complaints about the queue numbers not being honored and those with higher (in this case, later in line) cutting ahead? Man, there are hardly any proper concert organizers in this country, but I'd rather take that over fuckass Ticketmaster everywhere else. Doesn't mean we should settle for the bare minimum (cough no membership zone cough).

Moving on—I think between KIOF and now the Fimmies, I actually have greater respect for groups who don't have back dancers during the concert. Like, I understand why they're there obviously, especially for soloists and large scale performances like in stadiums and award shows, but seeing just the group up there by themselves highlights their talent and abilities way more, and I've appreciated performances more that way. That being said: they tapped into a whole new level this time. Like, holy shit, they were absolutely cracked. Not to mention how fluid the setlist was (will forever grieve the loss of Flash Forward ngl).

But, I think the best part was how genuine they really were. They have dedicated scripts to thank the fans and address whatever culture they're performing in (I saw the tiny monitors where the lyrics and key talking points in the show were lol, plus this ain't my first rodeo), and that's dandy and all, but Chaewon crying cause it was also her birthday celebration and Yunjin's words really hit extremely hard. They spent like five minutes at every section saying goodbye at the end and making sure everyone got recognized in some capacity (which is where I go the stills from, never kill yourself 🥺). I was 100% sure I got Kazuha's heart the first time (even said thank you even though she was moving already) but then I looked back at the footage and saw Yunjin pause and fire a sign my way (What are we?), Eunchae wave, and Sakura giving a heart in under 45 seconds. Chaewon already did hers during soundcheck (which, fuck, that's my new phone lockscreen now).

Funniest bit is that literally as the concert ended, they said their final goodbyes and made their farewell bows, then disappeared behind the stage, my phone fucking died. It went from 73% to 0 in 3 hours. And then because our accommodation didn't push through for some reason, my family left me to ride it out home through public transport at fucking midnight, which is like two cities away. Again, wanna say thank you to Val for being a great buddy and sticking through the end with me.

I don't regret any concert I ever go to, much less had any bad experience. Finances and logistics aside, every concert I attend, it's been put into deep scrutiny and contemplation till I buy the tickets. There's always a special place in my heart for the first concert I ever went to, which was IVE (and missing their actual first world tour is forever the what if that was), and is still my favorite experience to this day. But Le sserafim was the closest to reviving that feeling again. I've never felt that much joy and bliss leaving a concert ever since, but they brought it back. I mean, it was watered down by the utterly ridiculous circumstances after the show, but that ecstasy kept me restless till dawn. It probably has to do with my birthday being close too (in less than 2 weeks from now as of writing), and what a damn good gift it was to be in their presence.

So what's next?

Don't know. Finances remain a lingering challenge, plus I have the rest of the year dedicated to defending my thesis and other college stuff (graduation and internship incoming), so energy and time investment will shuffle around quite a lot. Blackpink's coming in November, but they sold out faster than your average Pokémon TCG set as soon as it drops at your local shop. Twice is coming in October, and while I am strongly considering going, I don't know if I got another standing pit experience in me, at least this year. Plus, it's in that damn venue where the Asia Artist Awards were held. Too far, horrible reception, plus I only did it cause it was a 7-hour program with dozens of K-pop artists and actors, even if the cost was too much. No one else besides me is interested in them, so it's gonna be a hard sell to drive there. Other groups? Dunno. Despite being in Asia, we've been skipped by fromis, aespa, i-dle, tripleS, and who else at this point. So realistically, I'm done. And I think it's for the best. I believe there won't be another experience as good as Le sserafim was for me. It was truly a perfect night. (gunshot)

[usedpidemo]

Our Story, Like a Romance Novel [Chapter 4: Complexity]

Chapter 0, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Tags: fluff, angst, coming-of-age, (kind of a spoiler, but not really, it's in the title lol) romance

Word count: 23.6k

a/n: okay, back to my non-smut sched. apologies if it took this long. I don't know how I managed to reach this word count. I guess that's a perk of writing offline lol. I'll say more stuff at the end, but if you're gonna read this one, hope you like it.

Cherry blossoms began blooming, as with yellow forsythia. Springtime has arrived in Seoul State University. Copies of announcements have been plastered all over campus, from bulletin boards in department buildings to poles outdoors, if their socials weren’t enough. From ambitious new clubs to established organizations, thousands of students and staff had been working and preparing their projects for this upcoming annual event.

Several months and a semester have passed since Sohyun left the club and the university for her new life in Europe. And yet, the story’s far from over for the Mad Money Club, as they have managed to recruit two new members to join their week-long preparation.

Over the past semester, the same Diamond Dreamers Club that once intimidated them eventually became their new sister club thanks to a few faces familiar to the members.

“Junghoon-ah,” Seoyeon raised her voice. “Help Hyerin and Kaede out with getting used to our rules, will you? They really wanna help organize with the Love Arcade Booth too! That can probably give us some more time to assist the Dreamers after lunchtime.”

—and a couple of new ones who joined their small but not so insignificant league of money-seeking, spending, sharing, and saving students who helped each other out.

“Affirmative, Seoyeon-sunbaenim!” Junghoon complied with a similar volume.

Alongside the neighboring clubs, Mad Money’s two new members already helped them out in their ongoing tasks for this big event. Just like the members before them, they’re also students who also used to feel like they didn't have a place to belong for a long time.

One of the Mad Newbies bowed to him within a swift second. “Good afternoon! Geum… Junghoon-sunbaenim, right?”

“That’s right. Nice meeting you, Jeong Hyerin-nim?” he asked her back. “The foodie?”

“You’re correct,” Hyerin answered energetically. “Quite the memory there, sunbaenim!”

Jeong Hyerin was a freshman at the age of seventeen, making her the youngest or maknae in the club and one of the youngest in the university this year since most freshmen enter at the age of eighteen or nineteen (in Korean age). Yet despite that rare trait, she seems to be the one of the more mature and independent members Mad Money has approved. When Seoyeon interviewed her, the club was amazed by her set of skills and talents. She also can cook like Yubin, a trait she presented when she first went to the club recruiters, and is a foodie herself, like Dahyun and Xinyu. Not to mention her passion for dancing stuns the girls, inspiring them to reach her level when she first demonstrated her flair.

“It's nice meeting you, Hyerin-ssi. I like your enthusiasm in joining the club.”

Junghoon looked beside an enthusiastic Hyerin, also greeting the next new member in anticipation. The only thing was, she was much more silent and quiet than they hoped.

He leaned slightly closer to Hyerin with his voice lowered. “Is she not much of a talker?”

“I’m not sure, sunbae,” she whispered back. “I haven’t gotten to know her that much.”

He approached her again. “Hi there, Yamada Kaede. Can you understand Korean well?”

“Annyeonghaseyo, sunbae,” Kaede retorted. “But why are you in the Mad Money Club?”

She was quite fluent in Korean, but the specificity of her question threw Junghoon off for a moment. Even Hyerin and Dahyun were weirded out by her blatant statement.

“Huh?” Junghoon’s anticipation dropped with his tone. “What do you mean, Kaede-ssi?”

“The club is mostly composed of girls,” she brought up. “At least from that sign I saw at the post. And somehow, you happened to be the only guy with them.” She tilted her head, staring at him with more apparent skepticism. “Why is that, sunbae?”

Meanwhile, Yamada Kaede is an exchange student from Japan. Born in the same year as Yubin, she’s also a sophomore. Yet, despite her appearance giving off the impression by most students that she's a cute and innocent otter who is mostly quiet, she might also just be one of the toughest and most brutally honest members of the club yet. Maybe even more than Seoyeon and Xinyu whenever they get strict or serious with others.

“Well, to answer your question, I'm not an official member of the club… Not anymore.”

His answer confused Hyerin, but it only made Kaede raise more suspicions about him.

“If you’re not a member of the club, then are you loaning money from them?”

“I’m not.” Balancing the line between humility and shame, he admits his place in the club to the freshman. What he believes that is. “Not anymore, but—”

“Don't talk nonsense, Junghoon,” they heard Dahyun’s voice, walking closer to them as she placed her hand on his shoulder. “You are always gonna be a part of our club!” She faced the new member with a wide smile. “And look, Kae-chan… Can I call you that?”

Kaede was intimidated by the senior’s sudden cordial and unbothered approach. In her ears, the term sounded like mocking, but the older woman bore no ill intentions. “No—”

“Okay, Kae-chan,” she continued. “Our Junghoon-ie here used to be our “assistant.” You may even call him an “errand boy,” because that’s what other folks called him back then. But he's become more than that. He’s one of us… And while I understand that you aren’t that close with everyone in our club, I don’t think you should be disrespectful to him.”

“No, it’s okay, noona…” Junghoon politely tapped on Dahyun’s shoulder. “I don’t blame her for asking me that.” He then gave Kaede a respectful look. “Now, Kaede-ssi—I’m not asking you to like me. And to continue my answer: I’m here because a sunbae didn’t just give me a gig, but she also gave me a chance to be more confident and leave my comfort zone, to know people also worthy of respect. Because we helped each other and treated each other as friends. And because you’re also going to be in the same club, I can only hope that we can get along. Even just for the festival.”

Dahyun looked at him with respect and admiration. It’s as if she’s an older sister who’s feeling proud towards a younger sibling for finally standing up for himself to someone. Hyerin looked at him in awe for de-escalating the tension. Silenced by his words, despite him not raising his voice, Kaede felt humbled for what she said and how she behaved.

She bowed at him. “Joesonghamnida, Geum Junghoon-sunbaenim.” She bowed again.

“It’s okay, Kaede-ssi,” Junghoon smiled. He raised both his hands, signaling her to stop bowing. “Don’t apologize too much. I’m just glad our misunderstanding is cleared up.”

While introductions were rough, the orientation went smoothly. In Junghoon’s mind, he thought of his life in the past year, comparing his encounter with the new club members. I’m guessing this is how Sohyun-noona felt about my behavior when she was still here. I hope she’s doing well out in France.

= = =

As Seoyeon had hoped for the new maknaes to help at the Love Arcade, Junghoon volunteered to help the Diamond Dreamers with their own booth for about an hour, which he was too astonished to admit was just as unique as theirs, since it also consisted of various minigames, thanks to the almost vintage video games owned by their leader, Kim Yooyeon. The club had also set up a jewelry making booth as a part of their collab, which required more assistance and materials, but less time, now that it had more than twelve members to look after it. However, their most ambitious planned game was a real-life egg hunt-type of game which they only call the Diamond Challenge.

“Thanks for the assist, Junghoon-ssi,” Nakyoung saluted him playfully with a lighthearted giggle. “You know, Tone-chan was right about you. You should’ve joined us. I bet you would’ve had just as much, if not more fun here.”

He couldn’t help but feel flattered. Maybe even a little more, but that’s not why he’s here. “Don’t mention it, sunbaenim… That’s why we partnered up for this festival, remember? Who knows what can happen? I’m not that limited to my old club.”

“Junghoon-ah!” Xinyu shouted from afar. “If you’re done flirting with our partners over there, help us out with carrying these boxes here, will ya?”

Forming a smile after hearing her remark, Nakyoung looked at Junghoon while they’re still sorting the Mad Money Club's now half-finished booth. “Ka, Junghoon-ssi… I can sort out the rest of these with Yubam and Chaeyeon. Seems like Xinyu-ssi really needs your help with your arcade.”

“Ne!” he nodded at her. “On my way, sunbae!” He rushed to Xinyu in the area of a dozen more unsorted boxes.

“Took you long enough,” she joked. “How was your little chat with Nakyoung?”

“I wasn’t flirting with—” He assured her. He didn't know why. Must be a force of habit.

“I was kidding,” she told him with a straight face. “You think too lowly of yourself. I don't care whatever girl you talk to.”

“It’s not that.” He couldn't help but interject with a nervous chuckle. “It’s just not the case.” Xinyu turned around and took a few steps closer. This is out of nowhere.

Every time they get closer. Every interaction they’ve had. It didn't seem appropriate, just looking at her directly. Her face. Her eyes. Her lips. Seolma. It’s just not possible. She’s beautiful… There’s no doubt about that observation. Almost everyone in this college is heads over heels for her, but no… She’s a campus star… and Sohyun…

“You handled orienting Kaede pretty well, huh,” she nudged his shoulder. “My God, she would’ve looked much scarier if she didn’t look like an adorable otter. That girl is gonna need more of our initiation rituals... Hyerin seems to trust you, so she doesn’t need that. Good job on meeting both of them.”

Junghoon laughed. “Thanks. It’s normal for her to feel that way, so it’s not hard for me to deal with it now. I mean, it’s happened before… Gotta learn from it and live with it.”

His words brought some rather unpleasant impressions to her, making her look down in guilt. It was forever ago, but she definitely couldn't forget how she perceived him when they first met. Such memories of her past self left her with a bad aftertaste. “Right…”

She tried to raise one of the heavier boxes, to no avail. “Oh, let me take that box. It looks heavy.” He took the box from her hands, lifting it from the concrete and pivoting it onto his chest. “Woah, this is heavy,” he chortled, but maintained balance by carrying the box and walking towards the Love Arcade tent.

Xinyu looked at him, uncertain. Concerned. Couldn't even let her hands go off his arms as they flexed under the weight of the boxed materials. “Are you sure? I can handle it—”

“Gwaenchanayo, noona! I can handle it.” He continued to laugh as he walked away from her on his way to the booth. While he could handle the box and balance himself, his walk made him appear like he’s an emperor penguin, waddling across the polar ice caps. The scenario went into Xinyu’s mind that moment, prompting her to laugh by herself before taking another look at Junghoon from afar as he entered their booth tent.

“Thank you, Junghoon-ah…” she hollered to him. “Be careful on your way out!”

At the start of May, Mad Money and Diamond Dreamers partnered up for the upcoming University Festival. Although most of them were not familiar with each other before this campus-wide experience, this event becomes the ultimate opportunity for them to get to be acquainted with one another, among other students, throughout the entire month.

Five of the newer faces from the Diamond Dreamers whom Junghoon had met during the festival collab were its current members: Kim Yooyeon, Koma Mayu, Kim Nakyoung, Kim Chaeyeon, and Lee Jiwoo. Though, with Junghoon being himself, it took a little bit more time for his introverted self to get used to knowing them outside their projects and for that, he often hangs out with one member during their lunch break in the meantime, his close friend: Kamimoto Kotone.

On the first Friday of the month, these two close friends had lunch at a sandwich booth on campus. Taking a seat on a table near the stall, Kotone munched already halfway into her bulgogi sandwich. On the seat in front of her, Junghoon hasn’t touched his gilgeori sandwich in the past two minutes, as his eyes are off somewhere in the far distance. He spotted some members of the Mad Money Club and Diamond Dreamers walking near the fountain. Seems they’re already getting to know each other, he thought. Among the joint clubs, his eyes landed on her. She saw him from his spot. Out of panic, he lowered his head to make it look like he’s bowing to them from a distance. Unable to notice that Dahyun, Chaeyeon, Jiwoo, and Yubin were also bowing to him, he could feel and hear his heartbeat.

Noticing his strange movement, Kotone shook her head. “Are you gonna eat that or what?”

Junghoon looked at his sandwich. “Oh… Right.” He took a big bite of his meal.

“For a second, I thought you’re gonna give me the rest of it,” she snickered.

“Not a chance,” he groaned. “You’re already enjoying your bulgogi toast.”

“Yeah, but I’m almost done with it, you know. I was eating it as any normal person would, unlike someone who’s clearly occupied with doing absolutely nothing.”

“Can’t a guy eat at his own pace?” he whined.

“Says the one who usually eats his meal the fastest,” she retorted. “And that doesn’t change anything just because you’re trying to get on a diet... What’s with you today?”

“I was just thinking about something, that’s all.” He took another, medium-sized bite.

“Hmm, of course you are…” She smirks. “I know that look.”

Junghoon continued to chew before swallowing his bite. “What are you talking about? I’m just eating right now. What other look do I have aside from eating my sandwich?”

“Oh, you know. It's the ‘when you're slowly falling for someone’ kind of look.”

Junghoon chuckled, though it came off as a bit forced. “Falling for who? This sandwich? I mean, it is pretty good, I gotta say. The way they mixed the sauces really complements the crunchiness of the bread and the patty… Wow.”

“No, pabo!” she scolded him. “Not that. Who are you hanging out the most in your thrifty little club? That one. Who you were staring at instead of eating your sandwich.”

“Seoyeon-sunbaenim? Dahyun-noona? Yubin-ssi? Be more specific.”

“Yah! You can’t be serious right now. Stop pretending like she doesn't exist.”

Junghoon remained dodgy. “Who doesn’t exist?” It’s just not working for Tone.

“Xinyu-unnie!” she exclaimed. “It’s like whenever you talk about your club to us, you keep on avoiding any mentions of her when in fact, we often see you walking right next to her, almost every single time!”

“But didn’t I already tell you guys already about—”

“Nien-unnie? Of course, I still remember that. She was your first crush here. Your first date, which, by the way, we helped you prepare for.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “And? Why wasn’t she the name you mentioned.”

She crossed her arms. “I’m just not buying it.”

“I’m not selling you anything.” To Kotone’s ears, Junghoon’s voice started to sound more defensive the more he talked. “I’m just saying that I like Nien and you didn’t even believe or consider that when I told you about her when I was still getting used to the club.”

“I mean, I did believe it. Months ago… There was some chemistry between you two. You were laughing at her jokes or stare at that girl like she’s sparkling whenever we hung out together, but that was like what? Last semester? That infatuation is long gone.”

“So, why do you think anything’s changed after that?” he questioned her straight. “We made up even after our supposed first date happened.”

“Geunyang…” she starts. “Let’s just say that the way you interacted with Nien ended up becoming like anybody else’s…”

“Like what?”

“You’re just casual. Maybe even more platonic than before. I just don’t feel that spark. And oh, yeah… She's dating someone else, and you're not bothered by it that much.” She made it sound as if she had a gotcha moment on him. He continued to take another bite.

“And that’s a bad thing? It feels more like you’re reading too much into us.”

“No, no, of course not. It’s great that you’re becoming friends with all of your clubmates. You’ve come a long way, Jung-ah,” she assures him. “But because your attention shifted into someone else, I don’t need you to play dumb just to realize who I’m talking about.”

He knew Kotone was right. There was no point in beating around the bush. There was no point in denying it. Especially not to one of his closest friends. He sighed in defeat. She snickered.

“You know I can’t…” his voice slowly contrasts her comic tone. “It can’t happen. She and… They were together for more than two years. And I was with them—supporting them while they were together and even after! The fact that I’m even considering it… Doesn't sit right with me.”

Oh… Tone realized what he’s been so hesitant about. But she wasn't just gonna give up.

“Sohyun-sunbaenim has been far away from here for a while now. They broke up a long time ago and that’s a fact you can’t deny. Heck, you didn’t even like Xinyu-unnie when they were still together! Besides, didn’t Sohyun-sunbaenim just reconnect with y’all? Even after the breakup.”

“But… I can’t.” He then looks up to Tone, seeking to reason with her eye to eye. “Even if we don’t take Sohyun-noona into the equation, Xinyu-noona and I are too different to be—you know. It just doesn’t make sense. It’s messed up to think about, even.”

“Different, how? MBTIs? Who cares!”

“What’s that?”

“Personalities? Unnie’s an E. You’re an I. She’s most likely a T and you’re a definite F.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he nodded, getting her point. “But I don’t really care about those.”

“How about body proportions?” she adds. “That one must’ve crossed your mind a lot.”

“Maybe,” he considers that one, making his friend more infuriated. “We are different.”

“So effing what?” she pointed her finger at him. “That shouldn’t bother you either!”

“Well, you’re the one who brought it up. I’m just saying you have a point, Tone-yah.”

“I’m just testing you. How you see yourselves because of your differences,” she justified.

“Like it matters,” he shrugged off. “We’re just different through and through. Even if you didn’t mention the personality tests and our physique types, it wouldn’t matter either. For once, I’m like two years younger than her.”

She let out a snicker, wondering how could something so little bother him? “Ever seen Pretty Noona Who Treats Me to Meals? Dude… that’s like the ultimate answer to your argument. The leads were like five to six years apart! Some people have much younger or older partners.”

“She’s into women, you know that,” he shot Tone’s argument with another misgiving. “It would be pretty unnie who treats me to meals.”

“Oh, tsk, tsk, tsk… You narrow-minded kid,” she raises her index finger, wagging it to tease and confound him. “I bet you didn't know about her relationships when she was still a freshman. Before Sohyun-sunbaenim. Or non-relationships for that matter.”

Of course he didn't. He’s not one to know so much about others’ personal lives outside his close circle and out of the Mad Money Club, Xinyu has been the exception. “Huh?”

“That's right… I know for a fact that Xinyu-unnie doesn’t care about who she likes based on whether they're a man or a woman. Dude, if that's still not clear enough for you—she goes ‘both ways.’ That’s not an issue to her. Nor should it to you... It’s just my opinion, Junghoon-ah, but what others think shouldn’t ever stop you from having feelings for someone. Especially if you have done nothing but good to her.”

He turns somewhere else. “Well, whatever you say, I don’t think they’d agree with that.”

“Who’s they? Where in the--? What the hell are you looking at?”

Squinting her eyes, Kotone followed Junghoon's gaze. A weird, wide veil through a blank space. A window through his perspective. Voices and texts. She didn't know how he sees this, this other wall through thin air, but their presence irked her as they simply radiate the scenarios of other worlds, filled with infinite what ifs and what could’ve been. It's all of their dreams, nightmares, comforts, and insecurities personified. It's an odd anomaly and out of this realm. Now, it's starting to take them out of their immersion. “The hell?” Kotone latched her hands on its invisible handles from each side. “Don't mind those…”

“I know, it’s weird to think this way… But I meant it about us being in different worlds.”

The woman shoved the view away from them, never wanting to speak of it again. “Seriously? Don't mind them... This ain't their life, Jung... This is ours, yours to deal with… How do you really feel about Xinyu-unnie? You don't have to tell me everything.”

“But she already knows!” Junghoon bursts those words out of nowhere, startling Tone. Out of embarrassment, Junghoon immediately covers his own mouth, before taking a quick look around the campus. Thankfully, the other students either only rolled their eyes or laughed off at his reaction, before minding their own business. Tone, however, stares at him in disbelief for a second, but her smile grows even more at the realization.

“You mean, you confessed to her?” she’s sensing his butterflies. “Omo, omo… When?”

“I don’t know if she still wants to remember it, but it was a week ago. Even then, I think she just pretended like she never heard me or thought I made a deadpan joke. I mean it would’ve just been more awkward if either of us brought it up again.”

= = = = =

It was only a whole semester. About only half a year after Xinyu's heart was shattered by Sohyun’s departure for France. It was still a tough time to reminisce for all of them, but they knew that things had to go on. That was their collective promise for each other.

And yet, Junghoon wondered: what has he been doing with Xinyu that was more than enough to make him start feeling things beyond their formalities? Beyond friendship?

His recent encounters and his hair-scratching conversations only made him rewind throughout the span of the second, third, and fourth days of the Seoul State Festival.

It usually starts with, “Junghoon-ah…” followed by a request. “Can you help me wi—”

“Ne!” No questions asked, the young man would do her requests. “On my way, noona.” It's all part of the production, after all. If not, then it's definitely for the club.

Nothing much, if he was being honest. Junghoon this. Noona or sunbae that. They acted professional, weeks before they became more casual in the months that followed. It was a closeness similar to him with the rest of the Mad Money Club. Before Kaede entered their ranks, anyway. It was like the new member had absorbed all of Xinyu's negative impressions of him before he could've talked her down to a more respectful level.

Junghoon's job as Xinyu's assistant wasn't confined to a single role, as he expected.

Thanks to his part-time job at a restaurant, he was able to buy doughnuts and some other snacks for the cast and crew of their production every morning or afternoon. They were leftovers from previous nights, so instead of letting his coworkers unnecessary throw it, he packed a lot before heading home, enough for himself, his halmeoni, and his friends.

“You're a lifesaver, Junghoon-ie. Gomawo!” Daeho patted him on his back, as he took a piece of honey-glazed ring from the box, immediately gnawing into it while his other hand returned its grip on his hair, gently massaging himself. “So… Good.”

It wasn't a requirement, but seeing his sunbaes nourished or at least more sober during their meetings only warmed his heart before their day would start.

The thespian’s cast and his fellow crewmates would welcome him with fillings of praise and sprinkles of gratitude for his consistent gestures, but he didn't want himself to be a mere freeloader or another suck-up. He wanted to be more involved, and receive more constructive criticism if he had to, and get results done by the end of their production.

Even at the days of those plays, he had to pay attention, ensuring things went smoothly. But when he's simply observing things fold into place. The audience cheered and wept. For Junghoon, this whole cycle went for two productions over the span of six months.

“You did well, sunbae.”

But, in spite of his studies and his outside work, this one never felt like a routine.

“I know…” Xinyu even flipped her hair, bearing resemblance to a star in a shampoo commercial, it reminded him of the times she's tested her costumes for the stage, right before shaking it off his head. Of course, Junghoon laughed her flaunt off. But deep down, Xinyu too wanted this interaction to be more than just jokes, which might've caused another misunderstanding between them. “But—umm—give yourself some credit, too, Junghoon-ah. You basically carried half the production team on your shoulders this time.”

“Come on, noona. That's not true.”

She shook her head. “I beg to differ. If you don't believe me, just feel free to ask Hwihyeon-ie or Yuki-chan. Or the slackers who barely showed up on time, unless you brought everyone snacks.”

“Well, I guess I'll just take their words. And I'm sure the others had a good reason—”

With every question, her face inched closer to his, forcing him to take a step back. “You’re speaking on their behalf, too? I mean, have you even been focusing on your studies? Attending classes? Are you skipping classes?”

He laughed. “I have and I am, noona. Don't need to worry about that.”

“All right…” she changed her voice to a more nonchalant tone. “I'm just saying it's the best time to drop from this club. Before I make the announcement to everyone else.”

“Why?” Even with his straight face, curiosity and uncertainty pushed each other within his mind. She's always liked keeping surprises to him. “What's gonna happen?”

“I'll be stepping down as an actress.”

“What?” At that moment, panic set in within his system, as the latter emotion just took control over him. “Why? Is it because I'm doing a bad job, sunbae? I mean, if you really want, I can drop out—”

“Paboyah… I'm just dropping out of the cast,” she clarified with a soft fist thrown into his shoulder, slightly hissing at him. “I’ll be in production!”

He scratched his head, embarrassed and almost lightheaded at his now vanishing panic. He couldn't believe he got himself fooled by a mere tease. “Oh… Right.” But what's new?

Xinyu let out a snicker, tilting her head as she leaned and examined him closer. Her smile evoked appreciation. “You're bummed out that I'm leaving?”

“I mean, who wouldn't be? You're a star in your stages.”

“I'm not the only star. We're all st—”

“That’s true, but you’re also definitely a highlight,” he justified his claim. “The empty seats get filled up on stages you're a part of, no offense to my other sunbaes.”

Xinyu continued to chuckle, unable to express the surprises of flattery from him. “Yah. Geum Junghoon, are you supposed to be my assistant, or my fan?”

“Aren't assistants automatically fans in some way? Like with idols and their managers?”

“So you're my manager now, huh? You also think I'm fit to be an idol?”

“Hmm… I wouldn't say no to that. You could be a part of the cheerleader club or be an MC. I'm sure you'd do well.”

“You really are getting good at your job. You might as well be my publicist.”

“For that job, you'll actually have to pay me.”

“Well, too bad ‘cause I'm joining you with the production team.” She stuck her tongue out.

He chuckled at her teasing, shaking his head. “I don't see that as a bad thing, though.”

“Hmmm… I thought you'd be more scared, now that we get to hang around more often, but I stand corrected. Maybe I'll stick around more often until you get tired of me.”

Junghoon happened to be there. He was mostly there. During Xinyu’s busiest, hardest weeks. Throughout her most grandiose successes and most festive celebrations. It was just hanging out.

On the brighter side, things had softened up between them, compared to months ago. Their ice cold and chilling tensions have melted like ice under the summer heat. They blossomed along with the flowers of spring.

And then one day, their meetings went outside their club. Outside Room 238. Outside the auditorium. Xinyu just hit him up, merely asking for a friend and companion to be with and well, he just accepted. But there was nothing more. Nothing in return.

Sometimes, she'd ask, “Are you free after class?” or “Are you free this weekend?”

They would wander the town of Keuri-go and some of its nearest neighborhoods. From her words, “I guess… I just wanted to go somewhere new… Without some nosybodies.”

“Try this, Junghoon-ah.” They would go to small diners, cafés, and newer restaurants. None of the mainstream stuff usually found around their campus. There was no doubt about her gourmet palate. They came off as a couple to some, but she'd often come up with many labels, most of which were true. “Dongsaeng. Chingu. Roomie. Buddie.”

“Come on, Junghoon. Don't be shy. It's my treat today, arasseo?” she kept chewing, focused on the meals like it's her craft. She's taking food seriously.

But what everyone else thought didn't matter. The fact was, they went for delightful and scrumptious cuisines. She rarely realized whenever her cheeks were puffed as her mouth was filled with flaming meat or whenever she's making crunching noises with fresh vegetables. It was definitely a sight to behold. Kyeopta, Junghoon pondered. A simple iced tea made his experience more refreshing while she sipped her pink juice, something she claimed tasted far better than the one she first ordered at the more popular café.

He never knew there was someone else as passionate in eating as he was. Though, she was more eloquent in doing it, weirdly enough. “All right... Jal meokgeotseumnida.”

“You think Soda will like this?” At shops and malls, they would buy surprise gifts or supplies for their clubmates on their birthdays or some significant achievement.

He looked at the music box with a proud smile. “Mmm-hmm… I think she'll love it.”

“Good pick. I guess I'll, ummm, I'll be needing your advice on Yubam’s birthday.”

His assumption has always been, “I thought all of you girls are close.” and rightfully so.

“We are.” She even felt a little flustered to confess about it. “It's just, you two joined the club in the same month. She felt a little closer to you, but it's not like a competition.”

“Okay, okay,” he snickered. “I'll be glad to help out, noona.”

He was originally her underling, but more than that, they became friends. No matter the occasion, he made time for her… Whether she needed his assistance. Or his company.

Sometimes, walks in the park were enough to blow all the worries off her. Junghoon himself was never the nosy one, but it was during those moments where he'd hear more from the woman.

“I wish I could just buy this park, you know?” she mumbled through the breeze.

He craned his head to the side, staring at the back of her shining hair. “Why is that?”

“Geunyang,” she blurted, brushing her hand through the bushes they're now crossing.

“Well…” He knew there was more to her thought. “Even if you do have the money to do that, lots of locals still visit this place, so I'm not even sure if that's a good idea.”

“I didn't say I'd take it away from them,” she defended herself with a snortle, though her mind wasn't as calm as she appeared.”

“What're you going to do with it, then? If you somehow do buy this park?”

“Maintain it. The way it is now.”

“So you won't be open to renovating it or expanding it?”

“I don't actually mean I'm gonna buy it someday… You took it way too seriously.”

“Oh… Well, I thought it was an interesting thought…”

She exhaled through her nose, beaming. “I just… I don't know. Sometimes I get irritated, and annoyed, when things change all of the sudden. I know, someday, this park won't be the same anymore. I don't know if I even like to think that happening.” Aside from those two words, she kept other feelings inside her. Worried. Afraid.

Junghoon could only sigh, but he had also given himself a similar answer a while back.

“Things will always change, noona… No matter how much power, money, and influence we may have, there's some things we'll just have to live with… Things out of our control. Out of our favor.”

She's heard of that gloomy outlook countless times from different people she respected or hated. Quite annoyingly so, even if it's true. “And… How do you deal with something like that? Losing something you’ve treasured for years? Losing a safe space like this?”

“I think we just have to adapt and do what we can… It can and will hurt, but maybe we can find better opportunities elsewhere. Maybe this park will remain a park. Maybe it won't… I believe we shouldn't just limit our safe spaces to just one place, or rely on a person we may not have a chance with. We can set our minds to it, if we have to.”

The gist of it was admittedly cliché, but his delivery was softening her heart. Yet, she was still unsatisfied with his insight. She wanted to hear more from him. “But what if I don't want any of those new opportunities? What if I wanna stay with my old treasure?”

“Then like I said, you're still setting your mind into it. Sometimes, stubbornness can be a good asset, but it shouldn't come at the cost of our sanity. Just like with our obsessions… Nothing good comes out of it the longer it sits out.”

Silence followed afterwards. Xinyu felt something constricting there. “Plus… It’s not too bad to venture out and look for something or someone new,” he continued. “I mean, if you're careful enough, what more can you lose? If it's not for you, just move on.”

She simply tilted her head, contemplating his sentiment with delighted curiosity. “Touché… That’s pretty mature.” She wouldn't find this park if she didn't explore it.

He crossed his arms, unsure on whether to play along or take her compliment at face value. “Did you assume that I'm otherwise? Is it because I'm younger?”

“Aniya…” Despite her smirk, she wasn't in the mood to tease. “It was just unexpected... It was nice to hear your perspective.”

By the end of most of those days, he saw her on her way home. On the same stealth car. “It was really nice hanging out with you, Junghoon-ah… Take care of yourself, alright?”

But looking back, perhaps he shouldn't have done all those things. Not to that extent.

Dugeun. Maybe that was the first time. The first few times. Dugeun. The moment she got closer and more comfortable, and by that, from a physical sense. Without a boundary that kept each other's guards up.

Embedded to his conscience, he kept going because of a promise he accepted almost a year ago. A promise that he still never broke, despite her already ended relationship.

And yet, even as Sohyun has returned in their lives, he continued wondering, has he outgrown that promise? Should he? Wouldn't that be a great betrayal of her trust?

With each time Xinyu got closer, she drew her breath close to his ears. His nose caught a few variations of her perfume, growing stronger and warmer as their distance closed. Strangely enough, even their little shoulder bumps and her teasing pinches sent shivers through his spine in the midst of the warm spring. Whenever she entered his field of vision, her eyes appeared like they're prowling for his presence, just for someone to tease or talk to. Beside and around Xinyu, uneasiness crept in as an aftertaste to every moment of bliss that made his system flutter. It was the last feeling he was supposed to feel for her, slowly burying whatever he truly felt for this woman through work.

Why am I paying attention to all of these? This has to be one-sided. It's the only thing that makes sense. One-sided things should go away pretty soon.

But one can't simply alter the rhythm of their heartbeat. It was a matter of time until Junghoon's affection started to manifest beyond his heart.

“Are you sure you guys want me there?”

“Don’t worry about them, Junghoon-ah,” Xinyu tried to persuade Junghoon. “You’ve worked with them before. Ever since you invited them to the party at our room, they wanted to get closer with you. And don’t forget, you’ve been a great help to us.”

It was after the success of the Thespians’ play. On a Thursday night, Junghoon attended the afterparty with the cast and his fellow crew, which he was a part of, despite being a recent addition as Xinyu’s assistant. No one was drunk enough to do something fun and stupid, but they were definitely bold enough to play a game of truth or dare while they were still sober enough to be embarrassed about the things they were asking or doing that night. After minutes and minutes of spinning the bottle, its neck finally points to Xinyu. Her fellow cast expressed their intrigue, although a smirk formed around her lips, hoping to one-up them.

“What’s it gonna be, Xinyu-yah?” Yuki anticipated. “You don’t seem to be surprised.”

“I’m looking forward to it, actually,” she quipped.

“Ooooh, that means you’re looking forward to some dares,” Hwihyeon teased.

“Dares are getting too stale. Hasn’t our performance been enough for y’all?” she flaunted, steering the game's direction out of their favor. “Our original production was the talk of the town!”

“Yeah, but are you sure you don’t wanna take someone home tonight? Pretty sure there are plenty of hot faces at the bars nearby. We can start here!” Yuko questioned. “And it's strange that you used to be the one who kept on pulling us outdoors so we could ‘mingle’ with some gals and fellas back in freshman year.”

“Exactly!” Daeho chimed in with his deep and inquisitive voice. “It seems you’ve gone celibate ever since you’re single again.”

“No, I haven’t!” she shot back at them with a defensive tone, which only amused them. “It’s just we have the next Festival Week for that, I’m in no rush, unlike you nymphs— and Daeho… Tonight, I want some good old ounce of truth, so shoot your shots.”

 “Chill out, girl,” Hwihyeon chuckled at her brief outburst. “Okay… Truth it is, gals…”

An idea lit up their director, Jihye. Unsurprisingly, it happened once her eyes met yours. “I got it. Would you be willing to go out with your assistant?”

He felt his heart racing. He didn't know why, but such a question keeps him on edge, even if he’s not the one to answer it. Looking at Xinyu, he saw her with a teasing smile.

“Hmm, he’s a bit young,” she retorts before looking at him with a soft smile. Yet to him, it feels somewhat condescending, not that it matters. “No offense, Junghoon-ah.”

A wide smile formed on Junghoon’s face. A barricade to shield his crumbling heart. “None taken, noona,” he responded.

“As if that stopped you from seeing people younger than you two years ago,” Hwihyeon sharply counters her friend’s confident remarks.

“They were like, what? Months, a year younger than me? And plus, rarely of those flings were guys. You don’t really find ‘em around. Ones who are mature enough for my taste.”

He slowly breathed through his nose, easing the ensuing pandemonium within himself.

“That doesn’t disprove her point, unnie,” Jihye joined the banter, gaining chuckles from Hwihyeon and Kangdae.

“Whatever,” Xinyu tutted. Everyone’s been ganging up on her. “The point is, he already has a crush of his own.” Except for the man himself. “Isn’t that right, Junghoon-ah?”

The pressure of everyone else around him versus his own thoughts and his sunbae’s domineering words. “Yeah, I guess. Xinyu-sunbae’s not entirely wrong, yeorobun.”

“See?” she grinned, raising her eyebrow at her fellow thespians; even they’re fooled.

“That’s a bummer. We thought there’d be something between you two.”

Exiting the restaurant, the two take a walk across the street outside their campus after the cast and crew had parted ways with wide smiles and a few crumbs of laughter that they’ve left at the place in the past two hours and a half. Silence ensued between them.

Even with his introversion, she felt something wasn't right with him. Considering the many word-filled walks they've taken in the last several months. “What’s the matter?”

Usually, he would clench his fist to bear the loud thumps of his heart, but now, he has simply lost the energy to do a simple thing. “Um… About what they asked you earlier.”

“That silly little goof?” she chuckled, trying to lighten up his gloomy mood. “What about it? I was just playing around. Don’t take what I said too seriously.”

“About you dating younger people?” he clarified.

“I think I meant that,” she admitted. “In my experience, it’s not easy to find someone dependable if they are not mature enough to respect someone’s space or on the other hand, not ready enough to open up. Some of them weren’t ready for a relationship, so they just ended up as fun flings. But hey, that doesn’t mean I was talking about you…”

He felt his heart getting lighter, but not enough to ease his sense of disquietude. “Oh.”

“You’re a good man, Junghoon-ah. I couldn’t care less who you’re into. If it’s still Nien or someone else, they’d be lucky to have you.” She giggled, contrasting his quiet and somber demeanor. “And by the way, are you that curious about my dating life?”

“I’m not,” he objected, letting out a nervous laugh. “I’m just generally curious.”

“I didn’t wanna get you into our goofs too much,” she expounded. “You should know by now, they can be a bit nosy when it comes to knowing other people’s tea at times, which I’m more or less tolerant with, but I didn’t know if you’d feel the same way about them.”

“Well…” His heart began to slow down. “I thought they were fun to listen to.”

She tried to take it into a more humorous direction. “Even if they just, out of nowhere, dragged you as the direct object of the question meant for me? That’s weird, especially from you. Did you enjoy it when it was my turn?”

“Not necessarily, but… I don’t think they were wrong, when they said it…”

“Yah,” she tilted her head to the side. “Don’t tell me you’re actually considering what they said… They were goofing around, so I played along with them. I even gave you a look, remember?”

And at that moment, his rhythm became faster once more. “I’m not!” he hollered out suddenly. “I just… I didn’t know how to feel about you. Mianhaeyo. This is sudden…”

Her mischievous smile slowly dropped. “Junghoon-ah…” she muttered, clueless what to say next. “Do… Do you really… You're kidding, right?”

Cold air flared through his nose, akin to a sick bull. “I wish I was…”

Her chest began to flutter. “What?” Maybe out of fear or surprise. She couldn't tell.

Giving himself a test, Junghoon took a step forward. Closer. The thumping grew. If it was a stranger she would have run. The woman's eyes widened.

Her wits were silenced by his spurt of boldness. Startled by her own surprise, he took a step backwards. That wasn't something he was willing to cross, even if his inner self was yearning to do so.

“You don’t have to say anything, noona,” he interjected, discouraged by her surprise.

A second of struggle to catch her own breath, she gulped in silence and cleared her throat, straightening her posture.

“Then,” she took a breath. “Let’s pretend you didn’t say anything tonight, arasseo?”

“Ne,” he complied, keeping himself calmer in front of her. From a distance, he notices the headlamp that is slowly approaching the road ahead of them. “Mister Yi is here.”

Her eyes widened, both her brows now raising with fury. “What? You called him?”

He raised his hands, his heartbeat accelerated due a different, more primal emotion. “Well, he asked for my number, and he called me. What was I supposed to do?”

“Why?” she groaned, holding in her annoyance at him. “You could’ve said no, or lied!”

“I can’t say no to your bodyguard,” he argued back, his pitch slightly elevating in panic.

“Why not?” She slowly walked closer to him. “You're scared of him? More than me?”

He took a step back. “I’m not sca—” Her question caught him off-guard, leaving him intimidated and confused at the same time. “He said it’s for your safety, sunbaenim.”

“You’re with me!” she exclaimed. “Is that not enough? You don’t think you’re trustworthy enough… We’re friends, Junghoon-ah.”

“It’s because of words like that…” he whispered. She didn’t hear, but his face got to her, likening a disheartened pup. In turn, her heartbeat also amplified in pace and volume.

“Don’t take that the wrong way!” she immediately added with a yelp before he could’ve opened his mouth, forceful to dismiss their bewildering conversation just as the stealth car was done parking right next to the curb in front of them. “I’ll deal with this.”

“Miss Zhou,” they heard the bodyguard’s hoarse yet respectful call, having exited the vehicle with his hands clasped. “It’s getting late.”

Xinyu and Junghoon walked to him. “Mr. Yi. Are my parents at the penthouse?”

“Not yet, but based on their schedule for this week, they will pay a visit tonight.”

“I told you I’m staying at a friend’s dorm,” she tried not to sound like she's whining.

“That’s not what your friends have said,” he shot back. “And Miss Park isn’t here—”

“It doesn’t matter if I’m still with Sohyun or not. That was her choice,” she snapped. For a second, Junghoon's chest tightened along as his breath shortened. “And isn’t this why I went to college? What happened to my four years of individuality, ahjussi?”

“I, umm,” he hesitated. “I understand why you're angry, but I believe you should take that to your parents, Miss Zhou. I'm only doing this for your safety… I always have.”

Looking at her suppressed irritation, Junghoon looked down on the concrete in guilt, not seeing Mr. Yi and Xinyu turning their heads at him. “I’m sorry, noona.”

“It’s fine.” She looked back at him with sorrow, just as guilty and lost due to the way she reacted at him earlier. “Just… Go home, Junghoon-ah. I can take it from here.”

They drove off into the darkness, Junghoon walked back home alone, humiliated by his own cowardice and hesitation for what transpired between him and Xinyu. Tonight, the cold spring breeze doesn’t feel as soothing as it used to be.

= = = = =

Tone’s smile shifted into a frown real quick. “You idiot! Pabo! You just fumbled your big chance, man. Come on. You either confessed or you didn’t. There’s no joking from you.”

Her phrasing simply irritated him. “What do you mean I fumbled my chance? I avoided a disaster! I know it’s a stupid thing to say, but I don’t wanna ruin anything we’ve built as friends. Besides, she and Sohyun-noona have reconnected lately, so… That’s that.”

Both Kotone’ enthusiasm and exasperation dropped. She did not expect the last sentence. “They did? Sohyun-sunbaenim is back?”

“No, not really. She’s still studying in Europe,” he clarifies. “But umm, yeah, she kept in touch with everyone from the club. Even me. And I'm grateful that it finally happened.”

“Does that mean they’re—?”

“I don’t know. I don't wanna know. That’s not my business,” Junghoon dismissed her in an instant, knowing well what her next words were gonna be. It’d be better if they were.

Kotone looked at him, more worried. Damn, that confession must’ve hurt him real bad.

“Even if there was no one else in her mind, I’ve known her long enough to know that she would rather be with someone who makes a move on her like a normal person. Someone who is more upfront and straightforward about their feelings.”

Tone sighed. “Maybe things have changed. Some people feel things they’ve never felt before. That’s normal. Xinyu-unnie is no exception to that change. Look, I know you might expect me to tell you to move on or even give you hope, but I can’t do either of those… Confess or don’t confess. I just don’t want my friend to not do something and regret it.” She reaches her hand to pat him softly on the back, caressing it in seconds.

Junghoon pondered in silence, unable to come up with any logical or witty rebuttal at his friend’s remark. Kotone shook her head and chuckled. But before she could’ve told him another word, someone from the Mad Money Club walked past them as her round eyes grew in enthusiasm having seen such familiar faces.

“Oh, it’s you guys,” Hyerin greeted each of them with a bow. “Hi, Junghoon-sunbaenim and Kotone-sunbaenim! Do you mind if I just finish my tteokbokki beside you guys?”

“No problem.” Junghoon felt a sense of relief by Hyerin’s arrival, oddly enough, as someone they’ve only known recently interrupted the very talk he was hoping would have ended. “Come sit with us, Hyerin-ssi.”

“Kamsahamnida!” She sat on the chair in front of Junghoon and Kotone. Now the two don’t know what else to talk about while their hoobae munches on some spicy rice cake while it’s steaming warm.

“What were you guys talking about?” Hyerin wondered. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“Junghoon’s got a big crush on your club.” Still, Kotone didn’t hesitate to tease him.

“Tone-yah!” Junghoon mouthed, though his face is suppressing an outburst of anger in front of his hoobae. “Why would you..?” He could only let out an audible groan.

Hyerin became intrigued by their banter, even though Kotone didn't reveal any names. “Who is it, sunbae? Is it Nien-sunbaenim?”

“It’s… Not that important,” he delivered with an awkward smile. “We should head back to the others. Is fifteen minutes good with you, Hyerin-ssi?”

“Ne, sunbaenim!” Hyerin complied. “That’s enough time for me to finish this, actually.”

“Don’t worry,” Kotone patted Hyerin in the back. “You’ll find out soon enough, Hyerin-ssi. Or you won't. That's up to him.’’

“And now that you’ve brought it up.” Junghoon’s enthusiasm started to level with Tone’s mischievous voice. “Kotone-ssi here does have a crush you may be familiar with. He’s—”

Kotone’s eyes widened at his clap black. She knows what he’s up to. “Yah!”

While Junghoon was able to change the subject with Hyerin around, teasing back Kotone allowed for the three students to start getting to know each other until lunch had ended.

= = =

The skies have darkened. The sun had already set about an hour earlier. Students are packing up in their booths. After all, they still have another day to prepare their stuff.

“Junghoon-ah…” Xinyu muttered.

He immediately turned to her. “Yes, noona?”

They took one step closer to each other. The young man gulped at her closer distance.

“You have any plans after this?” she asked him with a straight face.

“Not really…” he didn't give much thought to her question, expecting another objective. “Do you need me to assist you in another booth or..?”

“No, it’s not about the festival,” she cleared up. “You did well today… I just wanna hang out, like friends usually do, you know? It’s been a while since we went somewhere by ourselves. Just no bars or clubs like last time. You remember how that turned out.”

He lets out a chortle. “Oh, good point… Then, sure. Do you have any place in mind?”

The park is the perfect balance of having quiet scenery and triumphant noise around it.

She looks amazing. I mean she always did. She does. Wait, why am I thinking like this?

It was just the two of them. They haven’t felt like this since that night. During this breezy night, the comfort of having each other’s presence when they’ve realized there is no one else they know at this park aside from each other. It’s become a special place for them, not long after he helped her sober up, as well as helping the club with cheering her up.

“Look, Junghoon,” she broke their moment of silence with a somber mood. “About what I said back then. And the times before that. It was unnecessary and hurtful… So I have to say that I'm sorry about being suspicious of you about joining.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, noona,” he attests. “That was a long time ago. And what you felt was completely valid. I have no grudge against you for thinking like that.”

“That’s not entirely true! I feel so bad knowing your halmeoni, and I just wanna apologize for everything bad that I’ve said to you, about you, or behind your back.”

“It’s okay, noona. But if it helps you relieve your mind… Apology accepted.”

She still didn't feel too satisfied. It’s a progress, though. “Should we shake hands?”

“Why are you being so formal all of the sudden?” he tilted his head at her proposition.

“Geunyang,” she raised her hand. “What, you don’t want a symbol of our reconciliation? This too melodramatic for you?”

He chuckled, playing along with her request. Their hands tangled comfortably at this surface-level formality, but Junghoon looks at Xinyu with concern. To him, this one gesture shouldn't mean anything more than burying the hatching between their past “bad blood” of misunderstandings. To welcome a feeling of comfort to each their own hearts while his lukewarm hand touched her colder palm. But it’s because of this that he started to feel something else, the longer he’s holding her hand now. His confession that night flashed back to him.

Amidst the silence, their eyes leveled with one another. Dugeun.

Funnily enough, they let go of their hands at the same second, even though Junghoon never thought of Xinyu’s reason, and it wasn’t out of discomfort that he let go, but the thought of the unknown. That feeling he feared, because of the complications it could unleash to their lives.

Dugeun.

“Sorry, noona…” he lowered his head, before straightening his posture afterwards. “I might’ve gotten a little bit too comfortable there.”

“It’s okay, Junghoon-ah… But, enough sorries,” she raises her voice, surprising him with her sudden burst in hopes of ending their awkwardness together. “We should move way past this! No more dramas and all that. We got the festival coming up… You better get your game face on.”

“What?”

With a grin, she raised her tough yet enthusiastic exterior up. “You heard me.”

= = =

The first day of the festival had begun. Most, if not all, booths from various clubs and organizations are ready to entice and entertain the students from freshman to senior. Openings across campus inevitably drew crowds, consisting of students without a club or ones who simply wandered to spy on their rivals or neighbors with interest. In the cheers of the opening rally, Xinyu would've lost her balance along the waves of the crowd surrounding her. If it wasn't for Junghoon's reflexes that caught her just in time.

“Sorry, sunbae,” Junghoon backed away from her in an instant. “Hope you're all right.”

And they're back to square one.

“No, no, you don’t have to apologize,” Xinyu immediately assured him, though she could not look him in the eye for too long. “I'm all right.” Not with their little walk last night. “But, umm, you can let go now.”

“Oh, right. Right.” Their distance grew. “Mianhaeyo, noona…”

“It's okay, Junghoon-ah.” Her gentle cadence shifted into irritation. “Stop apologizing.”

He watched her walk and blend in with the horde ahead of them, not turning her back.

“Still awkward?” He heard Kotone’s soft and sympathetic voice behind him.

“Yeah, I guess,” he mumbled. She felt the sense of despondency in his voice.

Tone patted him on the back. “It’ll pass. But this is the festival, man, come on! This only happens a few times in a year. Let’s have fun, arasseo? We got five days to do… things!”

Xinyu wouldn’t have spoken to him for a while. Though, like most of the time, they and their friend groups only saw each other from distances, or when it’s their turn to watch over the club booths, if that one only ever happened. This week, however, gave him the opportunity to focus on himself. Outside of their club. Outside of work and organization.

Throughout the next few days, fun was mainly what Junghoon attempted to experience. The campus had days worth of booths, but as much as he hated to admit it to his friends, one could explore most of them within three days. At least, that's what he did. Whenever it wasn't his turn to guard and assist their booth, he went to pursue his own adventures with his closest buddies—if they could only keep themselves together within an hour.

Looking back, the first day and second day were almost everyone else's great highlights.

The first day was the explosive most students and associated visitors had come for. For Junghoon, though, it was also the start of his separation from Xinyu. The first time in a long while on campus. It wouldn't have been a big deal for either of them, if it wasn't for the day before. The morning hours gave him moments to warm up and loosen his worry.

“Oooooooh… That was so close… Better luck next time! Hope you come back.”

“Wah… You look so cute in those photos. You're quite photogenic. Thank you so much for participating in our booth!”

“For doing well, here's a freebie along with your main prize! Kamsahamnida!”

“Are you sure you're not a part of the Judo team? Football team? No? Huh…”

“Wanna show your moves and compete with fellow passionate performers in the name of our great university? Join the Seoul State Dragons Dance Team now!”

“You're a year of the Monkey. But your spirit animal is a Brown Bear! That means—”

The afternoon, however, was more awaited by students, professors, and visitors alike, who filled up the stadium twice compared to the morning rally for the opening concert. 

The cheerleading squad returned to appetize the eyes, ears, and hearts of the audience until the setlist of main courses had finally entered the stage with their microphones and instruments to play songs both familiar and new to the public:

Now, it's eight o'clock and I'm waiting on this good guy To come pick me up, I just wanna have a good night He's pulling up, oh my God, I see the headlights And he opens my door but his car isn't yours Just let me wave to you, not wave goodbye

Let me stay by your side 'Cause it's good enough Yeah, it's good enough for me

Amudo moreul geoya Malhan jeok eopseul teni Aicheoreom ulgo sipeun sungandeul Eoreuniran mareun cham geudael himdeulge hajyo Deo oeropge mandeureo

So help me Jujeoango isseoyo Nunmul nal geot gatayo Geureonikka jebal jebal jeballyo Tell me, it's okay to be happy

And I'm sinking into the feeling that we could be so much more I'm not who I was before Could it be magic? Oh, oh, oh-oh

Oh, you're the one Nae ane yuilhan melody Neoreul bureuneun moksori Uril ieojun Moksori

Throughout those two hours, Junghoon and his friends never left their row, except for snack and restroom breaks. Captivated by the old-fashioned and soothing atmosphere of live music, they sat or stood and hummed, cheered for, or sang along with the performers from the campus’ main field stadium until sundown. Performers have consisted of students who were aspiring bands or soloists, and, of course, the rising stars, grouped or independent, who they've been waiting the whole day and afternoon.

From a certain distance, he would spot some of the Mad Money Club next to the Diamond Dreamers, screaming their lungs out while they treated certain tracks as if they were at the noraebang… There was Dahyun and Yubin holding hands with Kaede and Hyerin, respectively, continuing their so-called initiation ritual as they kept on raising their hands in the air through the beats of the more hyper and upbeat tracks.

Beside them, Seoyeon laughed at her four members as the initiation unfolded. Next to her, Yooyeon would exchange laughter and advice with the younger woman through the ocean of noises, leaving each other smiles of deep respect as they pondered about their career choices after graduation. Nakyoung and Mayu kept their arms on each other’s shoulders while grooving to the music with their bodies swaying side to side. Jiwoo and Chaeyeon leaned their heads on each other. He didn’t know the Dreamers much compared to the Mad Money Club, but seeing all of them on the same row only amplified his experience in real time, as the girls’ lyrical exhilaration the whole afternoon had mirrored his friends.

But curiosity has led to move his gaze a little more to the right of their seat. Of course, how could he forget her?

There was also Xinyu in her beauty, with her thespian friends to her left as all three of her groups savored the music on a row below theirs. Junghoon might’ve been mistaken, but from his point of view, he noticed that her eyes were watering as her lips were neutral in the latter hours of the concert while her body remained steady through the ballads. He never knew why, but before he could entertain the thought of heading down, his own guilt-ridden, grudgeful self reminded him, Until you find a way to fix this mess, just stay away from her.

As the concert ended, the hours of enjoyment and carefree sing-alongs he shared with his friends were clogged by his misplaced confession. Exiting the stadium, Junghoon shook his head in hopes of forgetting her, only fixing his eyes on the ones he’s with.

On everyone’s way home around seven in the evening, Honggi's conversation with his friends summed up the first day quite well. “Shit, guys! That was a blast, wasn't it?”

“Last year was better,” Kotone blurted without a filter, making Myungsoo and Junghoon chuckled beside her. Junghoon had no strong opinion, while Myungsoo was on Honggi's side, though he'd rather let this discourse sit out.

“What? No! That's not what you really think, do you? How about Yeonghwan-hyung?”

“Yubin-ah seemed to love it… And I didn't really have a problem with the setlist.”

“You know what? I'll take that as a win for us. Unlike Miss Buzzkill here.”

“You were the one talking shit when the ballad singer was up!” she pointed out.

“Okay, so I didn't love all the songs. Big deal… At least, there were genres for everyone.”

“You have a point about that,” she nodded, before making a pout. “But we still could've had ARTMS for this year, if they just moved the date, so I'm sticking with last year... At least I got Loossemble during the Autumn Concert.”

“Arasseo…” Honggi sneered with his cocky grin. “People will always have their biases. Agree to disagree!”

The two would shake hands, much to the rest of their friends’ amusement.

The excitement for the second day took a little dip, yet it stayed steadily high for most. It was a week they felt no worries at any deadlines or examinations or anything academics. Within those two to three days, Junghoon didn't realize he had a lot of luck on his side, as if being enrolled at an international university wasn't enough. Varieties never ran out.

“Wanna take an MBTI Test? We're confident that our methods are legit—”

“Do you wanna find out who's the Bollywood celebrity you're most similar to?”

“Take a trip around the world via our simulation! It may help with your vacay plans.”

“Annyeong! If you're interested in learning more about various cultural roots, we're delighted to invite you to take a visit at our Asian Studies Cultural Exhibit!”

“Try out our matcha-flavored ramyeon and dubai chocolate cake! We promise you, they are not as unappealing as they sound.”

Of course, festivals weren't only about fun, but it offered windows to a student's future. Plenty of booths were also prepared by academic organizations and university sponsors, hoping to catch the attention and interest of students, regardless of their collegiate year.

“Assuming your grades are above average, I encourage you to maybe join another organization next semester. Something more related to student council, if you like.”

“I hope you're interested in our offer. You might still be a junior, but you got a brigh—”

“Kid, with your work experience, our company can guarantee you an easy interview.”

With his social battery running low, he almost forgot about Xinyu. Almost. But even then, he didn't want that to be the case. A part of him kept yearning for her presence. Plus, certain songs played at the concert didn't help either for “warping” his mind or “twisting” his heart. They weren't all gloomy, but those selections just happened to latch onto Junghoon’s ears like melodic magnets.

Fast forward, and the festival’s now in its third day; noon has gotten them separated by the restless hordes of the campus crowd. Somehow, not even the passage of time could drain the traffic within campus. Not in a noisy, joyous, and busy season like this.

After several minutes, Junghoon only met up with Kotone, sitting at an empty bench, a few meters away from the more compact, active, and populated regions of the campus. Although the sun's kiss wasn’t as prickly as it was in the summer heat, this seat under the shade of an oak tree is an all-time relaxation spot.

“Where's everyone else?” he asked.

“They divided and conquered,” she hissed in sweat. “Much like you have!”

“That’s what Honggi-yah and Yeonghwan-hyung did,” he defended them with a lower pitch.

“But it was Honggi who suggested we split it… Why did you take his words seriously?”

“Well, you also said that we should have fun. On the first day.”

“Yeah… But you've practically sped-run most of them yesterday. That's far from fun!”

Junghoon didn't have much to say. Her eyes became more vulnerable, as her lips curved downwards right as she sat on the bench next to him. His problem never went away. “Is it because you always keep on bumping into Xinyu-unnie, and now she's avoiding you? Is that what's been bothering you lately?”

“It didn't bother me when I was exploring others’ booths. I got myself some prizes…”

“Mianhae, Tone-yah…”

“No, I'm sorry for raising my voice… We can't always stay together as a group, can we?”

“It’s fine, but I mean… I think we're all together matters the most.”

“That's true, now that you've brought it up.”

“I should probably head back to the booth. Volunteer for the next shift.”

“You sure?” After this two-day streak of adventure, his decision caught her off-guard.

“Yeah… I don't want to ruin everyone’s vibe.”

“You didn't ruin anything, dude. You were impressive. You, like, ascended your level!”

He shook his head, looking down in embarrassment while she gave him praise. “Really?”

“Yeah, you played your ass off on a lot of games. You talked to a lot of org recruiters, even if you were just considering. Like that's something I wouldn't expect any normal person to do these days. You're actually living the college life during campus festivals.”

He shook his head, chuckling at her praise. “You flattered me a little too much there. I just distracted myself from the club a little more while I still got time, that's all.”

“Trust me... What you did was more than some of the students staring on their phones the whole day, when they could've seized the max of their enjoyment for this week. It's like, it’s not even that hot out here around this hour.”

The dynamic experience had left him with little energy to spare. “That may be true… I still think I should slow down a little more now that I'm gonna be staying in our area.”

“Good call… We only have two days left… Maybe, just take a chill pill, or buy yourself something to eat. We don't have any academics for the whole week. We might not even get the same level of fun next year, much like with our sunbaes now.”

He nodded silently at her sentiment. Their breeze-filled atmosphere got wistful quickly.

A few seconds later, Kotone received a text on her phone. “I'm needed elsewhere.”

“Is that one of the guys?” he expected.

“Yep.” Her smile widened. “Myungsoo-oppa needs me.”

That's why, he thought. “You can say that again,” he chuckled with a smug smirk.

“Shut up! He just needed my assistance with something,” she cackled at his tease, before putting her phone inside her pocket and walking slowly towards the wide crowded plaza. “Watch your surroundings on your way back, all right? Kalke!”

And now, he's back at it again. Back into his own thoughts while his eyes wander at the many sceneries in front of him, with a spectrum of faces, from boredom to enthusiasm.

= = =

The fourth day of the festival. 08:15 A.M. Almost everyone on booth duty still had less than an hour to feel laid back before they could open to the guests on campus. But, it was also a time that was early enough for the mind of Junghoon to feel unoccupied by any form of work, for his mind to remain restless at his reminiscences of infatuation.

He was only sitting down on one of the two chairs near the entrance of the Arcade Booth's tent, drinking a cup of warm plain tea beside his most dear friend, who's taking a sip of her own cup of matcha.

“Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome?” he suggested to Kotone nonchalantly, forcing a smirk for her to approve of his theory. “Or Seoul Syndrome? Is that a thing?”

Despite their convincing talk from last time, this conversation was far from over. Both of them were wishing it's the last time they'd have this topic, but they kept on going regardless.

“No, it's not.” The woman hit him in the shoulder, though she didn't apply much force. With more than enough patience in her calm system, she was simply annoyed and even astonished by his persistence to think of many ways of deflecting and escaping his own feelings. “You did it by yourself. You two have gotten close because you were working together closely. That's just a fact. Xinyu-unnie didn't coerce you of anything.”

He placed his forehead on his right palm, sighing on his wrist while his fingers dug through his hair. “You’re right. I can't even believe I tried to blame her… You know, it wasn't like this with Nien.”

He reminisced about Nien. How things were smooth between them. How they flirted around even when he didn't realize he was flirting, or simply because he didn't know exactly how to. Of course, she's seeing someone now because of his own inaction, and he couldn't be happier for her, but there's no doubt that she and Junghoon had something a couple of semesters ago. Whatever this feeling was now, it was crawling up to him.

“It wasn't easy, but we hit it off the moment we started talking by ourselves... I got lucky. Now with, umm… Ugh, I can't even say her name, it's weird that I just feel this way for her.”

“You meet different people, Junghoon. Luck or no luck, it's perfectly normal... It's life. Nien-sunbae has moved on. So have you.”

He softly groaned into his palms.

“You're not the problem here,” Kotone continued. “Neither is Xinyu-unnie. She just doesn't know the whole thing yet… And even if she does, there's nothing wrong with expressing how you feel.”

Junghoon remained quiet in his perplexity. It's like they have been going in circles with this. A conversational time loop, per se. Kotone had made insightful advice, but it's his own problem that he still couldn't get this itch off of him. The itch for more questions about his endless “what ifs.” They just wouldn't stop.

“If you're still not sure, maybe you can ask someone else besides me. Someone you know won't be too judgmental, or someone who’ll be more impartial in situations like this. None of that online forum shit, arasseo?”

Her suggestion had already gotten through him, although her final statement made him raise an eyebrow. “But we’ve used online forums before—”

“Learn from our mistakes, Junghoon-ah!” She raised her tone for that delivery, before softening it right after. “Please? Anons are the last people you should be asking. Even if some of them have decent answers, this isn't an AITA thing.”

A part of himself felt otherwise. Someone falling for their friend’s ex? He's heard similar stories online, ones which his friends would make fun of. Watched different variations of the same exact plot on melodramas. Perhaps that was why she wanted him to steer away from forums. He's already facing his own demons.

“Geez, all right... Calm down, arasseo. You know this isn't your problem, Tone.”

“Your problem might as well be mine…” She scrambled his hair, treating him like a troubled pup. “Aigoo, you should know I'm actually rooting for you in this. Sometimes.”

“Why?”

“You don't want it?” She leaned her face slightly downwards, raising an eyebrow.

He scratched his head. “In this situation? I'm not really sure I do… But I kinda appreciate it.”

Of course, there was another elephant in the room. One that the woman has been trying so hard to avoid in front of him. “So… Do you wanna talk about hyung?”

Kotone gave out an effortlessly heavy sigh. He knew he's not the only one going through something, but it wouldn't hurt to feel concerned about his best friend. It kind of would, but expressing his sympathy should hurt things a little less. “It's a bit too early. Maybe later, I don't know. I don't think I'm in the mood for it.”

“Of course… You know I'm also here, if you want to talk about it, or anything else, really.”

“Thanks, bud.” She leaned her head onto his right shoulder, slowly closing her eyes. A sigh followed.

===

12:30 P.M. The festival booths were occupied with more people. Junghoon was on watch duty over at the Mad Money's Love Arcade, and by their collective rules with their sister club, he got himself a companion to deal with guests while they played their booth.

The Diamond Dreamers had one of their own to assist him at the booth. So, it just had to be this woman whom he ended up asking for consultation. Even if she turned out to be much more invested in this discussion than he expected.

“I'd say just go for it!” Kim Nakyoung yelled beside Junghoon, almost startling a couple of students working on the teddy bear claw machine, while making the students on the wack-a-mole machine and console turn their heads. “Joeseonghamnida…” She craned her head to him. “It can be as simple as a confession. No need to cherry coat it.”

“I think you mean sugar coat—” he tried to correct her.

“Whatever it is, you get what I mean!”

“So… Should I really just say it? To her?”

She shrugged her shoulders, with her carefree posture impressing him. “You asked for my advice. Hell, I'm graduating next year. And if they're a senior like me, they are too. I mean, for me, the worst thing is not being able to say anything at all… You may never get that chance, if you just keep dilly dallying around with your own thoughts or keep asking around everyone you know... Live a little!”

The couple finally dropped a teddy bear into the machine’s slot, inciting a thunderous cheer from them, while Nakyoung and Junghoon gave them a supportive applause.

“Thank you for playing!” Junghoon slightly bowed alongside Nakyoung, seeing the two exit the tent while another group of four students entered the booth with their payments ready. Receiving their pay, Junghoon turned to the woman, still troubled by one more thing. “I, uhh, get what you mean… But her ex—”

“An ex is not the same as a boyfriend or girlfriend,” she told him abruptly. “There’s an ex before those words for a reason. You really want me to keep going?”

Of course, he didn't say the woman's name, which she respected. Yet, with a similar summary of the story he has told her, she echoed Tone’s sentiment.

“Not really. I just… You've made a good point. Thanks, Nakyoung-sunbaenim.”

She latched his hand with hers. A surprising, yet welcoming act of appreciation and amiability for him. “Anytime… It's been a real pleasure talking with you, Junghoon-ssi. And please, just call me, Naky… You're a good guy, so I don't see why you have little confidence in yourself in front of this mystery gal.”

He's only known Nakyoung for this whole week. She's a dance major who also happened to be in her senior year, much like Yooyeon, Dahyun, Seoyeon, Nien, and well, Xinyu. So it gave him something new to learn and ponder from her shoes. Based on how quickly he’d gotten along with the woman, he also pondered about making his move on her or just exploring an interesting direction with her, even if he surmised, he had little to no chances of making it work. He didn’t know how else to describe this woman’s vibe, other than her mannerisms being both tomboyish and feminine.

But more unfortunately for him, the “godly” presence of Xinyu had already invaded his mind, his heart, and his conversations with others.

The realization that Xinyu joked or sincerely thought he was flirting with Nakyoung days ago only irked him for a second.

In Junghoon's mind, however, he's got Kotone to thank for making a new friend, even though their distribution of tasks were more or less based on their leaders’ choices. It’d be nice if his newfound friends and acquaintances would be able to stick around in his sphere even after this festival.

“You talked with Naky-unnie?” Speaking of the devil, emerging from the tent's entrance, Tone walked to them with a medium box of loaded nachos in her hand. “Oh, she's terrible with relationship advice, Junghoon-ie. Better be careful hanging out with her.”

“Says the one who's still single,” the older woman shot back, rolling her eyes with a smirk, but she was nevertheless welcomed to take a piece of chip from the box.

“You're also single, unnie,” she effortlessly handled her would-be tease.

“Aniya!” Nakyoung came off as a little defensive for no reason. “I'm single by choice, come on. There's a difference. And just so remember, I had a boyfriend last semester.”

“So did I.”

“You did?” Junghoon's eyes widened at this revelation, but Nakyoung only shook her head with a smirk, expecting her answer.

The woman couldn't hide her own smirk from forming, unveiling hints of pride and mischief. “Well, they weren't boyfriends to say the least, but it was a few dates…”

“I knew you'd say that.” Nakyoung crossed her arms. “Fair enough.”

“So Myungsoo-hyung wasn't lying about your little blind dates?”

“Yah… Why would I be lying to him? Or any of our gang?”

“Nothing. I just, I even thought he was lying when he said he got a girlfriend. Could’ve been something you both made up.”

“Oh, yeah!” Nakyoung chimed in. “Our club thought the same when Yooyeon-unnie told us about him.”

Hearing those two names together, Junghoon stole a glance at Kotone. Her smile had dropped with her lips pursing together, avoiding any signs of vulnerability through the presence of a heavy frown. If he wasn’t mistaken, he saw her eyes getting watery by the second. She forcefully curved her lips upwards, showing her teeth.

“I know unnie’s a visual, but I never knew she'd get herself a snack like Myungsoo-ssi,” Nakyoung continued, munching on another meat-filled chip. “I mean Tone-chan, how did you make any moves on?”

“Make a move on Myungsoo-oppa?” Kotone burst with cackles, just hearing herself repeat her unnie's words. Nakyoung could only raise both her eyebrows in confusion, slowly turning her head to Junghoon. He simply shrugged his shoulders at her with an awkward chuckle, even if he had sensed an inkling of pain or at least jealousy within his friend, knowing her secret. “A snack?” Her laughter made her body shake, she had to give the nacho box to Junghoon's hands, which he held with care. “Get outta here!”

He let her laugh through her hidden angst. His do-gooder side wanted to steer the conversation elsewhere, but he already had a problem of his own, but he knew that Kamimoto Kotone is stronger than this.

“That was funny, unnie,” the woman wiped a single tear of her eye with a knuckled fist as her laughter subsided with a few coughs.

“Okay..?” Nakyoung chuckled nervously. “I'm glad that made you laugh, Tone. Welp, I'm guessing you two really just have a sibling-like relationship. You know, most girls in our class and club have him on their lists of top five campus crushes.”

That was strike two, but Kotone shook her head off with a chuckle. She took the box from Junghoon’s hands, before taking a loud and unabashed bite of a chip. “Eh, good for him. And best of luck to them getting past Yooyeon-unnie!”

And besides, they already went off tangent within a few minutes. By that time, three more batches followed the line as only one of them was able to snatch a stuffed toy. Another student sought for a quick instruction in making a jewel for their crush.

The trio had a fun time talking and laughing, but that was it for Nakyoung and Kotone on Junghoon’s list. Xinyu was still not around his radar, making him feel a tug of war between relief and wariness. A more determined half of his spirit demanded he go look after her or ask any of the Mad Money members. But that'd be a death sentence, he added, shaking his head.

He even considered getting the thoughts of the rest of the Diamond Dreamers, but then, he had to list down all the first impressions he's had with them since last week. Chaeyeon and Jiwoo seemed inseparable. The pranksters of the group, their personalities were similar and so in sync, yet they're also distinct. He wouldn't be surprised if they were actually dating or simply being intimate. Mayu adored him, but that only made him more reserved, even though he liked meeting her. Despite her deceptively high-pitched, soft-spoken voice, she's perhaps one of the most extraverted people he's met. For him, cheerful ones may or may not be more prone to spilling his beans, though he might simply be stereotyping her. And lastly, Yooyeon would be busy hanging out with Myungsoo, as far as he's concerned.

They're a no-go, he concluded.

= = =

The next hour came with a less busier crowd. But their shift at the booth was succeeded by Yubin and Jiwoo. Yeonghwan was a third wheel, albeit a willing one. Now, he made time with another close friend while they took a walk in the middle of the campus plaza.

“Junghoon-ie... You don't have to overthink it, eh?”

“You too, Myungsoo-hyung?”

Yooyeon wasn't with him at the time, but his hand was holding a shopping bag, filled with another batch of gifts and prizes he must've won at various booths. He's already learned of his gifts for Yooyeon the other day, but this was a new batch. Lucky them.

“What do you want me to say?” he raised his empty palm. “For me to say the same exact things Tone said to you—”

He turned to him with wider eyes. “Tone told you?”

He raised his hands, the handles wrapped around his wrist as the bag now dangled below his hand. “Look, she was getting really worried about you. Don't come at her, okay? I was just worried.”

She was definitely worried about Junghoon's complexity, but the latter knew exactly why her expression must've worried Myungsoo. “I'm not gonna…”

“Don't worry about the guys either. Yeonghwan’s making his moves on Yubin-ssi, which seems to be doing well. I mean, we barely saw those two not being around together. And there's also Honggi, and—well… He's being himself.”

He let out a soft snortle. “I don't disagree on that.”

“I just really think it'd be better if you just… You know? Follow your guts and set things straight with Xinyu herself.”

“That's impossible for her.”

“Why would it be? Did she already say no?”

“She might as well be with her standards. She's gay…” He's even forgotten he'd already asked a similar question to Kotone a few days ago, but his uncertain mind persevered.

“No, she's not… She's only half gay.” That sounded better in his head.

It was strange as those words entered Junghoon’s ears. “That's not how it works.”

“I know, but what I mean is, she's not against dating men!” He stopped to look at his friend's defeated, almost blank expression. “Unless… She told you otherwise.”

Junghoon exhaled through his nostrils, before his eyes faced him. “She didn't…”

“It's obvious and simple… You like the woman. You can't hide from your own feelings, man... I mean, I heard from Tone that it's been months since you two worked together, right? And… I don't believe you're betraying anyone because you ended up liking her.”

“Really?”

“Of course… You've had time with her, like anyone with another person, and things just started fluttering in your heart. Every time she's talking or approaching, it's like you feel butterflies bursting out of your stomach. Or the usual shivers creeping up your spine.”

No matter how weirded they were phrased, the imagery of his descriptions was too immaculate for Junghoon, it made him recall his moments with Xinyu all over again, mirroring their cycles of practice and rehearsal the cast of the Thespians had made for all scenes throughout their production.

“That's a gross way of putting it… Is that really how they're teaching you in your advanced English classes? I'm not even sure that's the right expression.”

He squinted his eyes. “I know. It's a hyperbole. It's just an exaggeration, just like how you're kind of exaggerating the magnitude of this whole scenario... It's like you're not even worried about the more likely possibility of you getting rejected.”

“I'm not.” He wasn't wrong, but now that he brought it up…

“That's the thing that freaks me out. Freaks us out.”

“What does?” For him, maybe it's best he felt that way.

“You don't believe in yourself.” Those words clenched his heart. “Even in hypotheticals.”

He couldn't defend himself on that one. Instead, he stomached his thought's remark. Perhaps, that's just really me. But he knew that would be an answer that would only make Myungsoo persist and continue buttering his esteem, so he had no other choice, but to give into his straightforward advice. He's the one with the girlfriend after all. “Maybe I, uhh, should just say it to her, then. Up front.”

Myungsoo stood up from his seat, mustering up what was left of the energy he had for his friend conserved in this conversation as his volume leveled up. “Yes, exactly! Stop thinking about the many ways she can reject you and just come clean with her.”

He took a deep breath, before his lips curled upwards. “Okay, then. Thanks, hyung.”

The older one stepped closer to give him a few pats on his shoulder with a humble smile.  “Anytime, bud… But… Are you sure you're not gonna ask for someone else after this?”

“I won't.” He intended to stop there with his voice commanding some sense of certainty, but his mind couldn’t handle more and more variables coming through the scenarios he had kept on playing. “I'm not…” he added. “I think.”

“You think?” Myungsoo knew he couldn't stop his friend from being like this. “That doesn't sound very reassuring.”

Junghoon cleared his throat, deafening his thoughts long enough to assure Myungsoo. “I won't. I won't. That's final, I promise.”

With a smile, Myungsoo realized he would simply have to put his trust in his bud. “Good. Now go get her answer.”

= = =

It was five-thirty in the afternoon. Running out of more impartial voices to listen to, Junghoon stepped inside the professor's office. One in particular.

“You may come in now, Junghoon-ssi.”

And yes, Myungsoo still wasn't enough. Junghoon had to ask someone older than all of them. More impartial, but maybe with more experience... It was someone he had never considered asking for advice during his three years (and counting) in Seoul State University.

“Are you asking for advice?”

Until now.

“Uh, ne, seonsaengnim.”

“But…” By the look of uncertainty in your expression, he already senses that something's off. “I'm guessing this isn't about grades, is it?”

His hands were trembling. Regret was coursing through his veins. “Joesonghamnida, Professor Jeong. I didn't mean to waste your time.”

“Oh, no, no!” He waved and shook his hands as the young man stood up in unease. “It's okay! Sit down, sit down. Come on, your grades are up. They’ve always been improving. I had a hunch you're not here for consultation. Not about academics, I presume.”

“Is it really that obvious?”

“Uh-huh… And how can you forget that we've talked about your little project case with Sohyun-ssi, which we've handled that well. Look how she's doing now. I don't see why we can't deal with this problem either. You know, just off the books.” The professor's voice of approachability persisted through his sentiment. Made Junghoon realize that any other professor wouldn't have let it slide after Sohyun confessed about their project, which he carried while she was occupied with her organization. “But—if you really aren't comfortable with it, you can just tap out, arasseo?”

And so he tried to put it as an “asking for a friend” situation. He practically transcribed a whole forum question into his own words, which someone could have called him out for committing plagiarism or a repeated question if he asked it himself online. Expounding on his words, Professor Jeong kept his attentive ears and eyes, treating the situation as his student was reciting in the lecture hall. A minute has passed as he gave a couple of nods to his pupil and placed his chin on his fingers, leading with the realization that…

“You're falling for someone. Is that what you're telling me here?”

The young man stopped his tracks, stunned with his own eyes widening and his lips slowly opening. He heaved out of nervousness and that gave away almost everything.

The professor let out a laugh, but not one that comes off as mockery or pitiful. In a way, it evokes a sense of nostalgia or yearning for a semblance of the past. And yet, Junghoon remained confused. Anxious at his next choice of words. Still, he did not want to leave.

“It's just…” he was still in disbelief. “Wow, young love really doesn't go away, does it? It's everywhere. This is new.”

“But, umm, I don't have to say who—”

“You absolutely don't have to say who. I'm here to give my two cents on the situation, not the identity of the people in it. I couldn't care less if it's a man or a woman.”

“Oh. Okay, then… Here's the thing.”

He told him the gist of his love scenario. Although the absence of context clues like with Nakyoung and background like with Kotone made his recap a little longer. But it felt like a breath of fresh air that the professor didn't ask questions while he was telling his story, nor the fact that he only asked a few as soon as he was finished.

“So… You said you never had these feelings before you two became closer friends.”

“Ne.”

“And those feelings came after they broke up with their ex?”

“That's correct.”

“Don't make this a matter of whether she'll accept your feelings or not… It's completely understandable that you're worried about her reaction, or the possibility that she hasn't moved on from her ex, but getting your feelings off your chest should be enough to help get through this, Junghoon. That's what I'm reading from you. Be clear with your intentions.”

He was basically giving a free lecture, something that made Junghoon listen on, albeit without any notes on his own phone or notebook. Every word went through his mind and heart.

“You got it?”

“Ne.”

“But also remember to give her some space. Her time, okay? Things ain't all easy as it seems. Even for them.”

And as the bell rang the second time, classes had ended for those who were attending. He offered his hand, signaling a formal handshake, which he quickly reciprocated.

Standing up from his seat, now wearing his shoulder bag, Junghoon gave Professor Jeong a bow of gratitude and farewell. “Kamsahamnida.”

He raised a fist into the air while sending off the young man outside his office. “Best of luck, my student. Hwaiting.”

Of course, he never had classes for this day or any more stuff to deal with at the festival for the evening, so he knew himself there was only one place to head to, if it wasn't any more obvious. On his way outside the department building, however, fate or whatever form of chance and circumstance had intervened as his single path to home ended up crossing with the one and only…

“Xinyu-noona…”

He hasn't seen her that often this morning, but her closed lips formed a smile. Not too apparent from afar, but it was enough to tell her relief from it. “I thought I wouldn't see you today,” she muttered, slowly walking towards him. “What're you doing here?”

“Just a short consultation with Professor Jeong.”

Her head tilted to the right. “That was pretty random… On festival week?”

“Yep… Just wanted to check my grades, since they're still not updating on the site.”

She giggled. “Oh, okay… I forgot that you're kinda grade-conscious.”

“Speaking of which, how was your festival?”

“Pretty swell… Just got some internship offers. How about you? I heard.”

“Yeah… Well, I kinda regret doing it.”

“Wae? You had fun. Seoyeon and Hyerin-ie were surprised how wild you were.”

“Something must've come over me. I'm surprised you didn't have fun with your friends.”

“We had enough. This would be our annual fourth festival, after all, so that's kind of the last thing on our minds. Most of us, at least.”

He simply nodded, with his lips pursed. “That makes sense.”

They took a walk outside the building, letting both their autopiloted legs and bodies take them wherever on campus. Passing through the less crowded areas, they saw a third of the booths in their sight started to close down before the sun set. It was neither their turn on duty to close down the arcade for today, so they had one less thing to talk about… Other than the very thing they should've been talking about to begin with.

Of course, he had to be the first one to break the silence. “Hey, look. I'm sorry…”

“Don't be…” Her tone immediately sounded remorseful. “It was just all of the sudden, you know? What you said about that feeling.” Not to mention, their accidental touch.

“I know.” His orbiting guilt couldn't even let her finish. “That's why I'm apologizing.”

“Junghoon-ah…” She paused for a moment as they kept on walking. Junghoon simply looked at her with an almost neutral expression. Dilly dallying around wasn't her style, especially in a situation as somber as this one. “Can't we just go back to being friends?”

“We still are, aren't we?” Junghoon didn't hesitate to tell her that.

“You know what I mean…”

“I wouldn't mind that, to be honest.”

“You wouldn't mind or you wouldn't care?”

She knew he couldn't choose between the two, not because he's unaware of the difference, but because he knew how he really felt.

He answered her with, “You said we should just pretend like nothing happened, right?”

“Yeah…” she only mumbled, staring deeply into his clenched hands.

That baffled him even more. “You seem eager to bring it up again.”

“I just wanna know what's going on with your mind?” she confessed. Her nerves were struck by his counter, but she didn't deny it. “What's led to this…”

He exhaled with struggle in his thoughts. “I couldn't figure it out myself either—”

“Bullshit,” she muttered with a snortle. Not letting him away easily with I don't know(s) and I'm not sure(s). “Start with when.”

“Believe me or not, I'm not sure…” Despite his uncertainty, he ought to give her an honest answer. “I first realized it that night. I guess it wasn't long before that, but I… I tried ignoring it.”

A memory reminded her. “But before that… When Sohyun and I were still together—”

It was a question he knew was bound to be asked. He still didn't know how to phrase it. “I, uhh, I didn't feel a thing for you.”

“Ouch.” That came out wrong in both their ears. And yet, such honesty amused her.

He closed his eyes. “I didn't mean it like that. I was more or less just intimidated by you.”

“Double ouch, but I guess it can't be helped.” His confession made her grin teasingly. “Lots of folks are intimated by me. Though, the feeling was mutual… I mean—I even thought you were into her back then.”

“No, no, no, noona… I didn't see her like that. I never had a close friend since Tone and the rest of the guys, but having a new friend like Sohyun-noona, and, well, you girls has changed that for me. In some way.”

“In what way?”

“Like having sisters?” Regret immediately lit up through his eyes.

Intrigue and confusion entered her psyche. “So, with Nien, is that—”

“Not in a literal way…” he had to clarify that pretty quickly. “Like having female friends.”

Though he wanted to move on, she continued to make a guess. “By having sisters… Is that, umm, how you see Kotone-yah? Is she like a sister to you?”

He could only respond with a nod.

“Did you have any siblings?” she added.

“None that I know of. I'm an only child, so…” He rarely brought up his family, but knowing more about him, something that no one else knew, was slowing down the tension Xinyu was feeling about him. When it's just the two of them. It felt calming.

Her eyes moved to the side, stealing a glance of his face. “So, it was just Nien, then?”

“Was…” His throbbing heart pushed the need to correct it. He knew what she meant. “I really did like her, but…”

Dugeun, she heard it in her chest while looking down. “Glad to hear your perspective.”

“But you and Sohyun-noona made each other happy, so I stuck with you. With the club. In time, I knew each of you more, respected your capabilities. Admired your closeness.”

She listened on to the flow of his heartfelt sentiment without the need for interruptions.

“I thought we could just be friends,” he continued, letting his heart speak. “I guess that was all I asked us to be, before this whole thing came through... I don't care what we are or what may be, but I do care about you. I'll keep caring for you and the club... Unless, you don't want that anymore.”

His final sentence triggered a pinching, prickling feeling in her heart. “Junghoon-ah…”

And in spite of Xinyu's eagerness to mutter a word, he heard a gulp from the woman. She thought this would be easy to deal with, but she underestimated how it felt to feel something or anything, no matter how unsure she was. Unfortunately, before she could form a response, they would realize that they've already reached the main campus gates.

“I'll go…” Although Xinyu noticed it first. “Take care, Junghoon-ah.” She walked off.

Junghoon slowed his breathing down as much as he could. In Xinyu's departure, his thunderstorm storm of thoughts weren't there to accumulate and save his sorrow while still standing in the silence. It's been a long and exhausting four days of exploring events or babysitting booths for everyone.

= = =

“How do you feel about her, dear?”

Junghoon saw his grandma walking up to him while his eyes stayed on the boiling pot. “It's not that simple, halmeoni.”

“I'm sure it isn't… I'm not saying it is. But then again, maybe you don't have to overcomplicate it, either.”

The broth tasted no saltiness, though savoriness was starting to sneak into his tongue. “Huh?” His halmeoni’s words did confuse him, however.

“Let me handle this.” The woman moved over to the kitchen counter, taking the ladle from her grandson, despite his plea not to. “Just do it. You’ve done everything here… Just stand there and don't think about anyone else. Just think of her.”

“How? That’s just… That doesn't make sense. Just had a little more salt to it, halmeoni.”

“Okay, then…” She followed his tip, before telling him, “Clear your mind. Of any other disruptive thought that may stand in your way. Just remember this woman… How she makes you feel. The warmth of her hand on yours, only if you have made it that far, at least. Her being around your company. How comfortable do you feel, Junghoon-ie?”

He closed his eyes for a bit. A few memories flashed and sprinkled across his mind. Particularly their walks at Keuri-go Park. “She makes me feel really good, I guess.”

“Go on. How does she make you feel good?”

“Just her company. Her humor and her confidence. It's out of this world. She makes me comfortable. Even though her hands were cold, they were calming. It always surprised me when she just latched onto my hands, but they always felt comforting… Some people call her ice queen or a cold-hearted princess, but they just don't know her enough.”

“And what do you know about her that other people don't?”

“She’s passionate about her work. She cares about her clubmates, her fellow thespians.”

His grandmother let out a chuckle. “There you go, dear…”

“You seem to know a lot about things like this.”

“Just enough… Your mother and father were beating around each other's bushes when they were younger… I guess, some things haven't changed."

She's barely brought up his parents. Not since they passed. Hearing them without a heart-wrenching sensation in his chest felt soothing, somewhat nostalgic even.

His eyes lit up and widened with curiosity. “Were they really like that?”

“Mmm-hmm… They weren't all that close when they were studying, but they made it work. I didn't even know they were mingling behind our backs until they graduated! Those lovebirds couldn't hold it in.”

Her laughter infected Junghoon. He rarely remembered anything substantial about them, unless he had to ask her or look into their family albums. He didn't remember them being in love, but he'd rather have the benefit of the doubt that perhaps, he was simply too young to remember everything.

She placed her palms on his shoulder. “Hey, if this girl is not interested in you, then it shouldn’t be a big deal, okay? It may hurt, but you'll just have to own it and live with it. There's more plentiful fish in the sea, dear.”

“That's so cliché, halmeoni.” She's not wrong, but her delivery made him shake his head.

“That doesn't mean it's untrue,” she countered, leaving her grandson with a chuckle of acknowledgement. “You know, the thing with you young-ins days these is that—”

“Halmeoni,” he whined, making her laugh out loud at his reaction. She knew it would get him, but she truly wanted to ease the storm of worries swirling within his heart.

“Things will get better, my grandson.”

“Thanks, halmeoni… Now please drink your medicine, all right?”

“Way ahead of you… Also, dinner's ready, if it's all good with you.”

It's been days since we wanted to make sure. And now, there was no one else for him to confide in, no one he'd chosen, at least. And yet, after all those talks and consultations, it didn't feel enough for Junghoon. And then, another realization sprung up. Maybe it's no longer about confiding, nor reassurance that he's looking for. On the same night, he just wanted to take one last stop in order to “get this over with,” once he's done with dinner.

= = =

A few hours later. Inside his room, Junghoon has been waiting on his desk for the past ten minutes, seeing himself on his old computer’s screen, before Sohyun’s face finally appeared with him on the video calling program. It was 10:14 P.M in Korea.

He raised his hand to wave at her. “Hey, noona…” His heart accelerated at a steady pace.

“Junghoon-ah!” The background and overall surroundings of the café wall behind her was bright as day, and so was her expression. “I was wondering when you'd call me.”

That made him think of everyone else. “Have the others—?”

“Yep.” She took a bite of her biscuit. “They were the first, actually.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” he told her while she took a sip of her cup of coffee.

“Just yesterday, we talked for like almost two hours. Like each of them couldn't stop yapping about their day, ‘cause they all can't be staying in the booth and enjoying the festival at the same time!”

He couldn't help but smile wider. “You must've had no idea how much they missed you.” It's as if he never had a problem in the past week or two. That's just how things went.

“I imagined it a while back,” she admitted with her watery eyes. “But I guess I have now, so I don't have to imagine them anymore… I missed them a ton… All of you, you know.”

“Me too, noona… And I'm guessing you've also met the new members?”

“Oh, definitely! We even exchanged our contacts just after the call.”

“I see you still got that Park Ssaem charisma,” he teased. “Even from the other side of the world.”

“Oh, would you stop that?” she chuckled. “They were just really, really fun to get along with. It's not that hard to explain it, but seeing those two reminded me of when we first got together as a small-time club.”

She was referring to the founding of the Mad Money Club, which he or Yubin weren’t a part of, but seeing Sohyun with her smile and nonstop talking gave Junghoon a sense of nostalgia. For a time that might not happen ever again. Not in the same fashion, at least. “Really? Care to list down your first impressions of them?”

“Are you quizzing me now just because I'm not there, while you’re wilding out on every booth you find and winning a lot of stuff on your own?” she grinned, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m not even gonna ask how you found that out, but it's not like that. I'm just curious, that's all. The old meeting the new sounds intriguing. It's a bummer I even missed it.”

“That's what you get for working at the booths too hard,” she pouted. “But, since you asked nicely, first and foremost, Hyerin was pretty adorable. She's too passionate about helping at the booth… Kaede-chan was also super duper cute, but she was definitely much tougher to get in touch with. I should've probably practiced a little more Japanese… But speaking of Kaede, I heard that you're able to ‘soften her up’ during your first meeting.”

There was no doubt in his mind she'd bring it up. “Yeah... That moment was also tough for me the first time.”

“You mean scary?” she leaned closer into the screen, playfully intimidating him, strikingly mirroring the vibe he had felt from the younger member at the time.

“Not that scary…” He shook his head from side to side, though his exterior of a smooth and deepened voice was shaking at the recollection of that moment.

“I heard you froze when she kept asking you about your role in the club.”

He couldn't help but be more playfully aggressive. “Okay, who told you? Did Dahyu—”

“Everyone did.”

He sighed in defeat. “Of course, they did.”

“Don’t worry, hoobae… I'm really proud you've gotten yourself out of your shell for that situation. You showed Kaede-chan that respect is something that she's gotta give, if she wants to earn it from everyone… You've been a part of the Mad Money Club, Junghoon. No one's telling you otherwise.” She's still the same old mentor he looked up to.

“I, umm, that was hell of a compliment. Gomawayo, noona.”

“Don't mention it. We're always glad to have you... All of us.”

He wanted to say it. Steer the conversation elsewhere. But he also missed her presence. So he did his best, prolonging their conversation in the next thirty minutes, until he got the chance to talk about her current state of affairs in her new home.

Junghoon led the change of subject with, “So… How's Paris so far, noona?”

“Not too bad. I remembered some stuff online really hit hard around here, but yeah—”

Her voice had hints of discomfort and snickering. “We're they right about the city?”

“I'm afraid they're not too far off. Parts of the city are well… Not the cleanest, I think the neighborhoods outside campus are a million times cleaner compared to here.”

“I'm sure there are still great parts of it, right?”

“Of course, of course! The Eiffel doesn't look like it's rusting yet. Unlike the love locks on their bridge.”

They exchanged a moment of unbridled laughter.

“You're talking about that lovers’ bridge, right?” Junghoon had taken another steer.

“Mmm-hmm. They did stop putting locks there years ago, though, but I still couldn't help but imagine it being there at times when I was there as a kid… It's like, I wanted those things to stay there.”

Deep down, he wondered if she felt the same thing about her old flame.

“And by the way, food's pretty good, too…” she added. “And oh yeah, the surroundings did get much cleaner when officials were preparing for the Olympics, so I gotta give them some credit.”

A few more minutes would pass. Sohyun gave him more highlights of French culture, the good, the bad, and the ugly of it all. Eventually, she ran out of words by the fortieth minute. And that's when he gave in to the guilt-ridden temptation of bringing up Xinyu.

“I hope I'm not ruining the mood, you said you talked with everyone in the club.”

“Maja… Just speak your mind.”

“Okay… Then that means, umm, you and Xinyu-noona you've also reconnected, right?”

“Yeah, we've talked, too. It was…” She gave out a heavy sigh. “Weird. And strange.”

Out of desperation, his thoughts regressed, hoping it would allow him to escape his problem. “Things usually are, but I'm sure it'll get better once you try and talk about starting things over again with—”

“Aniya,” she interrupted him with a somber smile. He only froze, clueless on what to say next, like she turned down his implied suggestion.

“What?”

“We're not getting back together,” she told him up front. No tears in her behind her eyeglasses. Not a sight of twitch in her fingers or any sign of discomfort. At least, not one that one could see. Who wouldn't be uncomfortable hearing the name of their ex?

“Why not?” he kept digging. “Noona… What happened? When you two reconnected.”

“It's what we both decided…” She pursed her lips for a second, producing a sound that broke their air of silence. “We've been friends before. I don't see why we can't now.”

“Oh… But is that how you feel?”

“What I feel?” she almost chuckled at his question. But she wasn't too bothered. “I don't think that's what matters to me right now, but… A part of me wants to heal from this… I couldn't keep wallowing in my past, because I have a life here now.”

He tried examining her face, but she knew how she felt. What she truly wanted. Bittersweet as it might be, he sensed a glimmer or hope of happiness from her.

“I know what you're trying to do, Junghoon-ie.”

However, he failed to sense her gaze of suspicion, something he's failed to do in the past.

Panic set in within seconds, leaving him almost paralyzed. “What?”

“And I appreciate it.” But her voice remained composed. Welcoming, still. “If I'm being honest, it was hard for me to adjust here…”

“I can't imagine how it must've been.”

“I'm feeling happier now, to say the least. Made a couple of friends.”

“I hope they're treating you well.”

“Oh, they very much are. And I met some folks from Korea, too, but I'm not too close with all of them yet.”

“It’ll all work out, noona. You being you should be enough to find more people to vibe with. Someone like the Mad Money Club.”

“I hope it will… But, I also want to thank you so much for taking care of her. Of Xinyu. The girls wouldn't have been there, back with the new club, if it weren't for you.”

“It's the promise I made, so…”

“Don't just do it because of our promise. I'm just happy none of you are having a fallout or some big fight, but I hope you stay with them as long as you want.”

Despite her moment of reassurance, he's felt even more unsure on how to deal with this emotional turmoil he's facing and keeping all to himself.

“Is everything all right, Junghoon-ah?” In all of their time together, he rarely got the chance to speak around a crowd, but when it's one on one, it was not hard for someone close to him, especially like Sohyun, to read Junghoon's face when he's in deep thought. “Did Xinyu tell you about me or something? Did any of them say something strange or worrying?”

The thing is she didn't. I mean barely. Around him, of course. He was just an assistant. A friend she made half a year ago. He's the one who told her something strange.

“I'm guessing you wanna tell me something about her? Should I be worried about something?”

Something miniscule had been itching throughout his body. Tempting himself to open his mouth and just say it. Just those words. Variations of them. “I'm falling for your ex-girlfriend. I'm falling for her. It's fucking insane, but I don't know how else to put it… Please don't be mad at me—”

“Our friendship is over. Stay away from her.”

“I swear I didn't mean for things to happen this—”

“You call yourself a friend? You fucking creep—”

“Please… I'll just stop. I don't have to tell her anything—”

“You and Xinyu?” she burst out laughing. You saw her almost spilling her mug off her table. “Fat chance, you fat—”

“It's nothing,” he could only answer her with a slight chuckle. “There’s nothing that she hasn't told you before…” just before adding, “Not that I know of.”

“That's nice,” she told him while she heaved a sigh. “Xinyu-yah really is feeling better. You had me worried there for a sec.”

“I’m just…” he heaved as well. He didn't want to make things worse. “I really hope things are doing better there, noona. I hope… We can see you more often soon.”

“Well… I'm not sure about that yet. Maybe, I'll check my schedule for a holiday… But I also hope things are great back there at home, Junghoon. Say hi to halmeoni for me, arasseo?”

Another breath of relief left his mouth, but he didn't know what to feel relieved about. “Of course! I will, noona. Take care...”

Maybe reconnecting with her was more than enough. Hearing how she still felt for her ex. But it kept bugging him, so maybe he could still do a last second to finally set it s—

“All right, all right…” Sohyun's eyes appeared less agitated. It's her usual calmness, even Junghoon could feel like he had said enough, based on her gaze. “Take care of yourself, Junghoon-ie. Kalke!” Sohyun waved at him from her screen. He waved back, the same time she ended the call a second later.

That was it. My only chance to admit the truth. Way to go, Geum Junghoon.

Okay… So that only went… Nowhere, Junghoon thought to himself. And yet, little did he realize that, maybe all his halmeoni, professor, Kotone, and even Nakyoung were all right about their insight. Maybe he shouldn't think of this as complicated as it should be. Perhaps everything simply leads to this. He had to face his own feelings, head-on, since by the end of the day, the worst he can receive is a no. Or a broken friendship, but he'd rather dial it back to getting a good ol’ fashioned rejection from Zhou Xinyu, and then negotiate for friendship, if that's even possible. Or don't, and just accept the consequences of his risky actions, even though he hasn't even made a decision yet.

He's had sleepless nights because of it. A young love like his should not be this complicated. He knew it's not love, but the feeling's enough to drive him crazy. He knew she was not taken or actively interested in anyone anymore. She made it clear she wasn't into dating or seeing anyone in general, but that's also none of his business.

But guilt kept crawling on his back with its piercing legs. His lungs were pumped up with anxiety before he could breathe out and speak with remorse. By the end of his talks, however, he realizes that things didn't have to be this difficult, if he just stopped thinking about those factors that paralyzes him. About Xinyu’s thespian folks. About the voices. About their differences. About Sohyun. The simple truth is, he just likes Xinyu, and if that's a crime, it is one that he’d be willing to pay and get punished for.

His phone vibrated. A text was sent from Xinyu herself. A surprise, to be sure.

[Meet me tomorrow after the booths close.] [Only if you're free.] [Are you free?]

Still unsure if it's a welcome one, however.

The typing icon from the other side kept moving whenever he tried to type something. Is she going back and forth with her messages? Three seconds later, they both stopped.

[Just reply if you're free or not.] [Please.]

He couldn't help but chuckle. Somehow, he's hearing her groan out of embarrassment from the other side of the screen just for typing another follow-up reply. Now, he began typing his response, realizing there was no other way from this mess he had made.

The only way was forward, and he just had to make and find the time for that. They have made almost every afternoon ever since Junghoon enlisted as her production assistant, to a mere fellow producer. The same walk. The same park she treated as a safe space.

They became good and reliable friends. There was no doubt from him about that. And in his hopeless spirit, tomorrow night might end it, now that Xinyu has probably made up her mind and contacted him for the first time ever since they've "ghosted" each other.

{I'm free tomorrow, noona.}

= = =

On the fifth night of the festival, Junghoon planned to check on his closest friends when he got a call from Xinyu, five minutes after wrapping up the Love Arcade Booth or the Jewelry Stand with their clubmates. She rarely called him, while he never called anyone unless necessary, and so he suspected she was serious in meeting him, reminding him of her text last night.

For this week, this was about the second time they’re spending time without the accompaniment of Mad Money Club, the Diamond Dreamers, or even his closest buds. Maybe it’s because of his promise to Sohyun as to why Junghoon rarely ever said ‘no’ whenever Xinyu asked for his sole companionship.

Up to this point, he hasn’t questioned why she would ask him, and only asked him to go with her to walks like this. The only question that was now lingering in his thoughts is why her presence started to make him feel things again, which is the last thing he wants to happen, especially whenever he’s with her—especially now that she finally was aware of his once hidden affection.

As per usual, they took a stroll across the local Keuri-go Park. Away from all the buzzes and ringing they’ve experienced throughout most of the week, they found time to relax within each other’s presence. Just the two of them around strangers minding their own businesses after sunset.

“So, Seoyeon-noona just texted that she, Soda-noona, and Hyerin-ssi were able to count a total of 857,921 won from our Love Arcade. That's not even counting our collab wit—”

“Aniya, aniya…” Xinyu aimlessly whisked her hand. “We agreed to finalize the whole costs and earnings by the weekend… But that's not why I texted you last night.”

“Oh… Okay.” This is it. It's bound to lead into this. “That's just a T.M.I. then.”

They just walked past the playground and the grand garden, when she was staring at her right palm and her fingernails. “I hope I didn’t ruin any of your plans tonight.”

“Aniya,” he affirmed. “Gwaenchanayo, noona. I didn’t really have much to do.”

“You and your buddies aren’t gonna hang out and celebrate?”

“Well, you called me first, so you must need my help with something.”

She started rubbing her hands together. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“We had fun in the past few days... We're mostly together the whole festival.”

“Why didn’t you hang out with them now then? Why'd you say yes to my text?”

“I guess you’re more important tonight,” he asserted, albeit coyly. “I haven’t got to hang out with you in a while, so when you hit me up, I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

Her face was heating up, blushing pink. Such realization made her shiver beside him.

“What’s the matter, Xinyu-noona?” He, too, slowly noticed the sudden change of color on her face. Based on his observation, his mind immediately thought of the extreme. “Wait, did you drink before meeting me here? I told you not to—”

“No!” exclaimed Xinyu, startling even herself, before lowering her voice. “I’m sorry, but umm no, I’m not drunk. I can’t and shouldn’t, remember? Especially not for this.”

“And this is?”

“This is just—Arghh!” she groaned, upset with her own inability to say what her mind has been telling her for a while. “I’m not the best at expressing myself… On things like this. Just bear with me for a bit, mmm?”

Little did he know, she’s not that far off from feeling similar things. That night must’ve done more than just shake her up. It still lingers within her. In spite of her own internal embarrassment, she couldn't keep her eyes off him. She’s sober as a judge, but coming up with any logical and comprehensible response was something she was finding difficult to think of at this very moment. Yet there’s a rhythm that only she could hear inside her.

Dugeun. Dugeun. Dugeun. Dugeun.

Junghoon was oblivious, or just hesitant to predict her next words. “Things like what?”

“What you said last week. And before that.”

“Yeah?” His head tilted to the side. “I thought we’ve gone over that.”

“I don’t wanna keep beating around the bush,” she told him with a straight cadence. “Why am I like this?” she whispered the latter to herself, finally breaking her already crumbling walls of hesitation after letting out a shaky sigh.

He’s starting to feel a bit concerned by her strange behavior, unsure whether or not she answered his question truthfully. “Okay..?”

She raised her voice a little louder, more commanding. “You said you like me, right?”

Such a statement and delivery caught him off guard. But he couldn't make himself look like a fool. Just chill and shake off any tension. She will just turn you down. No biggie. Isn’t this what I wanted? Some kind of closure? Just don’t talk too much. As he was now flooded with thoughts, his mind started to panic, just as his heart was beating louder.

“I–I said that in the sense that I very much respect you, sunbae,” Junghoon stammered. Now, he's just lying poorly. “You know when you’re… I mean, who doesn’t—” But out of nowhere, he locked in on his cadence and straightened his posture. She already knows, and there's no point in taking everything back. “Let’s make it clear: who wouldn’t like you? You’re Zhou Xinyu. You're a likeable person, in general.”

She's flabbergasted. And kinda impressed. “And what made you like me? In general?”

“You’re a campus star!” he gave his first point, toughening his chest and his tone.

A little superficial for her, though. She raised an eyebrow. “You like me for my fame?”

“That's not what I mean, noona.”

But she wanted to hear more. “Then what else makes me generally likeable as a person?”

It seemed like she was simply quizzing him. Messing with him in a playful manner. And yet, the more and longer she listened, things were becoming much, much clearer to her.

“You are beautiful, confident, creative, hilarious, and responsible—”

“Hmmm… You're just listing traits. What makes me all of those?”

“Well… First off, you're not as cold or cunning as they say you are. You are cunning, but that's just your way of being confident, you know? That makes you admirable and umm, kinda cute, to be honest.”

She let out a chuckle. Her cheeks had been slowly reddening, but Junghoon just couldn't notice. He kept going, gave his all in what could be their final time in this peaceful place.

“Whether you're a performer or a part of the production, you showed how passionate you are, noona. You might be serious or strict at the crew at times, but you're like that because you care about the whole project. You care about them not wasting their own efforts by letting themselves keep slacking off…”

She was hearing parts about herself she wouldn't expect to hear, not from him, but her chest began to thump louder and louder. “Yeah? What else?”

“I really like that you don't care what anyone else thinks… You just do something when you set your mind into it. Even if life has been one big pain in the ass, you kept going…”

Her smile widened, as her eyes began to appear watery. “Go on…” And yet, she kept herself from tearing up. The water simply stayed in her eyes, making herself glisten.

He would've kept going even if she forced him. “You've always been approachable when your friends need you. Even if you're not in the mood, you always push yourself to be with them, because you know they’ve also been there for you when it felt the hardest.”

Dugeun. Dugeun. Dugeun, she just kept hearing it inside her. “I like you, Junghoon-ah.”

“And I really like it too when you’re being sincere and honest, just like—” A collective ding throughout the neurons in his brain shattered his trains of thought. “What?!”

Despite his mouth still being open, no words nor sound came out of it. His mind kept its guard closed with counterarguments of doubt and deflection. But his heart wasn't lying.

Xinyu kept her hands clasped, absorbing every once of the heat she might need to bear this cold spring breeze. “I’ve thought about what you said last time... And for a while now, I don’t think I can keep ignoring it anymore.” Junghoon hasn’t heard her sound this serious, not in a long time. Not when it’s just the two of them. “I like you, too.”

“What I said… But, how about you and Sohyun-noona—”

He knew Sohyun’s perspective the night before. But he felt too vulnerable to trust or assume anything else at the moment. Right now, he wanted to rid himself of his doubts. Her name had always shaken Xinyu, yet here and now, she didn't feel a single puncture.

“We did catch up with the rest of the girls, that’s true,” she began to clarify. “But even though we had a rough breakup, we talked things out and… I’m still happy for her as a friend. That’s it... Just don't think about her, Junghoon.” She took a step closer to him, making him take a deep breath at her gaze. “Not anyone else… Let’s talk about us, now. And consider this. Without anyone else.”

“Xinyu-noona…” he was still at a loss for words, yet she’s already in front of him with a look of yearning. He recalled Tone’s words, about fumbling his chance. Nakyoung’s risk taker view. Myungsoo’s all-in advice. The professor's cautiousness. His grandma's lovey dovey comparisons. He still didn't believe what he just heard right now. All his days of asking for words have led to this night. “Did you mean that? Do you really…like me?”

“Every word…” A soft smile formed on her face, yet her words kept going, spiraling into mixed inflections of distress, confusion, thrill, and elation, as she let her heart speak to him. “I thought we’d just be fine as friends and you are a great friend. But I don’t know, it’s just—Aish… I start to feel strange whenever you’re around, and I know it all sounds cheesy and high school-like and it is so unlike me! But whenever we hang out or touch hands. Or when I just… See you. And realize, I don’t hate that feeling… I just haven't felt that in a long time, but I never hated it, Junghoon… And, umm, I’m sorry that it took me a while to think things through, but, if you don’t like me any—”

Junghoon pulled her inches closer in a soft yet staunch embrace. In his arms, Xinyu’s eyes closed slowly, smiling, as she felt his soft and intimate warmth enveloping her in seconds. Her tempestuous heartbeat calmed down, yet it still fluttered on the same tempo and volume when she was still looking at him eye to eye moments ago.

“You took your time just right,” he muttered next to her ear. “I really, really, really like you Xinyu-noona.”

Xinyu's smile widened at his affirmed and repeated confession, before reciprocating his with her much longer arms wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. A little bit tighter, without discomfort. They didn't need anyone else tonight. Simply each other.

Walking around Keuri-go like last time in the middle of nine o’clock in the evening was nothing new to them. But now, the two finally feel and acknowledge the sparks between them. Their heartbeats are fluttering within each other’s presence. Smiling and looking away from each other whenever they ended up staring at each other’s eyes at the same moment. Yet they can’t help but interlock their hands while they giggle and chuckle in between the silence.

“Why…” he mumbled beside her ears, still curious. “Why’d you say yes?”

The woman turned to him with a face which he couldn't quite fully read, but it didn't come off as anything negative or hesitant. She only tightened her grip on his hand, wearing a soft smile which melted his heart. “Why not?”

He didn't know how else to answer her. No one could read minds, only his own. For weeks, he tried to figure out the complexity of his troubled mind and heart, like it was an equation that required the greatest minds or love gurus that he knew to solve it. Yet, all it took both to shut up was for Xinyu to tell him those two words. Nothing had followed inside his thoughts, although his heart continued to race. He kept looking at their hands, held together, swaying with the breeze of this one blossoming spring night.

With this realization, Junghoon felt a sensation he hasn't welcomed in a while. Not with someone else. He felt at ease. At ease of being infatuated with someone.

“Well…” He took his time to process things a little longer, but there was no other alternative to this scenario. This was real. “I can't say it's not unexpected, noona…”

“Oh, you know… I just wouldn't want to leave you hanging.”

“Wait… Don't tell me you were actually super shy just seconds ago and now you're being all like this.”

“Shut up,” she giggled in embarrassment, quickly covering her face in their tangled hands, much to his surprise. “I didn't prepare a script for that!”

She still managed to make him laugh, even though she's more determined to be vulnerable to him. With him. No matter how new this experience may be for both of them. It's one thrilling leap she had taken with him.

“I didn't mean to avoid you the whole week… I just… I wanted to think, feel, and be with myself for a while.”

“Oh…” So that's why. “Right.” She had her own decision to make.

She placed her palm on his cheek. “I didn't mean to shut you out, Junghoon-ah…”

Aside from the time he took her home after her drunken mess, he had rarely seen how she's feeling, how she barely expressed her true self. And now that they're “trying this out,” this must be his chance to do better by her. To pay more attention to her beyond the now broken window of their friendship, as it's grown into something much bigger.

“Gwenchana, noona…” He rubbed her temple with his thumb, gently. “I didn't take it that way either. You have every right not to rush anything… I'm happy you took your time.”

= = =

“So,” he broke their silence. “Are you going home now?”

Xinyu squinted her eyes and lowered her head, pouting her lips. “Do you want me to?”

“No, no!” he panicked at her suspicion. “It’s just… You know, it’s late. Your parents and Mr. Yi or any of your other bodyguards might be looking for you around this hour. We’re not even on campus. Wouldn’t they be worried if you haven’t gotten home early?”

Xinyu chortled. “You’re kinda cute when you become so defensive.”

“I’m serious, noona.”

She pecked his cheek, leaving him flustered. “Don’t worry about them… They’ll know I’m just out with friends, because I told them it’s still the festival on our campus. So, because of that…” She caressed his face. “Let’s just stay here for a while, hmm?”

Junghoon smiled at her gesture. “With a sweet voice like that, I can’t really say no.”

“Oh yeah..?” She leaned closer into his face. “What if I use this voice instead?”

Surprised by her advances, he inched away, though he still keeps his hands interlocked with hers. His reaction confuses her at the same moment, with her mouth slightly open.

“Noona!” he panicked for a second time. “I’m sorry, I just… I’m a bit nervous, even though I shouldn't because, you know?”

The surprise on her face quickly turns into a smile. With their hands together, she pulls him in a little closer. Her eyes easily level with his with endearment, and it’s no surprise considering they’re almost the same height.

Xinyu maintained her sweet and sultry tone. “Because what? Mmmm..?”

Junghoon gulps and gives a peck to Xinyu on her left cheek for a moment, like she did to him earlier, before inching a foot away from her. And once again, she's caught off guard.

He looks down in embarrassment at his attempt, but takes another breath to speak out. “I’m a man, and I should take initiative first.”

Xinyu giggles. “Silly… I never knew you had an old-fashioned side in you, Junghoon-ah. Come here…”

There's a little bit of tugging between them. Xinyu held each of his cheeks with her palms, the coldness melting away once they made contact with his warm face. In her gaze facing his, she cooed at his hesitation. Her gentle touch was enough to calm and tell him, Don't be afraid. Trust me. Touch me.

She pulled him closer to her, leaning into his face as she closed her eyes with a smile. Their lips touched for the first time. Junghoon’s eyes widen at her dauntless advances, but the electrifying sensation he’s now feeling only encourages his eyes to close in the process. Feeling each other’s spark through their kiss, he reciprocated Xinyu’s yearning with his own burning passion towards her, as he slowly leaned down for her to hold him. With their hands still holding each other, their lips subconsciously move along to the throbbing beats of their hearts. At that moment, everything around them seems to have frozen except for them, as their shared sensation is warm and sweet.

After a few seconds, their lips part to catch their breaths. Smiles appear on their faces, not wanting to take their eyes off each other.

Such a new experience left him dumbstruck. “Wow…”

“How was it?” She anticipated his answer with a warm smile.

“I think…” he couldn't hold his laughter. “I couldn't think. I may need to assess it again.”

Xinyu chuckled at his remark and gave a peck to his lips. Junghoon stared at her and the two went in for a deeper and longer kiss. With their eyes closed once again, Junghoon puts his arms on her waist while Xinyu wrapped hers around his neck. Yearning for each other without the concept of an end.

But their lips would still part to catch one’s breath, and yet, they still lean into each other and melt into each other's sweet and snuggly embrace.

“Are you sure you're not going home yet?” he asked her again.

She pondered. “I’m not sure I want to yet. Unless we can go somewhere else…”

“Where?”

“Can we like umm… Maybe hang out somewhere else? I was thinking if we can head back to campus, but I doubt it’s still open.”

“I don't think halmeoni is home yet. She usually goes out of town with some of the neighbors during weekends, so…”

After their walk, they ended up taking a fifteen-minute bus trip to Junghoon's residence. The fresh couple hung out in the living room, sitting right next to each other on the red couch while the television played a variety show in the background. They held hands, as they have been doing so for the past half an hour and stared through the windows of each other's souls.

Tonight, they were simply too both irresistible to each other's charms as they can't help but keep hugging with every opportunity they get, echoing their loud, resonating heartbeats. They took turns giving each other a loving peck on the lips or cheek or forehead.

“This feels sweet… I never knew you'd be this sweet,” Xinyu leaned into his shoulder.

He smiled at the sight of her comfort, one he'd never expect to feel. “Neither did I.”

“About me? Or yourself?”

“Both… I guess. I thought you’re more—” he bursts into laughter.

She laughed with him. “Yah, Geum Junghoon! I’m not that aggressive!”

They laughed off her response, yet they exchange looks of genuine curiosity in the moment that follows. A side of her that he rarely saw. Not personally, anyways, but it alarms him.

“Unless…” she leaned closer. “You want me to be. Hmm..?”

Junghoon gulped in an instant, feeling his lips and throat already dry. Yet, instead of him backing away from Xinyu, he took her into his arms once again, much to her surprise.

“Maybe we should take things slow…” he whispered. “If that’s okay with you, noona.”

He kissed her first this time, to her surprise. She fell for his charm nonetheless. It’s a side of him that Xinyu or anyone else has never seen before. Upon opening their eyes once again, she looked at him in disbelief, her eyes sparkling at his sudden advances.

She felt her heart burning, melting during their moment. “Junghoon-ie…”

“Just not too slow,” he clarified.

She hit him in the shoulder and giggled, before pulling him into her lips once again. His thoughts shut off, letting his senses and desire take over for this miraculous moment.

= = =

so, yeah... this part is just an extra yap session, so feel free to skip to the end if you're not interested.

I've made "some" additions I'm not sure I'm happy adding, but I'll just be content with this final version. maybe it's a little rushed cos of the time jump, but I did my best to justify and lengthen the whole falling for each other bit as much as I could. the pairing may come off as a little strange (idk), or at least the lead-up to it is, but maybe that's just how it's meant to be. not everyone will like them together or have to like them.

anyways, I just wanna yap a little about the controversy weeks ago. feel from to skip. It was honestly disappointing, of course, but I'll keep on writing for tripleS. I'm not defending their statement, but I think it's best that you don't look up to idols for their politics. celebrities are also people, and they can have diff opinions or be wrong about things based on their own privilege and upbringings. it's tricky, but we can only hope that things don't get any worse than that and, you know, they can improve and get better in time, just like we should, too, with ourselves. I guess, that's just the optimism in me. they're amazing artists, and they've done a lot of good too.

also, this is an au, take it as it is. it's basically escapism, as much as it's also a heightened reflection of reality. there are deviations from our world, good, bad, and in-between... if you want, we can just assume she never had that stance in this universe, as early as this point. okay, I'll stop right here.

anyways, thank you so much for reading. feedback is appreciated, but I'm just glad some of y'all are reading. I'll do my best on the next fic! maybe before the next chapter (which will most likely be as long as this), I'll do by best to write some shorter ones. have a great day!

[usedpidemo]

New writer!

You Write Better When You Improvise

seol yoon-ah x male reader

college au, pwp, build up, fluff (?), smut

8k words

Orientation is loud.

That's the first thought that comes into your head as you step into the auditorium, shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of strangers, all pretending they aren't just as lost as you are.

There's music being blasted from cheap speakers and the occasional whistle of a mic being tested by an emcee trying too hard to impress. The chatters of hundreds of people reverberate and ring throughout the auditorium like a rising tide, layered over the sound of shuffling feet and plastic chairs scraping against the floor.

Someone beside you is already scribbling notes in a welcome booklet like it's a test paper. You step sideways, trying not to elbow anyone, scanning rows of identical tote bags and unfamiliar heads.

In a sea of faces, you're finding it hard to spot her. She said she'd meet you here. "Auditorium B," she texted casually, like it wasn't your first day on a campus you didn't recognise, surrounded by people two years younger but somehow already ahead.

Your phone buzzes again.

jiwoo: i lied. i’m late. again. u love me anyway also they gave us these ugly tote bags lol you: 😐

You sighed. She hadn't changed in the 18 months you were gone. Still the same old chronic texter, serial latecomer, and one of the only people who actually kept in touch while you were halfway across the country doing push-ups at the crack of dawn.

Unlike every other guy your age, you decided to enlist right after graduating high school in hopes that you would be able to complete uni life without any military service disruptions.

You ended up with exactly that — 18 months of routine, of shaved heads and strict orders, of standing at attention while your friends posted party photos from their freshman dorms.

You sigh, shifting your weight from foot to foot. The AC's doing nothing against the mix of perfumes and colognes, sweat, and nerves lingering in the auditorium. You loosen the strap of your sling bag and take another quick glance around, still no sign of her.

You're debating whether to leave and pretend you never came when a voice calls out — familiar, exasperating.

"God, you're tall. Why'd I forget that?"

You turn just in time to catch Jiwoo elbowing through a pair of freshmen with a grin that says she's not even sorry, tote bag already crumpled like she wrestled it. Her hair's lighter compared to the last time you saw her, dyed in a way that catches the fluorescent lights.

She looks every inch the experienced university sophomore she is — smug, seasoned, and thirty minutes late. You stand almost a whole foot taller than her, albeit not a difficult feat with her petite stature. It's good to see her after only looking at unfamiliar faces all morning, and after seeing none that felt like home.

Jiwoo looks up at you, squinting like she's doing mental math. "Wait," she says, deadpan." You didn't grow again, right? Please tell me the military didn't feed you Miracle-Gro."

You let out a hearty chuckle, the kind that hadn't escaped your throat in a long time. The thing with Jiwoo is that she always knew how to make you laugh. "Nah, just protein shakes and existential dread."

She grins, walking the last few steps and throwing an arm casually around your waist (she's not tall enough for your shoulders). "Welcome to hell, by the way. Civilian edition. I expect full obedience, hoobae."

You groan as you fall into step beside her. "I'm still older than you, y'know."

"I'm a sophomore and you're a freshman. In my books, that makes me the senior here," she shoots back, sticking her tongue out. "And you're gonna be lost for at least a week, so you'd better follow my lead."

Her relentless teasing comes pouring down, just like it did back in high school. It's like she was never gone, and for a second, it almost feels like time never moved at all since graduation.

You both fall into an easy rhythm, dodging slow-walking freshmen and the occasional overenthusiastic orientation group trying to start a cheer. Jiwoo gives half-hearted finger guns at some juniors who clearly recognise her, and you can already tell she's one of those campus names — not quite all-campus famous, but definitely not quite forgettable either.

"You nervous?" she asks after a beat.

You shrug. "Not really. Kind of surreal, though. Like I blinked and skipped a year of life."

"You did," she says. "You skipped the awkward hookups, all-nighters, bad haircuts, and falling asleep in lectures." She stops and ponders for a second, "Actually, in all honesty, you basically missed nothing."

"Except," you say, "you got to be my senior."

Her eyes twinkle mischievously. "And I've been waiting for this payback for a long time. Me, the junior, once bullied by you, now equipped with the same power."

"Bullied? I never bullied you."

"You always took the last banana milk at the convenience store and walked away without looking back."

"That's called being efficient."

"You're evil."

Before you can respond, Jiwoo's gaze catches someone near the auditorium doors.

"Oh! Yoon-Ah!"

You follow her gaze and see a girl leaning lightly against the wall next to the doors, scrolling through her phone. She looks up and waves back when Jiwoo calls, and your breath stutters for half a second.

She's beautiful. Ethereal, even, in the kind of quiet way that makes you stare without meaning to. Clean lines, soft features that remind you of a deer, and an air of calm that contrasts so sharply with the noise of the auditorium. Her eyes land on you with gentle curiosity, and suddenly, you're very aware of how wrinkled your shirt is.

"She's my roommate," Jiwoo says as the girl approaches. "Be nice or I'll tell her all your high school secrets."

You nod, straightening instinctively before frowning at her words. "I was always nice."

"Hi," the girl says with a smile that's both polite and a little amused. "I'm Sullyoon."

You nod again, maybe too quickly. "Hey. I'm—uh. Jiwoo's friend."

Jiwoo snorts. "He's fresh out of the army, awkward as hell, and apparently he forgot how to talk to pretty girls."

Sullyoon blinks, then covers her mouth as she chuckles — an angelical, infectious laugh where her shoulders shake at the same time, and it’s the kind of sound that makes you want to hear it again.

"Welcome to campus," she says. "Don't worry. We're not all freshmen."

"She's your sunbae now, too," Jiwoo says with a wide grin.

You sigh. "Great. Two of you."

Sullyoon glances at Jiwoo, amused. "He's fun."

"Oh," Jiwoo says, as her trademark mischievous grin spreads across her face. "You have no idea."

And just like that, you're being ushered to sit with them, Sullyoon sliding in beside you, Jiwoo plopping her bag down like it’s her house, and the emcee finally getting the mic to stop screeching.

Voices drone on in the background, but your attention has shifted. You're entranced by the presence of the girl sitting beside you; you'd only just met her, and yet it feels calm and grounding, like a quiet island amid the chaotic sea of orientation noise.

Jiwoo's still rattling off stories about campus life, but you catch Sullyoon's eyes flickering toward you now and then — curious, amused, maybe even a little intrigued.

After a while, Jiwoo nudges you both. "Lunch? My treat. By that I mean I'm starving and have zero self-control around campus food courts and I need my friends to accompany me so I'm bribing you with money."

You glance at Sullyoon, who shrugs with a smile. "I'm in. I need fuel to survive Jiwoo's terrible jokes."

You grin. “That makes two of us.”

Jiwoo gasps dramatically, as if she genuinely offended. "Terrible? I'll have you know people pay good money for this level of comedy."

"Who?" you deadpan.

"Me," she says proudly. "I pay myself in serotonin."

The three of you exit the auditorium, stepping into the bright afternoon sun. Jiwoo leads the way, weaving through clusters of freshmen. You walk beside Sullyoon, the noise fading a little as the two of you fall into an easy rhythm.

"So," she begins, glancing sideways at you, "freshman year, huh? Must be weird starting uni after the army."

You chuckle. "Weird is an understatement. It's like everyone else hit pause on life while I was stuck in fast-forward."

She nods. "I get that. I took a gap year before starting uni. Everyone felt so far ahead. That and, well… almost everyone in my cohort's a year younger, so I always feel slightly off-sync."

You laugh heartily, only the second one today, and the first not caused by Jiwoo. "Mine’s two years younger. So there’s that."

She smiles, eyes crinkling just a bit. "Guess you're not alone, then."

There's a pause, and for a moment, it feels like the world around you has dimmed to just the two of you.

Then Jiwoo's voice breaks in, loud and obnoxious as ever. "Welcome to my favourite bubble tea chain! I need a sip of this every day. Also, I’m really craving fried chicken right now."

You muse at Jiwoo's ability to spoil the moment, comparable to a human sledgehammer — but somehow, the warmth lingers, even after the spell is gone. You glance at Sullyoon next to you, her face equally as amused, and you can’t help but think that things can only go up from here.

The first few weeks feel like a breeze, even as the campus hums with the nervous energy of new beginnings and deadlines. Classes roll by in a whirlwind of lectures, discussions, and late-night readings, but somehow, the chaos feels less overwhelming with familiar presences next to you.

Late nights over at Jiwoo's and Sullyoon's dorm become the norm; more often than not, they end with bottles of soju scattered all over the floor, sometimes even shards of broken glass. With Jiwoo's lightweight nature, there are countless times you find yourself carrying her to bed while Sullyoon quietly cleans up the mess.

Sullyoon rarely joins in the drinking, with her being a lightweight herself, so most of the chaos is courtesy of you doing the heavy lifting.

"Thanks for cleaning up again," you say, slumping onto the couch and rubbing your temples. "I may have gone a little overboard with the drinking this time."

She glances over with a small smile, handing you a glass of water. "You say that every time. Maybe next time, try pacing yourself?"

You grin sheepishly. "Where’s the fun in that?"

Her eyes sparkle with amusement, and the easy silence between you feels warmer than the soju ever could. A warmth you feel unfamiliar with, as if she's unlocking some part of you you didn’t even know was sealed shut — something softer, quieter, untouched by the noise of routine and the years that blurred past you.

You steal a glance at her, watching as she methodically wipes the coffee table clean, hair falling slightly over her face. The lamp in the back illuminates her in a soft halo, highlighting and casting a golden hue across her cheekbones.

Her soft hair drops down in a way that brushes gently against her cheek, framing her features with an effortless elegance — the kind she never seems aware of. She tucks a strand behind her ear absentmindedly, focused on the task at hand, but your eyes linger a little longer than they should.

"You always take care of everything," you murmur.

She pauses, not looking up. "Someone has to. You and Jiwoo are hopeless."

You chuckle, leaning back. "I think I’m starting to depend on you too much."

This time, she looks at you. Not with a smirk or a tease, but something gentler, deeper. "Then I guess it’s a good thing I don't mind."

The silence returns, but something's changed. It feels different now. And you wonder if she feels it too.

Midterms roll around faster than expected as April arrives. The campus library becomes your second home. The hushed whispers and scratches people make on paper add to the ambience that helps you with your concentration on your project. A creative writing project, part of a minor you picked up more out of impulse than foresight.

But the further you go, the more you realise you needed it — the writing, the space to untangle your own thoughts, to turn emotions into something readable.

Yoon-Ah, as you've grown to call her, becomes a constant in your life. Late-night ramyeon cooking and spontaneous movie breaks between study sessions become routine. They're not planned, not discussed, just understood.

general seol: i’m hungry :( buldak or neoguri you: why even ask if you always just choose buldak general seol: you never know when I feel like having something more soupy you: and if on that same day, jiwoo miraculously stops cracking puns, then I’ll know for sure the world is ending general seol: whatever we’re rewatching zootopia this time, you don’t get to choose

It surprises you how easy it is — how seamless her presence fits into your days. There's a rhythm now, a shared playlist of habits and glances. She becomes visibly more comfortable, no longer bothered by unintentional touches and knees bumping on the couch during movie time, or shoulders touching on the way back to the dorm from grocery runs.

Late-night calls become more frequent, almost a necessity before ending the day, sometimes going way deep into the night. There are even a couple of times you fall asleep to each other's breathing and wake up the next day with your phone still warm in your hand.

You start to know more about each other, how she has two younger siblings, how she took Spanish classes in high school and travelled to Madrid during her gap year, and the small things, like how she only wore crop tops in her dorm, how she had a playful side to her usually prim and proper self.

And before you know it, she starts joining you during your library time.

"You always look like you’re about to monologue when you're stuck," she teases one afternoon. She's resting her head on the desk with her hair sprawled out across the wooden table, staring up at you as you focus on your typing.

"That's because I am," you reply, deadpan. "I'm a tortured artist, Yoon-Ah. Respect the process."

She snorts, tossing an eraser at you. "You’re just stalling."

But then she sits up, crosses her legs, and says, "Okay. Tell me what your character wants. Start there."

And just like that, without even realising it, she’s helping you write as well.

One weekend in late May, Jiwoo heads home for a family gathering, suitcase in hand, leaving the two of you alone in the dorm. It's raining, and you end up watching another movie together after a grocery run. Halfway through, you realise you've stopped paying attention.

Yoon-Ah is curled into the corner of the couch, blanket up to her chin, hair slightly damp from the walk back from the supermarket, clinging softly to the sides of her face. The faint scent of rain clings to her, mixed with that subtle floral aroma that’s become oddly comforting to you — like an anchor in the middle of the storm.

The dim light casts gentle shadows across her features, highlighting the delicate curve of her jaw and the smooth arch of her eyebrows. Her doe-like eyes, usually filled with mirth and amusement, are half-closed now, heavy with tiredness but still holding that quiet spark that always draws you in.

She yawns and turns to you, whispering something about the cinematography — but you don’t really catch it. You just nod.

Your shoulders are touching, and you hesitate to inch your hands closer to hers.

By the time the credits are about to roll, the blanket falls to the ground as she falls asleep.

You can't help but notice her midriff, exposed to the cold breeze of the AC. Toned and smooth, her fair skin taut over gentle curves. A faint line of delicate muscle traces down toward her waist, hinting at quiet strength beneath the softness.

Your eyes move up to her chest, rising up and down, her cleavage visible as her top was slightly pulled down lower than usual.

You swallow, your heart beating a little faster in the dim light. You look away out of restraint, afraid of what thoughts your brain might conjure up.

Just thinking about her in that way intoxicates you more than any other alcohol. 18 months in the military straight out of high school left you in solitary. Apart from a couple of casual hookups with Jiwoo on certain leave days, you were almost new to and deprived of sex.

And with the fast-paced routine of everyone in university life, it's hard to catch anyone's eye. That, and the fact that everyone in your cohort is 2 years younger, which, to you, is a no-go. You draw the line at 1.

Anyway, you spent all your free time with Jiwoo and Yoon-Ah, so it’s not like you're out there looking for someone. Besides, you had more important studies to focus on.

She suddenly mutters something in her sleep, probably just a sound caught between dreams. You pause, then gently pick the blanket up from the floor, draping it over her again. To keep her warm, yes, but that's not the only reason why — though that's what you try to tell yourself.

As you lean back and your eyes drift to the rain streaking across the windows, you're suddenly pulled back to a night about a month ago.

Jiwoo's birthday. It was right before midterms, a spur-of-the-moment party for her that had an underlying, "we're kinda only throwing this party to relax two days before exams" reason behind it, but Jiwoo didn't seem to mind.

It was originally supposed to be a quiet one, just the three of you, and it was meant to be a surprise, but with Jiwoo's quick wits and her sharp eyes, she pretty much caught on immediately.

Much to both your and Yoon-Ah's dismay, she ended up taking over the planning process and invited everyone she knew. The initially planned small celebration in the dorm (which you now considered to be your main place of stay; most nights you just crash on the couch) became a gigantic roof-top party, with only a handful of people you recognised that you could count on one hand.

Yoon-Ah seemed to be on the same boat as you, looking like a damsel in distress, particularly highlighted by her doe-like features.

"Jiwoo sure is famous on campus, huh." You walked over to her, offering her a drink you filled up from the dispenser with a party cup. Her fingers brushed against yours as she took it, soft and lingering, just a split second too long to be accidental.

She glanced up at you with that same faint smile she always wore when Jiwoo was being Jiwoo — fond, exasperated, and just a little bit tired. Her eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, a quiet laugh slipping past her lips. "You're telling me. I thought we agreed on a quiet surprise, not a K-pop fan meet."

You chuckled, shifting your weight beside her against the railing. From here, you could see most of the rooftop crowd. Jiwoo was laughing with someone across the way, lights stringing overhead, music pulsing low and steady in the background.

But somehow, in that moment, the crowd blurred. Your awareness narrowed until it was just you and Yoon-Ah, side by side beneath the soft glow of the fairy lights. She smelled faintly of rose and something warmer, like vanilla, subtle and familiar — the kind of scent that clung to your hoodie after long nights together and lingered longer than you'd ever admit.

It took a couple more cups before you realised the drinks had alcohol in them, the clear indication being Yoon-Ah's flushed face and slurred words.

A clearer indication would be when she started to inch closer to you ever so slightly, before she fully leaned into your shoulder with a soft sigh, and you could feel the warmth of her skin through the thin fabric of your shirt.

"You're warm," she mumbled, barely audible over the music, her fingers curling loosely around your wrist.

You laughed in response. Partly out of reflex, partly as a defence mechanism. You were entering uncharted physical touch territory, and your body didn't quite know what to do with itself. “You’re drunk.”

She blinked up at you, slow and lazy, her lashes heavy, lips parted in that loose, unguarded way intoxication sometimes brings. "Nooo, I’m — okay, maybe a little," she drawled, letting the words hang in the air like fog.

Then, without moving her head from your shoulder, she tilted it slightly toward you, her breath warm against your neck. "You’ve got that army energy, you know…"

You turned your head just enough to look at her. "What does that even mean?"

Her smile turned playful — slow, slightly crooked, like the alcohol had softened the lines of her usual expressions. "Like… you'd be really good at… building tents. Giving orders. Kinda in a hot way but... emotionally constipated."

You snorted. "Wow. Thanks?"

"I'm just saying," she murmured, almost sing-song now, like every word required a bit more effort than she meant it to. Her fingers, still wrapped around your wrist, moved slightly — a light, dragging touch that lingered too long to be accidental.

There was a pause. Not long enough to be awkward, but long enough for the air to shift. For her to lean in a little closer, enough for her voice to fall into a murmur only you could hear.

"I bet you lost your virginity before enlistment, huh."

Another thing you learned about her: with her inhibitions lowered from alcohol, she really had no filter with her boldness. It was like a complete 180 from her usual self.

You turned, startled, caught between disbelief and secondhand embarrassment. She was watching you through half-lidded eyes, a mischievous flicker in them despite her intoxicated haze.

"…Seriously?"

She gave a one-shouldered shrug, loose and unbothered. "So? Am I wrong?"

You thought for a bit, wondering whether you should answer her, before finally giving in, "You are, actually." You pondered on whether you should reveal the next part to her.

Yoon-Ah caught on to your hesitation immediately, her eyes narrowing — or at least trying to, given how slowly her facial muscles seemed to be cooperating. Her curiosity was piqued now, stirred awake by the alcohol and her usual inability to let things go once she caught a thread of intrigue.

"What aren't you saying?" she prodded, voice slurred but sharp enough to cut. "Come on. Spill."

You hesitated, rubbing the back of your neck. Then, with a resigned sigh, you caved.

"I hooked up with Jiwoo when I was on leave," you admitted, your voice low. "Just last year. She was… the first."

You braced yourself, unsure what reaction you were expecting — discomfort, judgment, maybe even jealousy — but definitely not what came next.

A soft giggle escaped her lips, quickly bubbling into a full-bodied laugh — loud and unrestrained, the loudest you had heard from her in the almost two months of knowing each other, her head tilting back as she clutched at her sides.

It was the most uninhibited sound you'd ever heard from her.

"That makes two of us then," she managed between breaths, then grinning at the look on your face.

You stared at her, blinking once. Then twice.

"…You’re kidding."

She wiped at the corner of her eye, still laughing a little as the remnants of amusement softened into something gentler, more reflective. "Nope."

You tried to wrap your head around it — not just the confession, but how casually she said it, like it wasn't a bombshell. Like she hadn't just completely rearranged your understanding of the two most constant people in your life.

You tilted your head. "When?"

She shrugged, leaning her weight back against the wall as her body swayed slightly, her arm brushing yours again — whether by accident or intention, you couldn't tell. "Sometime during freshman year. It was… kinda messy. But not dramatic. We were both drunk, bored, and frankly a little lonely." She paused, gaze drifting past your shoulder, out into the haze of rooftop lights. "She kissed me first, if you're wondering."

You weren't sure how to respond, as something shifted somewhere in your chest. You weren't sure whether it was feelings of relief or jealousy, or something in between. But instead of overthinking it, you just went with it.

"Makes sense," you said, lips quirking up. "She is a pretty good kisser. I’ll give her that."

She turned to look at you, blinking slowly — then burst into laughter again, though this time it was quieter, more breath than sound. Her hand found your arm, fingers curling loosely around your wrist as if to steady herself.

"You're the worst," she said, but there was no bite to it. Her thumb brushed against your skin, absentminded, like she didn’t even realise she was doing it. And you didn’t move away.

"I mean," she went on, head tilting slightly, her words still a little slurred but more deliberate now, "I always figured there was something between you two. The way you looked at her. The way she teased you." She squinted at you, expression amused. "But I don't swing that way, if you're wondering. It was just for fun." She looked at you, as if hoping for some sort of reaction.

You smirk, raising an eyebrow. "Just for fun, huh? You and Jiwoo have pretty interesting definitions of boredom, then."

She scoffs, nudging your arm with hers. "You're one to talk, Mr 'She was my first.' What, no heartfelt confessions? Candlelight?"

"Please, I don't see her that way, and we both know that. I just needed some stress relief from the army, and Jiwoo needed it too."

It was her turn to look at you with her eyebrow raised, so you indulged further.

"Plus, it was in her car. After bibimbap. Romantic as hell."

That earns another laugh — her hand flying to her mouth too late to stifle it. "God, that's awful."

"It was foggy," you say, mock solemn. "We couldn't see out of the windows, Titanic style."

"You did not just compare Jiwoo's Kia to the Titanic."

You shrug. "It makes sense. I was Jack, she was Rose. The dashboard was the iceberg, how it killed the sex."

She groans, collapsing sideways and almost falling over the railing. "You're the worst person I know." You couldn't help but grin.

For a moment, the two of you just sat there in that shared understanding, the hum of the city below, wrapping around the rooftop like a warm current. Then Yoon-Ah's fingers gave a slight squeeze around your wrist, grounding.

You turned to look at her. The rooftop light hit the edge of her cheekbone, casting soft shadows across her face. You suddenly became aware of how close she was — how her knees were angled just barely toward yours, how her lips were parted like she still had more to say but hadn’t quite figured out the words.

"…Are you drunk-drunk?" you asked, only half-joking.

She smiled — slow, sly, knowing. "Maybe."

Then, after a beat: "But not too drunk to know that I’m glad I stayed behind tonight."

Something in the way she said it made your pulse stutter.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol talking, or if it was just her being unfiltered, unafraid. But for the first time, you let yourself lean into it.

"Me too."

Suddenly, a flash of light interrupts your memory, then a low, rolling crack of thunder tears through the room.

You blink, disoriented for a moment, as the rooftop, the party, and the warmth of Yoon-Ah's laugh dissolve into the here and now.

The thunder jolts you back to the dorm couch. The screen is dark, the movie long finished. The rain has thickened into a steady downpour against the windows, and the occasional rumble of thunder rolls through the air like distant cannon fire.

Yoon-Ah stirs from beside you, her body tensing briefly before relaxing again, blinking up at the ceiling with bleary confusion.

"...What time is it?" she mumbles, voice raspy with sleep. Her hair is slightly messy now, sticking to her cheek, and the blanket you'd pulled over her is twisted around her legs. She shifts, then winces. "Ugh, my neck."

You glance at the clock on Jiwoo's desk. "Almost eleven."

She sits up slowly, groaning, rubbing her eyes. "I didn't mean to knock out. What even happened in the movie?"

You shrug. "No idea. I stopped watching after the opening credits."

She lets out a breathy laugh and turns to face you, knees drawn up to her chest under the blanket. "Nice. So neither of us knows how it ends."

"It's fine, it was probably a pretty shit movie anyway." You glance over at her, bundled up in the blanket and her posture curled into a ball on the couch, hair a mess, sleep still lingering in her eyes, giving off the vibe of a domestic girlfriend.

After a moment of comfortable silence, she suggests, "We should probably get back to work, shouldn't we? Don't you still have that one creative writing assignment?"

You groan at the reminder. It's the same one you'd been putting off for weeks, stuck at the same line, the same blank page that somehow felt more personal than it had any right to be. Your task required you to add a mature spin on your piece, and you were struggling with the details.

"I hate that you remember things like this," you mutter, dragging a hand down your face.

She grins, stretching her arms above her head before flopping back against the couch cushions. "Someone has to hold you accountable."

You sigh, already dragging your laptop over from the coffee table and flipping it open with all the enthusiasm of a funeral march. She does the same with her iPad, propping it up on her knees and opening her notes app.

For a while, the only sound you hear is the low hum of rain with the occasional thunder, and the soft tapping of keys and stylus against glass. It's oddly peaceful and domestic, in a way that makes your chest ache with something you don't want to name.

Ten, maybe fifteen minutes pass. Then, out of nowhere:

"Hey."

You glance up. She isn't looking at you, still staring at her screen, light reflecting off the frame of her reading glasses, but there's a slight furrow in her brow now. Like she's hesitating.

"Just now, when I was sleeping, I dreamt of something."

Your interest is piqued as you shift closer to her every so slightly.

"That night on the rooftop," she says slowly, "Jiwoo's party... did I ever say anything weird to you?"

You freeze, fingers hovering over your keyboard, mid-sentence.

"...Define weird?"

She finally meets your eyes, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I dunno. I just... I remember laughing a lot. You said something about Jiwoo being a good kisser, and I remember thinking, 'God, I should kiss him just to wipe that smug off his face.'"

You blink, startled, a flush crawling up your neck as you wonder if the alcohol from that day carried over in her system. "You—what?"

"I didn't, obviously." She's still smiling, but her voice has dipped lower, softer. "But I thought about it. That's what I remember."

You sit back slowly, marvelling at the coincidence that just about 20 minutes ago you were thinking about the exact same thing.

"Yeah," you murmur, just loud enough for her to hear. "I remember that too."

Another rumble of thunder rolls outside, low and distant this time.

The silence is different now; it's charged, like a pulled string waiting to snap. She doesn't look away, and neither do you.

Her hair's still tousled from sleep, a few strands falling into her eyes. Her cheeks are faintly flushed, maybe from the warmth of the blanket, maybe from something else. And the curve of her mouth is soft and uncertain, almost as if she's holding something back, like she's waiting for you to break first.

You take her in like you're seeing her for the first time — really seeing her. The delicate slope of her shoulders exposed from the crop top, her toned body that elicited such wild thoughts in your head, and the way she absently rubs a thumb against the blanket's edge.

Her bare legs are folded up beneath her, one foot peeking out from under the fabric, toes curling slightly against the cushion. There's something unguarded about her, her usual sharp wit and lazy confidence replaced with a quiet vulnerability.

She looks at you the way someone might study a half-finished painting, unsure if it's worth finishing, but unable to stop staring.

Your heart starts to beat louder than the rain as you swallow.

"Yoon-Ah..."

Your voice is barely above a whisper.

She doesn't respond right away — just watches you, eyes searching yours. Then her gaze flicks down, just briefly, to your lips.

And that's all it takes.

You lean in slowly, giving her every chance to pull away, but she doesn't. Her eyes flutter shut just before your lips meet, unsure at first, like she was still starting to test the reality of it. It's hesitant and exploratory, but because she was her, it felt more warm and real.

Her hand finds your sleeve, fingers lightly curling there, grounding herself. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss just slightly, careful, reverent, like either of you might vanish if you move too fast.

When she pulls back, it's only by an inch. Her breath is warm against your cheek, unsteady, and you can feel the flutter of her lashes as her eyes open.

And in the quiet, with only the rain bearing witness, she whispers, "Just so we're clear," her voice husky, "there's no alcohol talking this time.

You smile, heart still hammering. "Good. I was hoping you'd say that."

You lean back in for another kiss, a deeper one this time. She meets you halfway, more determined now.

Her hand rises to your jaw, thumb brushing the edge of your cheekbone. And when your tongue brushes lightly against her bottom lip, asking permission more than anything else, she grants it, parting her lips just enough.

Just when you think you're in control, she overwhelms you. She pulls away from your lips as her hand moves down from your jaw to your chest, pushing you back so that your back is lying on the armrest.

She climbs onto you, straddling your lap as her arms wrap around your neck.

Then, the most unexpected thing comes from her. "You still need help with that assignment, don’t you?"

Not exactly a mood spoiler, but it definitely confused you. "What?"

She grins, tired droopy eyelids gone as her energy seems to have returned, that mischievous glint returning to her eyes. It’s the same one you’d seen so many times during her teasing sessions in the library while you were trying to concentrate. Except this time, she’s seated on your lap, your hands still on her waist and hers around your neck, her breath ghosting across your lips.

"You heard me. Didn’t you say you had trouble continuing that part?" She smirks, her voice back to that low and playful tone.

You'd told her about the requirements of your project, how you were supposed to write something with a heavier, mature tone, and how you were stuck at the steamy scene. "Right, but… why are you talking about it now?"

Her grin spreads wider than ever, her eyes sparkling with a mix of confidence and… seduction?

She leans in next to your ear, breath heavy, and drops an absolute bombshell on you. "Well, you write better when you improvise, don’t you? I can help with that."

You look back up at her, your eyes blown wide open.

Before you’re able to respond, she pulls you back in with her arms and kisses you again. This time, it’s bolder, hungrier, as if she found her confidence and was now projecting it onto you. You have no choice but to respond with equal passion, your tongues meeting in a slow, steady rhythm. Her hands travel all over your hair, pulling you in closer in bunches, making it hurt in a good way.

Your hands travel down from her waist, slipping below the waistband of her sweatpants. She doesn’t object, so you grab a handful of her ass and give it a light squeeze, eliciting a muffled moan, an exhale that just feels so damn good with her lips against yours.

It’s heated, it's passionate, and it’s going way too fast, probably a release of the months of tension since meeting each other.

Her hands leave the mess that your hair is, a mess that she created, and they move down and slip under your shirt. She starts caressing your abs, her touch sending jolts throughout your entire body that even the thunderstorm couldn’t bring out of you.

You decide to just slip out of your shirt completely, and Yoon-Ah follows suit, taking off her crop top, and her perky breasts drop with a bounce. They're small, but to you they're perfect. You take her left nipple into your mouth and she yelps in response, throwing her head back. It only fuels you more, her reaction. You slide her sweatpants off, leaving her clad in her panties.

Regretfully, your mouth leaves her breasts as you take her by the waist, carrying her off your lap, and you lay her down on the couch. You start worshipping every inch of her body, her toned yet soft midriff, her breathy moans and sighs growing in frequency as her body trembled beneath you at your every touch.

Seeing her in this state, your member hardens even further, as you now contemplate moving down further. You leave a trail of kisses down to the elastic waistband of her panties, before looking up at her, more for permission than anything.

"P-please… don’t stop.."

That’s all the confirmation you need. You slip her panties down, revealing her slick opening, wet from all the teasing.

"God, you’re dripping for me already." You slip a finger in her slick folds, more to tease than anything. She shudders, moans getting higher pitched. "Oh, fuck…"

You try putting another finger in, this time with greater difficulty. "Holy shit, how are you this tight?" You marvel at it as your fingers circle her clit with purpose.

"I—oh god—it’s my first time." She tries to bring her knees up, as if overwhelmed by the stimulation.

"I recall someone saying they 'had fun' with Jiwoo before," you say in a playful tone, before focusing on thrusting in and out of her warm folds as your fingers become coated with her juices.

"My first time with a guy, asshole… oh shit, don’t stop, please…" She grabs the cushion, tight, her eyes shut, focusing purely on the pleasure.

"I wasn't planning to," you smirk, fingers thrusting harder. She seems to enjoy the added intensity as she starts to grind her hips against your hand, trying to stimulate it further for her. She’s sweating somehow, even with the AC blasting cold air.

"Wait-please…I need… more," she begs, her hips moving harder. It's the ultimate ego boost for you as you take your fingers out.

She whimpers, actually whimpers, and moves her hands down to pleasure herself with the absence of yours. You move your lips to kiss the inside of her thighs, just beside her dripping opening, drawing a long, breathy moan from her.

You kiss the other side, before finally settling in on her pink folds, watching how her body is writhing with pleasure. Her hands rub harder, just above her clitoral hood, and you watch how her pussy glistens in the light of the dorm.

"Spread further for me, Yoon-Ah," you say as you move in closer to her core. She obeys with little hesitation, mind too preoccupied by the want — no, the need to feel good. Her legs part slowly, exposing even more of herself to you, and you nearly break right then and there.

You decide to reward her, pressing a soft kiss against her pussy, the musky, honey-like scent almost overrides your brain. She breathes heavily, tilting her head back further as she pulls her hand away. Your hand moves to grab the back of her thighs, allowing you to pull your tongue even deeper into her slit as you take a longer lick, tasting the sweetness directly from the source.

"Oh, fuck. Don't stop, please, don’t you ever stop," her voice shakes, trembling with pleasure.

Hearing her in this state only spurs you on even further. You focus on her clit as you mix kisses in with darts of your tongue, circling it with dedication.

You take in the whispers and moans, the ohmygods.They fuel your desire to continue, to make her feel even better, to make her come.

Your tongue flicks across her clit, and you involve your hand in, rubbing the nub just above where your tongue was working. It seems to work wonders as she starts gushing, her slick juices coating your mouth and chin.

"Don't stop, please, god… I’m so close…" she sighs, as if her brain had completely given up on trying to overcome the pleasure. Her body jerks every time your tongue tastes her clit, her body quivers with every rub of your fingers.

"That's it, Yoon-Ah. Just come for me," you murmur against her pussy. She tries to use her hands to bring herself closer to orgasm, the left one pulling you in closer by your hair, the right one rubbing her nipples, stimulating herself further.

With every lick across her folds, she grabs your hair tighter, pulling your head even closer. Her breathlessness and occasional low groan only make your cock throb in pain against your boxers even more.

"Wait… please, I'm almost there, fuck," she bites her lips, hard enough to draw blood, hands travelling all over your hair. You start rubbing the area just above her pussy harder, tasting her folds with renewed vigour, set on making her come.

"Oh, that’s it — oh fuck!" Her legs wrap around you, her thighs clamping around your head as she comes undone. She comes gushing like a waterfall as she tugs on your hair even harder, almost hard enough to pluck it out.

You taste her slick goodness, a mixture of sweet honey and tanginess. "Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to pull that hard," she says in between gasps, body still shuddering. "God, that was… Jiwoo definitely didn't make me cum like that."

You chuckle, "I'm not that experienced either, but I'm glad to be of service."

She lets out an airy laugh, still trying to catch her breath. "It's my turn now, right?"

You glance at her in careful anticipation, "You don't have to if you don’t feel like it."

She shakes her head with a grin on her face, "How could I not after you made me cum like that? We're not done with our improvisation yet, anyway."

You exhale audibly, your cock growing harder against the waistband of your boxers in excitement.

She notices the growing bulge in your pants before palming your member, her soft touch eliciting a low groan from you as your body shudders.

She pushes you back lightly, allowing you to rest your head on the couch, before pulling your shorts down and taking your cock out.

It throbs in reaction to hitting the cold air, before her warm, dainty fingers wrap around it. It jerks involuntarily against her hands, and she giggles.

"He's excited, isn’t he?" She teasingly rubs the tip, her fingers stroking the cock head, before pressing a kiss on it.

The irony of the complete 180 from before, when she was surrendered to your touch, isn't lost on you as she now completely took control over your pleasure.

You let out a low growl, "You fucking tease."

She smiles up at you, a sly look etched on her face, highlighted by the rectangular frames of her glasses. "Consider it payback for that Jiwoo comment just now."

Then, she takes you in her mouth, and it’s just pure heaven.

For someone's first time giving a blowjob, she almost seemed like an expert. Her cheeks hollow as she takes you deeper, almost reaching the base of your cock, occasionally taking you out of her mouth and pressing wet, sloppy kisses along the slide of your shaft.

It's too overwhelming, seeing her head bob up and down, working on your cock. You lie on the couch with one hand resting beneath your head, the other pushing her head further down your shaft.

"Fuck, you’re sure this is your first time?" Your voice drops low, almost like a growl, as you take in all the pleasure. She doesn’t respond; instead, she focuses solely on sucking your cock.

And whenever she pulls back up for air, a trail of spit follows her mouth. Then she licks your tip, tasting it like a lollipop, and when her eyes make contact with yours, that innocent, pouty look etched across her face, you almost come right there and then.

"Fuck, I’m so close, Yoon-Ah. Don’t stop, keep going for me, baby. You’re sucking my cock so good."

She seems to relish your praise as she starts to work the underside of your shaft with her tongue, whilst throating almost your entire length at the same time.

It doesn't take long before you feel like you’re about to burst, and you signal to Yoon-Ah, "Fucking hell, I’m gonna come..."

At that, she gets down from the couch, takes you out of her mouth and strokes you while on her knees. She slightly (adorably) tries to push up he breasts with her other arm.

It’s a sight to behold.

"Come all over me, I want it everywhere," she sticks her tongue out, eyes fluttering in anticipation.

Your cock twitches and jerks with her strokes, and that's when you know you’re about to burst.

"Ohh, fuck…"

Thick, heavy spurts shoot out from your cock, painting the frame of her glasses and her cheeks in white.

The next few spurts land on her breasts, coating her chest in thick globs. She spreads it all the way up to her collarbone and down to her stomach, her whole upper body now glistening in your sticky release, a sight that makes your cock twitch in her hands as she's still jerking you off.

The last few weak dribbles make their way down to her exposed mouth, and she tastes you with a few smacks of her lips.

You're left speechless at the sight of her, and she has the audacity to smile sheepishly back at you.

"Holy shit, that was —,"

The lock clicks.

You both freeze, unable to register what was going on. It’s not the soft kind of hesitation. It’s that primal, heart-stopping, full-body paralysis — the kind where your blood goes cold before your brain catches up.

Yoon-Ah comes to her senses first. "Fuck, is Jiwoo back early?"

You turn to look at her, genuinely horrified.

The door creaks open. A suitcase wheels across the threshold.

"...I'm back early!" Jiwoo calls cheerfully. "You guys will not believe what happened in Jeju—"

Her suitcase falls to the ground with a plop.

“Oh my god. Are you two—?”

END

Apologies, I meant to release this 3 days ago but it took a little longer than expected. The first few thousand words had already been written long ago; the smut was what I struggled with. The small details, as well, like figuring out the Korean university system, or how their national service worked. (I researched, and apparently it's the norm to enrol in university first before enlisting, and they don't even get to book out during NS. Weird huh, @sinswithpleasure @co-reborn).

I was also torn between making this a full-fledged fluff fic or smut fic, but in the end I decided to go for a build-up to vanilla smut. It's not your typical "one-theme" one-shot, but there'll be more of those in future. This is just a fic that I really wanted to try writing and publishing.

I know there's an unsatisfying ending, but if you want a part 2 with Jiwoo, please vote above. Also, my smut writing needs work, that much I know. Hopefully, with my future stories exploring more themes and kinks, I'll be able to flesh it out more.

Anyways, feel free to leave a comment and ask about anything, that'd be greatly appreciated :)

Planted and spread by Moss 🌱

[usedpidemo]

Before the World Knew

Part 2

Yoo Jimin (Karina) x male reader

word count: 15K

part 1

You’re practically flying as you weave through a labyrinth of identical-looking hallways of the SM building. You were pinned down in a last-minute logistics meeting with Ms. Park that ran way over schedule, every second that ticked by feeling like an eternity as you imagined missing this. But you got the text, the one with the string of excited emojis from Ning followed by a simple “Hurry! It’s starting!” that gave you the final push to make a polite but firm exit.

You slow to a brisk walk as you approach the designated studio, nodding to the security guard who gives you a knowing, almost imperceptible nod in return. He knows the deal. The girls vouched for you. You duck behind a rack of lighting equipment, finding a small, unoccupied pocket of space among the other behind-the-scenes personnel, all dressed in practical black, their faces illuminated by the glow of laptops and monitors.

And then you see them. You see her.

The concept for the new single album, Dirty Work, is a stroke of gritty genius, and Jimin embodies it with a ferocity that steals the air from your lungs. She’s standing center stage under the glare of the main spotlights, every muscle in her toned body taut and defined. But it’s the makeup that’s truly stunning. Artfully applied smudges of what looks like grease and grime streak across her cheekbones, her arms, and the flat, pale skin of her stomach, glistening under the hot lights. It’s a look that could be messy on anyone else, but on her, it’s high fashion. It’s art. It’s unbelievably, breathtakingly beautiful.

You can’t look away. The photographer shouts something, and she moves, her expression shifting from a defiant glare to a sultry pout in the blink of an eye. In the middle of the complex, powerful pose, her eyes scan the darkened periphery of the room, searching. For a split second, her gaze lands on you. The professional mask melts away, replaced by a small, discreet smile that’s meant only for you.

After what feels like both an eternity and no time at all, the director finally calls out, “That’s a wrap for this set! Excellent work, everyone!” A smattering of applause breaks out as the tension in the room instantly dissipates. The music cuts off, and the four girls, looking exhausted but exhilarated, break from their poses and head straight for the refreshment table set up near your hiding spot.

Ning spots you first, her face breaking into a wide grin as she practically bounces over. “You made it! We were worried you’d miss it!”

Giselle follows at a more measured pace, giving you a cool nod. “She was about to send out a search party.”

Jimin is the last to arrive, grabbing a bottle of water and taking a long drink before turning to you, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead making the grease makeup look even more authentic. Her eyes are bright, searching yours.

“So? What did you think? Was it okay?”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay? Jimin, that was… insane. You all looked incredible. The concept is genius.” You look at her, unable to hide the awe in your expression. “But you, especially. The way the camera loves you is just… it’s not fair to other people. You’re ridiculously photogenic.”

A pleased, rosy blush blooms on her cheeks, visible even under the stage makeup. “I’m just glad you could come. I know you were stuck in that meeting.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss this for anything,” you say, lowering your voice slightly as a few other staff members mill about nearby. “Not many people can say they’ve gotten a private, front-row seat to an Aespa photoshoot. It’s a definite perk of the job.”

She laughs, then, she takes another step closer, her shoulder brushing yours, and the scent of her perfume mixed with the faint, metallic smell of the makeup is intoxicating. She leans in, her lips almost touching your ear.

“Just you wait. You and I will see each other later.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, pulling back just enough to give you a smoldering look from under her lashes. “I’ll text you.”

“I’ll be waiting,” you murmur, your mind already racing.

Just then, an insistent vibration starts in your pocket. You pull out your work phone and see Ms. Park’s name flashing on the screen. Reality crashing back in. You let out a small groan.

“I have to take this. She probably wants an update on the press release drafts.” You offer an apologetic smile to the girls. “I should get back.”

“Go, go! Work calls,” Ning says cheerfully.

You say your goodbyes, your eyes lingering on Jimin for a final second. As you turn and walk away, heading for the studio door, you can feel her gaze following you.

“Wow, Unnie,” you hear Giselle say.. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look at anyone with eyes that are practically heart-shaped before. It’s a little disgusting.”

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face as you slip out of the studio.

—

You’re walking briskly, almost jogging, your mind spinning around spreadsheets, press release deadlines, and the lingering image of Jimin’s secret smile. You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you take the corner leading to the main office wing way too fast.

The impact is sharp and immediate, a solid collision of shoulders. You stumble back a step, a cold, wet splash hitting your forearm and the front of your shirt. But that’s nothing. You look up at the person you’ve just run into, and your brain short-circuits. She’s completely drenched. A large, plastic cup, now lying tragically on the floor, has emptied its entire contents - a sticky-looking iced americano - all down the front of her stylish, cream-colored blouse and designer jeans.

She lets out a long, slow sigh, a sound of pure, unadulterated disbelief as she stares down at the brown, spreading stain.

“Oh, god. Oh my god, I am so sorry,” you stammer, your mind going completely blank with panic. “Holy shit, I wasn’t looking, I’m so, so sorry.”

She finally lifts her head to look at you, and the shock that hits you is so profound it feels like a physical blow. It’s not just anyone. It’s Shin Yuna. From ITZY. In the flesh. Her impossibly long, dark hair is perfect, her face a stunning combination of large, expressive, doll-like eyes, a sharp nose, and full lips currently pressed into a line of deep annoyance. She is, even while soaked in coffee, breathtakingly, almost unfairly, beautiful.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she mutters, more to herself than to you.

“It’s… you’re… Yuna,” you manage to stutter out, feeling like a complete idiot.

She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her gaze sharp. “Of course it’s me. Who else would it be?” She gestures down at her ruined outfit. “And this was my outfit for the shoot.”

“The shoot?”

“The content I’m supposed to be filming with Aespa,” she says. “In about… thirty minutes.”

Yeah, you’re screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. You’re going to be fired. You’re going to be blacklisted. You might even be exiled from the country.

“I am so, so sorry. It was a total accident, I swear,” you plead. “There has to be something here, in the building. Something you can wear.”

She looks at you then, really looks at you, her eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your frantic expression and your staff lanyard. “You work here, right?”

“Yes,” you say. “I, uh, I’m on the PR and Communications team. For Aespa, actually.”

A flicker of something, maybe recognition, maybe just calculation, crosses her face. She points a finger at you.

“Okay. PR guy for Aespa. You’re going to help me fix this.”

“Anything. I’ll do absolutely anything,” you say.

“Good,” she says, her demeanor shifting from victim to commander-in-chief. “There has to be a wardrobe room on this floor, right? Where they keep extra outfits, styling pieces, things like that. Take me there. Now.”

Shit. A wardrobe room. You’re pretty sure there’s one near the dance practice studios, but you’ve only been there once to drop something off. Your mind is a frantic blank.

“I… I think I know where one is,” you say, trying to project a confidence you absolutely do not feel. “Yeah. This way. Just… follow me.”

You turn and start walking, Yuna falls into step behind you, the faint, sticky smell of coffee trailing in her wake. You are one catastrophic mistake away from losing the best job you’ve ever had, and you’re being led to your doom by one of the most famous women in Korea. Fantastic. This is just fantastic.

By the way, the walk to the wardrobe room is the most uncomfortable silence you’ve ever experienced. The only sounds are the distant hum of the building’s ventilation and the faint, squelching noise coming from Yuna’s coffee-soaked sneakers. You keep your eyes fixed straight ahead, your mind replaying the collision on a loop. It’s a spectacular failure, even for you.

Suddenly, her bright, clear tone cuts through the heavy silence, making you jump.

“You’re way too distracted, you know that?”

You risk a glance at her. She’s looking at you, not with annoyance anymore, but with a sharp, analytical curiosity. You try to formulate some kind of excuse, some plausible reason for your frantic, head-in-the-clouds rush, but nothing comes. You just let out a weary sigh.

“Yeah,” you admit. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

Your mind flashes with a bitter, absurd irony. The last time you crashed into someone like this, it was Yoo Jimin, your childhood friend turned global superstar, a collision that improbably landed you this very job. Now, you’ve managed to run into Shin Yuna, from an entirely different company and one of the most popular groups in the country. It seems your specific, niche talent is accosting famous idols with your clumsiness. Great.

Just as the silence threatens to descend again, Yuna lets out a sudden, bright giggle. It’s so unexpected that you stop walking and stare at her.

“What? What’s so funny?”

She covers her mouth, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You should have seen your face back there. When you realized who I was.” She giggles again. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost that was about to ask for your credit card details. Completely, utterly terrified.”

A nervous laugh escapes you. “Well, yeah. Spilling an entire iced coffee on an idol from another major agency who is here for a collaboration… that’s generally considered a career-ending move in this line of work. My life was flashing before my eyes.” The thought makes your stomach clench again. And you’re still late. You were supposed to be back at your desk fifteen minutes ago. This situation is just getting better and better.

You finally spot the door: a simple, unmarked gray door you’d almost walked right past. “Here it is. I think.”

You swipe your staff card, and the lock clicks open. You push the door inward, revealing a large room packed wall-to-wall with rolling racks of clothing, shelves overflowing with shoes and accessories, and headless mannequins draped in half-finished stage costumes.

“Okay, here you go,” you say, gesturing inside. You give her a final, apologetic bow. “Again, I am so, so sorry about all this. I have to get back to my desk now, but I hope you find something.”

You turn to make your escape, to flee the scene of the crime before you can do any more damage. But before you can take a single step, you feel a hand clamp firmly around your wrist. You freeze, swallowing hard as you look down at Yuna’s slender fingers wrapped around your arm.

She’s smiling at you, a devilish, knowing little smirk. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not running away from the problem now, Mr. PR-for-Aespa.”

Her grip is surprisingly strong. “You are going to come in here with me, and you are going to help me pick something out. Then, and only then, is everything sorted.”

Your brain stalls. You, alone in a wardrobe room with Shin Yuna? It’s a scenario so far outside the realm of possibility that it feels like a fever dream. The potential for this to be misconstrued, for rumors to start, for you to be fired on the spot, is astronomical. But what choice do you have? Arguing with her would only make it worse.

Defeated, you nod. “Okay. Fine.”

She releases your wrist and saunters into the room, looking around with interest. You follow her in, the door clicking shut behind you with an ominous finality.

“Just… can we please be quick about it?” you plead. “I really shouldn’t be in here. We shouldn’t be in here.”

“Relax,” she says, already pulling a sequined jacket off a rack and holding it up to herself in a full-length mirror. “If someone finds us, I’ll explain everything. They’re not going to fire you when I’m the one who asked for your help.”

“But you don’t even work at SM,” you counter, the logic feeling flimsy even as you say it.

She turns from the mirror to look at you, her expression one of utter confidence. “Doesn’t matter. I’m Shin Yuna. And today, you’re my emergency stylist.” She winks. “Now, what do you think of this?”

You look at the jacket. It’s something that would look at home on a music show stage, covered in shimmering black sequins. “It’s, uh… very sparkly?”

She sighs, putting it back. “Useless. You’re useless.”

You decide to trust her. She’s the idol, after all. Her status is a shield you can only hope to hide behind. Unfortunately for you, this trust is immediately weaponized as she begins a whirlwind tour of the room, pulling out outfit after outfit and demanding your opinion. First, it’s a pair of baggy cargo pants and a tiny, bright pink tube top.

“How about this? Does this scream ‘friendly multi-label collaboration’ to you?”

“You look… beautiful?” you offer lamely.

She rolls her eyes and tosses it aside. Next comes an elegant, surprisingly formal-looking black dress. “Too much?”

“You look nice."

“That’s not helpful!” she exclaims. “I know I look beautiful. Does the outfit work?”

This goes on for what feels like an eternity. It’s only on the fourth try that she finds something she’s satisfied with: a pair of sleek, black faux-leather pants and a stylish, asymmetrical grey top that’s both cool and casual. She emerges from behind a rack of clothes, having changed, and does a little spin.

“Okay. This works,” she declares. She bundles her coffee-stained clothes into a ball and tucks them into a corner. “I’ll have my manager grab those later.”

Finally. Freedom. As you both step back out into the hallway, she turns to you, a satisfied smile on her face.

“See? Everything is fine now. Problem solved.”

“Yeah, great,” you say. You stop, forcing her to look at you. “Listen, Yuna-ssi. Can you please, please not tell anyone about this? About me helping you, or the coffee, or any of it? My job… it could really be at risk if this gets twisted around.”

Her playful expression softens immediately, replaced by a look of genuine understanding. She nods. “Hey. Don’t worry. You helped me out of a serious jam. I’m not going to get you fired over a stupid accident.” She gives you a small, reassuring smile. “It’s our secret.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“No problem,” she says brightly. “Now, I really need to get to the Artist Lounge on the third floor. That’s where we’re filming. The rest of my group is probably already there, wondering where I am. Can you take me?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s this way.”

She smiles, that brilliant, famous smile, and you start walking, this time side-by-side.

You lead the way to the elevators, hyper-aware of Yuna walking beside you. The air between you is thick with a strange, post-crisis quiet. Inside the sterile metal box, the silence is even louder, broken only by the soft whir of the elevator ascending. You stare at the floor numbers as they light up, wishing you could teleport directly to your desk and bury your head in work for the next ten years.

“So,” Yuna says suddenly. “You been working here long?”

“About three months.”

She hums, leaning against the side of the elevator, crossing her arms as she studies you. “Okay, I have to ask. Do you actually love this job more than life itself, or are you just, like, a naturally uptight person? Because the level of fear you displayed back there… it has to be one of the two.”

Your mind immediately flashes to Jimin - to her smile during the photoshoot, to the secret promise of seeing her later, to the simple, terrifying fact that this job is the only reason you’re in her orbit again. The fear of losing this, of losing her, is a constant, low-level hum beneath the surface of your every action. But you can’t say that. You offer her the normal, boring, adult answer.

“I like getting a salary every month,” you say with a shrug. “And after years of studying for it, it’s nice to finally be able to work in my actual field.”

“Fair enough,” she concedes, just as the elevator doors slide open with a soft chime. You’ve arrived at the third floor. It’s buzzing with more activity here, staff and camera operators moving with purpose. A few heads turn as you and Yuna step out together, their eyes widening for a fraction of a second before they quickly look away, pretending they saw nothing. You point down the hall to a set of glass doors from which muffled voices and music can be heard.

“That’s the Artist Lounge, right there. They should be waiting for you inside,” you say, already taking a step back. “I really need to get going. My boss is probably wondering if I fell into a black hole.”

“Okay,” Yuna says, stopping to face you. “Well, thanks again for the help, emergency stylist.” She smiles, then adds, her tone shifting slightly. “Maybe you and I will run into each other again sometime.” She pauses, her eyes holding yours. “I won’t lie, I’d even like that to happen.”

You blink, processing. You decide to play it safe, to go for the joke. “Why? Do you have a thing for having coffee spilled on your designer clothes?”

She lets out a bright laugh. “No,” she says, taking a step closer. “But I do think you’re really cute.” She winks, a quick, deliberate flash of an eye, and her smile turns openly, unmistakably flirtatious. She begins walking backwards towards the lounge, never breaking eye contact. “See you around.” She finally turns, her long hair flipping over her shoulder as she disappears through the glass doors.

You just stand there for a solid five seconds, frozen in the middle of the hallway. Your brain feels like a dial-up modem trying to connect to a fiber-optic network. Are you going crazy, or did Shin Yuna, global superstar and certified goddess, just actively flirt with you? Before you can even begin to dissect that insane possibility, your phone buzzes violently in your pocket. Work. Right. You shake your head as if to clear it and break into a run, leaving the encounter, and your confusion, behind.

—

A few weeks bleed into one another in a blur of deadlines, caffeine, and the relentless, grinding pulse of the city. Life has become a masterclass in juggling: your increasingly demanding job, navigating a new city that still feels both vast and claustrophobic, and nurturing the most precious, most dangerous secret of your life: Jimin. Your relationship exists in stolen moments, in the quiet spaces between her chaotic schedule. Her life as Karina has become an all-consuming tempest of promotions for the new album, a whirlwind of fan signs, variety show appearances that eat up entire days, and late-night dance practices that leave her utterly drained. Often, the rare windows of privacy you manage to find are filled with her just wanting to sleep, her body finally succumbing to the exhaustion. Your nights of earth-shattering intimacy, like the one after the photoshoot, feel like a distant, beautiful dream.

That’s why, when she tells you she has the entire upcoming weekend completely free (a certified K-Pop miracle) you know you have to do something special. You’ve been plotting this for a while, a secret project fueled by late-night online shopping and a healthy dose of nostalgia. You remember, with perfect clarity, a conversation from when you were kids. She’d confessed that her ultimate dream was to go camping under the stars, but her parents, ever the city-dwellers, were never keen on the idea of sleeping on the ground and dealing with bugs. You doubt she ever got the chance. She was scooped up into the trainee system so early. So, you’ve spent the last few weeks quietly assembling everything: a high-quality two-person tent, sleeping bags, a portable stove, camping chairs, the works. You even put a deposit down to rent a sturdy pickup truck for the weekend. It’s perfect. It’s a slice of the normal life she never had, a piece of a shared dream. Now, you just have to tell her.

You’re huddled over a small table in the SM cafeteria during your afternoon break, deep in a profoundly important debate with a coworker from the marketing team about which Pokémon would be the most useful in an office environment, when she appears. Jimin materializes at your elbow as if from nowhere, a soft smile on her face. Your coworker, bless his social awareness, takes one look at her, mumbles something about a sudden email he has to send, and vanishes.

“Don’t drink too much of that,” she says, gesturing to your half-empty coffee cup. “It’s why you’re always so anxious.”

“I need this to breathe,” you retort, taking a defiant sip.

She playfully pushes the cup away from you, her fingers brushing yours. “No, you don’t. You only need me.”

You can’t help the wide smile that spreads across your face. “Is that so?”

“Mmhmm.” She slides into the chair your friend just vacated, her expression softening. “How are you? I feel like I’ve barely seen you this week.”

And it’s true. Aside from brief, whispered conversations in empty hallways and the occasional hand squeeze when you thought no one was looking, you’ve been living separate lives. She lets out a sigh, her shoulders slumping slightly.

“I was just looking at my schedule. This weekend is actually, truly, completely clear. I can’t believe it.” Her eyes light up. “We have to do something together. Just us. I’m already trying to think… I know our options are limited since we can’t really be seen out in public, but maybe a movie night at my place, or I could try to cook again…”

This is it. Your opening.

“Funny you should say that,” you begin. “Because I’ve actually already planned everything for this weekend.”

Her eyes widen, her head tilting with curiosity. “You have? Planned what? You’ve been acting so weird and secretive lately.”

“Have I?” you ask innocently. You lean back in your chair, deciding to draw it out. “Quick question for you. Do you remember, way back when, telling me about something you always wanted to do but never got the chance?”

She frowns in concentration for a moment, then her face lights up with dawning recognition. “Wait… no way. Are you talking about…?”

“Camping,” you say. “You told me you always wanted to go camping.”

Just that one word is enough. A wave of pure, unadulterated excitement washes over her features. She leans forward, her hands flat on the table, her eyes shining.

“I have organized everything,” you continue, savoring the moment. “I found the perfect location, a quiet, secluded spot a couple of hours outside of Seoul. I bought a tent, sleeping bags, all the gear we’ll need. And,” you deliver the final blow, “I’ve already rented a pickup truck for us for the entire weekend.”

Her jaw drops. She stares at you, speechless for a second, before letting out a shriek of delight and punching your arm, hard.

“Oh my god! That’s why you’ve been sneaking around on your phone and being so mysterious! You’re unbelievable!”

You laugh, rubbing your arm. “It was a challenge, I’ll admit. Hiding all the gear was one thing, but keeping the secret from you was the hardest part. You’re extremely nosy, you know.”

A cute, bubbly giggle escapes her, and in a move of pure, impulsive joy, she launches herself out of her chair and throws her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly. Before you can even react, she pulls back just enough to press her lips to yours in a big, warm, coffee-flavored kiss, right there in the middle of the SM cafeteria. You tense up, your eyes darting around the room.

“Jimin!” you hiss against her mouth. “What are you doing? Someone could see us!”

She pulls away, her face radiant with happiness, not a shred of regret in her eyes. “I don’t care! I’m too happy!”

“You’re crazy,” you breathe, your heart hammering for an entirely different reason now.

“Yes,” she says, her smile impossibly wide. “I’m crazy about you.”

A disbelieving laugh escapes you. “I doubt you’ll do it again.”

It’s a challenge, and she accepts it instantly. She leans in and kisses you again, longer this time, softer, a deliberate, delicious act of rebellion. You finally melt into it, returning the kiss, the thrill of the risk warring with the overwhelming warmth of her happiness. When she finally pulls away, you’re both breathless and grinning like idiots.

“Okay,” you say, gently pushing her back towards her chair. “Okay, you win. Now let’s try to keep up appearances before my boss walks in and sees her star artist making out with the PR guy.”

The rest of your coffee break is dominated by Jimin’s infectious, bubbling excitement. She leans over the table, her eyes wide and sparkling, firing off questions like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Okay, but what should I bring? Do I need special shoes? Are there bears? What about snakes? I don’t like snakes. We have to bring stuff for s’mores, that’s non-negotiable. I need to make a checklist. What’s the weather going to be like? I need to plan my outfits. Can I bring my giant shark plushie? He’s a very good travel companion.”

You just laugh, sipping your coffee and trying to answer her rapid-fire inquiries. “Easy, easy. I’ve got most of it covered. No bears, probably no snakes, and yes, the ingredients for s’mores are the very first thing on my list. Just bring warm clothes and yourself.”

Her happiness is so pure, so potent, it feels like a physical warmth spreading through the drab cafeteria. It’s a side of her you’ve missed dearly; not Karina, the polished leader of Aespa, but Jimin, the girl who dreamed of simple adventures. Just as she’s about to ask another question about fishing (something you have absolutely no knowledge of) her manager appears at the edge of the table, tapping her watch.

“Jimin-ssi, we have to go. Vocal training.”

Jimin’s face falls for a split second before she plasters on a professional smile and nods. She stands up, gathering her things. She turns to you, and for a moment, you’re just two colleagues saying goodbye. But then, as she turns to walk away, she glances back over her shoulder and mouths the words, her lips forming the shapes with deliberate, silent emphasis:

You are the best.

You just smile. Yeah. This is all worth it.

—

Hours later, the workday is winding down. You’re packing up your bag when your coworker, Jae, slumps into the chair beside your desk.

“Alright, hypothetical question for you,” he says, spinning idly in the chair. “Out of all the idols in this building, and I mean all of them, who do you think is the absolute prettiest? Like, number one visual.”

You sigh, zipping up your backpack. “Jae, I’d really rather not have that conversation right here, in the middle of the office.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “Fine, be boring. But I’ve seen you talking to Karina-ssi a bunch. You two seem pretty close.”

“We’re childhood friends,” you say, reciting the familiar cover story.

“Dude, you are the luckiest man on the planet,” he says, full of genuine envy. “I would give a kidney to be noticed by an idol like that. Especially Yuna from ITZY. God, she’s a masterpiece.” He leans in conspiratorially. “I saw her here last month for that collab meeting. She’s even more beautiful in person. Her face is just… it’s like a miracle of science. I swear, if she ever even looked at me, I think I would just…”

As he continues to ramble, you see a figure approaching from down the hall. A tall, slender figure with impossibly long hair. Your blood runs cold. You try to signal Jae, widening your eyes, subtly shaking your head, but he’s too lost in his fanboy monologue to notice.

“—and her smile, it could probably power the entire city. I just…”

“Excuse me,” a clear, melodic voice says, cutting him off mid-sentence. “I was looking for you.”

Jae freezes, his mouth hanging open. He slowly turns his head and his eyes go as wide as dinner plates. Shin Yuna is standing right behind him, looking at him with a polite but impatient expression.

“M-me?” Jae stammers, his face flushing a deep, blotchy red. “You were looking for me?”

Yuna’s gaze flicks from his star-struck face to yours. “No, not you,” she says, then points a perfectly manicured finger directly at you. “Him.”

You swallow hard, the sound unnaturally loud in your own ears. Yuna turns her attention back to your bewildered friend.

“Sorry, but could you give us a minute? We need to talk.”

“Oh! Yes! Of course! A minute! Take all the minutes!” Jae scrambles out of the chair so fast he nearly trips over his own feet, offering you both a frantic little bow before practically sprinting away. You watch him go, then turn back to Yuna, your heart starting to pound. You quickly glance around the mostly empty office.

“What are you doing here? What do you want?”

“I want to talk,” she says simply. “It’s funny, but… I can’t stop thinking about that day. When we bumped into each other.” Her gaze is incredibly direct. “I had some things to do around here today and I decided to look for you. It wasn’t easy, by the way. You’re not exactly listed in the company directory.”

The thought of her actively hunting you down is both flattering and terrifying. “Okay, look,” you say, lowering your voice. “Can we go somewhere more private? Please?”

A satisfied smile spreads across her face. “Oh. I’d love that.”

You lead her to a small, empty meeting room down the hall and shut the door behind you. You immediately turn on her.

“Are you insane? Just showing up like that, in the middle of the office where anyone could see you, asking for me by name? Everyone saw you.”

She just shrugs, completely unbothered, as she perches on the edge of the conference table. “I didn’t commit any crime. You’re talking like you’re the celebrity here, not me. I’m the one who can get away with this stuff.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This is impossible. “Fine. What do you want, Yuna?”

“Your number,” she says without hesitation. “Your Instagram. KakaoTalk. Anything. And I want to know if you’re free this weekend. I know this great little restaurant, it’s super low-key, nobody would ever find us there.”

You stare at her, baffled by her sheer audacity. “I… I can’t.”

Her brow furrows. “Why not? Are you gay?”

“No!” you say, a little too quickly. “No, I’m not gay. I have a girlfriend.”

She looks at you for a long moment, then lets out a small laugh with genuine disbelief. “So what? Leave her.”

You actually laugh out loud. “Are you listening to yourself? I’m not just going to ‘leave her’.”

“Why not?” she challenges, her expression completely serious now. “Your girlfriend isn’t like me. Choosing to hook up with some random, normal girl when an idol is literally, actively telling you she wants you is just… stupid. It’s not like you’re married with two kids and a mortgage. It’s just a girlfriend.”

Ah, if only she knew. If only she had any idea that the “random, normal girl” is Yoo Jimin, a woman just as famous, just as successful, just as goddamn beautiful as she is. Her jaw would hit the floor.

“I have to go,” you say firmly, turning for the door.

“Wait!” She slides off the table and grabs your hand, her touch surprisingly gentle this time. “Okay, I’m sorry. I don’t want to be rude.” She looks genuinely contrite for a second. “It’s just… I’m not really used to hitting on guys. It’s usually the other way around.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you say. “But it doesn’t change anything. I’m dating someone. I’m happy. So, you don’t have a chance.”

She sighs dramatically, letting go of your hand. “Okay, okay. I get it.” She looks up at you, a hopeful glint in her eye. “But… if you break up, you can text me. So I should still give you my number. For the future.”

Before you can protest, she’s holding her hand out. “Phone.”

Knowing it’s the only way to end this surreal encounter, you sigh and hand over your phone. She quickly taps in her number, sending herself a test message so she has yours. You make a mental note to delete her contact the second you’re out of this room. She hands the phone back, her mission accomplished.

“There,” she says, smiling. “All set.” She looks towards the door. “Can you walk me out?”

“Yes,” you say, just wanting this to be over. “As long as it’s quick.”

As you walk back towards the main lobby, a thought occurs to you. “Aren’t you afraid of being seen with me? Or having people talk?”

She glances at you, a puzzled look on her face. “Why? Are you a wanted criminal or something?”

“No, but… you’re an idol. You know how this industry works. The rumors, the scandals…”

She shrugs, a gesture of complete indifference. “If I want to date someone, I’ll date them. If I want to be friends with a cute guy I met, I will. Let other people deal with that.”

You can’t help but admire her posture, her utter refusal to be constrained by the rules that cause you so much anxiety. As you approach the main floor, you’re so lost in thought, you don’t notice them at first. On the other side of the wide, gleaming lobby, stepping out of an elevator, are the four members of Aespa. They’re laughing about something, but their laughter dies as they spot you. With Yuna.

Karina stops dead in her tracks, thinking she’s seeing things. But no, that’s you. And that’s definitely Shin Yuna beside you, looking comfortable, familiar. They all watch as Yuna turns to you at the main exit, her face breaking into that brilliant smile. She says goodbye with a little wave, a gesture so casual it implies a history, a friendship.

Giselle raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Huh. I didn’t know he was friends with Yuna.”

Karina’s smile is gone, her face a carefully blank mask. She watches as you turn and head in the opposite direction, completely oblivious.

“Yeah,” she mumbles. “I didn’t know that either.”

The four of them stand frozen in the middle of the expansive, gleaming lobby.

Ningning is the first to break the silence. “Okay, hold on. There’s no reason to jump to conclusions. I am sure there is a perfectly reasonable, totally professional explanation for that. He’s on our PR team, right? And ITZY is here for a collab. Maybe he was just helping Yuna team with some… cross-promotional scheduling logistics? That happens all the time.”

Giselle lets out a soft, unconvinced hum. “Right. ‘Scheduling logistics’ that require him to personally escort her to the exit while she smiles at him like he just handed her a winning lottery ticket.” She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Look, all I’m saying is, it’s a little weird. Our quiet, unassuming childhood-friend-PR-guy seems to be collecting famous friends.”

Karina remains silent, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her gaze is still fixed on the main doors where you and Yuna disappeared, her expression unreadable, her jaw tight.

It’s Winter who delivers the final, quiet blow. She speaks softly, which only makes her words land with more weight. “It’s just… Yuna is very… selective.” The other girls turn to look at her. “She’s friendly to everyone, of course, but she doesn’t really talk to boys. Not like that. Not unless she’s actually, you know… interested in one.”

Ning and Giselle exchange a quick, worried look. They both know Jimin too well. They know the insecurities that churn beneath her confident, charismatic idol persona.

“Anyway!” Ningning chirps suddenly, clapping her hands together with forced enthusiasm. “Who’s hungry? I’m starving. I could absolutely destroy a bowl of tteokbokki right now. Let’s go.” She loops her arm through Karina’s, gently tugging her away from the door, away from her thoughts. They let it go, for her sake. But the image is already burned into all of their minds.

—

The weekend finally arrives, and you feel like you’ve crawled across a desert of spreadsheets and deadlines to reach a shimmering oasis. The last few days at work were a blur, but none of it matters now. All that matters is that you’re about to spend two uninterrupted days with your girl, away from the prying eyes and sterile hallways of SM Entertainment. You pull the rented pickup truck - a slightly beat-up but charmingly rugged machine - to the curb in front of her sleek, imposing apartment building. You kill the engine and send her a quick text.

Your chariot awaits, my lady.

Her reply is almost instantaneous.

OMW!!!!!

A few minutes later, the main door to her building swings open and she comes bounding out. She’s not Karina right now. She’s wearing a pair of comfortable-looking grey sweatpants, a ridiculously oversized black hoodie that swallows her frame, and a simple baseball cap pulled low. She’s carrying a single, overstuffed duffel bag, and her face, free of any makeup, is glowing with pure, unadulterated excitement. The second she reaches the truck, she drops her bag, throws her arms around your neck, and pulls you into a deep, breathless kiss that tastes of relief and adventure.

“I can’t believe this is actually happening,” she says against your lips. “I feel like I’m escaping from prison.”

You laugh, pulling away to open the passenger door for her. “Get in, inmate. Freedom awaits.”

You hit the road, the city’s dense skyline slowly beginning to recede in the rearview mirror.

“Sorry I was a few minutes late picking you up,” you say, glancing over at her. “I had to double-check the reservation for the campsite one last time and make sure all the gear was properly secured in the back. I just wanted to make sure everything would go smoothly.”

“It’s okay,” she says, though you see her nervously fiddling with the drawstring on her hoodie. She peers out the window at the passing landscape. “Is… is it really safe out there? Where we’re going?”

You reach over and give her knee a reassuring squeeze. “It’s completely safe. It’s a registered campsite, there will be other people around, just not right next to us. And I promise, there are no bears.” You grin. “At most, maybe a Bigfoot. They’re usually pretty shy, though.”

She swats your arm playfully. “Oh my god, stop it! That’s not funny.”

She settles back into her seat, a comfortable silence falling between you as you drive. After a while, you feel it. The weight of her gaze on the side of your face. It’s not a casual glance; she’s staring, studying you. You try to ignore it, focusing on the road, but it persists.

A nervous laugh escapes you.

“What? Is there something on my face?”

“Nope,” she replies without hesitation.

“Then can you please stop staring at me like that?” you ask, a blush creeping up your neck. “You’re making me feel all embarrassed. I’m trying to drive here.”

“I can’t help it,” she says, soft and completely serious. “You’re just… too perfect.” She sighs happily. “My handsome boyfriend, who rented a truck and is taking me on my dream camping trip. I just want to look at you.”

You shake your head, smiling. The conversation drifts to lighter things: music, terrible movies, the latest office gossip. But as the miles tick by, you feel the mood in the truck shift again, subtly.

“So,” she begins. “Everything’s been okay with you? The last few days at work?”

“Yeah, totally fine,” you say, navigating a merge onto a larger highway. “Just busy. You know how it is leading up to a weekend. Everyone trying to cram a week’s worth of work into a day.”

“Right,” she says. She pauses. “So, nothing… new? Has anything different happened?”

The question is vague, but her focus is sharp. You rack your brain, trying to think of anything notable. The Yuna incident flashes in your mind for a split second, but it was a whole lot of nothing. A secret you promised to keep, and one that would only cause unnecessary drama.

“Nope. Nothing special,” you say with a shrug. “Same old, same old.”

You feel her shift in her seat. “Seriously? Not at all?” she presses.

You glance at her, confused by her insistence. “No. Why? What’s with the third degree?”

“Nothing!” she says quickly, turning to look out her window. “It’s nothing. I was just curious.”

An awkward silence hangs between you for a moment. You decide to turn the tables. “Okay, my turn. Has anything new or different happened with you?”

“Nope,” she replies immediately, still looking out the window. “Nothing either.”

You can’t help but smile. This is ridiculous. “You know,” you say gently, reaching over to take her hand, lacing your fingers with hers. “We don’t need anything new or special to happen.” You give her hand a squeeze. “We’re driving away from the city in a pickup truck to go camping, just the two of us. I’d say we’re already living something pretty special right now.”

She turns back to you, her expression softening. A genuine smile finally touches her lips as she squeezes your hand back.

“Yeah,” she agrees. “Yeah, you’re right.”

—

After another hour on winding country roads, you finally turn off the main asphalt and onto a well-worn dirt path that crunches satisfyingly under the truck’s tires. The trees close in around you, their leaves forming a lush green tunnel. A few minutes later, the tunnel opens up, and you pull into a secluded clearing that takes your breath away. This is it. The campsite is nestled in a gentle hollow, surrounded by tall pines, with a panoramic view of a wide, serene lake shimmering in the mid-afternoon sun. The air is clean and crisp, smelling of pine needles and damp earth.

You put the truck in park and kill the engine, the sudden silence ringing in your ears.

“Whoa,” Jimin breathes from the passenger seat, her face pressed against the window. “This is… this is real.”

“It gets better,” you say, grinning. You hop out of the truck and walk around to her side, opening the door with a flourish. “Welcome to your kingdom, your majesty.”

She practically tumbles out, a huge, goofy smile on her face as she spins in a slow circle, taking it all in. While she’s lost in a state of childlike wonder, you switch into logistics mode. You lower the tailgate with a loud clang and begin to methodically survey your supplies. Tent, poles, rainfly, stakes, mallet, check. Sleeping bags, air mattress, pump, check. Cooler with food, portable stove, fuel, check. You start pulling things out, arranging them in neat piles on the ground, a familiar sense of calm settling over you as you focus on the task at hand. This is what you’re good at: planning, organizing, making sure everything is in its right place.

“Do you need any help?” Jimin asks, finally tearing her eyes away from the view.

“Nope. I’ve got it under control,” you say, unzipping the tent bag. “Your job for the next ten minutes is to be officially enchanted. Go on. Enjoy the scenery. Don’t let me stop you.”

She laughs and sticks her tongue out at you before wandering off toward the edge of the lake, leaving you to your quest.

Setting up a tent, you quickly learn, is a special kind of puzzle designed by sadists. The instructions are a series of incomprehensible hieroglyphs, the poles all look identical but are somehow different lengths, and getting the fabric to lay flat feels like trying to fold a fitted sheet in a hurricane. You grunt and sweat and probably swear under your breath more than once, wrestling with the unwieldy contraption until, finally, through sheer force of will, a recognizable tent-like structure stands proudly in the middle of the clearing. You stand back, hands on your hips, admiring your handiwork with a deep sense of primal satisfaction.

“Hey!” you call out. “I built us a house! Come check it out!”

She comes jogging back over, her eyes wide with impressed surprise. “You did it! It looks like a real tent!”

“Of course it’s a real tent,” you say, puffing your chest out playfully. “I am a master builder. An architect of the wilderness.” You grab her hand. “Now, come on. Before we lose the light. Let’s go for a walk.”

You both sit on the tailgate of the truck to pull on sturdy hiking boots. As you’re lacing yours up, Jimin looks at you with a curious expression.

“So… what do people actually do at camps?” she asks. “Like, for fun. Besides just… sitting.”

You finish your knot and look at her. “Honestly? I have absolutely no idea.”

She laughs, then stands up and takes your hand, her fingers warm in yours. “Well then,” she says. “Let’s go find out together.”

You follow a narrow trail that winds away from the campsite and deeper into the woods. The light filters through the canopy above in shifting, golden shafts, and the only sounds are the crunch of your boots on the path and the chirping of unseen birds. It’s peaceful in a way you haven’t experienced in years. For the first time, you’re not colleagues or a secret couple hiding in the shadows of an entertainment company. You’re just two people, walking in the woods.

She walks with a bounce in her step, pointing out interesting-looking flowers and weirdly shaped rocks. You find a small, trickling stream and dare each other to cross it by hopping from one slippery stone to another, her shrieks of laughter echoing when she almost loses her balance. You snap pictures of everything: the way the light hits the water, a funny-looking mushroom, a close-up of her laughing face. She insists on taking pictures of you, too, ordering you to pose against trees and look pensive while staring out at the lake.

After about an hour of exploring, you find a small, rocky outcrop that offers a stunning, unobstructed view of the valley below. You both sink down onto a flat, sun-warmed slab of stone, breathing a little heavily from the walk.

“Okay, snack time,” she declares, shrugging off the small backpack she’d insisted on bringing. She pulls out two protein bars and a bag of sour gummy worms. “A feast fit for a king and queen.”

“The finest of dining,” you agree solemnly, taking a protein bar.

You eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the view and the quiet company. She’s leaning against you, her head resting on your shoulder. You turn your head to say something, but she chooses that exact moment to look up at you, and your words die in your throat. Her eyes are so clear, her face so open and happy. You don’t even think about it. You just lean in and kiss her.

It’s slow and soft, tasting of chocolate and synthetic cherry. When you pull away, she keeps her eyes closed for a moment longer.

“This is nice,” she whispers.

“Yeah,” you whisper back. “It is.”

You stay there for a long time, talking and laughing and stealing kisses, until the sun begins to dip lower in the sky, painting the clouds in shades of orange and pink. You head back to the campsite hand-in-hand as the evening chill begins to creep into the air, the world taking on a soft, blue hue.

The first priority is building a fire. You’d watched a dozen tutorials on YouTube, but theory is very different from practice. You meticulously arrange your kindling and logs into a pyramid shape, just like the videos showed, but your first few attempts to light it result in nothing but pathetic wisps of smoke.

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” Karina asks, wrapped in a thick fleece coat, watching you with an amused smirk from one of the camping chairs.

“I am a fire god,” you grunt, striking another match with intense concentration. “The flame is merely testing my resolve.”

Finally, a tiny flicker of orange catches, wavers, and then, miraculously, grows into a steady, crackling flame. You let out a triumphant whoop as warmth begins to radiate from the fire pit. You both pull your chairs closer, basking in its glow. You pull the cooler over and retrieve the foil-wrapped packages that will be your dinner: potatoes seasoned with rosemary and garlic, and thick cuts of marinated beef. You carefully place them on the grill grate you’ve positioned over the flames, the sound of their sizzling instantly making your mouth water. You settle back into your chair, handing Jimin a bottle of water. The fire crackles, the sky above is a deep, velvety indigo, and the girl you love is sitting right beside you. It’s perfect.

You use a pair of tongs to plate the perfectly cooked beef and fluffy potatoes onto two enamel plates. You hand a plate to Jimin, who takes it with a grateful smile, and you both settle into your camping chairs, the fire pit casting a warm, flickering orange glow on your faces.

Above, the sky is a breathtaking spectacle, a deep indigo canvas splattered with a dense blanket of stars, clearer and brighter than you’ve ever seen them in the city. The only sign of other human life is the faint, distant murmur of voices and the occasional peal of laughter from another group camping somewhere on the far side of the lake.

You eat slowly, savoring the food and the moment. It’s perfect.

“This is the best steak I’ve ever had,” Jimin says after a few moments. “Are you sure you’re not secretly a five-star chef?”

“It’s the magic of the campfire,” you reply with a grin. “Everything tastes better when you cook it over an open flame. It’s a scientific fact. Plus, I think the threat of a potential Bigfoot attack adds a certain… seasoning.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles. You fall back into a comfortable silence, enjoying the simple act of sharing a meal together. After a while, you break it.

“So, do you miss it yet?” you ask.

“Miss what?”

“Your apartment. Your giant, ridiculously comfortable bed. Your high-pressure shower head. The ability to order fried chicken at three in the morning.”

She pretends to consider it for a moment, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Nope. Not even a little bit. This is way better.” She gestures around with her fork. “I think I could get used to this.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenge playfully. “How about we do a whole month out here? Just you, me, and the squirrels. We could learn to forage for berries. Maybe I could even wrestle a bear for our dinner. Very romantic.”

“Okay, let’s not get crazy. I’m still a city girl at heart. I think after a week my back would go out from sleeping on the ground and I’d start having intense cravings for a vanilla latte. But for a weekend? This is heaven.” She leans back in her chair, a contented sigh escaping her lips. “The feeling of freedom out here… it’s unreal. Like I can actually breathe.”

“I know what you mean,” you agree. “It feels like we’re a million miles away from everything.”

Jimin looks at you, her expression turning more serious. “Maybe this can be our thing,” she suggests softly. “Our getaway. Whenever things get too crazy, whenever we need to escape… we can come here. Or somewhere like it.”

“I’d like that,” you say. “But… for how long will we need a refuge, Jimin? How long can we keep escaping before reality just crashes back in?”

She reaches out and places her hand over yours. “Hey,” she says gently, her thumb stroking the back of your hand. “Don’t do that. Don’t torture yourself over the future. Each thing in its own time. Right now, this moment, right here… this is what’s real. This is special. Let’s just live in this for a little while, okay?”

You look at her, at the earnestness in her eyes, and the anxiety in your chest recedes. She’s right. You squeeze her hand. “Okay. You’re right.”

You finish dinner, and as you’re gathering the plates, Jimin lets out an adorable, jaw-cracking yawn, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Getting sleepy?” you ask, smiling.

“A little,” she admits. “It’s the fresh air. It’s making me all tired.”

“Want to head into the tent? We can call it a night.”

She shakes her head, her eyes soft in the firelight. “Not yet. I want to stay here with you for a little while longer. Just looking at the fire.”

“I’d like that,” you say.

She suddenly gasps, her eyes widening. “Oh my god! I almost forgot the most important part of the meal!” She points a finger at you. “Dessert! I brought that creamy milk jelly I love from that bakery near the company. It’s in the cooler. Can you go get it? And we need two spoons!”

“An order I will happily obey,” you say, giving her a mock salute. You stand up and head over to the truck to retrieve the cooler, leaving your phone behind on your now-empty camping chair.

Jimin stretches her arms over her head, a satisfied groan escaping her lips as she watches you go. As she settles back into her chair, a sharp buzzing sound makes her jump. It’s your phone. The screen lights up the darkness, illuminating a name.

Yuna.

Jimin frowns. Yuna? Why would a Yuna be calling you? But then her heart gives a painful lurch. Her mind instantly flashes back to the lobby, to the image of you walking with Shin Yuna, the easy way she smiled at you. It can’t be. It has to be another Yuna. A cousin. An old classmate. Anyone else. But the seed of doubt, planted weeks ago and nurtured by her own insecurity, begins to sprout with terrifying speed. Before she can talk herself out of it, fueled by a toxic cocktail of curiosity and dread, she leans over and snatches the phone from the chair. Her thumb hovers over the green icon for a second, and then she swipes. She brings the phone to her ear, her heart hammering against her ribs.

“Hey, you,” Yuna’s cheerful, slightly husky voice says immediately, without preamble. “I was starting to think you were ignoring me. I missed you today.” A playful, teasing note enters her tone. “So, is your girlfriend around? Or can you talk?”

Karina’s blood runs cold, and the air is stolen from her lungs. She feels dizzy. It is her.

“Y-Yuna?” Karina stutters, the name coming out as a strangled whisper.

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

“Um, sorry, who is this?”

“It’s… Jimin,” Karina says. Another beat of silence.

“Jimin who?”

“Yoo Jimin,” Karina clarifies, forcing the words out. “From Aespa.”

The silence that follows is longer. Karina can hear the faint crackle of the fire next to her, the sound deafening in the sudden void. Finally, Yuna lets out a low whistle.

“Wow,” she says. “Okay. Did not see that coming. Hi, Jimin-sunbaenim. How are you?”

The polite honorific feels like a slap in the face. “Why… why do you have his number?” Karina asks with a pain she can’t hide.

“He gave it to me,” Yuna replies simply, factually. “This is… kind of embarrassing, isn’t it?” She lets out a small, humorless laugh. “He’s been collecting idols, huh? Who would have thought? Who else is in his little black book? Well, look. I won’t bother you two anymore. Clearly, my mistake.” Her voice becomes sickeningly sweet. “I’m sorry for the interruption. And hey, I love your new album! Talk to you later, Jimin-ssi, bye!”

“Wait!” Karina cries out, desperate. “Did you… have you been seeing him?”

But the only answer is the soft click of the call ending, followed by the monotonous dial tone. She’s gone.

You come back into the firelight, holding up the small glass jar of jelly and two spoons like a trophy. “I have procured the goods!” you announce cheerfully. Then you see her face. She’s standing, her body rigid, her face pale and shadowed in the flickering light. “Hey, were you just talking to someone?”

In response, she lets out a choked, furious sound and hurls the empty soda can from the armrest of her chair directly at you. It hits you squarely in the chest with a dull thud, startling more than hurting you.

“What the hell?” you exclaim, shocked.

“Two idols at the same time, huh?” she spits with a venom you’ve never heard from her before. “Is that what this is about? Is that why you wanted to get close to me? So you could have easy access to everyone else? Is it some kind of sick fetish for you?!”

“What are you talking about?!” you shout back, completely bewildered.

She grabs another can and throws it, this one sailing past your head and clattering into the darkness. You quickly put the jelly and spoons down on the ground, holding your hands up in a gesture of peace.

“Okay, hey! Calm down! What happened? I was gone for, like, three minutes!”

“I saw it!” she yells, pointing a shaking finger at your phone, which she’s just dropped onto her chair. “I saw Yuna’s name on your phone! And I answered it!”

Holy crap. Fuck. You had completely, utterly forgotten. The promise you made to yourself to delete the number, to block it, had been buried under an avalanche of work deadlines and the all-consuming excitement of planning this trip. This perfect, wonderful trip. A stupid, careless oversight has just detonated a bomb in the middle of your relationship.

“Jimin, listen to me,” you say, taking a careful step toward her. “I can explain. It is not what you’re thinking.”

“Oh really?” she says. “Because it looks exactly like what I’m thinking! It looks like you’ve been lying to me this whole time!”

“I am not sleeping with Yuna!” you say. “I’m not dating her, I haven’t seen her since that one day at the company, I swear. I barely even know her.” You take another step. “Please. Just let me explain what happened.”

She stares at you, her chest heaving, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears of anger and betrayal. She doesn’t say anything, but she doesn’t throw anything else either. She just stands there, arms crossed, waiting. It’s the only permission you’re going to get.

You take a deep breath and you tell her everything. You tell her about the collision in the hallway, the spilled coffee, her ruined outfit for the collab shoot. You explain how she demanded your help, how you took her to the wardrobe room because you were terrified of getting fired. You emphasize how she was the one who came looking for you at the office days later, how she was the one who insisted, who practically forced you to give her your number.

“I was going to delete it,” you finish. “I was going to block her number the second I left that room, I swear to you. But I got called into a meeting, and then I started planning all of this.” You gesture around at the campsite, at the tent, at the dying fire. “This whole week, every spare second I’ve had, has been about this. About planning this for you. I was so focused on making this perfect for us that I completely forgot she was even in my phone. I’ve only been thinking about you.”

She listens to the whole story, her rigid posture slowly softening as you speak. The anger in her eyes begins to recede, replaced by a dawning understanding, and then, by a wave of shame. When you finish, she looks down at the ground, unable to meet your eyes.

“Oh my god,” she whispers. “I’m so sorry.” She finally looks up at you, her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so, so sorry. I just… I saw her name, and after seeing you with her… my brain just went crazy. I freaked out.”

You close the distance between you and pull her into your arms. She collapses against you, burying her face in your chest, her body shaking with quiet sobs.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologizes again and again, her voice muffled by your shirt.

“It’s okay,” you murmur into her hair, holding her tight. “It’s okay. I understand.”

You just stand there for a long time, holding each other in the firelight, letting the warmth of the embrace chase away the cold chill of the fight.

She leans back in your arms, wiping the last of the tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her oversized hoodie. The firelight dances in her damp eyes as she looks up at you.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” she asks. “When it happened. You could have said something. Anything. I would have understood.”

You let out a long sigh. “You’re right. I should have. I guess… I just didn’t want to make things weird.” You look away for a second, trying to find the right words. “Honestly, I thought if I told you, it would put you in an awkward position. You and Yuna… you’re not best friends, but you’re in the same industry, you run in the same circles. You’re friendly. I didn’t want to be the cause of some stupid drama between you two. I figured if I just deleted the number and pretended it never happened, it would be easier for everyone.”

“But you didn’t delete it,” she points out.

“No,” you admit, meeting her gaze. “And that was my mistake. A really stupid one. I’m sorry.” You hesitate for a moment before continuing. “There was another reason, too. When she cornered me at the office… part of me thought that if she knew you and I were together, she might have backed off. But I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t know if I could trust her with that secret. With our secret. I couldn’t risk it.”

A look of understanding dawns on her face. “She knows now,” Jimin says softly. “Or, well, she knows about me, at least. But… she won’t tell anyone. Yuna can be… a lot. But she’s not cruel. She wouldn’t out us like that. She understands how this world works.” Jimin shakes her head. “When I saw you with her in the lobby that day, I was so confused. Because I know her. Winter was right… she never pays any attention to guys unless she’s genuinely, seriously interested. And then I started thinking about her, and… she’s Shin Yuna. She’s gorgeous, she’s ridiculously popular, she’s so confident and charming, and she knows how to flirt, how to get what she wants…” Her voice trails off, and she looks down, her insecurity laid bare. “I just… I felt so small.”

You gently tilt her chin up, forcing her to look at you. “Hey. Look at me.” You wait until her eyes meet yours. “The only person I can think about is you. The only person I want is you. Being with you again, like this, after all this time… it’s the best thing that’s happened to me in years. Maybe ever. No one else even comes close. Do you hear me?”

A watery smile touches her lips. “I hear you.” And then, as if a switch has been flipped in her brain, her eyes go wide with horror. “Oh my god. The cans! I threw cans at you!” She lunges forward, her hands starting to pat you down frantically, searching for injuries. “I’m so sorry! Did I hurt you? Are you okay? Where did they hit you? Are you bruised?”

You can’t help but laugh, catching her flitting hands in yours to still them. “Jimin, I’m fine. I promise. They were empty soda cans, not knives. My fragile body will survive.”

“It’s not funny!” she insists, though a reluctant smile is tugging at her own lips. “You didn’t deserve that. I wasn’t even thinking, I just got so angry and scared and I reacted. I’m such an idiot.” She sobers, her hands coming up to gently cup your face, her thumbs stroking your cheekbones. “The thought of losing you… of someone else having you… it makes me feel crazy. I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

You lean forward, resting your forehead against hers, closing your eyes. The warmth of her skin, the scent of her hair, the faint smell of campfire smoke… it’s all you need. “That’s not going to happen,” you murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

That’s all she needs to hear. She surges forward, capturing your lips in a kiss that is worlds away from the sweet, gentle kisses you shared earlier. This one is deep and hungry, composed of relief, apology, and raw, unadulterated devotion. It’s a kiss that says you’re mine. Her hands tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, pulling you closer, deepening the kiss until you’re both breathless.

She pulls back just enough to speak, her lips brushing against yours with every word. “I need to make this up to you,” she whispers. “I want to reward you. For being so perfect. For putting up with my crazy.” She punctuates the sentence with another searing kiss. “Let me redeem myself.”

Without waiting for an answer, she takes your hand and starts pulling you backwards, her eyes never leaving yours. She leads you away from the fire and towards the dark silhouette of the tent. Inside, the only light is the soft, diffuse glow of a single battery-powered camping lantern hanging from the ceiling, casting long, dancing shadows on the fabric walls. The air is cool and still. She pushes you gently so you sit, then fall back onto the soft pile of sleeping bags and blankets you’d laid out earlier. Before you can even get your bearings, she’s climbing on top of you, straddling your hips, her weight a welcome pressure.

She leans down, her hair falling around you like a curtain, and her lips find the sensitive skin of your neck. She kisses a slow, wet trail from your jaw to your collarbone, making you sigh, your head falling back against the blankets. Then, you feel a sharp, focused pressure, a gentle sucking that makes you sigh. You know exactly what she’s doing.

“You know,” you breathe, “I’m going to have to wear a turtleneck to work on Monday to hide that.”

She pulls back, her eyes dark and glittering in the low light, a possessive smirk on her face as she admires her handiwork. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you to hide it. I want everyone to know that you’re already taken. That you have an owner.” She leans down again, her lips hovering just above yours. “And eventually, everyone will know that owner is me.”

Your hands move to the zipper of her thick fleece coat. You pull it down slowly, deliberately, your knuckles brushing against the soft skin of her stomach. Once it’s open, she shrugs out of it, tossing it to the side. Her hands immediately find the zipper on your own coat, mirroring your actions. You pull it off and throw it into the corner, the barrier between you gone.

She crashes her lips against yours again. It’s a messy, wet, dominant kiss. She sucks on your lower lip, her tongue plunging into your mouth, tangling with yours in a dance that’s more like a battle. It’s a kiss that claims and consumes. When she finally pulls away, you’re both panting, your bodies flush with heat.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” she whispers, her breath hot against your cheek. “Do you want me to make you forget about everything else?”

“Yes,” you manage to gasp out.

Her eyes gleam. She leans in close, her lips brushing against your ear. “Then I need you to tell me,” she murmurs.“Tell me I’m the only one. Tell me I’m the only girl who makes you feel this good.”

The raw vulnerability beneath her confident exterior undoes you completely. You bring a hand up to cup her cheek, your thumb stroking her soft skin.

“You’re the only one, Jimin,” you say with sincerity. “You’re the only girl who’s ever made me feel this good.”

A shudder runs through her body, and a soft, satisfied sound escapes her lips. She loves hearing it. She needs to hear it. And you’ll tell her a thousand times if you have to.

Now she is a woman on a mission, and that mission is to erase any doubt, any lingering shadow of another woman, from your mind, your body, and your soul. She intends to brand you as hers, so thoroughly and completely that the memory of this night will be seared into your every nerve ending.

“That’s right,” she whispers. “I’m the only one.” She leans down, her lips capturing yours again, but this time, there’s a new edge to it. Her teeth graze your lower lip, a gentle, possessive bite that makes you gasp. “And I’m going to make sure you never, ever forget that.”

Her hands, which had been resting on your shoulders, begin their descent. They move with a slow, deliberate purpose that is maddeningly erotic. Her fingers trail down your chest, over your stomach, her touch light as a feather yet leaving a trail of fire in its wake. She reaches the waistband of your sweatpants, her fingers hooking into the soft fabric. She doesn’t pull them down. Instead, she just tugs gently, a silent question, her eyes locked on yours, searching for your reaction. You give a slight, almost imperceptible nod, your own breath catching in your throat. That’s all the permission she needs.

With a newfound urgency, she breaks the kiss and begins to work at your clothes. There’s nothing gentle or romantic about it; it’s a frantic, almost desperate need to get to you, to feel your skin against hers. She pushes you back against the sleeping bags and yanks your hoodie up and over your head, tossing it carelessly into a corner of the tent. Her cool fingers immediately return to your chest, her palms pressing flat against your skin, feeling the frantic hammering of your heart beneath. She leans down, her hair tickling your stomach, and presses a hot, open-mouthed kiss right above the waistband of your pants.

“I want to see all of you,” she murmurs against your skin. “I need to see what’s mine.”

She pulls at your sweatpants and your boxers together, her movements efficient and impatient. You lift your hips to help her, and she tugs them down your legs, kicking them away into the darkness. You are naked now, completely exposed to her heated, possessive gaze in the soft, flickering glow of the camping lantern. Her eyes drink you in, from your chest to your feet, but they linger, with a hungry intensity, on your cock. It’s already hard, thick and heavy with need, a single, glistening bead of precum already pearling at the tip. A low, appreciative hum escapes her lips. She reaches out, her fingers wrapping around your shaft, her touch both reverent and proprietary.

“So beautiful,” she whispers, her thumb stroking the sensitive head, smearing the slick bead of moisture. “And you’re so hard for me already. Leaking for me. Just from my kisses.” She squeezes you gently, a firm, knowing pressure that makes you hiss through your teeth. “Good. I want you so hard you think you’re going to explode. But you won’t. Not until I say so.”

She releases you, and before you can even process the sweet ache of that loss, she begins to shed her own clothes. She stands up on her knees, straddling your legs, and pulls her hoodie over her head in one fluid motion, revealing the delicate lace of the bra she’s wearing underneath. Her eyes never leave yours as her hands move to her back, her fingers finding the clasp with practiced ease. With a soft click, it comes undone. She holds the straps for a moment longer, letting the anticipation build, a cruel, beautiful smirk playing on her lips. Then, she lets it fall away.

Your world stops. Again. It seems to be a recurring theme whenever she undresses for you. In the soft, warm light of the lantern, her breasts are a vision of impossible perfection. They are always just as you remember, but somehow even more magnificent. Large, heavy, and exquisitely full, they spill into her hands as she cups them, lifting them slightly as if presenting a sacred offering. The skin is pale and creamy, looking impossibly soft, with the faint, delicate blue tracery of veins just beneath the surface hinting at the life and heat within. Her areolas are a dusky, perfect rose, and at their centers, her nipples are already tight, puckered, erect, a deeper, more insistent pink. They look so sensitive, so utterly delectable, a perfect, beautiful invitation.

“Do you like them?” she asks. She squeezes them together, pushing them up, creating a deep, shadowy valley of cleavage. “Are they as good as you remember? Are they the most perfect tits you’ve ever seen?”

“Yes,” you manage to choke out, your throat dry, your mind blissfully blank save for the overwhelming, primal need to touch them, to taste them, to feel their soft weight in your hands. “They’re perfect, Jimin. Absolutely fucking perfect.”

“Good,” she says, a satisfied smile spreading across her face. “I want you to keep looking at them. I want you to watch what I do with them.” She lowers herself, crawling up your body until she’s kneeling on the sleeping bag on either side of your head, her magnificent, bare breasts dangling just inches from your face. “These are yours,” she whispers. “Only yours. And tonight, they’re going to make you feel so, so good.”

Jimin changes her position and goes down your body, she leans down and takes the head of your cock into her mouth for a single, hot, wet swirl of her tongue before pulling away, leaving you groaning and desperate for more. But she has other plans. She moves back up, positioning herself over your chest.

“I love that you get so hard when I just look at you,” she says, reaching down to take your rigid length in her hand again. She strokes you slowly, deliberately, watching your face, her eyes glittering with a newfound power. “But I want to feel you somewhere else.”

She leans forward, her breasts swaying with the movement. Then, she does something that makes your brain short-circuit for the third time that night. She spits. A small, generous amount of her saliva lands directly in the valley between her breasts, pooling there, clear and glistening in the lantern light. She looks up at you through her lashes, a wicked, filthy smile on her face.

“Need a little lubricant,” she purrs. She uses her finger to swirl the saliva, spreading it over the soft, inner curves of her breasts, making the pale skin shine. She then brings her wet fingers to her nipples, teasing them, rolling the tight peaks until they’re even harder, even more sensitive. “There. All wet for you. Just like my pussy was.”

She takes your cock in her hand, her grip firm, and guides you towards her chest. She positions the thick, slick head of your cock right at the entrance to that glistening valley. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, she lowers her breasts onto your shaft, enveloping you in their soft, warm, wet flesh.

The sensation is indescribable. It’s a perfect, impossible combination of sensations. The heat of her skin, the impossible softness of her breasts, the slick, wet glide of her saliva, and the tight, enclosing pressure as she squeezes them together around you. It’s a snug, perfect fit. A low, guttural groan is ripped from your throat, your eyes rolling back in your head for a second.

“Oh, fuck… Jimin…” you gasp out.

“Shhh,” she whispers, her face close to yours, her breath hot against your cheek. “Just feel it. Feel my tits wrapped around your cock. Does it feel good?” She begins to move, her hands cupping her own breasts, squeezing them tighter around you as she slides them up and down your shaft in a slow, torturous rhythm. “Does it feel as good as you imagined?”

“Better,” you manage to rasp, your hips instinctively trying to thrust up, but she places a firm hand on your chest, holding you down.

“No,” she commands softly. “Don’t move. Not yet. I’m in control here. You just lie back and let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good.”

She settles into a steady, hypnotic rhythm, her breasts sliding up and down your slick shaft, the friction both agonizingly gentle and intensely stimulating. Her gaze is locked on the point where your bodies meet, a look of intense concentration and profound, selfish pleasure on her face. She’s watching your cock disappear between her tits, watching them jiggle and sway with each deliberate motion. The sight is so incredibly, filthily hot that you feel the pressure building in your balls almost immediately.

“That’s it,” she pants, her own breathing becoming heavier. “Look at that. Look at how my tits just swallow your big cock. It fits so perfectly, doesn’t it?” She increases the pressure, squeezing her breasts together so tightly you can feel the soft flesh pressing in on you from all sides. “I love feeling you in here. So hard and hot. Do you love feeling me?”

“Yes,” you groan, your knuckles white from where you’re gripping the sleeping bag. “God, yes.”

“Tell me,” she demands, her rhythm becoming a little faster, a little more urgent. “Tell me how good my tits feel wrapped around your dick. I want to hear you say it.”

“They feel… fucking incredible, Jimin,” you say, voice strained. “So soft… so wet… so fucking tight…”

Her answering moan is music to your ears. Your words are exactly what she needs, the verbal confirmation that she is the source of this overwhelming pleasure. She picks up the pace, her hips rocking slightly as she works her breasts up and down your shaft with a frantic energy. Her head is thrown back now, her eyes closed, a long, continuous stream of soft, breathy moans spilling from her parted lips. She’s lost in it, lost in the sensation of pleasuring you, of owning you, of marking you with her body. The sight of her, so completely consumed by the act, is what finally pushes you towards the edge. The pressure in your groin becomes an insistent, undeniable ache.

“Jimin,” you pant, your body trembling. “I’m… I’m getting close.”

Her eyes snap open, locking with yours. A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. “Already?” she teases, but she doesn’t slow down. If anything, she goes faster, her movements becoming more frantic, more desperate. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to last long. Not with my perfect tits all over your cock.” She leans down, her face just inches from yours, her breasts still working their magic on you. “Do you want to come for me? Do you want to shoot your hot load all over my tits?”

“Please,” you beg, your self-control completely shattered. “I can’t… I can’t hold it…”

“Then don’t,” she whispers. “Give it to me. I want it all. I want you to cover me. Drench my tits in your cum. Come for me now, baby. Let me feel how much you want me.”

A deep, primal roar tears itself from your throat as your orgasm rips through you, a violent, world-shattering release. Your hips buck up off the sleeping bag, a single, convulsive thrust.

“Fuck! Jimin!” you scream.

The first thick, heavy spurt of your cum erupts from the head of your cock, splattering directly into the deep, wet valley of her cleavage. She gasps, a sharp, shuddering intake of breath as the hot liquid hits her skin, her whole body jolting.

“Yes!” she cries out. “Oh god, it’s so hot… so much…”

You’re lost to it now, your body acting on pure instinct. She keeps milking your cock with her breasts, the squeeze even tighter as another powerful torrent is unleashed, this one arcing higher, coating the full, heavy swell of her right breast in a thick, pearlescent sheen. Another follows immediately after, painting her left breast with an identical layer of your release. She doesn’t flinch, doesn’t shy away. She just watches, her eyes wide, her lips parted, taking it all, a silent, willing canvas for your pleasure.

Spurt after spurt flies from you, a relentless, massive load that seems to have no end. You paint her with your climax, a chaotic, beautiful mess of pure lust. Her chest, her collarbones, the perfect, soft slope of her breasts are covered, dripping with thick, white ropes of your cum. Even as the powerful torrents begin to subside, she reaches down, wrapping her own small hand around your cock.

“Every last drop,” she whispers. “I want every last drop, baby.”

With her delicate hand she milks the last, thickest globs from your spent cock, adding them to the glistening, sticky masterpiece you’ve created all over her. Finally, your orgasm spends itself completely. You collapse back onto the sleeping bags, your body utterly drained, your breathing coming in ragged, harsh pants. Jimin stays poised above you for a long moment, her chest rising and falling heavily beneath the cooling evidence of your pleasure. She looks down at herself, at the sheer volume of your release covering her skin, and a slow, deeply satisfied smile spreads across her face. This is what she wanted. This is the proof she needed.

—

After the storm, there is a profound, almost sacred quiet. The air in the tent, once thick with the scent of sex and the sound of your frantic, ragged breaths, is now still and cool. You lie there for a long time, tangled in the blankets, your bodies slick with sweat, just listening to the sound of each other’s breathing evening out. The intensity of what just happened hangs between you.

Eventually, Jimin stirs. She slowly, almost reluctantly, disentangles herself from you. Without a word, she grabs a few wet wipes from her bag and begins to clean herself, her movements methodical and efficient. She cleans you, too, her touch now gentle and tender. There’s no awkwardness, no shame. Just a shared intimacy. When she’s done, she leans down and gives you a soft, chaste kiss on the forehead.

She slips her hoodie back on, and you do the same, your limbs feeling heavy and wonderfully boneless.

“Come on,” she says softly. She takes your hand, her fingers lacing with yours. “I don’t want to be in here anymore.”

You follow her out of the tent and into the crisp, cold night air. The fire has died down to a bed of glowing, orange embers, casting a soft, pulsing light on the clearing. The moon is high and bright now, a perfect silver disc in the inky black sky. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. Instead of heading back to the chairs, she leads you to the back of the pickup truck. She hops up onto the tailgate and gestures for you to follow.

“The bed,” she says. “I want to lie in the bed of the truck.”

You work together, a silent, coordinated team, grabbing the thickest comforters and pillows from the tent and arranging them into a plush, comfortable nest in the truck bed. It’s a ridiculous, impromptu creation, but it feels perfect. You both climb in, settling down into the soft cocoon of blankets, your bodies close together for warmth. From here, with the low sides of the truck bed framing your view, the sky opens up above you, vast and infinite. The sheer number of stars is dizzying, a dense, glittering tapestry that stretches from horizon to horizon. You can even see the faint, milky smudge of the galaxy arching overhead.

“What a beautiful night,” Jimin finally whispers.

“The most beautiful,” you agree. You reach for her hand in the darkness, and she squeezes it tightly.

She lets out a soft, contented sigh and shifts closer to you, the rustling of the blankets the only sound. “I could actually sleep out here. It’s so comfortable. Way better than the tent.”

She rests her head on your chest, her ear right over your heart. You can feel the steady, reassuring thud against her cheek. You wrap an arm around her, pulling her in tight, and begin to gently stroke her hair, your fingers running through the soft, silky strands again and again.

“I really am sorry,” she says after a long while, voice slightly muffled by your shirt. “For… all of that. For being crazy. I can’t believe I threw things at you.”

“Hey,” you murmur into her hair. “We’re past that now. It’s okay. I promise.”

“No, it’s not okay,” she insists, lifting her head to look at you, her face serious in the pale moonlight. “I acted like a monster. And the things I said to you… that you had a fetish… that was horrible. It was unfair.”

“You were scared,” you say. “And you were hurt. You had every right to be. I should have told you about Yuna the moment it happened. I was trying to protect you from drama, but instead, I just caused a different, much worse kind. That’s on me.”

“It’s on us,” she corrects. “I should have trusted you more. I should have just asked you about it instead of letting my imagination run wild and then… ambushing you with a phone call.” She shudders slightly at the memory. “But when I saw her name pop up on your phone… my heart just… it fell. All I could think was, ‘Of course. Of course he’d want someone like her.’ She’s so… easy to be with, in a public way. She doesn’t care what people think. She could give you a normal life, a normal relationship. A relationship that isn’t a secret.”

You tighten your arm around her, pulling her impossibly closer. “I don’t want a normal relationship with someone else. I want this. I want our weird, complicated, secret relationship. Because it’s with you.” You pause, gathering your thoughts. “And for the record, I don’t think Yuna is easy to be with at all. I think she’s kind of terrifying. You, on the other hand… you’re the easiest person in the world for me to be with. You’re the only person who makes sense.”

A genuine smile, the first one you’ve seen since before the fight, finally graces her lips. It makes the stars look dim in comparison. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm. “Even when you’re throwing cans at my head. You’re still my favorite person.”

Jimin laughs, then she lays her head back down on your chest, snuggling into you. “I feel like… maybe we needed that,” she confesses. “The fight, I mean. Not the can-throwing part. But everything has been so tense for weeks. We’ve been walking on eggshells around each other, scared to say the wrong thing, scared to admit how hard this all is. Maybe we needed it all to explode so we could finally clear the air.”

“Maybe we did,” you agree, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “A hard reset.”

“A very hard reset,” she mumbles, a sleepy, satisfied smile in her tone.

You lie in comfortable silence again, watching a satellite streak across the sky like a slow-moving shooting star. She traces idle patterns on your chest with her finger. “Thank you for this wonderful night,” she says softly, so softly you almost think you imagined it.

“Thank you for being here with me,” you reply without hesitation.

She lets out a tiny, contented sigh and snuggles deeper against you, her body warm and relaxed in yours. Her breathing deepens, slowing into the steady, even rhythm of sleep. You stay awake for a long time after she’s drifted off, your arm securely around her, your hand still gently stroking her hair. You stare up at the infinite, star-dusted sky, feeling impossibly small and yet, at the same time, like you are the center of the entire universe.

—

The camping trip feels like a lifetime ago. A beautiful, feverish dream of freedom that you desperately try to hold onto as the days bleed into weeks, and the weeks blur into a relentless, high-pressure month. That weekend under the stars was the calm eye of the storm, and now you’re both back in the swirling, chaotic winds of her reality. The Dirty Work single album is a runaway success, a cultural phenomenon. It’s everywhere. On every chart, every radio station, every television screen. And Karina, as the group’s undeniable center, is at the epicenter of it all. Her face is plastered on billboards, her interviews are dissected by thousands of fans online, and her schedule has become a color-coded nightmare of logistics that you, in your official capacity, sometimes have to help manage.

Life has become a series of stolen moments, a mosaic of whispered conversations in dressing rooms and fleeting touches in crowded hallways. Proper dates are a fantasy. A walk in the park, a quiet dinner at a restaurant, a trip to the movies - these simple things are now luxuries more unattainable than front-row concert tickets. Your relationship exists in the liminal spaces of her fame: the backseats of tinted vans, the sterile anonymity of hotel rooms in cities you barely have time to see, and the precious, stolen hours after midnight when the world finally, mercifully, leaves her alone.

Because you work for the company, because your job requires you to be on these promotional tours, you can still be near her. It’s a blessing and a curse. You get to see her, to be by her side, but it’s a high-wire act performed without a net. The paranoia is a constant, living thing, a third person in your relationship. It’s the way you never walk next to each other in a hallway, always maintaining a professional distance. It’s the way your heart leaps into your throat every time a hotel room door opens unexpectedly. It’s the coded, innocuous text messages you send each other, which, if read by anyone else, would mean absolutely nothing.

Tonight, you’re in Busan for a music festival. The performance was electric, a thunderous display of their talent and stage presence that left the massive crowd screaming for more. You watched from the side of the stage. Now, hours later, the adrenaline has faded, replaced by a bone-deep weariness. You’re in your hotel room on the 15th floor. She’s on the 17th, in a suite. Her manager is in the room next to hers. The logistics of just seeing her are worthy of a spy movie.

Your phone buzzes with a new message.

I think manager-nim went down to the lobby for a call. The coast might be clear.

Might be? That’s not exactly a green light.

It’s the greenest it’s going to get tonight. I miss you. Please?

That’s all it takes. You send back a quick “On my way,” and your mission begins. You crack your hotel room door open, peering out into the long, empty hallway. It’s clear. You slip. You bypass the elevators - too risky, too many cameras - and head for the fire exit. The only sound is the echo of your own careful footsteps as you climb the two flights of stairs. Every creak of the door, every distant ding of the elevator, makes you freeze, your muscles tensing.

You emerge onto the 17th floor, your senses on high alert. You creep down the hallway, your eyes scanning for any sign of movement. You reach her door, 712, and give it two soft, distinct knocks, your secret signal. A moment later, the door clicks open just a crack, and she pulls you inside with a surprising strength, shutting and locking it behind you in one fluid motion.

The second the door is closed, she’s in your arms, her body molding against yours. She kisses you with a desperate, hungry energy, a kiss that’s less about romance and more about a frantic, primal need to connect. You can taste her exhaustion, her stress, her relief.

“Hi,” she breathes against your lips when she finally pulls away. She looks tired. There are faint, mauve smudges of fatigue under her eyes that even her stage makeup couldn’t fully conceal. She’s wearing a simple, oversized t-shirt and a pair of shorts, her hair still slightly damp from a shower.

“Hi, yourself,” you say, your hands coming up to cup her face. “You were incredible tonight.”

“I was running on fumes,” she admits with a weary smile. “I think my brain shut off about halfway through the second song. My body just kept going on autopilot.” She leans into your touch, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “I’m so tired. I feel like I haven’t had a full night’s sleep in a month.”

“I know,” you say softly, stroking her cheek with your thumb. “Come here.”

You lead her over to the king-sized bed, and you both collapse onto it, not for sex, but for the simple, profound comfort of being close. You lie on your sides, facing each other, a tangle of limbs under the crisp hotel duvet. This is what most of your time together has become. Not wild, passionate encounters, but quiet, stolen moments of comfort, of recharging, of reminding each other that the person you fell in love with still exists underneath the layers of fame and exhaustion.

“How was your day?” she asks. “Did you have to deal with that reporter from Star News again? He’s such a snake.”

“I handled him,” you say, smiling. “Threatened to release his very questionable search history to the public. He backed off.” You’re only half-joking. “Mostly my day was just… missing you. Even when you were ten feet away from me in a dressing room.”

She sighs, a long, mournful sound. “I hate this. I hate that we can be in the same city, in the same building, and I still feel like you’re a million miles away.” She props herself up on her elbow, her expression serious. “Is this ever going to get easier?”

You wish you had an answer for her. You wish you could promise her that one day, it will all magically resolve itself. But you can’t. “I don’t know, Jimin,” you answer honestly. “But we’re making it work, right? We’re here, right now. That’s what matters.”

“I guess,” she says, though she doesn’t sound convinced. “I just… I miss our camping trip. I miss just being able to sit by a fire and not worry about who might see us. I miss the back of that truck.” A small, sad smile plays on her lips. “I want to go back to the truck bed.”

“Me too,” you say. “We will. I promise. As soon as you get a break, the first thing we’ll do is rent that truck and just… disappear for a few days.”

Just as she leans in to kiss you, there’s a sharp, authoritative knock on the door.

You both freeze, your bodies going rigid with instantaneous panic. Your heart plummets into your stomach.

“Karina-yah?” a voice calls from the other side of the door. It’s her manager. “I saw the light on. Just wanted to check in and make sure you’re setting your alarm. We have that early morning interview tomorrow. Call time is six a.m. sharp.”

Pure, ice-cold adrenaline floods your veins. Jimin’s eyes are wide with terror, her face pale.

She puts a finger to her lips, her expression is a silent scream of don’t move, don’t breathe. She slowly, carefully, untangles herself from you and slips out of the bed.

“I’m up, Manager-nim!” she calls out, her voice impressively steady, though you can see her hands are trembling. “Just getting some water! Alarm is already set! See you in the morning!”

“Okay, good,” her manager replies. “Get some sleep. You look exhausted.”

You hear the footsteps recede down the hallway. You both wait, holding your breath for what feels like an eternity, listening for any other sound. Nothing. He’s gone. Jimin sags against the door, her forehead pressed against the cool wood, her shoulders shaking. You slide out of the bed and go to her, wrapping your arms around her from behind.

“That was too close,” she whispers. “Oh my god. He was right there. If he’d had a key card… if he’d just decided to come in…”

“But he didn’t,” you say, trying to soothe her. “And he would never do that, it would be an invasion of privacy. We’re okay. We’re safe.”

But are you? The illusion of your safe, private bubble has been shattered. The paranoia you both live with is not an irrational fear; it’s a perfectly rational response to a very real, ever-present danger. One wrong move, one unlucky moment, one person with a key card, and everything you’ve so carefully built together could come crashing down. She turns in your arms and buries her face in your chest.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” she murmurs. “Living like this. Always looking over my shoulder. Always being afraid.”

You just hold her tighter, rocking her gently, whispering reassurances you’re not even sure you believe yourself. You stay like that for a long time, clinging to each other in the silent, sterile hotel room. And as you stand there, the first seeds of a terrible, insidious doubt begin to take root in your mind. Maybe this life isn’t sustainable. Maybe you’re the one holding her back, the one putting everything she’s worked for at risk. Maybe the man she should be with isn’t a secret she has to hide in hotel rooms, but someone who can stand beside her in the spotlight.

—

The incident in Busan is a turning point. Before, the paranoia was a thrilling, almost romantic part of your secret life; a game you were playing together. Now, it’s a cold, heavy stone in your gut. The near-miss with her manager stripped away the fantasy and exposed the terrifying reality of the stakes. One mistake, one unlocked door, and her entire career, everything she has bled and sacrificed for since she was a child, could be jeopardized. And you would be the cause. That thought haunts you, replaying in your mind in the quiet moments at your desk, on the crowded subway, in the lonely hours before you fall asleep.

The weeks that follow are a blur of awards shows, end-of-year festivals, and prestigious industry events. It’s a victory lap for the album’s staggering success, and you are there for all of it, a ghost in the machine. You stand in the wings, just out of the camera’s frame, watching her accept trophies on glittering stages, delivering poised, grateful speeches to roaring crowds. You see her in couture gowns that cost more than your yearly salary, her hair and makeup flawless, her every movement the epitome of grace and stardom. She looks like a queen in her kingdom, completely at home surrounded by the biggest names in the entertainment industry.

And you… you feel like an imposter. A fraud who snuck in through the back door. The self-doubt, once a fleeting thought, begins to fester, growing into a toxic, pervasive insecurity that colors your every interaction. You watch her laughing with a world-famous actor backstage, their conversation easy and familiar. You see a handsome, popular male idol from another group approach her with a flirty smile and a drink at an after-party, and a hot, ugly knot of jealousy and inadequacy tightens in your stomach. These are her peers. These are the people who belong in her orbit. People whose fame mirrors her own, whose lives are just as extraordinary. People who wouldn’t have to hide in a stairwell to see her.

And what are you? A PR guy. A childhood friend who got lucky. You live in a small apartment, your biggest professional accomplishment is writing a press release that gets a decent amount of pickup, and your idea of a big night out is trying a new pizza place. You’re from a different world, a different universe entirely. The camping trip, which once felt like a beautiful escape to a shared, simple reality, now just feels like you were dragging her down into your world, a world she has long since outgrown.

This creeping insecurity begins to change you. You become quieter, more withdrawn. You find yourself creating distance, a buffer of professional decorum, even when you’re alone. In the back of a car, on the way from one schedule to another, you’ll sit a little further away, your hands in your lap instead of reaching for hers. In a hotel room, you might talk about work, about the day’s logistics, instead of pulling her into your arms. You’re building a wall, brick by painful brick, telling yourself it’s to protect her, but knowing, deep down, that you’re also trying to protect yourself from the inevitable pain of losing her.

And she notices. She is preternaturally attuned to you, to the slightest shift in your mood. She’ll look at you with a confused, questioning expression when you pull your hand away too quickly. She’ll probe you with gentle questions, trying to understand the new distance that has opened up between you.

One night, after a major year-end awards show, the tension finally comes to a head. It had been a triumphant evening for Aespa. They’d won several major awards, including Artist of the Year. Karina had been breathtaking, a vision in a shimmering, silver gown. You had watched from the audience, seated with the other SM staff, feeling a universe away from her on that stage. After the show, there’s a massive, exclusive after-party at a chic Gangnam hotel. You know you should go, be there for her, celebrate with her. But the thought of standing in the corner of another crowded room, watching her shine from afar while you feel yourself shrinking, is more than you can bear.

You’re back in your hotel room, having lied and said you had an urgent report to finish, when she calls you.

“Where are you?” she asks, voice tinny over the phone, the faint thrum of music in the background. “I’ve been looking for you. The party’s amazing. Everyone is here.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you say, staring at your reflection in the dark hotel window. “I just… I really had to get this press release draft out tonight. It’s for the Japanese promotions. The deadline is tomorrow morning in their time zone.”

“You’re lying,” she says, and the words, devoid of any warmth, slice through the flimsy excuse you’ve constructed. “I saw your schedule before I left the hotel. That press release for the Japanese promotions isn’t due until the middle of next week. So try again. Where are you, and why aren’t you here?”

The directness of the accusation leaves you with nowhere to hide. You sigh, the sound heavy with a weariness that goes bone-deep, and sink down onto the edge of the hotel bed, running a hand over your tired face.

“Jimin, please. Let’s not do this tonight.”

“Oh, we are absolutely doing this tonight,” she retorts. The hurt is palpable now, a raw nerve you’ve just exposed. “Because I don’t know what ‘this’ even is anymore. What’s going on with you? For the past month, you’ve been like a different person. You’re quiet, you barely look at me, you pull away when I try to touch you. It’s like being with a polite, friendly ghost who happens to look like my boyfriend. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?”

“What? No! Of course not,” you say, the denial sounding weak even to your own ears. “How could I ever be mad at you? Tonight… you were perfect. You’re always perfect.”

“Then what is it?” she presses. “Because I feel like I’m going crazy here. I’m trying to navigate all of this madness, this whole new level of fame, and the one person I thought I could count on, the one person who was supposed to be my anchor, feels like he’s drifting out to sea. Talk to me. We’re supposed to be able to talk to each other. I feel like you’re shutting me out, and I don’t know why.”

“It’s nothing, okay? I’m just tired,” you try again, hating how pathetic you sound. “It’s been a crazy few months. The lack of sleep is just getting to me.”

“Don’t you dare say it’s nothing, because it’s not nothing!” she exclaims. “It’s the biggest night of my career so far. We just won Artist of the Year. Artist of the Year! And I stood on that stage, and I looked out at that crowd, and the only thing I could think about was finding your face. I just wanted to see you, to share that with you. And I wanted to celebrate it with you afterwards. But you’re not here. You’re hiding in your hotel room, making up pathetic lies about work that a five-year-old could see through.”

There’s a shaky breath on her end of the line, a pause that feels cavernous. When she speaks again, her voice is stripped of its anger, leaving behind only a fragile, terrifying vulnerability.

“Do you… do you not want to do this anymore? Is that what this is? Is this you trying to… end things without actually having the guts to say it?”

It’s the unthinkable thought, the one you’ve been pushing down, and hearing her say it aloud makes it terrifyingly real. Is that what you’re doing? Are you subconsciously trying to sabotage the best thing that’s ever happened to you because you don’t feel like you deserve it?

“That’s not it at all,” you say, the denial feeling like a lie even as you say it. “I would never want to end this.”

“Then what is it?” she pleads. “You have to give me something. I’m drowning here, and you’re just watching from the shore. Please, just tell me what’s wrong.”

You look at your own reflection in the dark glass of the hotel window. Just a normal guy in a normal hotel room. And you picture her, where she is right now. A glittering ballroom, champagne flutes, famous faces, the electric buzz of success. She’s in a different world. A world you can visit, a world you can work in, but a world you will never, ever truly belong to. The chasm between you feels physical, a geographic distance you can’t cross.

“I don’t belong there, Jimin,” you say.

“What are you talking about? Of course you belong here. You’re with me.”

“No,” you say, shaking your head at your own reflection. “You belong there. You should be there, celebrating. Enjoying your moment. You shouldn’t be on the phone in a hallway, fighting with your loser boyfriend who’s having a panic attack in his room.”

“You’re not a loser…”

“You should be in there,” you continue, cutting her off, the words tumbling out now, unstoppable. “With people… who get it. Who belong in that world with you. Your friends. Other idols. The people who are your peers.”

The silence that follows is profound and absolute. The party music on her end seems to fade away. You can practically hear her mind working, connecting the dots, processing the devastating implication of your words. When she finally speaks, her voice is completely changed. The warmth is gone. The hurt is gone. All that’s left is a calm, chilling cold.

“Oh,” she says. “I see.”

“Jimin, wait, it’s not like that. That came out wrong.”

“No,” she says. “I think, for the first time in weeks, it came out exactly right. You finally said what you were actually thinking.” She lets out a short, bitter, humorless laugh. “You think I should be with someone else. Someone more famous. Is that what this is all about? You’ve been moping around, acting like a kicked puppy, because you think I should be dating some A-list actor or a big-shot idol who would look good on my arm on a red carpet?”

“I didn’t say that,” you plead, desperate to take it back, to rewind time.

“You didn’t have to,” she snaps. “You think I’m that shallow? That my feelings for you are dependent on your level of fame or your job title? Do you have any idea how insulting that is? To me, and to us?”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“What did you mean, then?” she challenges. “Because it sounds a lot like you’re drowning in self-pity and you’ve decided that it’s easier to push me away than to actually deal with your own insecurities. This whole time, for months, my biggest fear has been about my manager finding out, or a reporter catching us, or the fans turning on me. It never, not for one single second, occurred to me that the person who would have the biggest problem with our relationship… would be you. That you would be the one to decide that you’re not good enough for me.”

She’s right. She has dissected you completely, laying your pathetic motivations bare.

“I have to go,” she says, flat and final, devoid of all emotion. “People are waiting for me. My peers.”

“Jimin, wait, please don’t hang up,” you beg, a wave of panic washing over you.

But it’s too late. You’re talking to a dead line.

You pull the phone away from your ear and stare at the dark screen, at the reflection of your own pale, shocked face. The silence of the empty hotel room is deafening. You didn’t just have a fight. A fight implies there’s something to be resolved. This felt different. This felt like a fundamental breaking. You took the most important night of her life, a night that should have been pure triumph and joy, and you poisoned it with your own weakness, forcing her to comfort your insecurities instead of allowing her to celebrate her success. You’ve built a wall between you, and you’re terrified that this time, it might be too high for either of you to climb over.

—

The intervening weeks are a special kind of hell, a silent, agonizing limbo. You go to work, you write press releases, you attend meetings, you do everything you’re supposed to do, but you’re just a shell. An automaton going through the motions. Your mind is elsewhere, trapped in an endless, torturous loop, replaying that final, catastrophic phone call over and over again. You dissect every word, every pause, every shift in her tone. You draft and delete hundreds of messages on your phone, each one a pathetic attempt to articulate the chasm of regret and self-loathing you’re drowning in. They all sound either too desperate or too detached. None of them can adequately convey the simple, crushing truth: you miss her so much it feels like a vital organ has been removed.

Today, that hell has a new, specific location: the Waterbomb festival.

Everyone is vibrant, excited, dripping with a pre-show energy that feels utterly alien to you. You’re just… there. A ghost at the party, your official staff lanyard the only thing that justifies your presence. You’re supposed to be coordinating with the event’s media team, but your mind is a million miles away. You’re walking through a maze of equipment cases and stage scaffolding, lost in your own miserable thoughts, when a hand lands firmly on your shoulder.

The touch is so unexpected you flinch violently, spinning around with a startled gasp. Standing in front of you, looking like a literal goddess of summer, is Shin Yuna. She’s already in her stage outfit for ITZY’s performance; a bright, pastel-colored sleeveless crop top, paired with light-wash, high-rise denim shorts and a thin black belt that accentuates her waistline. She raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at your reaction.

“Whoa, jumpy much? Did you think I was your parole officer?”

“Something like that,” you mutter. “Sorry. You surprised me.”

“Clearly.” She gives you a slow, deliberate once-over, her sharp eyes missing nothing. She takes in the dark circles under your eyes, the slight slump of your shoulders, the way you seem to have shrunk inside your clothes. “How are you? And don’t give me the polite, bullshit answer. Give me the real one.”

You try to muster a convincing smile, but it feels like a pained grimace. “I’m fine. Just busy. You know how it is.”

“Right,” she says. “You look like you haven’t slept since the last World Cup. You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” you deadpan. “You, on the other hand, look great.”

“I know,” she says with a grin, striking a playful pose. “It’s my job.” Her smile fades slightly as she gets back to the point. “So. How are things, really? With you and Jimin-sunbaenim. By the way, finding out that she was your secret girlfriend was a plot twist I genuinely did not see coming. For real. You should have told me.”

You shrug, a weary, defeated gesture. “I didn’t know if I could trust you with that secret.”

“Please,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Jimin and I are friends. We’re not braiding each other’s hair every night, but we’re cool. The secret would have been safe with me. I’m not an asshole.” She leans against a stack of speakers, crossing her arms. “Besides, it probably would have saved us all a lot of trouble. That phone call was… epically awkward. I felt bad about that, actually.”

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway,” you say. “I’m pretty sure she hates me.”

“Damn. What did you do?”

“I was an idiot,” you confess. “A massive, insecure idiot.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I basically told her she was too good for me and that she should be dating someone famous.”

Yuna stares at you for a long moment, her head tilted. “Wow. You really are an idiot.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Why would you say that? Do you actually believe that?”

“I don’t know what I believe anymore,” you admit. “It’s just… this whole thing is so complicated. Hiding all the time, being terrified of getting caught. It’s exhausting. And I see her, and she’s this… shining star. And I’m just… me. If she was with someone from her world, someone on her level, she wouldn’t have to hide. Their relationship would be celebrated, not a scandal. It would be easier for her.”

“And you think she wants what’s easier?” Yuna challenges. “You think Yoo Jimin, a woman who clawed her way to the very top of one of the most brutal industries on the planet, is looking for the easy way out? I doubt she thinks the same way you do.”

“Maybe she doesn’t think about it now,” you argue, clinging to your miserable logic. “But what about in the future? What if she gets tired of it? Tired of hiding, tired of me, tired of the constant fear?”

“So don’t hide,” Yuna says. “Jesus, it’s not that complicated.” She pushes off the speakers and takes a step closer. “Dude, this is 2025. Yeah, dating scandals are still a thing, but she’s Karina. She’s the leader of Aespa. She has enough power, enough fan support, enough leverage to survive a controversy like this. She’s bigger than that. The whole ‘idols can’t date’ thing is bullshit, and someone has to be brave enough to call bullshit on it. Sometimes it’s better to just rip the goddamn band-aid off and be done with it. Let the world freak out for a week, and then they’ll move on to the next thing. They always do.”

Her confidence is staggering, a completely different worldview from the careful, cautious one you and Jimin have always operated from. “It’s easy for you to say,” you counter. “There’s so much at stake. Her career, the group’s image, endorsement deals… I can’t risk all of that for her. I would never, ever forgive myself if she lost everything because of me.”

Yuna lets out an exasperated sigh, putting her hands on her hips. “Okay, first of all, stop acting like her knight in shining armor. Jimin is not a child. She’s not a fragile doll you need to protect from the big, bad world. She’s a grown woman, a very smart and powerful one, who is perfectly capable of making her own decisions. She is very, very aware of the risks. And she still chose to be with you. You’re not respecting her by trying to make her decisions for her; you’re insulting her intelligence.” She pokes you in the chest with her finger. “If you were my boyfriend, and you were hiding me like some shameful secret because you were too scared of the fallout? I wouldn’t just be mad. I’d be furious. And then I’d probably just post a picture of us kissing on Instagram and let the world burn.”

The thought is so audacious, so Yuna, that you can’t help but let out a sad, tired laugh. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

“Exactly.” She pats your shoulder. “Look. You fell in love with a star. That comes with consequences. You don’t get to have the supernova without dealing with the gravity and the heat. You have to decide if you’re brave enough to actually be with her, all of her, or if you’re just going to love her from a safe distance until you both end up miserable.” She gives you a pointed look. “You need to go talk to her. Today. And you need to apologize for being an insecure moron.”

Her words, as blunt and unforgiving as they are, hit home. She’s right. About all of it. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own fear that you haven’t considered Karina’s feelings, her strength, her agency in all of this.

“I know,” you say. “You’re right. I’ll go talk to her.”

“Great,” Yuna says, her bright, flirtatious smile returning in an instant. “And hey, if she does break up with you for being an idiot, you have my number. I’ll come over and comfort you. In a very, very special way.”

“Of course you will.”

“Just trying to be a supportive friend,” she says with a wink. “Now, I need to go. But since I just gave you a life-changing therapy session, I think I deserve a hug.”

“How about a handshake?”

“Nope. Hug.”

“A handshake and a fist bump.”

“A handshake and a hug,” she counters.

You sigh in defeat. “Fine. A one-armed hug. That’s my final offer.”

“Deal.” She steps forward and wraps her arms around you. You give her a quick, awkward, one-armed pat on the back, but she clings for a moment longer, pressing herself against you. She inhales deeply, her face close to your neck.

“God, you smell so good,” she murmurs.

You immediately pull away, your hands up in surrender. “Okay, hug is over.”

She just laughs, that bright, carefree sound. “Worth a shot.” She gives you a final, dazzling smile. “Good luck with your girl. Don’t fuck it up this time.”

And with that, she turns and saunters off towards the stage, leaving you standing alone in the chaos, your mind reeling, but with a newfound, terrifying sense of purpose: You need to talk to Jimin.

—

You jolt awake to the sharp, electronic beep of a hotel room lock, followed by the soft click of the door latch. Your neck is stiff from having fallen asleep slumped in the plush, uncomfortable armchair you’d dragged over to face the door hours ago. You quickly pull yourself together, rubbing the sleep from your eyes just as the door swings open.

Jimin shuffles in, the personification of exhaustion. The vibrant, water-gun-wielding goddess from the Waterbomb stage is gone, replaced by a girl drowning in a ridiculously large, soft grey hoodie and a pair of simple black sweatpants. Her hair is scraped back into a loose, messy ponytail, and her face is scrubbed clean of all makeup, revealing the faint, tell-tale smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes. She lets the heavy duffel bag she’s carrying slide off her shoulder and drop to the floor with a dull thud, not even bothering to look up. She toes off her sneakers, lets out a sigh that seems to carry the weight of the entire day, and finally turns.

Her head snaps up. A strangled gasp escapes her lips as she sees your silhouette in the dimly lit room. Her hand flies to her chest, her eyes wide with shock.

“Jesus Christ!” she breathes. “You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were an intruder.”

You offer a weak, apologetic smile, your heart aching at the sight of her, so tired and so beautiful. “Technically, I kind of am.”

“What are you doing here? How did you even get in?”

“I, uh… I got your key card from your purse while your stylist was packing up your stuff in the dressing room,” you confess, feeling like a stalker. “Then I came up here, unlocked the door, went all the way back down, and slipped it back into the side pocket before anyone noticed. It was a whole stealth operation.”

She just stares at you with disbelief and deep-seated annoyance. “Why in the world would you do all that? Why didn’t you just text me like a normal, non-criminal human being?”

“Because I needed to talk to you,” you say. “In person. I tried to find you after your set at Waterbomb, but by the time I got through the backstage mess, you were already being swamped by staff and heading for the vans. I couldn’t get to you.” You pause, the memory of her on stage still vivid in your mind. “You were amazing up there, by the way. Absolutely incredible.”

The compliment hangs in the air, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. Her gaze drifts to the small table beside your chair, where a large plastic convenience store bag sits, bulging with its contents. Her brow furrows.

“What is all that?”

“That,” you begin, “is for you.” You stand up from the chair, your legs stiff. “I figured it out. I think. Or part of it, anyway. You live this insane life. You’re on massive stages, you’re in magazines, you fly all over the world. It’s extraordinary. And I got so caught up in that, in thinking that I couldn’t give you anything extraordinary, that I lost my mind.”

You gesture to the bag. “I can’t give you red carpets or fancy parties. But I realized… you’re a rising star, yes, but even with all the incredible things you do, the quiet, mundane moments are just as special. Maybe even more special. And I can’t give you what an actor or another idol could, but I can give you those moments. The normal moments. Because I know you. Not Karina. Jimin. And I know that after a day like today, after being ‘on’ for twelve straight hours, getting soaked, and performing for thousands of people, what you probably want most in the world is to just curl up in your room, eat your favorite junk food, and watch a stupid movie.”

She slowly walks over to the table, her movements hesitant, as if she’s afraid of what she might find. She peers into the bag. And it’s all there. The specific brand of honey-butter chips she’s obsessed with. The peach-flavored soda she loves. The sour gummy worms cut into little rings. The pack of instant black bean noodles she only eats when she’s feeling homesick. Everything. All her secret, simple favorites.

“Wow,” she whispers. She pulls out the bag of chips, her fingers tracing the familiar logo. “That was… that was exactly what I needed.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you say. “I can’t do this, Jimin. I can’t be without you. I can’t be fighting with you. I hate it.” You take a step closer to her. “I am so, so sorry for what I said on the phone that night. It was selfish and stupid and I was drowning in my own head. I never should have put that on you.”

She turns to face you. “No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, you don’t have to… I wanted to talk to you, too. To apologize. I was so cold. I didn’t even try to understand where you were coming from. I was hurt, so I lashed out. I didn’t want to treat you like that.” She takes a shaky breath. “After I calmed down, I… I tried to put myself in your shoes. And I get it. I understood your point of view. It must be so hard, watching all of this from the outside. It was selfish of me not to see that.”

“But it’s not an excuse for me to self-sabotage,” you insist, then you stand up straight, your voice gaining strength. “I won’t let those insecurities win. Following this idol world so closely… it made me blind. All I was seeing, everywhere, was Karina. The star. The concept photos, the stage outfits, the interviews, the icon.” You reach into the back pocket of your jeans. “I completely forgot that Jimin, the girl I actually fell in love with, was in there, too. The girl who drew this.”

You pull out a folded, yellowed piece of paper and gently unfold it. It’s a drawing, rendered in the unsteady but earnest hand of a child, done in colored pencil. It’s a picture of a fierce, fire-breathing, hot-pink dragon with big, sparkly eyes, and standing protectively in front of it is a small, goofy-looking knight, his helmet too big for his head and his sword comically bent.

Jimin gasps, her hands flying to her mouth. She takes the drawing from you with a sense of wonder, her fingers trembling slightly. “Oh my god,” she whispers. “I remember this.”

“You were at my house,” you say softly. “We were bored one afternoon, it was raining, and I asked you to draw us. As superheroes.”

“The dragon was me,” she says, a watery smile spreading across her face. “Because I was fierce.”

“And the knight was me,” you add. “Because I was clumsy and always needed protecting.”

“You left it at my house that day,” you continue. “And I kept it. All these years. I was actually planning on getting it framed. Sometimes, when I was missing you the most, I’d take it out and just look at it. To remember that day. To remember us.”

“We ate popsicles,” she says, her eyes distant, lost in the memory with you. “And we sat on your porch swing, watching the rain.”

“Your tongue was completely purple from the grape popsicle you had,” you say.

She laughs. “And you got strawberry popsicle all over the front of your favorite white t-shirt! Your mom was so mad.”

You look down at your shoes, the floodgates of your emotion finally bursting open. “I don’t want to lose you, Jimin,” you say. “You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me. I know I’ve been an idiot, and I promise I’ll try to be better. I’ll stop the self-sabotage, I’ll stop overthinking everything. I just… please don’t hate me. I was so scared that you hated me…”

“I love you.”

The words cut through your frantic, rambling apology, stopping you dead. You look up. Her eyes are filled with tears, but she’s smiling, a radiant, beautiful, heartbreaking smile. She steps forward, closing the space between you, and puts both of her hands on your face, her palms warm against your skin.

“I love you,” she says again. “Very much. I think… I think you’re the love of my life.”

Your own eyes immediately well up, blurring her face into a soft, beautiful watercolor. “I… I love you, too,” you stutter. Is this really happening?

“I don’t give a fuck about other people,” she says fiercely, her thumbs stroking away the tears on your cheeks. “I don’t care if in someone’s eyes I’m supposed to date another idol or some famous actor. That’s their fantasy, not mine. All I can think about, all I know, is how much I love you more with each passing day, and how you are the right guy for me. You. Not your job, not your status. Just you.”

And then she kisses you. It’s a kiss that holds everything: the apology, the relief, the declaration, the years of unspoken history and the terrifying, brilliant promise of a future. It’s a homecoming. You kiss her back with everything you have, your arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her flush against you.

“I love you,” she whispers against your lips.

“I love you,” you whisper back.

She laughs. The tender relief ignites into a hot, possessive passion. She pushes against you, making you stumble backwards until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. You both fall onto the mattress in a tangle of limbs, and she ends up on top of you, straddling your chest, her hair falling around your faces. Her eyes, dark and stormy and beautiful, lock with yours.

“Don’t you ever doubt my love for you again,” she says. “And don’t you ever doubt that you belong with me. This,” she gestures around the room, at her life, at her world, “this is nothing without you. You are my world.”

She leans down and kisses you again. It’s a kiss that brands you, that claims you, that rewrites the very fabric of your reality. And as her lips move against yours, you finally, completely, understand. You aren’t a visitor in her world. You’re not an imposter or a secret to be hidden away. You are its center. Its heart, and that’s the only thing that matters.

Her tongue sweeps into your mouth, no longer just tasting but exploring, claiming, memorizing every inch of you. You are lost in it, completely and utterly consumed by her. Your hands, which had been wrapped around her waist, roam up her back, pulling her impossibly closer, wanting to merge with her, to eliminate any remaining space between your bodies.

She breaks the kiss, but only to move lower, her lips trailing a fiery path down your jaw, to the sensitive skin of your neck. “I need to feel you,” she whispers against your pulse. “All of you. No more clothes. No more barriers. Just us.”

Her fingers find the hem of your t-shirt, tugging at it with an impatient, feverish energy. You lift your arms, helping her, and she pulls it over your head in one swift motion, tossing it into the darkness of the hotel room. Her hands immediately return to your bare chest, her palms pressing flat against your skin as if to reassure herself that you are real, that you are here.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” she murmurs. “I’m going to love you so much you won’t be able to think about anything else. You won’t have room for any more doubts.”

She pushes herself up, breaking contact for a moment that feels like an eternity. She grabs the hem of her own oversized hoodie and pulls it over her head, her movements fluid and sensual, her eyes never leaving yours. Her hair tumbles down around her shoulders, a soft, dark cloud. Underneath, she’s wearing a simple, white cotton bra. It’s not lace, it’s not satin, it’s not something designed for seduction, but on her, it is the sexiest thing you have ever seen. It’s real. It’s Jimin.

Her hands move to the waistband of her sweatpants, and she slowly, hypnotically, pushes them down over her hips. She kicks them away, revealing a pair of matching white cotton panties. They sit high on her hips, the soft fabric doing little to hide the gentle, womanly curve of her stomach. Her thighs, thick and strong, curving into hips that are made to be held. Her tummy is soft, pale and perfect, with a gentle swell that invites your touch. And her breasts, barely contained by the soft cotton of her bra, full and heavy, spilling over the top of the fabric, promising a softness, a weight, a warmth that you are desperate to feel against you again.

“Do you like what you see?” she asks. She knows you do. She can see the raw, unadulterated worship in your eyes. “This is all yours. Every single inch of me. Forever.”

Your own hands, guided by a will of their own, move to your sweatpants. You push them down, along with your boxers, kicking them away to join the growing pile of discarded clothes on the floor. Her gaze drops, her dark eyes widening slightly as she takes in the sight of you, fully, painfully hard.

“Oh, I’ve missed you,” she whispers, her gaze fixed on your erection. “I’ve missed how much you want me.”

She crawls towards you. She reaches your side and leans over you, looking up at you through her long lashes.“I love you so much,” she murmurs. “And I’m going to show you just how much.”

She leans down and takes you into her mouth. The sensation is lightning. It’s a white-hot, electrifying shock that travels from the tip of your cock straight to the base of your skull, making your vision swim. Her mouth is impossibly hot, impossibly wet, impossibly soft. She takes you deep, her lips sealing perfectly around the base of your shaft, and the gentle suction she creates makes your toes curl. This isn’t the frantic, almost desperate act from the campsite. This is different. This is worship. This is love made manifest.

She pulls back slowly, dragging her lips and tongue along the entire length of you, before taking just the thick, weeping head into her mouth, laving it with her tongue, suckling gently. A low, guttural groan is torn from your throat. Your hands fist in the duvet, your back arching off the bed.

“That’s it,” she purrs against you. “Tell me how good that feels. I want to hear you.”

“Jimin… fuck… it feels… perfect,” you gasp out.

She seems to love your praise. She settles into a slow, deep, hypnotic rhythm. She takes you all the way down, her throat opening to accommodate your full length, then slowly draws back until just the tip is inside her lips, before taking you all the way down again. It’s not a frantic bobbing; it’s a long, sensual, all-consuming act of devotion. Her hands come up to cup your balls, her touch exquisitely gentle, her thumbs stroking the taut skin as her mouth works its magic on you. She’s looking up at you the entire time, her eyes dark and full of a love so intense it almost hurts to look at. You can see the reflection of the lamplight in her pupils, you can see the slight flush on her cheeks, you can see the absolute, unwavering certainty in her gaze.

“I love loving you,” she says around you. “I love the taste of you. I love the way you feel in my mouth. I love knowing that I’m the only one who gets to do this. That I’m the only one who gets to make you feel this good.”

She picks up the pace slightly, her head starting to move faster, her suckling becoming more insistent. She takes one hand from your balls and uses it to guide your shaft, holding you steady as she takes you deeper, harder. You are completely at her mercy, lost in a haze of pure, unadulterated pleasure. You feel the familiar, insistent pressure beginning to build in your groin, the undeniable signal that you’re getting close.

“Jimin… wait… baby, I’m…”

She pulls off you with a wet, popping sound, leaving you aching and desperate. A string of your shared saliva connects your cock to her lips for a split second before it breaks. She has a wild, almost feral look in her eyes. Her lips are swollen, glistening, and a triumphant smirk plays on her face.

“Not yet,” she says. “I want you inside me. I need you inside me. Now.”

She kneels on the bed, and with a quick, decisive movement, she pulls her panties down between her thick thighs, tossing them aside, then she unhooks her bra with a deft, practiced motion and shrugs it off, tossing it next to the panties. Her perfect, heavy breasts are finally free, their pale, creamy skin seeming to glow in the warm light. She straddles you, her knees on either side of your hips, and the sight of her poised above you, naked and flushed and so full of love, is the most beautiful thing you have ever seen.

She takes your thick, rigid length in her hand, her fingers wrapping around your saliva-slicked shaft. She guides the head of your cock to her entrance. She is so, so wet. You can see the glistening sheen of her arousal at her folds, a silent testament to how much she wants this, how much she wants you.

Your brain, finally catching up, manages to form a coherent, responsible thought. “The condom…” you pant, reaching for the nightstand out of pure, conditioned instinct.

She stops your hand with her own, her gaze locking with yours. “No,” she says. “Not this time. I don’t want anything between us. Not tonight. I trust you.” She leans down, her lips brushing against yours. “Don’t you trust me?”

The question is a formality. The look in her eyes is all the answer you need. “Yes,” you breathe, your heart swelling with an emotion so powerful it feels like it might burst from your chest. “Always.”

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you, too,” you whisper back.

And then, with excruciating slowness, she begins to lower herself onto you.

The feeling of her body, hot and wet and tight, slowly enveloping you inch by agonizing inch is a whole new dimension of pleasure. You feel the soft pressure of her outer lips, then the tight, resistant ring of her entrance as she takes just the head of your cock inside her. She gasps, a sharp, shuddering intake of breath, her head falling back, her eyes closing in ecstasy. She’s so tight. So incredibly, wonderfully tight.

“Oh, god…” she breathes, her hands coming down to rest on your chest, her fingers digging into your skin. “You feel… so big. So good.”

She stays like that for a long moment, just letting her body adjust to the feeling of you, letting you feel the tight, pulsing heat of her. Then, she continues her descent, taking you deeper, bit by bit. You can feel every ridge, every inch of you as she slides down, her inner muscles clenching around you in welcome. It’s a slow, deliberate claiming. A perfect, snug fit, as if her body was made specifically for yours. When she finally takes you all the way down, sinking onto your shaft until you are buried completely inside of her, a matching groan of pure, primal satisfaction is ripped from both of you.

She collapses forward, her body pressing flush against yours, a perfect, skin-on-skin connection from your chests to your thighs. Her magnificent breasts are flattened against you, her soft stomach presses into yours, and her heart is hammering a frantic, wild rhythm that matches your own. She rests her forehead against yours, her breathing coming in short, sharp pants.

“Hi,” she whispers, a giddy, breathless laugh in her voice.

“Hi,” you whisper back, your hands coming up to cradle her face, your thumbs stroking her tear-streaked, flushed cheeks.

She begins to move, her hips starting a slow, languid, circular grind. It’s not a thrust; it’s a deep, sensual rotation designed for maximum friction, for maximum sensation. Every slow, deliberate circle sends a wave of fire through your system. You can feel the slick heat of her, the tight, velvet grip of her pussy milking you with every tiny movement. She kisses you, a long, slow, open-mouthed kiss that tastes of love and salt and forever.

“I love being filled up by you,” she murmurs against your lips, her hips continuing their lazy, torturous dance. “I love feeling you so deep inside me. It feels… right. Like this is where you’re supposed to be.”

You feel yourself swelling even further inside of her, a physical reaction to her words, to her touch, to the overwhelming love you feel for this incredible woman. You are completely at her mercy, content to let her lead, to let her set the pace. You have nowhere else to be. You have nothing else to do. There is only this bed, this room, this woman, and the profound, earth-shattering certainty that you are exactly where you are supposed to be.

The kiss deepens, becoming the entire world. It’s a slow, searching exploration of a territory you both now know belongs to you completely. There’s no desperation in it, no fear, only the profound, soul-deep certainty of coming home. Her body, warm and pliant, is a perfect, soft weight on top of you.

Your hands, which have been gently stroking her back, slide lower, finding the magnificent, full curves of her ass. You squeeze, your fingers digging into the soft, yielding flesh. It feels fuller, heavier than you remember. The endless hours of dance practice, the workouts, the simple act of her body maturing into a woman’s shape; it’s all culminated in this breathtaking perfection. You love every single inch of her. You love the strength in her thighs, the soft curve of her stomach, the sheer, magnificent weight of her breasts. Every part of her is a masterpiece.

“Fuck, your body is perfect,” you murmur against her lips. You give her ass another firm squeeze. “I love every part of you. You feel so good.”

A soft, pleased moan rumbles in her chest, a vibration you feel through your entire body. “I love feeling you under me,” she whispers back, her hips continuing their lazy, torturous dance. “I love being on top. I love looking down and seeing you look at me like this. Like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.”

“You are,” you say, the words simple and true.

She picks up the pace then, the slow, sensual grinding transitioning into a more deliberate, steady bounce. She rises up on your shaft, her inner walls dragging along your length with an agonizing friction, before sinking back down with a soft, contented sigh. Her head falls back, her long hair cascading over her shoulders, her eyes fluttering closed in bliss. She is completely lost in the sensation, in the feeling of being filled by you, of being joined with you.

But you can’t just lie there any longer. You start to thrust up to meet her, your hips rising off the bed to drive yourself deeper inside her with every downward slide she takes. It becomes a dance, a shared rhythm. She sets the pace, and you match it, driving up into her, pushing her higher, both literally and figuratively. She gasps as your rhythm changes, her eyes flying open to lock with yours. A slow, wicked smile spreads across her face. She likes this. She likes the fight, the shared effort.

“That’s it,” she pants, and her voice is a little breathless now. “Fuck, yes… right there. Meet me. Don’t just let me do all the work.”

Her moans are becoming more audible, no longer soft murmurs but sharp, sweet cries of pleasure that she doesn’t try to stifle. She leans forward again, bracing her hands on your chest, her breasts swaying with each powerful bounce. You watch them, mesmerized. They are perfect. You reach up, your hands finding their soft weight, your thumbs flicking over her hardened nipples. She cries out, a high, sharp sound, and her hips slam down on you hard.

“God, yes, touch them,” she begs. “Squeeze them while you’re fucking me from below. I want to feel you everywhere.”

You obey, kneading her soft flesh, rolling her tight nipples between your fingers as she rides you with an increasing urgency. The dual stimulation is sending her into a frenzy. Her movements become more frantic, her bounces higher, harder. Her inner muscles are clenching around your cock with every downward slam, a desperate, greedy milking. Her breath is coming in short, sharp gasps, her soft moans turning into a continuous, high-pitched keen of pure pleasure.

“I’m getting so close,” she pants, her forehead now slick with a fine sheen of sweat. She collapses forward again, her head falling into the crook of your neck, her hot breath ghosting across your skin. “Please… I think… I think I’m going to…”

“Let go, baby,” you whisper into her ear. Your hips are still thrusting up to meet her, a relentless, steady rhythm. “It’s okay. Come for me. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

You feel the change in her body, the final, undeniable coiling of tension deep inside her. Her inner walls begin to pulse, a frantic, unstoppable fluttering around your shaft.

“Oh, fuck!” she cries out, a raw, unfiltered scream of ecstasy right next to your ear. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

Her whole body convulses. Her orgasm rips through her and makes her seize and shudder on top of you. Her pussy clenches around you in a series of powerful, rhythmic spasms, a hot, wet, impossibly tight grip that threatens to pull your own climax from you. A thick, hot gush of her juices floods your senses, coating your cock, slicking the space between your bodies. She’s screaming now, not words, just a pure, untethered sound of a pleasure so intense it’s completely overwhelming. She collapses onto you, her body completely limp, boneless, trembling with the last powerful aftershocks of her release. You hold her tight, burying your face in her hair, whispering her name over and over again as you continue to move inside her, a slow, gentle rocking to ease her back down.

You lie there for a long time, your bodies slick with sweat, her head tucked under your chin. After a few minutes of quiet, she stirs, lifting her head to look at you. Her face is flushed, her lips are swollen, and her eyes are dazed and blissfully unfocused.

“Wow,” she whispers, a small, incredulous laugh escaping her.

“You’re okay?” you ask, your thumb stroking her damp cheek.

“More than okay,” she says. She leans in and gives you a slow, languid kiss. “That was… I don’t even have words.”

You feel a surge of strength, of purpose. Gently, you place your hands on her waist and roll them over, a fluid, easy movement until you are on top, and she is on her back beneath you. Her eyes widen slightly at the sudden shift in dynamic.

“Oh?” she says, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “What’s this?”

You lean down and kiss her. “My turn,” you murmur against her mouth. You pull out of her slowly, the sound wet and obscene in the quiet room, leaving her whimpering at the loss. “Don’t move,” you command softly.

You get off the bed and gently guide her, turning her over until she’s on her hands and knees in the center of the mattress, her perfect, heart-shaped ass raised in the air, a beautiful, willing offering. The soft lamplight traces the elegant curve of her spine, from the delicate nape of her neck down to the deep, enticing cleft of her ass. It’s a breathtaking sight, a posture of pure, unadulterated surrender that makes your cock throb. She glances back at you over her shoulder, her eyes wide, dark, and swimming with a needy, delicious anticipation. She knows you. She knows this is your favorite view. And she loves giving it to you.

“Like this?” she asks. She pushes her ass back, arching her back even further, a deliberate, provocative movement that makes her cheeks spread just enough to give you a glimpse of the slick, glistening pink of her well-fucked pussy.

“Just like that,” you growl with an intention that is anything but gentle.

You climb onto the bed behind her, your knees sinking into the plush mattress on either side of her thighs. You don’t enter her right away. You make her wait. You lean over her back, your chest pressing against her, and your hands roam over her body, re-learning every curve, every plane. They slide down her sides, over the soft swell of her hips, and then find their way to her tits. Her magnificent, heavy breasts are hanging low, swaying gently with her every breath. You cup them from behind, your fingers finding their soft weight, your thumbs flicking mercilessly over her still-sensitive nipples. She gasps, her head falling forward.

“Please…” she whimpers, her ass twitching, pushing back against your groin in a desperate, silent plea. “Don’t make me wait. I need you inside me again.”

“Do you?” you murmur into her ear, your lips brushing against the soft shell of it. You reach one hand down between her legs, your fingers easily finding her clit in the slick wetness between her folds. It’s a hard, swollen pearl, exquisitely sensitive. You begin to circle it, the pad of your thumb applying a firm, steady pressure. Her whole body jolts, and a sharp, keening moan escapes her lips. “Tell me how much you need it. Beg for it.”

“Please, I need your cock,” she pants, her hips starting to rock back and forth against your hand in a frantic rhythm. “I need you to fuck me. Hard. I want to feel you pound into me. I want you to own me.”

And that's exactly what you wanted to hear. You remove your hand from her clit, ignoring her whine of protest, and grab your cock. It’s rigid, aching, slick with her juices. You press the thick, blunt head against her entrance, teasing her, rubbing it up and down her slick folds.

“Fucking… tease…” she groans with frustration and desperate arousal.

You laugh. “You love it.”

And then you thrust forward.

There’s no slow entry this time. You drive into her with a single, powerful, punishing motion, sinking your entire length into her tight, wet heat in one go. She screams, a raw, unfiltered sound of shock and pleasure and pain all mixed together. The impact of your bodies meeting echoes in the quiet room. Her pussy clenches around you, a hot, velvet fist trying to accommodate your size, your force.

“Fuck!” she cries out. “Yes! Just like that!”

You don’t give her a moment to recover. You pull back until just the head is inside her, then slam back in, establishing a relentless, brutal rhythm. It’s a fuck. A hard, deep, possessive fuck. You are marking your territory, reminding her body, her soul, who she belongs to. Her magnificent tits are bouncing, swaying wildly with the force of each impact, the sight so hypnotically, filthily hot it makes you even harder.

Your hands find her hips, your fingers digging into the soft flesh, holding her steady as you pound into her. You watch your cock disappear into her, again and again, the sight obscene and beautiful. You can see the muscles in her back clenching, her knuckles white where she’s gripping the duvet.

“Deeper,” she begs. “I need you deeper. I want to feel you hit my cervix. I want to feel you rearrange my guts.”

You oblige, changing the angle slightly, driving yourself up and into her with a new ferocity. You feel it when you hit the spot she’s craving, that deep, almost-too-much pressure. Her back arches violently, and a strangled, guttural scream is ripped from her throat. Her pussy clenches around you so hard your vision whites out for a second.

“Yes! There! Right There!” she screams. “Don’t Stop! Fuck me right there!”

You focus on that spot, pounding into her with a savage, single-minded determination. Your hands leave her hips and slide up to her ass, squeezing the thick, heavy cheeks, spreading them wider to give you even deeper access.

“Look at this ass,” you growl, giving one cheek a hard, stinging smack that leaves a faint red handprint on the pale skin. She cries out, a sharp, surprised yelp that quickly turns into a desperate moan. “So fucking perfect. Made for my hands. Made for my cock.”

You fuck her harder, faster. The bed is rocking, the headboard knocking against the wall in a steady, rhythmic protest. You are both slick with sweat, your bodies glistening in the lamplight. Her moans are becoming frantic, her breathing ragged and desperate. You can feel the tell-tale signs of her approaching climax, the way her inner walls are starting to flutter and pulse around you.

“You’re close again, aren’t you?” you pant, your own control stretched to its absolute limit. “I can feel you getting ready to come all over my cock.”

“I’m… so… close…” she gasps out, her body starting to tremble. “Please… give it to me… make me come… fuck me harder!”

You give her what she wants. Your thrusts become a merciless, blurring piston of pure lust. You fuck her like you’re trying to leave a permanent imprint of yourself deep inside her.

Her orgasm hits her like a tidal wave. Her back arches so violently you think she might snap. A long, keening scream tears itself from her throat, a sound that is completely untethered from language, from thought, from anything but pure, overwhelming, physical ecstasy. Her body convulses around you, her pussy clenching and unclenching in a series of powerful, deep spasms that milk you, that threaten to pull your own release from you. She’s screaming your name now, over and over again, a desperate, frantic prayer. The hot, wet gush of her release floods her channel, coating you, making you even slicker as you continue to pound into her, fucking her right through her climax, pushing her higher and higher until you’re both sure she’s going to shatter.

Finally, the violent convulsions begin to subside, replaced by a series of soft, helpless aftershocks that tremble through her entire body. She collapses onto the bed, her limbs giving out completely, a boneless, whimpering, thoroughly fucked mess. You slow your pace, your thrusts becoming long, deep, stretching strokes, easing her back down from the peak. You’re still painfully hard inside her, your own orgasm held back by a thread of sheer, iron will. You stroke her back, your touch now gentle, soothing. You lie on top of her for a moment, your chest pressed against her sweat-slick back, your cock still buried deep inside her, and just breathe.

You stay buried deep inside her for a long moment, your bodies slick with sweat, the only sound in the room the harsh, ragged symphony of your combined breathing. You ease yourself up, supporting your weight on your elbows, and gently, slowly, pull your cock out of her. The sound is obscene, a wet, slick slide that makes her whimper at the loss, her hips giving a small, involuntary twitch.

You collapse onto her, not on top of her, but beside her, pulling her into your arms so she’s lying on her back, her head pillowed on your bicep. You’re both a mess, flushed and panting and completely spent. You lean over and press a soft, lingering kiss to her damp temple, then another to her cheek.

“You okay?” you whisper.

She turns her head to look at you, a dazed, blissfully languid smile spreading across her swollen lips. A soft, breathless giggle escapes her. “Okay? I think you just fucked my soul out of my body. Where in the world did that come from? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that side of you before.”

You chuckle, nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck. “I don’t know,” you admit honestly. “I just… I missed you so much. And seeing you, and then fighting, and then making up… I think something just snapped. I just needed to… have you. All of you. No doubts, no questions.”

“Mmm,” she hums, a deeply satisfied sound. “Well, I hope you miss me like this every day.” She squirms a little, pressing her body closer to yours. “I loved it. I loved you being so rough with me. So possessive.”

“Yeah?” you ask, propping yourself up on one elbow so you can look down at her.

“Yeah,” she confirms, her gaze unwavering. “I loved you spanking my ass.” She reaches down and playfully pinches her own cheek, right where you know a faint red handprint is starting to bloom. “I’m going to have a bruise.”

“I’ll kiss it better,” you promise.

You both start giggling then, a shared, giddy release of all the pent-up tension. It’s the sound of two people who have been through a storm and found their way back to each other, stronger and more certain than ever. The laughter subsides into soft, tender kisses, kisses that are no longer about passion or possession, but about pure, unadulterated affection. You kiss her eyelids, her nose, the corners of her mouth. Your lips trail down her neck, over her collarbone, and then you see them. Her breasts.

They are flushed and beautiful, the pale skin rosy from your lovemaking, the nipples still tight, dark, pebbled peaks. You let out a soft, reverent sigh and bury your face in the warm, soft valley between them, inhaling her scent; a unique, intoxicating mix of her perfume, her sweat, and your shared sex.

“God, I would live right here if I could,” you murmur against her skin. “Just build a little house and never leave.”

She laughs and her fingers thread into your hair, gently scratching your scalp. “The rent would be very expensive.”

“Worth every penny,” you say, before your mouth finds what it’s been craving

You take her right nipple into your mouth, your lips closing around the tight peak. You suck gently at first, just teasing, your tongue swirling around the exquisitely sensitive nub. She gasps, her back arching, her fingers tightening in your hair. Her reaction is instantaneous, electric. At the same time, your free hand finds her other breast, your palm molding to its soft, heavy weight. You knead the flesh gently, your thumb and forefinger rolling her other nipple, mirroring the actions of your mouth.

“Fuck,” she breathes, her head tossing on the pillow. “That feels… so good. It’s so sensitive right now.”

You increase the pressure of your sucking, pulling more of her into your mouth, your tongue flicking and teasing. You can taste the salt of her skin, the sweetness of her. It’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever experienced. You are completely devoted to this task, to worshipping her, to giving her a pleasure that is slow, and deep, and all-consuming.

“You have the most perfect tits in the world,” you mumble around her nipple. “I could suck on them for hours. For days.”

“Please do,” she pants, her hips starting to move in a slow, unconscious rhythm against the mattress. “Don’t ever stop.”

You switch breasts, giving the other one the same devoted attention, your mouth hot and wet and greedy. She’s moaning softly now, a continuous, breathy sound of pure, unadulterated bliss.

“It’s not just the sex,” she says, voice dreamy, her eyes half-closed. “I mean, the sex is… obviously incredible.” She lets out a soft, breathy laugh. “But it’s this. This is what I missed the most. Just… being close. Being quiet. Feeling your hands on me.”

“Me too,” you say, pulling away from her breast for a moment to look at her. “I missed just… looking at you. Knowing you’re mine.”

“I’m always yours,” she whispers. “Even when we’re fighting. Even when I’m furious at you for being a dumbass. I’m still yours.”

“Good,” you say, before leaning down to latch onto her nipple again, sucking harder this time, drawing a sharp, pleased cry from her. You settle in for the long haul, determined to lavish every inch of her with the attention she deserves. You alternate between her breasts, sometimes sucking gently, sometimes more aggressively, sometimes just flicking the very tip with your tongue until she’s writhing beneath you. Your hand is a constant, steady presence on her other breast, squeezing and kneading and teasing.

“I love watching you,” she says after a long, blissful silence. “I love seeing your head between my tits. I love the way your hair feels on my skin.” Her fingers continue their slow, hypnotic massage on your scalp. “I love how much you love them.”

“How could I not?” you say, your lips moving against her soft skin. “They’re a national treasure. We should put them in a museum.”

She laughs, a full, throaty sound. “You’re such an idiot.”

“But I’m your idiot,” you reply, before taking a gentle, playful bite of the soft flesh, making her yelp and giggle at the same time.

You continue your worship, your devotion absolute. You are lost in the scent of her, the taste of her, the feel of her soft skin against your lips and her heavy breasts in your hand. The rest of the world, with its pressures and its paranoia and its expectations, has completely ceased to exist. There is no Karina, the global superstar. There is no PR guy with a crushing weight of insecurity. There is only Jimin, and you, and this bed, and the profound, undeniable truth of your bodies, of your connection. This, you think, as you draw another deep, shuddering moan from her with a particularly skillful flick of your tongue, this is what it feels like to be truly, completely, home.

Eventually, the slow, tender worship gradually begins to shift. The lazy, satisfied laps of your tongue become deeper, more insistent sucks. The gentle kneading of your hand on her breast becomes a firmer, more possessive grip. A new, more primal energy begins to build between you, a feedback loop of escalating lust. Her soft, breathy moans start to gain a desperate, needy edge, and the slow, unconscious rocking of her hips becomes a more deliberate, insistent thrusting against your hand, your leg, anything to create friction. She wants more. You both do.

You pull your mouth from her breast, leaving a wet, glistening sheen on her flushed skin. You look up at her face. Her eyes are glazed over with lust, her lips are parted, and her breathing is shallow and rapid. She looks utterly debauched, completely consumed by her desire for you.

“It’s not enough,” she whispers. “Sucking on my tits… it’s not enough. I need to feel you again. I need you inside me. Please.”

“I know, baby,” you growl. You push yourself up slightly, repositioning your body so you’re kneeling between her open thighs. The sight of her laid out for you, her legs spread wide, her pussy glistening and swollen from her previous orgasms, is enough to make your knees weak. She is the most beautiful, most desirable thing you have ever seen. “I’m going to fuck you so good. I’m going to make that pretty pussy of yours remember who it belongs to.”

You take your cock in your hand. It’s rock-hard, aching, and dripping with a mixture of your precum and her juices. You don’t tease her this time. You press the thick, blunt head directly against her slick entrance. Her pussy is so, so sensitive now. The moment the head of your cock touches her clit, she cries out, a sharp, high-pitched sound, her whole body jolting as if struck by lightning.

“Fuck! It’s so sensitive!” she gasps, her eyes rolling back in her head for a second. “Please… just put it in.”

You slide in slowly, inch by painful, perfect inch. Her inner walls are even hotter, even tighter than before. They pulse and clench around you, a hot, velvet glove that threatens to undo you completely. She’s whimpering with every inch you push deeper, her fingers digging into your shoulders.

“Oh god, it feels so different this time,” she pants. “So much better. So much more… full. I can feel every single ridge. Every vein.”

When you’re buried all the way to the hilt, you stop, letting her body adjust to the feeling of being completely stuffed, completely stretched around you. You lower yourself down onto her, your chest pressing against her soft, full breasts, your bodies fitting together like two perfect puzzle pieces. You are skin to skin, heart to heart. You find her lips and kiss her.

“I’m going to fuck you in missionary,” you murmur against her mouth. “I want to watch your face while I do it. I want to see your eyes when you come for me again.”

A delirious, needy smile touches her lips. “Yes,” she breathes. “Please. I want that.”

You begin to move, your thrusts slow and deep and deliberate. Her pussy is so exquisitely sensitive that every thrust seems to light up a new nerve ending. She gasps with each inward stroke, her head tossing back and forth on the pillow, a continuous stream of soft, breathy moans spilling from her parted lips.

“Fuck… that’s it… right there…” she pants. “It’s so… intense. I feel everything so much more now.”

You lean down and capture her nipple with your mouth again, sucking hard as you thrust into her, the dual stimulation immediately sending her over the edge into pure, mindless bliss. Her back arches off the bed, her hips bucking up to meet your thrusts.

“Oh my god!” she cries out. “I’m… I think I’m going to come again already!”

“Not yet, baby,” you growl, pulling your mouth from her breast and kissing her hard on the lips. “We’re just getting started. I want you to ride this feeling. I want you to stay right on that edge for me for as long as you can.”

You pick up the pace, your thrusts becoming harder, faster, deeper. Her legs, which had been lying flat on the bed, come up to wrap around your waist, her heels digging into the small of your back, locking you in place, pulling you even deeper inside of her.

“Your pussy is so fucking tight,” you pant, your forehead slick with sweat and pressed against hers. “It’s gripping me so hard. It feels so good.”

“It’s because it loves you,” she gasps out, her eyes squeezed shut. “It only ever wants your cock inside it. No one else’s. Ever.”

The possessiveness in her voice, the absolute certainty, makes you even harder, if that’s even possible. You watch her face, mesmerized. You watch her lips, swollen and red from your kisses, part with every moan. You watch her long eyelashes flutter against her flushed cheeks. You watch the cords in her neck stand out as she throws her head back and cries out your name.

“You’re so beautiful when you’re being fucked,” you tell her. “So fucking beautiful when you’re full of my cock.”

“Then keep me full,” she begs, her hips matching your frantic rhythm, a desperate, greedy dance. “Don’t ever pull out. Just stay inside me forever.”

The friction is building, the heat becoming almost unbearable. She is so close, so incredibly close. Her body is trembling, her inner walls fluttering and pulsing around your shaft in a frantic, desperate rhythm. She’s whimpering now, a string of incoherent pleas and praises.

You slow down again, pulling back to long, deep, stretching strokes, drawing out the pleasure, torturing her, torturing yourself.

“Tell me what you want,” you demand.

“I want you to make me come,” she cries, her eyes flying open to lock with yours. They are wild, desperate, pleading. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need to come. I need you to fuck me until I shatter.”

You give her what she wants. You grab her hips, lifting her slightly to change the angle, driving your cock up and into her at a new, deeper angle that hits her G-spot with a brutal, unerring accuracy. She screams, a raw, piercing sound that is pure, unadulterated pleasure. Her whole body goes rigid, her toes curling, her back arching so high off the bed you think she might break. This is it. You hold her hips firmly, and you begin to hammer into her, a relentless, merciless pounding, over and over and over again, fucking her right on that spot, pushing her up, up, up towards the peak.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! That’s It! Oh my god, baby, gonna cum! Fuck, I’m cumming! I’m cumming!” she screams, her body completely surrendering to the overwhelming tidal wave of her orgasm.

You feel her climax rip through her, a violent, beautiful, all-consuming release. Her pussy clenches around you in a series of deep, powerful, earth-shattering convulsions, a hot, wet, impossibly tight grip that milks you, that begs you to join her. The hot flood of her release coats you, surrounds you, and the sight of her, the sound of her, the feel of her coming apart all around you is the most intensely erotic experience of your life. You keep fucking her, a steady, powerful rhythm right through her orgasm, not letting her come down, pushing her right back up to the edge of another one.

That’s why you don’t stop. You don’t even slow down. The moment the new orgasms rips through her, you keep fucking her, a steady, powerful rhythm that pushes her deeper into her own pleasure. You ride the waves of her climax with her, feeling every exquisite, fluttering contraction of her inner walls clenching around your cock. She is completely undone, a sobbing, whimpering mess beneath you.

You watch her, mesmerized. Her head is thrown back, her neck arched, her mouth open in a silent scream. And her tits. God, her tits. With every powerful thrust you drive into her, they bounce and sway, a hypnotic, magnificent display of pure physics and feminine perfection. You are obsessed with the way they jiggle, the way they slap softly against her own chest, the sheer, glorious weight of them.

“Fuck, look at them,” you pant. “Look at your tits bouncing while I fuck you. It’s the most perfect sight in the world.”

Your words seem to penetrate the haze of her orgasm. Her eyes, dazed and unfocused, flutter open and try to look down at her own chest. A delirious, wanton smile spreads across her face. She loves that you love them.

“You like that, baby?” she gasps out, and her voice is a wrecked, breathy whisper. “You like watching them bounce for you?” She lifts her hands, her movements slow and languid, and cups her own breasts, lifting them, presenting them to you. “Look at them. They’re all yours. Do you want me to play with them for you while you fuck me?”

“Yes,” you groan, your hips not missing a single beat. “Please. Squeeze them for me. Let me see your hands on them.”

She obliges, a low, throaty purr rumbling in her chest. She begins to knead her own flesh, her fingers digging into the soft, full mounds. She squeezes them together, pushing them up, creating a deep, shadowy valley of cleavage that you desperately want to bury your face in. She rolls her own nipples between her thumbs and forefingers, pulling and teasing them until they’re even harder, even more prominent. The sight of her, pleasuring herself for you, while you are buried balls-deep inside her, is so incredibly, filthily hot that your own control begins to splinter and crack. You fuck her faster, harder, your rhythm becoming a frantic, desperate pounding.

“That’s it,” she moans, her eyes fluttering shut again as she gets lost in the dual sensations. “Fuck me while I play with my tits for you. Make them bounce, baby. Make them bounce harder.”

You give her what she wants. Your thrusts become a merciless, blurring piston of pure lust, each impact sending a beautiful, hypnotic ripple through her magnificent breasts. She knows what this is doing to you. She can feel the change in you, the way your muscles are coiled tight, the way your breathing has become a series of harsh, ragged pants. She can feel the undeniable, building pressure of your own impending orgasm deep inside her. And she wants it. She wants all of it.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you?” she says. “I can feel you getting ready. You’re so hard, so thick inside me. I can feel you twitching. You’re going to come soon.”

“I’m… so fucking close,” you pant, your vision starting to go white at the edges.

“Good,” she says. She stops playing with her breasts and her hands come up to grab your face, her gaze intense, demanding. “I want it. I want your cum.” Her eyes are wide, pleading, desperate. “I want it on my face. Please, baby. Will you come on my face for me?”

The request, so raw, so needy, so utterly submissive, shatters the last vestiges of your self-control.

“Fuck, Jimin…”

“Please,” she begs. “I need it. I need to be covered in you. I want to feel your hot cum all over my cheeks, in my hair. I want to taste you on my lips. I want you to make a complete mess of my face. I’ve been so bad. Please, punish me. Own me. Make me your pretty, cum-covered slut. Please, daddy, give me all your cum.”

The word ‘daddy’ is a kill shot. A nuclear bomb that vaporizes your restraint. “Fuck! Don’t talk like that. Don’t fucking talk to me like that unless you want me to come right now.”

A wild, triumphant, ecstatic smile breaks through her lips. “But I do,” she whispers. “That’s what I want most in the world. For you to lose control. For you to come for me. Now. Give it to me. Please.”

You stare down at her, at her beautiful, pleading face. And then your gaze drops one last time to her magnificent, bouncing tits. That’s it. That’s the end.

You pull out of her in one swift, fluid motion, the sound wet and obscene in the quiet room. She lets out a small, disappointed whine at the loss, but her eyes are wide with manic, joyful anticipation. You scramble up her body, your knees on either side of her head. You are poised directly over her face. She looks up at you, a willing, beautiful sacrifice. You grab your cock, so hard it feels like it might shatter, and with two, quick, frantic strokes, you explode.

The orgasm is violent, a torrential, unstoppable flood. The first thick, heavy rope of your cum shoots out, landing directly on her forehead, just above her wide, worshipful eyes. She gasps, a sharp, shuddering intake of breath as the hot, sticky liquid hits her skin. Another follows immediately, this one splattering across her right cheek. She doesn’t flinch. She doesn’t turn away. She just takes it, her eyes fluttering shut in pure, blissful submission.

You are lost to it now, a mindless vessel of pure pleasure. Spurt after spurt erupts from you, a massive, seemingly endless load. You paint her with your seed. You cover her nose, her chin. Thick, white ropes of your cum drip from her eyelashes, get tangled in her eyebrows. A particularly powerful shot lands directly on her lips, and without hesitation, her tongue darts out to lick it away, her eyes flying open to look at you as she savors the taste of your release. The sight is so incredibly, filthily hot it makes you cum even harder. You drench her, you cover her, you anoint her with your pleasure until every inch of her beautiful face is a glistening, sticky, beautiful mess. Even her expensive, perfectly styled hair is not spared, as thick globs land in the dark, silken strands near her temples.

You gently take the tip of your still-sensitive cock and use it to spread your cum over her face, like a painter with a brush. You smear it over her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, making sure every inch of her is covered, marked, claimed.

“Oh god,” she sighs, a blissful, contented sound. “I feel so slutty. So dirty. I love it.”

You run the thick, dripping head of your cock over her swollen lips. Without a moment’s hesitation, she opens her mouth and takes the tip inside, her tongue swirling around it, her lips creating a gentle, suckling pressure. The sensation, even after your massive orgasm, is incredible. A fresh jolt of pleasure shoots through you.

“Fuck, baby… keep going,” you moan, your eyes rolling back in your head. “Suck it clean for me.”

She continues to suckle you, her mouth hot and wet and so, so good. And then you feel it. A second, smaller, but still intensely pleasurable orgasm begins to build. Your hips give a small, involuntary twitch. You pull away from her mouth just in time, and a final, thick, creamy spurt of your cum shoots out, landing directly in the deep, perfect valley of her cleavage, a final offering to the goddesses that are her tits.

She looks down, then back up at you, her eyes shining with pure, triumphant joy. “Wow,” she says, a delighted laugh bubbling up from her chest. “There was more.” She reaches up a sticky finger and scoops up a bit of the fresh cum from her chest, bringing it to her lips and licking it clean. “I’m so happy you came so much for me. All over me.”

“Holy fuck,” you whisper, crouching down beside her, gently brushing a thumb across her cheekbone where a thick smear runs from her temple to her jaw. “You’re unreal.”

Jimin giggles, the sound soft and sticky-sweet, her tongue flicking out to taste a glob from her lip. “Mmm. I can’t believe that just happened.”

You get up for a moment to grab a towel. She watches you with a silly smile on her face, her expression glowing.

“That was…” She closes her eyes and exhales a long, shivery breath. “God. That was my first facial, you know.”

You pause for a beat, looking up at her. “Yeah?”

She opens her eyes again, watching your face like she’s afraid of how you’ll respond. But you just nod slowly, already running the towel gently across her forehead, wiping away the first creamy line that landed. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

She grins, shy and proud all at once. “I can’t believe how good it felt. I thought I’d feel weird or embarrassed or something but…” Her lashes flutter, catching some of the damp as you clean around them. “It made me feel so slutty and so loved at the same time.”

You lift your brows, murmuring, “Yeah?”

She nods. “Like… like you owned me. But in the best way. I felt so pretty and filthy and yours. It made me feel wanted. Like you just couldn’t help it. Like you had to cover me. And I liked that. I loved it.” She exhales shakily. “I want you to do it again. I want that again. All over me.”

Your hand slows. Your cock stirs faintly in response, despite how drained you are. “You liked being painted with it, huh?”

Her eyes meet yours. “I loved it,” she says, steady and sincere. “Being marked. Knowing it was for me. That I made you feel good enough to cum like that.” A soft laugh slips from her lips. “It made me feel powerful. And submissive. How is that even possible?”

You chuckle, gently wiping under her jawline where it had started to trail down her neck. “Because you are both. You’re strong and obedient. Sweet and filthy. Beautiful and wrecked. You’re my dream.”

Her cheeks flush. “You really think that?”

“I just said I love you with my dick in your pussy,” you grin, swiping gently over her nose. “Do I sound like someone who’s not serious?”

Her laugh bubbles up again, breathless and bright. “God, I’m such a mess.”

“Yeah, but you’re my mess.”

You run the towel along her hairline, careful where the strands are stuck together. She sighs into your touch, closing her eyes again. Her body relaxes as you move slowly and methodically, clearing every trace of your orgasm from her skin. Her lips part slightly, a low, satisfied moan humming from her throat as you brush the towel along her chin.

“I love this,” she murmurs.

“The aftercare?”

She nods lazily. “You taking care of me after making me feel like a little cum-slut. It’s so tender. So safe.”

“Because I care about you,” you murmur. “Because I love you. And I’ll never leave you messy without making it better.”

She swallows hard. “I want to keep doing stuff like this. I want to keep giving you everything. Letting you do things to me that I never thought I’d let anyone do.” She glances up at you with those big, shining eyes. “Because you make me feel so safe while I do it.”

You toss the towel aside now, most of the thick mess cleaned, though her cheeks are still faintly flushed and glossy in the soft light.

“Come on,” she says suddenly, sitting up a little and tugging at your wrist. “Let’s shower.”

You grin. “Together?”

She gives you a look like you’re the dumbest man alive. “Yes, together. Obviously. I’m still sticky everywhere. Plus…” she leans in and murmurs, “I want you to watch it rinse off me. Watch it slide down my body.”

You groan softly, your cock twitching again, exhausted but interested. “You’re trying to kill me.”

She grins. “Maybe. But at least you’ll die clean.”

You rise with her, both of you laughing now. You offer her your hand, help her up gently, and she walks with you to the bathroom, nude and barefoot and radiant.

—

You wake up to the gentle, insistent rays of morning sun filtering through a gap in the hotel room curtains. For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you don’t wake up with a jolt of anxiety or a heavy stone of dread in your stomach. You wake up slowly, peacefully, your body feeling deliciously heavy and boneless, your mind feeling… quiet. Clear. You stretch, a long, luxurious movement that works out the last kinks in your muscles, and a lazy smile spreads across your face.

Last night, after a final, lingering, sleepy kiss goodbye with Jimin, you slipped out of her room and back into yours. You fell into your own bed and slept like the dead, a deep, dreamless, restorative sleep.

You feel refreshed, renewed. The cloud of insecurity that has been suffocating you for weeks has completely dissipated, burned away by the undeniable, brilliant sun of her love. You’re not an imposter. You’re not a secret to be ashamed of. You are the love of her life. The thought is still so staggering, so monumental, that it makes you laugh out loud in the quiet room.

An hour later, you’re showered, dressed, and walking into the makeshift staff office set up in one of the hotel’s conference rooms, a large cup of coffee in your hand. The pre-show chaos of yesterday has been replaced by a humming buzz of post-show activity; people typing furiously on laptops, talking quietly on phones, wrapping up the last of the event’s logistics. You feel a new sense of confidence as you walk in, a quiet certainty that you haven’t felt in a long, long time.

“Morning,” you say cheerfully to the room at large, taking a sip of your coffee.

Your friend Jae looks up from his laptop, a look of surprise on his face. “Whoa. Look who decided to rejoin the land of the living.” He squints at you. “You look… happy. It’s freaking me out a little bit. Did you get more than three hours of sleep for once?”

“Something like that,” you say with a grin. “It’s a beautiful day today, isn’t it?”

“It’s overcast and the humidity is at ninety-eight percent,” he deadpans. “But sure. A beautiful day.” He gets up and joins you by the coffee machine. “Okay, so today we just need to finalize the press clippings report, get sign-off on the social media recap from Manager-nim, and then we’re free to head back to the office. It should be an easy day.”

As you and Jae walk back to your workstations, discussing the final details of the report, you start to notice it. A strange shift in the atmosphere of the room. A few of the junior staff members huddled around a laptop quickly look up as you pass, their eyes wide, before they immediately look back down, whispering furiously to each other. You see a couple of people from the video production team staring openly at you, then at their phones, then back at you. The low hum of the room seems to have taken on a different quality, a subtle, underlying buzz of… something else. Gossip.

“Is it just me, or is everyone acting weird today?” you murmur to Jae.

He glances around. “Hmm? Oh, probably just some new dating rumor or a fan war starting on Twitter. You know how they get. They live for this stuff. Bunch of gossipers.” He shrugs, already immersed in his own screen. “Don’t worry about it.”

You try to shrug it off, too, focusing on your work. But the feeling persists. A senior member of the management team walks by your desk, gives you a long, unreadable look, and says, “Lucky guy,” before continuing on his way. A few minutes later, one of the stylists, a girl you’ve always had a friendly rapport with, walks past and mutters, “You’re a total hunk, but man, you are so screwed.”

You don’t understand any of it. What is going on? You just mumble a confused “thanks?” and try to focus on your laptop screen, but your skin is starting to prickle with a familiar, unwelcome sense of dread.

Jae nudges you hard in the ribs, his eyes wide. “Dude,” he whispers, pointing with his chin towards the large flat-screen TV mounted on the wall in the corner of the room, which is always tuned to a 24-hour news channel.

The TV is on mute, but a breaking news banner is scrolling across the bottom of the screen. Your eyes catch a single, terrifying word: Aespa. Below it, the caption reads: EXCLUSIVE: AESPA’S KARINA’S SECRET ROMANCE—INSIDE SOURCE CONFIRMS LONG-TERM LOVER.

Your blood runs cold. Your heart plummets into your stomach, a sickening, free-falling sensation. This can’t be happening. Desperately, you grab the remote from a nearby table, your hand trembling so badly you almost drop it. You point it at the screen and frantically jab the volume up button.

“—has the K-pop world in an uproar this morning,” the slick, professional voice of a female journalist fills the now-silent room. “The rumors that have been swirling around Aespa’s charismatic leader, Karina, appear to be confirmed, thanks to an exclusive scoop from tabloid journalist Kim Young-min, who is known for his reliable sources deep within the industry.”

The screen cuts to a picture of Karina, a stunning, professionally shot photo from a recent magazine spread.

“Reliable sources claim the relationship, while only recently becoming serious, is with a partner she has known for many years, a childhood friend who now works within her own agency, SM Entertainment.”

A collective gasp goes through the room. Your own breath is trapped in your lungs. You feel like you’re going to be sick.

“While the identity of the non-celebrity boyfriend has not yet been officially released,” the journalist continues, oozing with salacious excitement, “Kim Young-min’s publication has released what they claim to be definitive proof of the relationship: security camera footage, leaked from inside the SM Entertainment building itself.”

And then, the image on the screen changes. It’s a grainy, black-and-white security camera feed, timestamped from a few weeks ago. The location is instantly recognizable. It’s the SM cafeteria. And the figures in the center of the frame are you and Jimin. You watch, horrified, as you see the scene play out from a cold, detached, overhead angle. You see her launching herself at you, her face radiant with joy. You see her kissing you. You see your own shocked reaction, your eyes darting around. And then, you see yourself say something, a challenge, and you see her kiss you again, longer this time, a deliberate act of happy rebellion. Someone leaked it. Someone inside the company saw it, saved it, and leaked it to the press.

The camera pans back to the journalist in the studio. But you’re not watching her. You slowly lower the remote, your hand numb, and you look around the room.

Every single person - your colleagues, your managers, your friend Jae - is staring at you. Their faces are a mixture of shock, awe, pity, and morbid curiosity. The silence is absolute, deafening. They all know. The entire room, the entire company, and now, it seems, the entire world, knows your secret.

“Holy shit,” are your last words before your world changes completely.

[usedpidemo]

Whatttt pinoy ka🙀🙀🙀🙀

[usedpidemo]

"The First Bloom" [+18]

ft. Yoo Jeongyeon of TWICE

TYPE: Fluff, Smut, Very Light Angst WORD COUNT: 3848 DONATE OR REQUEST FOR COMMISSION HERE: https://ko-fi.com/knightyoomyoui NOTE: I just find this long-haired Jeongyeon in white top and jeans in their concert and in their Lollapalooza performance (which btw I just watched) SMOKING HOT, so yeah I gained the inspiration from this. I might be writing more of her on my last remaining months before I quit. What a time to be a Jeongyeon stan. TAGS: deflowering, first-time sex, vanilla sex, body praise DESCRIPTION: You and your girlfriend Jeongyeon tried sex for the first time. ===START===

You and Jeongyeon came home from a very delightful dinner date from the restaurant you booked in commemoration of your today’s 2nd anniversary as partners. You’ve been saving up just so you can give this to her, working hard to prove that you’re always this committed boyfriend in your relationship who’s willing to do everything to make your girl happy.

And you’ve accomplished it. It’s all over those smiles, the sparkling glint in her eyes as she looks at you and she eats that favored meal of hers. You couldn’t be any more proud for yourself and of course, melt in attraction for this lovely woman in front of you.

Stepping inside your house, you find Jeongyeon spacing out after you closed the door. Sitting beside her, you called for her attention. She looked at you softly in return.

“Why do you look so tamed? Tired from our day?” You chuckled.

“Actually it’s the opposite. That’s why I’m feeling like… something’s missing.” She spoke in a slightly troubled tone.

“Go on. You can say it to me.”

“If I… say it, will you accept it?” Jeongyeon’s anxiousness is building up your curiosity more.

“Jeong, you’re my woman. Of course whatever it is, I’ll figure it out.” You cupped her hand on her thighs. “Now go on, don’t be scared if that’s making you feel. Well… as long as it’s not something that will ruin the night though. But I have trust in you, you know that.”

“No, I’m not gonna announce something like we have to break up, don’t worry.” Jeongyeon grinned for a moment, she finds it alarming as well because she doesn’t want it to happen as well. “You were gonna do it for me, yes… but it’s me this time who is willing to give something that I want for you to value.”

“You don’t wanna do it as surprise?”

“I don’t know, I feel like it’s not worth it to be done like that.” Jeongyeon’s face saddened.

“Come on now, don’t be discouraged. I’m here to hear it out and go along to whatever it is. I’ll ease your worries, Jeong.” You were now clasping her hand and squeezing it for comfort. “Have you been thinking about this for a while?”

“Yeah. I just thought like… we haven’t been doing this ever since we became official. I keep on hearing it as well from my friend’s stories about how great it is, so I wondered more. Now that it’s our 2nd anniversary, I thought this would be the right time for me to ask you a favor.”

Jeongyeon looks up at you, her lips frowning. “A-arel… you… willing to have s-sex… with me?”

You blinked for a moment there after hearing what she just asked. You wanted to make her repeat it that but you don’t want to make her feel even more awkward. You understood what she’s pointing out, which was unexpected since none of you would think that this day would end like this.

“J-Jeong… and why are you afraid to ask?”

“I just think you wouldn’t go at it because…” she looked down slowly. “I don’t know, there’s so many reasons. I’m thinking I’m not that sexually appealing, I don’t want to disappoint you, but what i’m scared the most is that you wouldn’t at all.”

“Woah wait what?” You puzzledly reacted at her, stopping her from talking. “Okay, Jeongyeon I find you deadly attractive so stop that. Fine, if this would stop you from insecuring yourself too much about these type of things, I’m going to admit something. Sometimes… yeah, I’ve been having some, you know, lewd thoughts at how hot you look sometimes.”

Jeongyeon blushed hard at what you confessed. “R-really?”

“Yeah. Is it working now? Am I making you certain?”

“T-tell me more…” She shyly responded.

“Oh, sure. The most favorite thing about you that you wear is exactly what you have right now. Those jeans. God, Jeongyeon I couldn’t count how many times I’ve been looking at those I mean… you do have a perfect set of legs.”

“Y-yeah?” Jeongyeon starts to rub her legs altogether, not noticing at first that she was also syncing her very timid movement of your hand being slided through her center.

“You’re just that simply beautiful… and hot. I courted you and most especially my eyes landed on you since the beginning because you checked out every single thing I prefer about the woman I would love to be with. You have it all, Jeongyeon.” 

Your hands felt like they’re starting to heat up because of Jeongyeon’s touch. It then came to your senses that it also has gotten a bit tighter but you didn’t put that into observation as you said one last thing to her.

“So, if you are nervous about the uncertainty of what I’m going to answer about that… Jeong, I’ve been wanting to do it with you for a long time. Are you sure you want to do it now.”

“Ahh.” Jeongyeon accidentally slipped out a moan. Her hands gripped tightly on your wrist and hand, and that’s how you discovered when you glanced downwards that your hands were now compressed between her thighs, and your fingers are laid just neatly in front of her crotch.

“I guess that’s enough for me to know, you really love to do this tonight.” You started to bend your fingers, poking and sliding the trace of her clothed pussy beneath. Jeongyeon moaned again and began panting heavily as well.

“Fuck… YN, I need you so bad!”

“I know, now just stay there and feel it all by yourself. Let’s take things slow, okay?”

“B-but…”

“Patience, my love.” Your voice shifted to being rasp and low that Jeongyeon finds more arousing along with how dangerously slow you’ve been rubbing her slit. “We’ll get there, but for now we have to warm ourselves up.” 

Jeongyeon could only nod. She opened her legs wider, giving you more access to her pussy, becoming easier for you to stimulate her. “Does it feel wonderful, baby?”

“Y-yes…” 

“I would love to see you more in these jeans, but I don’t want a distraction for now.” You unbuttoned and tugged the band to undress her. Those exquisite sculpted pair of long, smooth, thick legs are now in full exposure, topped by that pink undies of her still covering that precious prize.

“Don’t be shy, show it to me, baby.” You gently reopened the gates to heaven, and there you see it. Jeongyeon bit her lips in embarrassment, but you find it even more entertaining to see that evident drenched stain of her center due to your actions.

“You’re so wet for me right now, you really couldn’t wait anymore aren’t you?” You flicked her wet spot, and Jeongyeon gasped again. 

“Please… make me feel it, YN.”

“Not yet, like I said… we’ll take this slowly and surely. I just want to adore this body of yours, okay? I’m going to make you feel loved, starting with my favorite part about you.”

You sniffed her aroused pussy first before kissing her thighs and legs inch by inch. Jeongyeon rubs herself as you massaged those soft pillowy flesh of her thighs before you removed her hand. Taking your turn, you gave some preliminary rubs and slides again around her slit and deepening it a little, causing her lips to be traced from the fabric.

You take off her panties next and sniffed it again before returning at her pussy now at full view, leaking with glistening pre-cum. “I think I know what you are, Jeongyeon. Do you want me to check?”

“W-what is it?” Jeongyeon’s eyes then widened as she caught what you’re about to do. 

Two of your fingers slowly break into her cavern, inserting it inch by inch as Jeongyeon whimpered and gasped. “It’s so… ahh…”

After she took it all, you proceeded on creating slow paced movements by pulling it back and then pushing it again, fingering Jeongyeon to the nearing ecstasy.

“How does it feel?”

“So good…” 

“I’m about to go fast soon, so prepare yourself okay?” 

She waited for it for about a minute until you decided to pick up the speed, and to her surprise, you included a third finger to both widen her walls and make it bigger inside. She starts to elicit lewd sounds from masturbating her.

Arm vibrating at the constant rhythm of your fingers stimulating her core. Jeongyeon added some little bounce on her hips, coordinating on fucking herself through your digits to arouse her further. The more she gets into it, the more you can feel her walls clamping on your skin, inviting you to help her reach that climax she never knew how it would be like when it comes with you.

“F-fuck… YN, I feel coming. I’m close!”

“Give it. Give it to me, Jeongyeon. Show me how much you can take this.” You stood up and buckled yourself so that you’re hovering over her on the couch now, you fingers aggressively playing her horny pussy as you stare at her face contorting with arousal.

She screamed loudly as she burst out a huge squirt of her juices. You were impressed to see that there was like 5 times she squirted before she finally calmed down, forming a huge pool of her cum on the floor and evidence of it as well on your fingers that did magic on her.

You tried to give your girlfriend’s liquid a taste, sucking it on your fingers. You glanced at her, still recovering from her orgasm. “Delicious.” 

Jeongyeon heard some belt unclasping near her. As she slowly opened her eyes, she was shocked at what greeted her sight.

Your erect manhood is now free and presented close at her face. Jeongyeon was stunned at how huge it was, her speculations after having a few hints of it from how it bulge on your shorts and her accidentally getting a view of you in your shorts, hiding this beast within you were all confirmed.

“Do you like it?”

“I always knew you were this big, but… wow they are right.” She tried to hold your length and it twitched from her touch, had you hissing on your teeth and amazed her at how it reacted for her. “It does make you wanna taste it right ahead, at how delicious it looks up close.” 

She starts to pump your cock gently. Based from how she strokes it and her handling, it’s clearly obvious she’s still not an expert to this, but it wasn’t bad still. From the top view, both of you weren’t engaging to the main event yet watching your girlfriend jerking your penis for the first time is remarkably fantastic of a first-time already for you.

“Can I suck it, YN?”

“Do as you please, Jeongyeon.” 

Jeongyeon puts your mushroom head above her tongue and swirls it, making your head thrown aback and eyes rolling as you didn’t expect her to try this immediately. She gave every areas of your length some flicks and kisses before finally taking in your girth inch by inch.

“Don’t force yourself if you can’t, okay?” Jeongyeon just looked up at you and tries to deepen her suck. She was close from reaching the base but she pulled back and coughed for a while. “How was it?”

“Not bad, you actually did good. You almost had it on the end.”

“I’m sorry if I can’t take it all yet.” Jeongyeon grabs your cock and pumps it again to keep it hard.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. It’s your first time. Just take this as a training, to learn and adapt yourself beyond your limit. As long as well make ourselves feel good, that’s what matters okay?” 

Jeongyeon nodded. She sucks your cock again, this time bobbing her head a bit faster now while still trying to train her throat to accept your length not to choke or atleast lessen her gag reflex. 

“Fuck, your mouth is so good, Jeong.” She took it as a compliment, she made her tongue more active, swirling and sipping your meat lodged on her mouth. “Can you also focus on my balls down there? It also feels good to me when you try to give them attention as well.”

“These? Oh, sure.” She cupped your balls and assisted herself to suck those jewels each, making you grab her head for support. “H-holy shit… I didn’t know I’m more sensitive down there.” Jeongyeon just kept on alternating on those two, ensuring that they slick with her spit and devoured properly.

“I’m going to fuck your face now, Jeongyeon. Tap my thigh if you want a break, okay?” 

“Okay.” 

You placed your cock inside her mouth again and did the pace by your own, servicing yourself through her willing warmth. Jeongyeon is holding herself at your buckling hips while you use her head as a fleshlight, pleasuring yourself at how her tongue slides at the underside of your cock, and your tip trying to meet the ends of her throat more.

Surprisingly, Jeongyeon is still not giving up. As you kept on ramming at her face, you noticed her cleavage from her top and had an idea about it. You want to see more of her, and you want to ensure that you’re also going to use every part of her with purpose for this experience.

You slowed down and slipped out your cock from her mouth. “I’m going to try something.” You lifted her shirt which to her surprise. She helped you with it and there she was in her pink bra, her huge mounds are now out as well and you felt your cock twitch again at her own size.

“What are you gonna do, YN?”

“I want to use your boobs, Jeong.”

“Oh, like fucking these in between?” 

“Yeah, I think it’s called titjob? I’m just curious how it would feel.”

Jeongyeon unclasped her bra to reveal her breasts for the first time. They bounced at the release, a perfect C-cup topped with brown nipples, effectively making your mouth water at them. “You down yourself at what I might think of you, but only God know how much I want to eat you right now, Jeong.”

She laughed sheepishly. “I’ll let you do that to me, but for me I want you to give me something as well first in replace of what you took from me.” 

You inserted your cock between her tits. They just fit perfectly around you, hugging it with ease. “Is this good?”

“Yeah. Continue moving.”

Jeongyeon began to jerk you this time with her tits, and she was astounded to hear you groan and moan. An indication that using her tits may be even better technique for ejaculating you. She took note of it that she’ll do this first whenever she wants to grab a taste of your cock.

“Shit, J-Jeongyeon if only you know how this feels so fucking amazing right now.” You petted her head as she watched you in euphoria having her cock pleasured by her gifted front.

She noticed that your head keeps poking out with every thrust and it almost bumps on her mouth, so she tried something without alerting you. In results, a long gasp came out on you when you saw Jeongyeon accepting the other half of your cock on her mouth as she pumps you in to the edge.

“Oh God, you’re gonna make me cum in an instant Jeong…” You handled both sides of her head now. “Take it take it take it… I-It’s going out!”

You did one last heavy push to her mouth, spurting ropes and ropes of cum in result of the longevity that you’ve spent saving these with barely masturbations and lack of experience of sex. 

Jeongyeon lets go of your cock. Sbe almost coughed at how many it is, some amount flows out from the corner of her lips so she swallowed it all, her bloated cheeks deflated. She scooped some remaining bits and slurped to empty your load. 

“You look so hot right now, Jeong. I swear.”

“You as well, YN. I didn’t know I’ll be feeling this so starving seeing you naked with that buddy of yours being that huge.”

“And you as well with those tits.” You sneakily squeezed them. 

“Want to give them a taste as well?”

“Oh hell yeah, but… should we do it this time on the bed?”

Jeongyeon stood up, you guided her to your bedroom as you drag her with you. You sat first on the corner, Jeongyeon then went at your lap and hungrily kissed you on the lips. Hand roaming around each others bodies, the two young couple going passionately with their burning love for each other and that long-awaited desire they’ve been keeping to mark themselves as theirs.

You gnawed at her neck and peppered kisses at her chest as you grab a bundle of her hair to lift her chin up. Pulling her closer to you, you sucked both of her breasts as you clutched her around your arms. Jeongyeon grinds her bare pussy on the length of your cock trapped at each others skin.

“I want it inside me now, YN. Don’t worry, I can take it. I need it so much.”

“Okay. Just tell me if it hurts, and we can stop for a while if it does. Trust me, I want to make you feel good.”

“I do.”

You slowly lifted her weight up and directed the tip of your cock to her awaiting pussy. She gave you a signal to bury herself down to the hilt slowly. You watched Jeongyeon wince and seethe at the pain..

“You okay? How do you feel?”

“It hurts a little but I can manage. J-just… let stay like this for a second.”

“Take your time, love. I’ll lead us well.” 

As both of you fell in silence. Jeongyeon took the opportunity to use this position to let herself hug you tightly. You heard her sniff through her tears. “Hey, why are you crying?”

“I’m just happy. Happy that I finally get to experience this for the first time with the right man I want to do it with. I’m happy that it’s you I willingly gave my virginity for, YN. And I don’t regret this at all.” 

You smiled at the message of your girlfriend. “I’m happy that you’re the woman I want that I get to share this with. And I’m grateful for the trust you’ve given to me. I love you, Jeongyeon.” You kissed her on the cheek.

“I love you too, YN.” She kissed you on the lips afterwards. “O-okay… you can move now.” 

You gently laid her on the bed for a classic missionary position. Both were now staring at each others features, you proceeded to use your body against hers. Observing her reactions attentively, you were doing your best to not make her uncomfortable. 

Fortunately, with the way she kissed you again and cradled your head on her neck as you get the closer listen of her sexy moan, it had you assured that you’re giving her a good time. You fucked her in a sensual vanilla pace, she roamed her hands on your back and locked her legs behind you, never wanting to let you go.

You tested to get this even more engaging, and so you picked up the speed, pounding into her pussy a bit harder. That’s when you hit her G-spot, turning her moans louder and the slapping of your skin increasing its volume to echo around the room. 

“I’m about to cum again, baby.” 

“Wait, let’s do it together. I’m close as well.

And YN…” you looked at her, waiting for the next words.

“I want you to do it inside me. Fill me up, make me pregnant.”

“A-are you sure?” 

“We’ve been together for 2 years now, and never in life I’ve ever been so sure that I want to raise a child with you as a father.” Jeongyeon cupped your face. “U-unless… you’re not ready yet… ugh!!!” 

“What are you saying, Jeongyeon?” You returned the speed fucking her senseless. Your cock enthusiastically ramming at her pussy as you made the bed rock and her at the intensity of your actions. “Ofcourse, I want us to raise a family. I’ll be the happiest man in the world having a while with a mother like you!”

“You want us to have a baby, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Then I’m about to cum, Jeongyeon. We’re not gonna stop all night until I don’t get to breed you.”

“Yes!!! Fill my womb!!! Put your cum inside me, please!”

“Shit, Jeongyeon… oh fuck… I’m cumming!”

With one last push, you drained another load of your healthy cum, painting her inner walls white. You slowly fucked her again to ensure that your cum will indeed push to her womb, impregnating her successfully in the process. 

You slid your slick cock off of her wet pussy, you catched your breath along with her until both of you noticed that her pussy started to gush out some amount of cum.

“That was… wonderful.” Jeongyeon commented.

“Yeah, one hell of a first time huh?” Both of you chuckled. You raised up and grabbed her leg, reopening her wide again to set up another position. Jeongyeon mewled at the feeling of your cum overflowing at her sensitive pussy a bit more because of what you did.

“So, still up for few more rounds?” 

“As much as you like, YN. Until we get drained.”

You grinned at her before laying down beside her and lifting up her leg. Reinserting your cock back at her pussy and fucked her again slowly, both of you moaned at the shocks of pleasure it provides.

Lasting for 4 hours, you and Jeongyeon explored various other different positions around your room. 

A standing one in front of the mirror, as she watches your hands marvel at her body as your cock pumps at her squelching pussy.

A doggystyle in front of the window, where she took you in her ass for the first time. She struggled for a moment  but thanks to your ability to calm her down and your impressive performance you’re putting on her, she successfully became relaxed in this position and lets you finish as well inside her ass.

Some break from fucking your lust out by pleasuring yourselves cooperatively in a 69 way, a cowgirl and finally another splash of cum gallon in her pussy as you ended it with her on the bottom, front figure buried on the matress.

The next morning, you woke up early than her. You watched your wife sleeping soundly and kissed her forehead. As you removed the blanket, you get a glimpse again of her pussy now with dried contents of your cum around it. 

Remembering how much you filled her up last night, you want to prepare atleast at the future.

“Yeah, I’m gonna search for an engagement ring later.” You muttered and smirked to yourself before getting up on the bed. ===END===

[usedpidemo]

Never. Fucking. Kill. Yourself.

storytime tomorrow or…monday

[usedpidemo]

Happy 11 yrs to the cake girls! Hoping you could write about them sometime in the future again.

Happy 11th anniversary to one of the most versatile girl groups ever :> Deserved more than what SM gave them.

I do wanna write Seulgi and Joy again, but nothing substantial has come up.

[usedpidemo]

Thank you so much for 1k+ notes for Power.

see u tomorrow girl

[usedpidemo]

It’s the month of superheroes! If you had to live in one universe, would it be: full of metahumans and monsters, or one where theres only one team protecting the whole planet?

Probably the former. As high risk living in a metahuman universe is, theres as equal of a chance I could get powers somehow. Worst case scenario is theres always a monster of the week and one random hero taking care of business, instead of relying solely on one team for everything.

[usedpidemo]

That karina fic is chef's kiss pi, damn you're a great writer, hope you continue publishing great fics will there be another part or a universe with Luminary?

Thank you! 🫶

There’ll be at least one more part…stay tuned 😉