I’m sure most of you guys have seen Jeongyeon all over the internet lately from their recent performance on Jimmy Fallon. Yes! I had to come back from the dead and write again because of that!
~~~ Her Lucky Once!
Outside the thin door of Jeongyeon’s room, the dorm buzzed with the familiar, exhausted chaos of homecoming. Nayeon’s loud laugh peeled down the hallway, followed by Jihyo’s softer, scolding tone. The clatter of takeout containers, the thump of a dropped dance bag, the easy rhythm of a family of nine settling in after a long day.
She pulled her phone from the pocket of her loose pajama pants. Her thumb hovered over the name Y/n. A whole week. A week of hotel rooms, schedules that synched only for performances, and beds that felt too big and too cold. A week of smiling until her cheeks ached while her body thrummed with a different, more stubborn ache.
She missed him like a physical sickness. Missed the weight of him, the solid reality of him in her arms when the world felt like smoke. Missed the way his hands, always so surprisingly gentle for their size, would map her spine as if memorizing her. Missed his voice, low and sure in her ear, telling her she was beautiful when the internet whispers or her own tired eyes in a mirror like this one across the room, tried to convince her otherwise. She missed the reckless, sweaty, forgetting-everything-else collision of them together. The need was a sharp, clawing thing under her skin.
Taking a shaky breath, she typed.
“Hey. You awake?”
The three dots appeared almost instantly. Her heart clenched.
“Always for you. How was the performance?”
“Loud,” she sent back. “I’m back at the dorm. Everyone’s eating.”
A pause. The three dots pulsed. She could feel the question hanging in the digital space between them.
“I have a plan,” she typed, her fingers moving fast now. “The side door by the garbage bins. The code is 0910. Wait ten minutes, then come up. My room is the last on the left down the hall from the kitchen. Just… walk fast. And quietly.”
The silence from his end stretched. It felt like an hour.
“Are you sure? Seems risky.” He finally replied.
“It is,” she answered truthfully. “But I don’t care. I need to see you.”
“Okay fine. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
Jeongyeon shoved the phone back into her pocket before heading to the bathroom. She splashed cold water on her face, washing away the last traces of her stage persona. In her tight white tank top and the soft, gray pajama pants that Tzuyu always said made her look cozy, she was just Yoo Jeongyeon again. Tired. Needy. Herself.
She opened the bathroom door. The hallway air was warmer, rich with the smell of fried chicken and spicy noodles. Chaos reigned in the common area. Momo and Sana were on the floor, dissecting a drumstick with surgical precision. Mina was curled in an armchair with a book, a plate balanced on her knee. Chaeyoung was sketching on a napkin, nodding along to something Jihyo was saying. Nayeon, spotting her, waved a wing in her direction.
“Jeongyeonie! Come eat before Momo finishes it all!”
“In a minute,” Jeongyeon said, forcing a smile. “Gonna change.”
She moved down the hall, her bare feet silent on the cool floor. Every sense felt heightened. The murmur of her members’ voices was a blanket of safety and a web of potential witnesses. She counted the seconds in her head.
At the doorway to her shared room, she paused. Dahyun was still in the bathroom down the hall. The coast was clear. She slipped inside, leaving the door open a precise, calculating crack.
Nine minutes.
She stood in the dim room, her arms wrapped around herself. The nervous energy was electric, buzzing in her teeth. She heard a burst of laughter from the kitchen—Tzuyu, probably. She checked her phone. Thirty seconds.
Then, a soft, almost imperceptible creak from the hallway. Not the usual dorm sound. Her breath hitched. She peered through the crack.
He moved like a shadow, a tall, familiar silhouette against the dim emergency lighting. He didn’t hesitate, didn’t look left or right. He just walked, with a quiet confidence that made her throat tighten, straight toward her door. He slipped through the gap, and she pushed it shut behind him, the soft click of the latch sounding like a thunderclap in the silence.
For a second, they just stood there in the dark room. The only light seeped under the door from the hall. She could see the outline of his shoulders, the cut of his jaw.
“Hey,” he breathed.
That one word broke the dam. She was on him in two steps, her hands coming up to frame his face, pulling him down into a kiss that was all desperation and relief. It was messy, hungry, a week of loneliness poured into the meeting of lips and tongue. He tasted like mint and the cold night air from outside. His arms came around her, big and solid, lifting her slightly so her toes barely brushed the floor, crushing her against the hard wall of his chest. It was safety. It was home.
When they finally broke apart, gasping, he didn’t let her go. He kept her close, his forehead resting against hers. His hands smoothed down her back, over the thin cotton of her tank top.
“You look,” he whispered, his voice rough, “so fucking sexy.”
She let out a shaky, disbelieving laugh. “I’m in pajamas.”
“I know.” One hand slid lower, cupping the curve of her backside through the soft gray fabric. He kissed her again, softer this time. “You have no idea. All day, all I could think about was you. Just you. Like this. You’re perfect.”
The insecurity that often gnawed at her, the words of the so called fans of being too big, dissolved under his touch and his words. He said it like it was a simple fact, like saying the sky was blue. She believed him.
From down the hall, Nayeon’s voice carried, loud and clear. “Jeongyeon-ah! The chicken is getting cold!”
They froze, locked together. His eyes, now adjusted to the dark, found hers. A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face. The risk, the sheer insanity of it, ignited something hot in her gut. The needy ache transformed into a sharp, specific demand.
She put a finger to his lips. “You have to be very, very quiet,” she murmured, her own voice a low promise.
The moment the words left her lips, his hands moved. One slid from her back, firm and sure, while the other stayed planted on her hip. In one smooth motion, he turned her around and pulled her back hard against him. The shock of it, the sudden shift in control, stole her breath.
His arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides for a second before his hands slid up, over the soft cotton of her tank top. His palms warm and possessive through the fabric. He squeezed, not gently, and a jolt of pure, bright pleasure shot through her. She arched back against him, her head falling against his shoulder.
His lips brushed the shell of her ear, his voice a rough, playful whisper. “Me? You’re the one who’s gonna need to be quiet.”
Jeongyeon bit her lip, hard, to trap the gasp that wanted to escape. She could feel him, the hard length of him pressed against her lower back, and it sent a dizzying wave of heat through her. His thumbs circled over her through the fabric, a maddening, teasing pressure. The fluorescent light from under the door cut a stark line across their feet, a reminder of the world just outside.
“They’ll hear,” she breathed, the protest weak even to her own ears. She pushed her hips back against him, a contradiction in motion.
“Then don’t make a sound.” His voice was a low vibration against her spine. One hand slipped under the hem of her tank top, his fingers splaying across the bare skin of her stomach. It was cool against her feverish heat. He was tracing around, the curve of her waist, with a reverence that made her chest ache.
“See? Perfect.” His other hand moved, pushing the fabric aside, finding her bare breast. His palm was rough against her sensitive skin, his thumb swiping over her nipple. She shuddered, her own hands flying back to clutch at his thighs, needing an anchor.
From down the hall, the distinct sound of Jihyo’s voice cut through. “Has anyone seen my phone charger?”
They froze. Jeongyeon’s heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat she was sure was audible in the sudden, thick silence of the room. His hand stilled on her breast. His breathing, hot against her neck, was the only thing she could hear besides the blood rushing in her own ears.
The footsteps passed their door. Didn’t pause. Faded toward the kitchen.
The air left her lungs in a shaky, silent exhale. The danger of it, the razor’s edge they were on, twisted the desire into something sharper, more urgent.
He didn’t move his hand. Instead, he leaned in closer, his nose buried in the hair at her temple. “I missed you,” he said, the teasing edge gone, replaced by a raw honesty that unraveled her completely. “Every damn day. Seeing you up there, shining… it killed me. I want to be the only one who sees you like this.”
She turned her head, finding his lips in the dark. This kiss was different—softer, deeper, a slow claiming. It was full of everything they couldn’t say out loud. The fear, the loneliness of the week apart, the secret they had to keep. When they parted, her lips felt swollen, sensitive.
“Talk to me,” he murmured against her mouth, his hand gently kneading her flesh. “Tell me what you need.” It wasn’t just a physical question. It was the one he always asked, the one that let her steer, that gave her back the control she had to relinquish everywhere else.
She leaned her full weight against him, letting his strength hold her up. The confession was a whisper into the dark. “I felt… big. On stage today. In the wrong way. The outfits…”
His hand left her breast, but only to slide around and cup her jaw, tilting her face toward his. Even in the near-darkness, she could see the intensity in his eyes. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. You’re amazing. You’re powerful.” He kissed her again, slow and deliberate. “It’s… you. And I’m the luckiest guy alive that I get to touch you.”
He turned her again, slowly this time, to face him. “My Jeongyeon,” he said, as if it explained everything. And to her, in that silent, stolen room, it did.
And to her, in that silent, stolen room, it did.
She smiled then, a real one that felt unfamiliar on her face after a week of performing. “My Y/n,” she whispered, the words a secret just for them. She leaned up and kissed him, a slow, deep seal of the truth in his statement. Her hands, which had been clutching his shirt, slid beneath the fabric. Her palms found the warm, hard planes of his stomach, tracing the lines of muscle that tightened under her touch.
She let her fingers wander lower, over the waistband of his jeans, the buckle cold against her skin. She felt him stir against her, the proof of his want as tangible as her own. Her hand found the rigid length of him through the denim, and she pressed her palm there, claiming the effect she had. A sharp, hissed breath escaped his lips, and his forehead dropped to her shoulder.
“Jeongyeon,” he groaned, his voice strained.
From the hallway, a door slammed. Sana’s cheerful, carried voice called out, “Mina! Did you take my slippers?”
They were statues again, pressed together in the dark. Jeongyeon’s hand stilled. His heartbeat thudded against her chest, a wild counter-rhythm to her own. The mundane question from the other side of the door was a jarring, terrifying reminder of the line they were toeing.
He lifted his head. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. The playful danger had crystallized into something sharper, more urgent. The risk was no longer just theoretical; it was Sana’s voice, ten feet away.
“We can’t,” he breathed, but it sounded like a question. “But I really want this.”
Jeongyeon didn’t move her hand. She held his gaze, the electricity between them crackling in the charged silence. She saw the conflict in his face—the desire, the protectiveness, the very real fear of what would happen if they were discovered. For her.
“They can’t know,” she whispered back, her thumb moving in a slow, deliberate circle over the fabric. “But I need you to remind me who I am.”
That was all it took. The last thread of his resistance snapped.
The last thread of his resistance snapped. A low, resigned laugh escaped him, lost in the space between their lips. “You’ll be the death of me,” he murmured, but his hands were already moving, one tangling in her hair to pull her into another kiss, the other fumbling with the waistband of her pajama pants.
She met his kiss with equal fervor, her own hands busy at his belt. They moved in a frantic, silent ballet, a shared mission of quiet urgency. When her teeth caught his lower lip, a gentle, tugging bite, he let out a sound that was half groan, half chuckle. He nipped back at her jawline in playful retaliation, his hands sliding the loose cotton pants over the curve of her hips, letting them pool silently at her feet.
She stepped out of them, kicking them aside into the shadows. The cool air of the room kissed her skin, but his gaze was hotter. He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark and intent, drinking her in as she stood there in just her thin tank top. He loved this part, the slow reveal. He loved seeing her, all of her.
His hands came up, fingertips tracing the line of her jaw, her throat, before slipping under the straps of her top. He pushed it slowly down her shoulders, his thumbs brushing over her collarbones. The fabric caught for a moment on the swell of her breasts before he eased it down further, exposing her to the dim light.
He just stared. From the proud, defiant set of her face, down to the full curves of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the dark triangle between her legs, and finally to the strong, powerful lines of her thighs. His breath hitched.
“God, Jeongyeon,” he whispered, the words full of awe. His palm cupped one breast, his thumb circling her nipple, and he watched, mesmerized, as it tightened under his touch. His other hand slid down, over the plane of her stomach, through the dark, soft hair, his fingers tracing her, making her shiver. He palmed the curve of her backside, squeezing the firm muscle there, and before he could stop himself, his hand came down in a light, teasing slap.
The sound was sharper than expected in the quiet room—a crisp, intimate pop.
Jeongyeon jumped, a shocked, breathless laugh bursting from her. Her hand flew to his shoulder, giving him a half-hearted slap in return. “Yah!” she hissed, but her eyes were sparkling with mischief, not anger.
“Couldn’t help it,” he grinned, unrepentant, leaning in to kiss her shoulder. “It’s just… right there. And so perfect.”
“You’re impossible,” she whispered, but her fingers were already on the hem of his shirt, tugging it up over his head. He helped her, pulling it off and tossing it onto the growing pile of clothes. Her hands spread over his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under her palms.
“My turn,” she breathed, her own gaze appreciative. She leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the center of his chest before her lips trailed lower, over his abdomen. Her fingers worked at the button of his jeans, then the zipper, which slid down with a hushed, metallic sigh.
She pushed his jeans and boxers down in one motion, freeing him. Her hand wrapped around his length, giving him a slow, deliberate stroke. She looked up at him from under her lashes, a playful challenge in her eyes. “I’m not the only one who’s perfect,” she teased, her voice a low, intimate murmur.
He shuddered, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders. “You’re a menace,” he managed to say, his voice tight.
From the hallway, the muffled sound of a closing refrigerator door echoed. They both froze, her hand stilling on him. Their eyes locked, wide with a fresh shot of adrenaline. The mundane sound was a bucket of ice water, a stark reminder of the thin door separating their world from the other.
The moment stretched, tense and silent. Then, a burst of distant laughter from the common area broke the spell. The danger, instead of extinguishing the fire, poured gasoline on it. The risk made the need more acute, the hiding more desperate.
Jeongyeon didn’t let go. Instead, she rose to her feet, pulling him with her toward the bed. They were both naked now, skin to skin in the dark. He followed, letting her guide him down onto the narrow mattress that smelled of her perfume. He loomed over her, bracing himself on his elbows, his body a welcome cage blocking out the rest of the world.
“Quiet,” he reminded her again, his voice a raw scrape against the quiet, just before he lowered his mouth to hers.
The kiss was a furnace. It burned away the last of her hesitation, the ever-present fear of a creaking floorboard or a sudden knock. Here, in the dark, with his skin against hers, there was only the two of them and the urgent, physical truth of their connection.
She poured every ounce of her frustration from the week, every insecure whisper she’d silenced on stage, into the way her mouth moved against his. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, as if she could fuse them together.
When he finally broke the kiss to trail his lips down her neck, she took the opportunity to push against his shoulders, reversing their positions. He let her, a soft grunt of surprise leaving his lips as his back met the mattress.
She knelt over him, the dim light from under the door painting his body in shades of gray and blue. The contrast of his toned stomach, the dark trail of hair leading down, against the pale sheets was a sight that never failed to stir something primal in her.
She leaned down, silencing any question he might have had with another kiss. Then she began to move lower. Her lips brushed the hollow of his throat, the firm line of his collarbone. She took her time, tasting the salt on his skin, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse under her mouth. She kissed a slow, deliberate path down his sternum, over the defined planes of his abdomen. He was watching her, she could feel the heat of his gaze, his breathing already growing uneven.
Her journey downwards paused. She at his pelvis, inhaling the clean, intimate scent of him. She looked up, meeting his eyes in the near-darkness. A slow, wicked smile spread across her lips.
She lowered her head again, her mouth hovering just above the hard, hot length of him. She could feel the warmth radiating from his skin. With a deliberate, practiced motion, she gathered a bit of saliva in her mouth and let it fall onto the head of his cock in a single, wet droplet. He jerked beneath her, a sharp intake of breath hissing through his teeth.
He loved when she did that. The casual, almost crude ownership of the act drove him wild. It wasn't polished or performative; it was raw and real and utterly them.
Jeongyeon winked at him, a flash of white in the dark, before lowering her mouth onto him.
She gave him no chance to adjust, no slow build. She took him deep, her lips stretching wide, until she felt him hit the back of her throat. A muffled groan, strained and choked, rumbled from his chest. Her head began to bob, setting a relentless, wet rhythm.
She used her tongue lavishly, swirling it around the sensitive head on every upstroke, her spit making the glide obscenely slick and noisy in the silent room. The sloppy, hot sounds were a testament to her hunger for him, a sonic rebellion against the need for silence.
Her hand, which had been braced on his thigh, slid underneath him. Her fingers curled, fondling the tight, heavy sac beneath. She rolled his balls gently in her palm, applying just the right amount of pressure she knew he loved. He loved when his balls had some attention as well. A full-body shudder wracked him, his hips giving an involuntary little jerk.
“Fuck, Jeongyeon,” he gasped, the words strangled. His hands flew to her head, not to guide her, but to fist in her hair, holding on as if he were adrift in a storm. His thighs tensed under her, every muscle in his body coiled tight. “So good… you have no idea…”
She quickened her pace, her other hand joining to work the base of him in time with her mouth. She was lost in it, in the taste of him, the guttural sounds she was pulling from his throat, the complete power she held in that moment. Here, she wasn’t an idol. She was a woman who knew exactly how to wreck the man she loved.
With a final, deep suck that made his hips lift off the mattress, Jeongyeon pulled her mouth away with a wet pop. Her lips were slick and swollen, her breathing ragged. But her eyes, even in the dark, held a devilish glint he knew all too well.
Before he could protest the loss of heat, before he could even form a thought, she was moving. Looking down at him with that playful, commanding smirk. Then, her hands came up, cupping the full, heavy weight of her own breasts. She pushed them together, creating a deep, inviting valley of soft, warm flesh.
His brain short-circuited. “What are you—” he started, his voice a rasp.
She didn’t answer with words. Leaning forward, she guided him, his aching, slick cock, into her hot, soft tits. The sensation was utterly new, a breathtaking contrast to the tight, wet heat of her mouth. This was all yielding softness, a dizzying, luxurious friction. She squeezed, enveloping him completely in the smooth, perfect warmth of her skin.
“Holy shit,” he gasped, the exclamation ripped from him. He’d never seen anything so blatantly, powerfully erotic. The visual alone—her focused expression, the way her breasts swallowed him, the faint glisten of her saliva and his own pre-cum making everything shine in the sliver of light—was enough to undo him. But the feel of it… God, the feel.
She began to move, a slow, rolling undulation of her shoulders and upper body, sliding her breasts up and down his length. A low, guttural groan tore from his chest, long and ragged.
“Jeongyeon… fuck… they feel… perfect.” His hands, which had been gripping the sheets, flew to her, one tangling in her hair, the other splaying over her back, urging her on. “So fucking perfect.”
The sounds were different now—softer, wetter, intimate slaps of skin on skin that seemed deafening in their little world. They were both panting, lost in the illicit thrill of it.
A door squeaked open somewhere down the hall. Footsteps passed their door, paused for a heart-stopping second, then continued.
They froze, her movement stopping, his breath catching. Their eyes locked in the dark, wide and wary.
The footsteps receded.
A slow, reckless smile spread across Jeongyeon’s face. The fear was still there, a cold thread in her gut, but it was drowned out by a hotter, more potent tide. The need, the validation of his awe, the sheer rightness of his skin against hers. She leaned down, her breasts still holding him captive, and kissed his tip.
“I don’t care,” she whispered against his the tip of his cock, the words a vow.
“I don’t either,” he breathed back, and he meant it.
Emboldened, she resumed her pace, faster now, more urgent. He was groaning constantly, a stream of broken praise and profanity. “You’re incredible… look at you… I can’t last… please…”
He was close. She could feel it in the tensing of his body, the way his cock twitched between her breasts. With a final, desperate surge, she squeezed tighter, rocking harder, watching his face contort in pleasure.
His release was sudden, a hot stripe painting her skin, her cleavage. He bit down on his own fist to stifle the shout, his whole body bowing off the bed, tremors wracking him. She kept moving, gentler now, milking him through it until he collapsed back onto the mattress, boneless and spent.
For a long moment, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing and the muffled soundtrack of the dorm living its life. The reality of what they’d just done, the risk they’d embraced, settled over them like a blanket.
Gently, she released him, leaning back. She looked down at the mess glistening on her chest, then back at his dazed, blissful face. A soft, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her.
A soft, almost disbelieving laugh escaped her.
She looked down at the mess glistening on her skin, the physical proof of his release, and felt a possessive thrill. Her finger traced through it, collecting a pearl-white streak, and she brought it to her lips without breaking eye contact. She tasted him, a familiar salt-bitter warmth that was intimately his, and a genuine smile softened her features.
“I missed the taste of you,” she said, her voice husky and low.
He watched, propped on his elbows, his chest still heaving. A slow, awed smile spread across his face as she meticulously licked her finger clean, then leaned down to run her tongue over her own skin, cleaning every last drop from her chest. The sight was so visceral, so raw, that it stirred something deep in him all over again.
“You’re insane,” he whispered, his voice full of affection.
“Only for you,” she murmured, crawling up his body to kiss him, letting him taste himself on her tongue. She pulled back just an inch, her nose brushing his. “But you’d better have more for me. That was just the welcome party.” Her hand slid down between them, fingers lightly tracing the sensitive skin at the base of his softening cock. “My pussy’s been lonely.”
He groaned, his head falling back against the pillow. “You just sucked me dry and fucked me with your tits. You might have to wait a minute, you greedy woman.”
She nipped at his jaw. “I didn’t hear a no.”
“That’s because there isn’t one,” he said, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “But right now, you’ve left me with nothing to fight back with.” His smile turned wicked. “Which means it’s my turn to do whatever I want.”
Before she could retort, his hands tightened and he flipped her onto the mattress with a smooth, powerful motion. The world spun for a second, and then she was on her stomach. He hooked his hands under her hips, lifting her effortlessly onto her knees, her face pressed into the pillow, her ass in the air.
A shocked gasp was smothered by the fabric. “Y/n—!”
His response was to spread her open with his thumbs and lower his mouth to her in one devouring motion. The first hot, flat stroke of his tongue from her entrance to her clit stole the breath from her lungs. Her fingers clenched in the sheets, a ragged moan tearing from her throat as he began to eat her out with a focused, relentless hunger, his hands gripping the full curves of her ass to hold her steady.
It was too much, too good, after the week of absence and the frantic intimacy they’d just shared. The tension broke in a wave, her back arching, eyes rolling back as a low, continuous whine escaped her. He moaned against her, the vibration pushing her higher, his tongue circling and fucking her with a pace that felt like a claim.
A sharp, firm knock rattled the door.
They froze.
“Unnie?” It was Sana’s voice, bright and concerned. “Are you okay? I thought I heard a weird noise.”
Jeongyeon’s entire body went rigid. His mouth, however, did not stop. He lapped at her slowly, deliberately, as she trembled, fighting to control her breathing.
“I’m—ah—fine!” she called out, forcing her voice into a higher, lighter register. It sounded strangely normal, if a bit breathless. “Just… stubbed my toe! On the… suitcase.”
“Ouch! Okay, well, we saved you some chicken!”
“Thanks!” Jeongyeon squeaked, her body jolting as he deliberately sunk his tongue deep inside her.
The footsteps retreated. The moment the sound faded, she twisted her head, glaring back at him over her shoulder.
“Are you out of your mind?” she scolded in a furious whisper, her face flushed with panic and lingering pleasure.
He lifted his head, his chin glistening. He laughed, a low, unrepentant sound, and brought his hand down in a stinging, possessive slap on her ass.
“I am!” he said, and dove back between her legs before the echo of the slap had even faded.
The second slap was sharper, a bright punctuation mark on her flesh that made her gasp into the pillow. He didn’t let her recover. His tongue was a ruthless, devoted thing, tracing patterns she couldn’t think to decode. It speared into her, then flattened against her clit with a pressure that made her see sparks behind her eyelids.
“You… and your… slapping,” she managed to pant, each word fragmented by the rhythm he set. Her voice was a strained whisper, muffled by the fabric. “You’re so… lucky I like it.”
A low chuckle vibrated against her core. He lifted his head just enough to speak, his breath hot on her wet skin.
“I know I’m lucky,” he murmured. His thumb found her clit, replacing his tongue with a circular, insistent pressure, while his other hand stayed anchored on the curve of her ass, a firm, possessive weight. “Lucky every damn day.”
Then his mouth was on her again, his tongue driving into her with a deep, slow pulse as his thumb worked relentless circles. The dual sensation short-circuited her nerves. The world didn’t just go crazy, it dissolved into a white-hot singularity of feeling. The distant hum of Seoul, the ghost of Sana’s voice, her own stage-name, her insecurities—all of it burned away in the furnace of his mouth.
Her hips stuttered against his face, seeking more, seeking everything. A high, thin sound escaped her, trapped by the pillow. Her fingers tore at the sheets. The coil in her belly wound impossibly tight, a spring compressed to its breaking point.
He felt it, her trembling ascent. His grip on her ass tightened, holding her in place as he feasted. His rhythm became more intense, more focused, a silent command to let go.
It shattered her. The orgasm ripped through her with a violence that stole her breath, her vision whiting out. A raw, guttural cry was half-swallowed by the bed. Her body convulsed, waves of pleasure radiating out from her core, leaving her limbs weak and shaking. He rode it out with her, his movements gentling, prolonging the shocks until she collapsed forward, a boneless heap against the mattress.
He kissed the inside of her thigh, a soft benediction. She felt him move, the mattress shifting, and then his body was curling around hers, pulling her back against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, his skin damp with sweat. They lay there in the silence, breathing in ragged sync.
From the hallway, the distinct, cheerful melody of a TWICE ringtone played—Jihyo’s, probably. It faded as she answered it, her voice moving away down the hall.
The normalcy of it was almost absurd. Jeongyeon stared at the faint light under the door, her heart still hammering against her ribs. His lips found the sweat-damp skin of her shoulder.
“You okay?” he whispered, his voice rough.
She turned in his arms, facing him. In the deep shadows, she could just make out the satisfied curve of his mouth, the dark intensity of his eyes. She traced his lower lip with her finger.
She traced his lower lip with her finger. "I'm more than okay," she murmured. "I'm...perfect." The word felt foreign, but in his arms, after that, it felt true.
He caught her finger gently between his teeth, a playful glint in his eyes. "My perfect, noisy girlfriend," he whispered, the words vibrating against her skin. "I thought you were supposed to be the quiet one."
"Quiet is overrated," she breathed, shifting against him. Her body was still humming, sensitive and alive. She felt him stirring again, pressed against her thigh. A slow, satisfied smile touched her lips. "Someone's recovered fast."
He chuckled, a low, warm sound in the dark. "You have a very motivating effect." His hand slid down her side, over the dip of her waist, coming to rest on her hip. His thumb stroked the skin there, a simple, possessive touch. "But you're tired. We should probably stop."
He was teasing her. She could hear it in his voice, see it in the way his eyes didn't leave hers. He was giving her an out, a gracious retreat, and they both knew she wouldn't take it.
Jeongyeon’s smile widened. She knew this game. She pushed against his shoulder, rolling him onto his back, and swung a leg over to straddle him again. The lavender scent from her sheets mixed with the spicy, intimate smell of their bodies. "You don't get to decide when we stop," she said, leaning down so her hair curtained their faces. "I decide."
"But your members—"
"Are eating chicken and watching dramas," she finished, silencing him with a quick, biting kiss. "And I'm not done with you."
In one fluid motion, his hands hooked under her knees and he flipped her onto her back. The breath left her lungs in a soft oof. Before she could react, he had her legs up, her calves resting on his shoulders, her body open and utterly vulnerable to him. The position was intimate, exposing, a little demanding. Her heart slammed against her ribs.
He leaned over her, bracing himself on his arms, his face inches from hers. The distant skyline glow painted the sweat on his temple. "You're right," he said, his voice dropping to a serious, gravelly tone that belied the playful set-up. "We shouldn't stop now."
Jeongyeon looked up at him, at the focused intensity in his gaze, and a thrill shot through her. She knew what was coming next. Her body already tightened in anticipation. She reached up, her hand curling behind his neck, pulling him down closer.
"Then stop talking," she whispered, her voice husky and direct. "And give me your big cock."
He didn't need to be told twice. He adjusted his hips, the head of him nudging against her, slick and hot from her earlier release. He pushed in, not with a slow tease, but with a single, deep, claiming stroke that filled her completely.
A sharp, punched-out moan escaped her lips, raw and unfiltered. Her back arched off the mattress, her nails digging into his shoulders. He set a punishing rhythm immediately, each thrust a deep, deliberate piston stroke that jolted her whole body. The force made her breasts bounce, a steady, rhythmic dance in the shadowy light.
"Y/n—ah! God—!" The sounds were ripped from her, uncontrolled, a desperate litany.
He lowered his face, his breath hot against her ear. "Shhh," he teased, though his own voice was strained with effort. "You're gonna bring the whole dorm in here. Everyone will want to know why you're singing a new song."
She gasped, laughter and pleasure mixing into a choked sound. She grabbed his wrist where his hand was planted beside her head. Her grip was tight, insistent. Her eyes found his, blazing in the dark.
"Just fuck me harder," she demanded, the words a strained whisper.
A grin touched his lips. He obeyed. His hips snapped forward with renewed force, a deeper, more urgent pace that drove the air from her lungs. The bedframe gave a soft, rhythmic creak in protest against the wall. Each impact sent a shockwave through her, a blinding, perfect fullness that stretched and burned and soothed all at once.
Her moans became continuous, a low, keening sound she buried against his shoulder. "It feels... so amazing," she panted, the confession ragged and honest. "Your cock... it feels so big inside of me."
He groaned, the sound torn from deep within his chest. His rhythm faltered for a second, overcome by her words, before he drove into her again, even deeper, as if trying to weld them together. The world outside the door, the career, the cameras, the weight of expectation—it all dissolved into the sweat-slicked heat between them, into the raw, physical truth of his body moving inside hers.
The world outside the door, the career, the cameras, the weight of expectation—it all dissolved into the sweat-slicked heat between them, into the raw, physical truth of his body moving inside hers. His thrusts were a perfect, punishing rhythm, a deep piston stroke that connected with something fundamental in her core. She was making sounds she didn’t recognize, high and breathy, her heels digging into the small of his back to pull him even deeper.
“You feel—” he gasped, his forehead slick against hers, “—you feel like heaven, Jeongyeon. Every damn time.”
“Then don’t stop,” she pleaded, her voice fractured. Her hands clutched at his back, feeling the muscles flex and roll under his skin. “Don’t you dare stop.”
He drove into her harder, faster, the force of it sliding her up the mattress until her head nearly bumped the headboard. The scent of them, of sex and lavender sheets, filled the air, thick and heady. His control was slipping; she could see it in the clenched set of his jaw, the wildness creeping into his eyes. She loved this part—the moment he came utterly undone because of her.
His rhythm grew frantic, each snap of his hips more urgent than the last. A shudder ran through him, a precursor. He was trying to hold on, to make it last, but she tightened around him deliberately, milking him, and he broke.
“Oh, fuck—Mommy—”
The word hung in the air, sharp and sudden as a slap.
He froze. Deep inside her, his body went utterly still. For a beat, there was only the hum of the air conditioner and the distant, tinny laugh track from a variety show playing in the common area.
Jeongyeon’s eyes, glazed with pleasure, snapped into focus. They widened. A slow, incredulous smile began to stretch across her swollen lips.
Beneath her, Y/n’s face underwent a rapid, horrifying transformation. The pleasure shattered into wide-eyed panic, then flushed into a deep, crimson blush that spread from his chest all the way to the tips of his ears. He tried to pull back, to stammer an exit from the word that had just escaped.
“I—Jeongyeon—I didn’t—that’s not what I—” The sentences were crumbling in his mouth. “I meant—you’re just—fuck, I’m sorry.”
Jeongyeon’s smile transformed into a full, wicked grin. She relaxed her body beneath him, her grip on his back softening from a clutch to a gentle stroke.
“Sorry?” she echoed, her voice a low, playful purr. “What exactly are you sorry for, baby?”
He groaned, dropping his forehead to her shoulder to hide his face. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” she whispered, her lips brushing his ear. Her hips gave a slow, deliberate roll beneath him, reminding him he was still buried inside her. “Don’t tease you about it? But it just slipped out so naturally.” She dragged a fingernail lightly up his spine. “Y/n. Look at me.”
Reluctantly, he lifted his head. His expression was one of pure, flustered agony. “It was a stupid brain glitch.”
“A glitch,” she repeated, nodding slowly, her eyes dancing with amusement. She cupped his burning cheek. “Your brain just shorts out and calls me ‘Mommy’ in the middle of sex. That’s a pretty specific glitch.”
“It’s not a thing,” he insisted, his voice tight with embarrassment. He tried to shift, to withdraw, but she locked her ankles behind his back, holding him in place.
“Isn’t it?” Her tone was light, conversational, even as her internal muscles gave him a slow, possessive squeeze. “You seemed pretty into it a second ago. Before you… malfunctioned.”
He let out a strangled sound, part laugh, part groan. “You’re the worst. I can’t believe you.”
“I can’t believe you,” she shot back, her grin unrepentant. “My big, strong boyfriend. Who wants to call me Mommy.” She said the word deliberately, watching his eyelids flutter. “Admit it. You liked it.”
“No.”
“You did.”
“Jeongyeon, stop.” His protest was weaker now, his hips giving an involuntary, shallow thrust.
“Make me,” she challenged, her voice dropping to a husky whisper. She brought her mouth right to his ear. “Or just tell me the truth. You thought it was hot.”
He was silent for a long moment, his breath coming in ragged pulls. The blush hadn’t faded. He finally nodded, the movement tiny, almost imperceptible against her cheek.
“Yeah,” he breathed, the word a raw scrape of sound. “It was. A little. Shut up.”
Jeongyeon’s laughter was a soft, triumphant puff of air. She slid her hands into his hair, pulling his face back so she could see his eyes. The embarrassment was still there, but underneath it swam a dark, admitted hunger. “My good boy,” she murmured, testing the words.
He shuddered, a full-body tremor that rippled through him and into her. A low moan escaped him.
Encouraged, she leaned up and kissed him, slow and deep. When she pulled back, her expression was all playful command.
“Then stop being shy about it,” she whispered. “And fuck your mommy properly.”
The was it. With a growl that was equal parts surrender and desire, he captured her mouth, his earlier rhythm returning with a new, unleashed fervor. It was deeper, more possessive, each thrust punctuated by his ragged breath against her skin.
“Is this what you want?” he gritted out, his voice thick.
“Yes,” she gasped, arching to meet him. “Just like that. Don’t hold back.”
He didn’t. The creak of the bedframe became a persistent, rhythmic complaint against the wall. He was everywhere, his hands, his mouth, his body claiming her with a focused intensity that left no room for anything else. The earlier tease had melted away, replaced by a consuming, honest heat.
“My good boy,” she moaned again, the title now a provocation and a reward.
He drove into her, his composure shattered, his release building not with gentle waves but with the force of a dam giving way. She clung to him, her own climax coiling tight, triggered by the sheer, unabashed hunger in his movements and the power of the role she’d stepped into. It was a different kind of control, dizzying and sweet.
His rhythm shattered into frantic, shallow thrusts. “Jeongyeon—Mommy—I’m gonna—”
“Do it,” she commanded, her voice breaking. “Come for me.”
He did, with a choked, gasping cry he muffled desperately against her neck, his body convulsing as he emptied himself deep inside her. The intensity of his finish tipped her over the edge a moment later, a sharp, clenching wave that pulled a silent scream from her throat, her body bowing against his.
They collapsed together, a tangled, breathless heap of spent limbs. The only sound was their ragged breathing slowly synching, then slowing. The variety show laugh track blared again from the other room, a bizarre soundtrack to their exhaustion.
After a long while, he shifted his weight off her, pulling her into his side. His fingers traced idle, shaky patterns on her damp shoulder. The blush had faded, leaving a soft, sated expression in its wake.
“You,” he said quietly, “are never going to let me live that down, are you?”
Jeongyeon turned her head, nuzzling into the hollow of his throat. She could feel the steady, slowing beat of his heart under her lips. A smile touched her mouth.
“Not a chance,” she whispered. “My good boy.”
The stillness after was a tangible thing, a warm, heavy blanket of its own. Jeongyeon lay sprawled across Y/n’s chest, listening to the frantic gallop of his heart gradually slow into a steady, comforting rhythm. Her own skin was slick with sweat, cooling now in the dorm’s air-conditioned chill. The scent of sex and lavender was overwhelming, a private signature in the air.
His fingers trailed lazy, mindless patterns from her shoulder blade to the base of her spine.
“My good boy,” she murmured into his skin, the words a sleepy, satisfied taunt.
A low groan vibrated through his chest. “You’re never going to stop, are you?”
“Not as long as it makes you blush like that,” she said, propping her chin on his sternum to look at him. His face was still faintly pink. She grinned. “It’s cute. My big, strong, blushing boy.”
“I regret calling you that,” he muttered, but his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer. He reached down, fumbling beside the bed without looking, and snagged the rumpled duvet.
With a grunt, he hauled it up and over them both, creating a warm, dark cave. The world narrowed to the space under the blanket, to the feeling of his skin against hers, the cotton soft and familiar against her back.
She giggled, snuggling into his side. The teasing was a comfort, a way to metabolize the startling vulnerability of what had just happened. “Don’t regret it. It was hot. And you liked it.” She drew a circle on his chest. “Admit you liked it.”
“I liked the part where you came twice,” he deflected, his voice a sleepy rumble.
“Cheeky.” She pinched his side, making him jump. “That’s because my good boy knows exactly what I—”
The door clicked.
Not a knock. Not a rattle. The distinct, metallic sound of the handle turning, followed by the soft sigh of the door swinging inward on its hinges.
Time didn’t slow down. It snapped.
They jerked apart under the covers as if electrocuted. Jeongyeon’s heart, so calm a second before, launched itself into her throat. In a single, panicked motion, they both scrambled to yank the duvet up to their chins, their fingers tangling in the fabric, gripping it like a lifeline. The blanket tented over their heads, a flimsy shield.
Golden afternoon light from the hall spilled into the dim room, silhouetting the figure in the doorway.
It was Sana.
She stood frozen, one hand still on the doorknob, her head tilted in curious confusion that rapidly morphed into wide-eyed, dawning comprehension. Her gaze swept from the two panic-stricken shapes under the blanket, to the trail of discarded clothes leading from the door to the bed, to the general state of chaotic intimacy that hung in the air.
Jeongyeon’s brain emptied of everything except pure, ice-cold terror. She twisted under the covers, her voice a seething, venomous whisper aimed at Y/n.
“You didn’t lock the door?!”
He recoiled as if slapped, his own whisper frayed with panic. “I thought you locked it! After she knocked earlier!”
“Well i thought you did while we were making out!”
“That was hours ago! You were the last one by the door!”
Their hissed argument lasted only three seconds, a frantic back-and-forth under their cotton fortress. When Jeongyeon whipped her head back towards the doorway, Sana’s expression had settled into something else entirely. The shock was gone, replaced by a slowly spreading, utterly delighted smirk. Her eyes sparkled with mischievous glee.
“Sana-yah,” Jeongyeon breathed, her voice switching to a desperate, placating tone. She tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “It’s not… listen, you can’t—don’t tell anyone, okay? Please. Just… close the door. We can talk later.”
Sana’s smirk widened. She took a single, deliberate step into the room, her eyes scanning the scene once more, cataloging every damning detail. She opened her mouth.
“Sana, I’m serious,” Jeongyeon pleaded, her knuckles white on the blanket. “Not a word.”
For a heartbeat, Sana just looked at them, her face a masterpiece of performative thoughtfulness. She tapped her chin. Then, the mischief won. The smirk exploded into a radiant, uncontainable grin.
“Okay!” Sana chirped, her voice suddenly, horrifyingly loud. “My lips are sealed!”
Then she spun on her heel.
She didn’t close the door.
She sprinted into the hallway, her footsteps a rapid-fire percussion on the wooden floor. Her voice, bright as a trumpet and echoing off the walls, rang out through the entire dorm.
“EVERYONE! COME QUICK! JEONGYEON-UNNIE SNUCK A HOT GUY INTO HER ROOM AND THEY’RE IN BED TOGETHER AND THEY’RE NAKED!”
The shout hung in the air, a tangible, devastating bomb blast.
Under the blanket, Jeongyeon and Y/n stared at each other in utter, paralyzed horror. The distant, cozy sounds of the dorm—the laugh track from the TV, the clatter of plates—died instantly.
Then came the thunder.
A stampede of footsteps, from every direction, converging on the hallway. Dahyun’s high-pitched,
“WHAT?!” Mina’s soft, shocked, “Sana, are you sure?” The rapid, approaching thud of someone running.
From under their thin blanket shield, they saw shadows crowd the now-open doorway.
Jeongyeon closed her eyes, a low, mortified groan escaping her lips. The warm, secret world of five minutes ago was gone, shattered by Sana’s triumphant yell. All that was left was the cold exposure, the gathering storm of eight incredibly curious, unstoppable women just outside, and the frantic, hammering of two hearts trapped in a bed.
The stampede hit the doorway all at once.
First came Dahyun and Tzuyu, their eyes wide as satellite dishes, followed by Mina whose hands flew to her mouth. Chaeyoung shoved her way between them, eyebrows skyrocketing. Nayeon materialized behind them, arms crossed, looking equal parts scandalized and deeply invested. Momo and Jihyo filled the remaining space, their expressions shifting from confusion to slack-jawed comprehension as they took in the rumpled bed, the discarded clothes, and the two human-shaped lumps under the duvet.
A deafening silence descended, thick enough to choke on.
Jeongyeon slowly, painfully, pulled the duvet down just enough to reveal her face. Her hair was a wild mess, her cheeks flushed a deep, mortified crimson. She stared at the semicircle of her members—her family, her coworkers, her judges—and felt the last shred of her privacy evaporate.
She lifted a hand and rubbed her temple, a slow, circular motion of pure, aching defeat.
Beside her, Y/n made a small, trapped sound. He inched the duvet down next, revealing just his eyes and forehead before pulling down more and just covering his lower half. He took in the eight staring women, the unblinking wall of shock and curiosity.
With a visible gulp, he raised a hand from under the covers and offered a tiny, terribly shy, and embarrassed wave.
The spell broke.
Chaeyoung let out a low, appreciative whistle. “Damn, unnie,” she said, her voice flat with genuine surprise. “He is hot.”
A burst of laughter, nervous and incredulous, erupted from the group. Nayeon’s stern facade cracked into a grin. Dahyun started giggling uncontrollably.
Dahyun’s giggling cut through the tension like a knife, sharp and uncontrollable. It sparked a chain reaction, snickers escaping from Tzuyu and Chaeyoung, who immediately clapped her hands over her mouth. The initial shock in the doorway melted into a chaotic blend of disbelief and buzzing curiosity.
Y/n, his face burning a shade of red Jeongyeon had never seen, finally found his voice.
“I—I should really head home,” he stammered, his words tumbling out in a rushed, flustered heap. He made a aborted move to get up, remembered the state of undress, and clutched the duvet tighter to his chest. “It’s getting late, and this is… you all need to talk, and I’m just—”
“Sit down.”
Jihyo’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was a clear, calm command that sliced through the room. She stepped fully inside, her managerial poise locking into place despite the pink tinge on her own cheeks. Her gaze was firm but not unkind, flicking between Jeongyeon’s terrified eyes and Y/n’s panicked ones.
“You’re not going anywhere until we figure this out,” she stated, crossing her arms. “This involves you too. So stay.”
He sank back onto the mattress, the fight draining out of him. Jeongyeon felt his leg brush hers under the covers, a tiny point of contact that felt both grounding and terribly exposed.
Jihyo turned her focus to Jeongyeon, her expression softening by a fraction. “Okay. Explain.”
Jeongyeon let out a long, shuddering sigh that seemed to come from the very bottom of her soul. She closed her eyes for a second, gathering the scattered pieces of her courage. When she opened them, she looked not at Jihyo, but at her hands, clenched in the fabric on her lap.
“His name is Y/n,” she began, her voice surprisingly steady, though quiet. “We’ve been together for almost a year.” She swallowed, glancing at him. “I met him after a fansign. He wasn’t a fan. Just… a person. Who saw me.”
She told them everything, the words coming easier now, spilling out in a quiet, relentless stream. The secret meetings, the hidden phone calls, the way he made her forget the cameras and the choreography and the constant, gnawing worry about her body.
“He looks at me,” she whispered, “and I don’t feel like Jeongyeon of TWICE. I just feel like me. And he loves that me.” She finally looked up, her eyes glistening. “We really love each other.”
Silence followed, thick and heavy. Nayeon’s playful smirk had vanished. Mina was nodding slightly, her expression gentle. Dahyun had stopped giggling.
A warm, genuine smile spread across Jihyo’s face. She stepped forward and sat on the very edge of the bed, reaching out to squeeze Jeongyeon’s hand where it gripped the duvet.
“We’re not mad at you for keeping a secret,” she said, her voice soft but clear for everyone to hear. “We’re glad. We’re just… surprised. But we’re glad you found someone.”
The collective release of breath in the room was audible. Tzuyu smiled shyly. Momo nodded, offering a small thumbs-up.
Y/n’s shoulders slumped in visible relief, a blush of gratitude coloring his cheeks. He dared a small, tentative smile back at Jihyo.
That’s when Sana, who had been vibrating with suppressed energy in the corner, could hold it in no longer. A triumphant, gleeful spark lit her eyes.
“Also,” she announced, sing-song, her finger pointing between the two on the bed. “Just before I opened the door, I heard something very interesting through the wall.”
Jeongyeon’s blood ran cold. “Sana, don’t you dare—”
“Jeongyeon-unnie was teasing him,” Sana barreled on, her voice dripping with delight, “for calling her ‘mommy’!” She paused for maximum effect, watching the room’s eyes widen. “And she called him her ‘good boy’!”
The dam broke completely.The room erupted. Dahyun shrieked with laughter, doubling over. Chaeyoung howled, slapping her thigh. Nayeon let out a cackle so loud it echoed. Even Mina covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking silently. Jihyo bit her lip, trying and failing to hold back a smile.
Y/n made a sound like a deflating balloon. The grateful blush on his face transformed into a furnace of pure, unadulterated humiliation. He stared at the ceiling as if praying for it to swallow him whole.
“Okay, that’s—I need—bathroom,” he mumbled, his voice strangled. In one frantic motion, he located his shirt, yanked it from the floor, and held it up as a shield as he scrambled out of the bed. He kept his back to the room, hastily pulling it on, the fabric inside-out and backwards. “Excuse me. I just. Need a minute.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He just fled, nearly tripping over a discarded pillow in his haste to escape into the connected bathroom. The soft click of the lock echoed in the laughter-filled room.
“Yah!” Jeongyeon shrieked, throwing a pillow at Sana, who dodged it with a giggle. “Are you insane? You can’t just say things like that! You’re going to murder him with embarrassment!” She glared at all of them, though the heat was diminished by her own flaming cheeks. “Stop it! All of you, stop teasing him right now!”
The laughter slowly subsided into amused chuckles and shared looks. They all knew the line, and for now, they’d crossed it enough.
As the room settled, Nayeon leaned against the doorframe, a new, different kind of curiosity in her eyes. Her gaze was sharp, appraising, and utterly without mercy. She waited until the bathroom sink could be heard running, muffling any sound.
She tilted her head, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial, blunt whisper. “Okay. But seriously, Jeongyeon-ah.”
Jeongyeon, still scowling at Sana, turned to her. “What?”
Nayeon’s eyes glinted. “How good was he, though?” she asked, her tone flat and deeply interested. “Like, details. We need details.”
A fresh wave of scandalized giggles rippled through the members. Jeongyeon opened her mouth to deliver another scolding, her manager-mode face snapping into place. But then she stopped. Her eyes flicked toward the closed bathroom door, listening to the steady run of the water.
A slow, secret smile touched her lips. She bit the lower one, trying and failing to suppress it. She looked back at the circle of her friends, their faces eager and full of a love that, even now, felt overwhelmingly safe.
She leaned forward, beckoning them closer with a curl of her finger. The group huddled in, a tight knot of conspiracy at the foot of the bed.
“Okay fine,” Jeongyeon whispered, her voice a low, thrilled confession. “So, first of all…”
~~~
Not much people show Jeongyeon love! Like really?! This has been on replay for days😍
(Taking requests again! Sorry for the sudden MIA😭)
Han Y/n had always been the boy everyone noticed—not because he was the loudest, but because no one could avoid seeing him sprinting after one person in particular: Yu Jimin, better known as Karina.
Since elementary school, he followed her like a sunflower follows sunlight. He carried extra snacks for her, walked her home even when she said she didn’t need him to, and would show up at every recital or school event just because she was there. Karina always found him annoying—persistent to a fault, too kind, too bright.
And yet… she got used to it.
⸻
— 🌙 Then One Day… He Stopped
It wasn’t sudden. It was quiet.
He still greeted her with a smile. Still said “Good morning, Karina,” when he passed by her desk. But he no longer waited for her after school. He no longer brought her favorite strawberry bread. He no longer ran after her when she walked away.
Instead, he sat with his friends. Laughed more freely. Started staying behind at the gym after classes.
He was calm now. Still warm, still bright—but no longer orbiting around her. Karina didn’t understand why her chest felt weird.
⸻
— 🌾 The Conversation
One afternoon, she finally caved in. “Hey… can I talk to you?”
Y/n glanced up from tying his shoelaces in the gym hallway. He smiled—gentle, easy. “Yeah?”
Karina hesitated. “Are you… mad at me? For always rejecting you?”
Y/n blinked, surprised. Then he chuckled softly. “Mad? No. I’m not mad.” He stood up, slinging his sports bag over his shoulder. “I just… don’t feel like following you around every day anymore,” he said simply. No bitterness. No guilt. Just honesty.
Karina’s lips parted, but no words came out. “O-Oh… Okay.”
Y/n nodded, smiling again—genuine, not forced. “I made it on the basketball team. You should come watch our games sometime.”
And just like that, he walked past her—calm, confident, not waiting for her reaction. She stood there long after he was gone.
⸻
— 🌧️ Something Felt Wrong
Days passed. He still smiled at her, still talked to her if she talked first—but he didn’t try anymore. Didn’t chase. Didn’t cling. And the space he used to fill beside her felt… empty.
Karina found herself glancing at the gym after school. Peeking into the cafeteria to see where he sat. Listening unconsciously for his voice in the hallways. Why did everything feel too quiet without him?
⸻
— 🔥 The First Spark of Jealousy
One afternoon, on her way to class, she stopped.
There he was. Han Y/n. Leaning against the railing near the courtyard, laughing softly while talking to a girl from his class.
He wasn’t flirting. He wasn’t touching her. Just talking, polite and friendly—like he did with everyone. But Karina’s chest tightened.
Why was he smiling like that? Why was she making him smile like that? She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. For the first time… she missed the way he used to look at her.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
I didn’t understand why my feet lead me to the gym that day. I stood by the doorway, watching as Y/n threw a ball into the air, sweat on his forehead, laughter on his lips as his teammates cheered. It was the same smile I used to see when he’d spot me in the hallway.
But now, it wasn’t for me. When practice ended, a girl from his class—Minji—walked up with a bottle of water.
“Good job today,” the girl said shyly.
My eyebrows twitched.
Y/n smiled, scratching his neck. “Thanks.”
I felt something unfamiliar crawl into my chest. It was tight. Warm. Annoying.
Why does she get to talk to him like that?
Why does he smile like that… at her?
I scoffed under my breath and walked away before he could notice.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV
I didn’t notice Karina standing there. I didn’t look for her anymore. I stopped myself from hoping. Things were simpler that way.
Minji handed me water and I thanked her. Just being polite—because that’s how I was. But something in the atmosphere shifted, and I turned instinctively toward the gym door…
Empty.
I sighed.
Why am I even looking?
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – At Lunch
I sat with my friends, pretending to listen to their gossip. But my eyes kept drifting—pulling, against my will—to a table across the cafeteria.
To him.
Han Y/n, laughing with his teammates. Not loud, not obnoxious. Just… effortlessly happy.
Then it happened.
A girl sat beside him, playfully tugged at his sleeve, complaining about homework. He leaned slightly closer to hear her.
Something snapped inside me.
“What are you staring at?” Giselle asked.
I nearly flinched. “N-Nothing.”
My spoon stirred my soup aggressively.
Why do I care? He’s just… Han Y/n. The annoying guy who—who used to follow me everywhere. Who’s not supposed to smile at someone else like that.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – The Hallway
I walked down the hallway, headphones on, a peaceful expression on my face.
Then someone tapped my shoulder.
Karina.
I paused, pulling one earbud out. “Hey.”
She shifted her weight, arms crossed. “Do you always… smile like that when girls talk to you now?”
“No!” she snapped, then softer, “I just—forget it.”
I offered that same gentle smile. “Okay. But if something’s bothering you, you can tell me.”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
My heart squeezed. Stop being so kind. It’s annoying… but I miss it.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – On the Way Home
Her words echoed in my head.
- Do you always smile like that at girls now?
I didn’t understand her anymore.
Why does she care? She told me to stop. She wanted space… And now that I’m giving it, she looks at me like I’m the one being unfair.
I rubbed the back of my neck and exhaled.
“Just because I stopped chasing doesn’t mean I stopped feeling.”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – Night
Lying in bed, I stared at her ceiling.
My phone lit up with a new message from a friend. I ignored it. Because all I could think about was him. The boy who used to run after me like I was the sun itself.
The boy who now looked at the world… instead of just me.
I sighed, whispering into the dark:
“Why does it hurt… when he smiles at someone else?”
⸻
— 🌙 — Music Room.
I sat in the practice room after school, earbuds in, pretending to study my sheet music.
But outside the glass window, I could see the basketball court.
I told myself that I wasn’t watching him—more like… glancing in his general direction frequently.
I saw him laughing again, this time helping Minji fix her shoelace during warmup.
Minjeong’s pen snapped in my hand.
Minjeong blinked. “Uhh… Karina? That was a limited edition pen—”
I stood abruptly. “They shouldn’t make them so weak.”
But my eyes never left Y/n.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – After Practice
While grabbing my bag, I spotted her.
Karina.
Leaning on the railing outside the court, pretending to scroll on her phone… but every few seconds, her eyes would dart towards mine.
The Karina I knew—cold, composed, unbothered by the world—wouldn’t have done that.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
Strange… why does she look annoyed?
Minji walked up beside me. “You heading to class?”
Karina’s gaze instantly sharpened.
I followed her line of sight, then blinked.
…Is she glare—no way. At Minji?
⸻
— 🍂 She Messes Up Because of Him
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – In Class
It was my turn to do a presentation. I stood at the front, posture perfect, voice steady. I never messed up presentations. Ever.
Until I saw him walk in late.
Han Y/n.
Still in his basketball jacket. Hair slightly damp. Smiling—breathless and soft—as he whispered an apology to the teacher before taking a seat.
My brain blanked.
I stared at the class. Silence stretched.
Someone coughed.
What was I saying?
My cheeks heated up. I looked at Y/n—who was staring back, eyebrows slightly raised in concern.
I cleared her throat. “S-Sorry, I… lost my place.”
My friends exchanged shocked looks.
I never mess up.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV
I watched as Karina stumbled over her words again. I tilted my head. She’s nervous? Karina? She avoided my eyes the rest of the presentation.
When it ended, she nearly rushed back to her seat, face slightly flushed.
Her friend whispered something and nodded toward me.
Karina glared at her friend and hissed, “I’m not looking at him!”
I heard that.
My lips pressed together in a confused smile.
She’s acting… weirdly.
⸻
— 🌫 Another Jealous Moment
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – After School
I was walking down the hall when I spotted him again.
Y/n was helping another girl carry paint buckets for the art club. He was laughing as paint splattered on his wrist.
I frowned.
Then the girl grabbed a napkin and wiped the paint off his hand—too gently. Too comfortably.
I didn’t think.
I marched over.
“Y/n.” My voice was sharper than she intended.
He blinked. “Oh. Hey.”
I ignored the girl completely. “Can I talk to you?”
His eyebrows lifted—surprised. “Uh, sure?”
The girl pouted slightly at the interruption.
My eyes narrowed at her before turning away.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – In The Empty Hallway
I followed her into the hallway.
I leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “What’s up?”
Karina looked… restless. Annoyed. But also… nervous?
“Do you…” She hesitated. “Do you like her?”
“Like who?”
“The art girl.”
I blinked once.
Then twice.
A slow smile tugged at the corner of my lips. “So you were watching.”
Karina’s ears turned red. “A-Answer the question.”
“No,” l said simply, amusement lacing my tone. “She just needed help.”
Karina muttered, “You… help a lot of girls lately.”
I raised a brow. “Is that a problem?”
Karina looked away. “No. It’s just—”
I leaned forward slightly, eyes soft.
“Karina… why do you care?”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – Hallway
My throat went dry.
“Karina… why do you care?”
His voice was gentle—not mocking, not accusing. Just… searching.
I stepped back. “I don’t.”
He tilted his head, unconvinced. “You don’t?”
“No.” I avoided his eyes. “I just think you’re… careless with your attention, that’s all.”
He smiled faintly. “So you don’t care if I like someone else?”
My heart thumped painfully.
“No.”
“You don’t care if I start dating someone?”
My chest squeezed.
“Of course not.”
He nodded slowly. “Alright then.”
But his eyes… they looked a little sad. Like he expected that answer. Like he was finally letting go.
I hated how that made me feel.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Walking Away
I didn’t push further.
What was the point?
She said she didn’t care. I had to respect that… even if something in her eyes suggested otherwise.
I flashed a small smile. “Thanks for worrying, if you were.”
Karina opened her mouth, but I was already walking away.
Her hand lifted slightly—like she wanted to reach out.
But she didn’t.
And I didn’t turn back.
⸻
— 🏀 The Basketball Game
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
I told herself I wouldn’t go.
Then I found herself sitting at the back of the bleachers, hood over my head, heart beating too fast.
He didn’t know I was here.
No one did.
I saw him on the court—focused, determined, sweat glistening on his forehead. The crowd cheered his name when he scored.
Since when did everyone love him this much?
My chest swelled with something I couldn’t name.
Then—everything changed.
⸻
— 🏀 The Fall
Midway through the second half, Y/n sprinted across the court, went for a layup—
—and a player from the opposing team shoved him mid-air.
His body twisted.
He hit the floor. Hard.
The noise of his body slamming echoed across the gym.
Gasps.
Referee’s whistle.
Everything muted in my ears.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – Panic
I stood up so fast, my seat thumped back.
“Y/n!” My voice came out louder than I expected.
Players rushed to him. The crowd murmured.
He held his wrist, jaw clenched, eyes shut tight.
Without thinking—I ran down the bleachers.
My friends yelled after me, but I didn’t hear.
I pushed through the circle of players and knelt beside him.
His eyes opened weakly. “Karina…?”
I swallowed, hands shaking. “Does it hurt?”
He chuckled weakly. “Little bit.”
Tears burned behind my eyes.
“Don’t laugh! You— You idiot, why didn’t you brace yourself?!”
He blinked at me. I was… crying?
“Karina—”
“No!” I snapped, grabbing his hand. “Don’t—don’t scare me like that again.”
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Realization
She was holding my hand.
Her eyes looked scared… angry… but mostly scared.
I didn’t move. I didn’t speak.
I just stared at her.
“Karina,” I said softly, “why are you crying?”
“I’m not!” she said, wiping her cheeks roughly.
I smiled faintly. “You are.” She glared at me—but her grip on my hand didn’t loosen. “Why do you care so much?” I asked again—soft, almost a whisper.
Karina’s lips parted.
Her voice trembled. “Because… I—”
But before she could finish, the coach and team staff arrived.
Someone pulled her gently aside.
But me? Even while being lifted up, injured wrist cradled—
I was smiling.
Because now… I finally knew.
She cared.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
The nurse’s office smelled faintly of antiseptic and warm tea.
Y/n sat on the bed, wrist wrapped in ice, winced slightly each time he moved. The coach had left. The nurse went to get bandages.
But I was still there.
Sitting on the chair beside his bed. Arms crossed. Legs bouncing nervously.
I wouldn’t look at him.
I couldn’t.
Y/n glanced at me, lips tugged into a small smile.
“You know…” he said softly. “You don’t have to stay.”
I rolled her eyes, voice sharp but shaky.
“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just… making sure you don’t pass out and hit your head again.”
“I never hit my head.”
“You could’ve.”
He chuckled. “So you’re worried.”
“I’m not worried,” I snapped quickly.
His smile widened slightly. “…Hm.”
“Stop ‘hm’-ing me.”
“Okay.”
Silence.
Then—he turned his head toward me again, eyes playful despite the bandages.
“Karina.”
“What?”
“Can you hand me my phone? It’s on the table.”
I stood up, grabbed it, handed it to him.
He didn’t take it.
I frowned. “What are you—?”
He tilted his head slightly. “Both my hands kinda hurt right now… Will you… hold it up for me?”
My eye twitched.
Oh, so he wanted to die today.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV
She was glaring at me, but she still held my phone up in front of my face.
I grinned.
“Can you unlock it? Password is 0423.”
Karina hesitated. “Why… would you tell me your password?”
“Because I trust you?”
She glared harder, cheeks a little pink. “You’re annoying.”
But she typed it anyway.
I leaned forward slightly. “Can you—scroll up a little? My messages are there.”
“You know,” she muttered, “I didn’t sign up to be your personal assistant.”
“But you’re doing a great job.”
“Han Y/n—”
“Hmm?”
“Shut up.”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – The Slip-Up
He was smiling at me.
Even bandaged, injured, barely able to move his wrist—he was still smiling.
Soft. Like he was seeing something he liked.
I looked away quickly. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
He blinked. “Like what?”
“Like I’m… I don’t know. A painting.”
He laughed quietly. “Maybe you are.”
My cheeks flushed. “Y-Yah—don’t say stupid things.”
He leaned back. “You know… this is the first time you came to one of my games.”
I froze.
He smiled. “Thank you.”
“I— I wasn’t there for you,” I stammered. “I was just—passing by.”
“In the last row of bleachers?”
I glared. “I hate you.”
He chuckled softly. “You say that a lot lately. But… your eyes say something else.”
My chest tightened.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Gentle Teasing
I watched her.
Arms crossed. Face red. Sitting in a plastic chair like it offended her existence.
But she didn’t leave.
Not when the nurse came back. Not when the coach told her she could go. Not even when her friends peeked through the window.
She stayed.
I lifted my uninjured hand slightly.
“Karina.”
She looked at me.
“Thank you… for staying.”
Karina swallowed hard, looked away.
“D-Don’t misunderstand. I’m only here because if you die or something, people might think it’s my fault.”
I laughed. “Right. Totally logical.”
She huffed. “Good.”
A small silence… and then:
“Karina.”
“What now?”
“You’re still holding my phone.”
She looked down—realizing she was still holding it—gripped tightly.
Her face turned crimson.
She shoved it into my lap.
“S-Shut up and go to sleep.”
I chuckled. “Yes, ma’am.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – The First Visit
Y/n wasn’t at school for two days.
His wrist was sprained worse than expected. He stayed home to rest.
I told herself it wasn’t a big deal. That it was quiet. Peaceful. Normal.
…So why did the hallways feel emptier? Why was no one annoying me during lunch?
Why did I have an extra lunchbox in her bag?
After school, I stood in front of his house for ten full minutes before knocking.
Y/n opened the door, arm in a sling.
He blinked in surprise. “…Karina?”
I looked away immediately. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I just—um—your classmates asked me to bring you notes.”
He tilted his head. “My classmates?”
“…Yes.”
“Who?”
“…People.”
He tried not to smile. “Right.”
I shoved the notebook into his chest. “Also… I had extra food. If you don’t want it, throw it away.”
He peeked inside the lunch bag.
It was still warm.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Soft Teasing
She stood in my room awkwardly while I sat on the edge of the bed, opening the lunchbox.
Kimchi fried rice. Rolled omelette. Cut fruit.
I smiled. “You made all this?”
Karina froze. “N-No! My mom did.”
I took a bite. “Your mom writes your initials on rice with seaweed?”
Karina almost choked. “Eat faster so I can leave.”
I grinned. “You can sit, you know.”
“I’d rather stand.”
I patted the chair next to my bed. “Suit yourself.”
…
She sat.
⸻
— 🔥 Someone Else Confesses!
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Back at School
A week later, I returned to school.
I walked into class. Everyone cheered. A few classmates asked if I was okay. Minji, the girl from earlier, approached me with a shy smile.
“Y/n, can I talk to you after school? …I want to tell you something.”
I blinked. “Uh, sure.”
Karina, from her seat, froze mid-bite of her bread.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – After School
I told herself I wouldn’t follow him.
I told herself I was just going the same way.
Y/n stood near the school gates, waiting.
Minji walked up to him, fingers nervously fidgeting. “Han Y/n… I like you. Will you go out with me?”
I stopped walking.
My heart dropped.
Y/n looked surprised. Kind. Gentle.
He opened his mouth to respond—
But I stepped out from behind the wall.
“Actually,” I said loudly, “he can’t.”
Both turned.
Y/n blinked. “Karina?”
Minji looked startled. “W-Why not?”
I didn’t think. I just moved—stood beside him, arms crossed. “Because he has basketball training. Every day. And student council stuff. And—eye surgery. He’s busy.”
Y/n stared at me.
Minji blinked. “Eye… surgery?”
I nodded confidently. “Yes. To fix his vision from being stupid.”
Y/n almost choked.
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Realization Hits
Minji excused herself in confusion.
Karina turned to leave.
But I caught her wrist gently with my uninjured hand.
She looked back, slightly flustered.
I stared at her for a moment—soft, amused, eyes slightly shining. “Karina.”
“What?”
“You could’ve just said you didn’t want me to say yes.”
She scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“You could’ve said you care.” She turned away, but my voice softened. “Karina… do you?”
Her heart pounded.
She whispered—barely audible— “…You’re still injured. Don’t make me push you down the stairs.”
I smiled.
Because that meant yes.
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV
I didn’t know why I walked him home. He insisted he was fine. But I walked beside him anyway—arms crossed, cheeks slightly red.
We stopped under the streetlight outside his house.
“Thanks for walking me,” Y/n said softly.
I clicked her tongue. “I wasn’t walking you. I was heading this way.”
He smiled slightly. “My house is the opposite direction of yours.”
I paused. “I— I like the long route.”
Y/n’s smile widened. “Right.”
My brows furrowed. “Why are you smiling?”
“Noth—”
“Stop smiling!”
“Why?”
“Because it’s annoying!”
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV
I watched her fume, arms crossed, eyes sharp and anxious.
But there was something behind her eyes tonight—fear. Confusion. And something a little softer.
“Karina,” I said gently, “why are you like this?”
“Like what?”
“One second you ignore me. The next, you’re running onto the court crying because I got hurt. Then you bring me food, notes, and block someone from confessing to me.”
Karina’s ears turned red. “D-Don’t make it sound weird.”
“It is weird,” I said softly. “Because you say you don’t care.”
“I don’t!”
“Then why do you act like you do?”
⸻
— 🌙 Karina’s POV – Cracking
My heart pounded.
Why was he pushing this? Why now?
“Y/n,” I muttered, “just drop it.”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’ve liked you for years. I chased you for years. I don’t anymore. But… I still care.” His eyes lowered. “If you don’t feel anything, say it. I’ll stop bothering you. For good this time.”
Silence.
Cold silence.
My chest tightened painfully.
Stop? For good?
Why… does that sound worse than anything?
My hands curled into fists. “You’re so—so stupid, Han Y/n.”
He looked up, blinking. “Huh?”
And then—
⸻
— 🫢 The Confession!
My words tumbled out in a rapid, angry, flustered mess: “You’re stupid! You’re—annoying, and loud, and you never give up even when people tell you to!
You’re too kind—too kind to everyone! And then you stopped!
You stopped chasing me… stopped following me around… and I thought I’d be happy, but—
I hated it! I hate seeing you smile at other girls!
I hate not being the one you’re looking at first!
I hate the way my chest hurts when you walk away so easily!
And— and I hate—”
I swallowed, voice trembling.
“I hate that I only realized it when you stopped liking me.”
Y/n stared.
I finally looked at him, eyes glistening, anger melting into something vulnerable. “…I like you, okay?! Happy now?!”
⸻
— ☀️ Y/n’s POV – Soft Silence
I didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just… stepped closer.
Karina froze. “W-What are you—”
“Say it again,” I whispered.
“Are you insane?! No! I already—”
I leaned forward, smiling softly. “Please?”
Karina’s face turned crimson.
She averted her eyes.
Voice barely audible.
“…I like you.”
“Again.”
She glared. “Don’t push it.”
I laughed.
Then—gently—I reached for her hand.
She didn’t pull away.
“Karina.”
“What.”
“For the record… I still like you too.” Her heart stopped. I squeezed her hand lightly. “And I’m really glad… you finally caught up.”
Karina let out a sharp, breathy laugh, shaking her head. "You're such an idiot, Han Y/n."
We stare into each other’s eyes as our laughter slowly dies down.
⸻
— 🌶️ SPICEEEE INCOMING!!
I simply smiled, that soft, knowing curve of my lips, and shyly leaned in, my hand gently cupping her damp cheek.
Her sharp intake of breath was the only warning before she surged forward, crashing her lips against mine with a desperate, hungry force, her fingers tangling fiercely in the hair at my nape.
The kiss ignited instantly, a raw, messy tangle of tongues and teeth, my other hand sliding down to grip her hip hard, pulling her flush against the sudden, insistent hardness straining against my jeans.
Without breaking the searing connection of their mouths, breathing ragged, I fumbled backwards, blindly guiding her stumbling form through my front door, down the dim hall, and into the quiet sanctuary of my bedroom, my palm burning a path down her spine.
The door clicked shut behind them, muffling the world as my hands slid under Karina’s thighs, hoisting her up.
She wrapped her legs around my waist instantly, grinding down against my erection straining through my jeans.
A low groan ripped from my throat as I stumbled towards the bed. Her back hit the mattress with a soft thud, my body following, pressing her deep into the comforter, our kisses frantic, teeth clashing, tongues tangling wetly.
My hands roamed greedily, tearing at her shirt, desperate for skin, while her nails raked down my back, urging me closer.
She gasped as my fingers found the clasp of her bra, flicking it open with practiced ease, her breasts spilling free into my waiting, hungry mouth.
This I sucked hard on one of her nipples, my other hand roughly kneading her other breast, pinching the peak until she cried out, arching beneath me.
My mouth trailed fire down her stomach, teeth grazing her hip bone as I yanked her jeans and panties down her legs in one swift, impatient motion.
The cool air of the room hit her soaked cunt, making her gasp, but it was instantly replaced by the searing heat of my mouth closing over her.
My tongue plunged deep inside her, lapping at her slick folds with rough, demanding strokes, then circling her clit with relentless pressure.
Karina’s hips bucked wildly off the bed, a guttural cry tearing from her throat.
"Fuck! Y/n, fuck! Like that!" Her fingers twisted in my hair, holding me against her as I devoured her, my tongue fucking her hard and fast.
She felt the orgasm detonate, a white-hot explosion that ripped through her, her body shuddering violently as she ground against my face, soaking my chin.
I pulled back, my lips and chin glistening with her arousal, eyes dark with primal need. I stood, stripping my own clothes off, my cock springing free, the flushed head leaking pre-cum. Karina’s gaze locked onto it, licking her lips unconsciously.
I climbed back onto the bed between her spread legs, the tip of my cock nudging insistently against her swollen, sensitive entrance, slick with her own wetness.
I braced myself over her, my breath ragged, eyes searching hers.
"Karina," I rasped, my voice thick with desire. "Look at me. Are you sure? Do you want this? Really want it?"
Her chest heaved, her dark eyes wide and vulnerable, stripped bare of their usual defenses. She reached up, framing my face with trembling hands.
"Yes," she breathed, the word barely a whisper but filled with absolute certainty. "God, yes, Y/n. I want you. All of you. Now. Please."
I didn't hesitate. With one powerful thrust of my hips, I sheathed myself fully inside her in a single, deep stroke, stretching her, filling her. A choked gasp escaped her lips, part pain, part overwhelming pleasure at the sudden, exquisite fullness.
"Fuck, you feel... perfect," I groaned, my forehead dropping to hers.
She clenched around me, drawing me deeper, her hips lifting to meet mine as I started to move. My thrusts were deep, hard, relentless, each one driving the breath from her lungs, each retreat leaving her aching until I plunged back in.
Skin slapped against skin in the dim room, a raw, primal rhythm underscored by our breathing, low moans, and the creak of the bedsprings. Sweat slicked our bodies as we moved together, a frantic, desperate coupling fueled by years of pent-up longing.
Through the haze of sensation, my hand found hers. I laced our fingers together, gripping tightly, as I pounded into her with increasing ferocity.
She held on just as fiercely, her other hand clawing at my back, her legs locked around my hips, pulling me deeper with every thrust. Our eyes remained locked, a silent, intense conversation passing between them – vulnerability meeting tenderness.
"Look at me," I demanded roughly, thrusting harder, hitting a spot deep inside that made her scream. "Look at me when I fuck you, Karina."
She obeyed, her dark gaze drowning in mine, the intensity almost as overwhelming as the physical sensations tearing through her. I felt her inner walls begin to flutter and clench rhythmically around my cock.
"That's it," I gritted out, my own release coiling tight in my balls, my thrusts becoming erratic, desperate. "Cum all over my cock, Karina. Cum for me. Now."
The command, the feel of me hitting her deepest point relentlessly, the searing connection of our gaze and joined hands, shattered her completely. Her orgasm crashed over her, wave after wave of pure, blinding ecstasy, her body convulsing wildly around my thrusting length.
Her cry was raw, broken, echoing in the room as she clenched down hard, triggering my own release. With a guttural roar, I buried my pumping hot, thick pulses of cum deep inside her, shuddering violently above her as my hips jerked through the climax.
We held onto each other’s hands, knuckles white, bodies fused, riding out the shattering waves together in breathless, sweat-slicked silence.
Our bodies finally stilled, slick with sweat and trembling with the aftershocks, I weight a heavy, welcome anchor pressing Karina deep into the mattress, my softening cock still buried intimately inside her, sticky and warm.
I shifted slightly, groaning as I slipped out, the sudden emptiness making her whimper softly before I gathered her impossibly closer, burying my face in the sweaty crook of her neck where her long black hair clung damply.
"Fuck, Karina," I breathed, my voice rough and wrecked, my hand sliding possessively down the curve of her spine to cup her ass. “You’re so sexy.”
She nuzzled against my jaw, her own fingers tracing lazy circles on my back, her voice thick with exhaustion and satisfaction, "Shut up, Han Y/n," though the slight curve of her lips betrayed her.
We shared one last slow, deep kiss, tasting salt and sex and each other, a silent seal on the tumultuous night, before the profound exhaustion and the warmth of tangled limbs pulled us down into a deep, dreamless sleep.
⸻
— ⛅️ 3rd Person POV - The Next Morning.
It was still early—maybe 4 or 5 a.m.
Soft light from the city slipped through the curtains, brushing gently over the room. Y/n blinked awake first, the quiet steady breathing beside him pulling him fully back to consciousness.
Karina was asleep on his chest, one hand resting lightly over his heartbeat, the blanket pulled lazily over them. It took only a second for him to remember what happened hours ago.
His face warmed, but then softened. He looked down at her—peaceful, hair messy, eyelashes resting against her cheeks. He stayed still, not wanting to ruin the moment.
Until—
She moved.
Her eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the dim room. Then she felt it—warm skin beneath her cheek. And nothing else.
Her eyes widened. She yanked the blanket up to her chin instantly. Her face turned crimson. “W-Wait—!!”
Y/n blinked, eyes meeting hers. “Morning,” he said softly, voice rough from sleep.
Karina’s voice was barely a whisper. “W-We’re—?! You—me— we’re not… wearing… clothes—!!”
Y/n glanced down, then back at her with a tiny amused smile. “Well… we did have the most passionate sex ever last night.”
“Don’t say it out loud!!” she hissed, face on fire as she hugged the blanket tighter.
He laughed softly, raising his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Calm down. I won’t look.”
She glared. “You already looked!”
“Only a little.”
“Han Y/n—!”
“Okay, okay. I’ll stop.”
⸻
— 🫶 Respectful & Gentle.
Y/n carefully slipped out from under the sheets, making sure the blanket stayed securely around her. He stood up — still shirtless, but quickly grabbed his t-shirt and sweatpants from the chair.
Before heading to the corner of the room to change, he paused. “I’ll turn around. You can… get dressed first, okay?”
Karina, clutching the blanket furiously, stared at him—surprised. “You’re… not going to look are you?”
He smirked slightly. “Oh, I want to. But I’d rather not die before breakfast.”
She huffed. “…Good answer.”
He turned his back to her, facing the wall.
Karina slowly exhaled, heart pounding, cheeks still red. She moved quietly, searching for her clothes scattered on the floor.
From the corner of the room, Y/n’s voice floated softly— “Karina.”
“What?”
“You’re okay. Don’t rush.”
Her hands paused. Something warm bloomed in her chest.
⸻
Y/n turned around, now fully dressed. Karina stood by his bed, in one of his oversized shirts and her shorts—hair messy, cheeks pink, but trying to act normal.
He smiled gently. “You look cute.”
She threw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”
He caught it, laughing softly.
Then—
“Want breakfast?”
She hesitated. Then quietly nodded. “…Only because I’m hungry. Not because I like being here.”
Y/n’s smile turned softer. “Right. You just happened to end up in my arms. Under my blanket. Naked.”
“Do you want me to hit you again?”
He chuckled. “I’ll make pancakes.”
⸻
— 🥞 Soft Morning – Breakfast & A Quiet “I Love You”
— ☀️ In The Kitchen – Early Morning Light
The house was still and quiet when they went downstairs. Karina sat at the dining table, wearing his oversized shirt and trying very hard not to look… soft. Y/n stood by the stove, slicking his hair back messily with one hand, while flipping pancake batter in a pan with the other.
He looked calm. Too calm. Karina glared at his back suspiciously. “Why are you so relaxed?”
Y/n glanced over his shoulder. “Because you’re here.”
Her face went warm immediately. She looked away. “S-Stop saying things like that.”
He smiled to himself and kept cooking.
⸻
— 🍯 Little Silences, Little Glances
He placed a plate of pancakes in front of her—golden, fluffy, topped with strawberries. Karina stared at it… then muttered: “…Thanks.”
“And here,” he said, setting a mug beside her. “Warm milk with honey. You don’t like coffee in the morning.”Karina paused, blinked slowly.
She hadn’t realized he remembered that. She picked up her fork, mumbling quietly, “Don’t think this means I like you more or anything.”
Y/n sat across from her, chin in his hand, smiling in that gentle, quiet way he had only around her. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t think that.” But his eyes were shining.
⸻
— 💗 After a Few Bites…
They ate slowly. The air was soft—but nervous. Karina’s cheeks were still pink. Sometimes she’d look at him, then immediately look away when he caught her.
Y/n finally whispered: “Karina.”
Her fork froze midway to her mouth. “What.”
He hesitated. Nervously rubbing his thumb against his palm, he said it—soft and real: “I love you.”
Silence.
Karina’s heart dropped to her stomach. Her cheeks grew hot—eyes wide, lips parted slightly. He didn’t look away.
“I’ve loved you for a long time… but saying it today feels different,” he continued quietly. “Because this time… I know you might actually feel it back.”
Karina set her fork down slowly. Her heart hammered. She looked everywhere—anywhere but his eyes.
“You…” She cleared her throat. “You shouldn’t just say things like that while I’m eating pancakes. I could’ve choked.”
Y/n smiled faintly. “I’m serious.”
Her fingers tightened on her lap. She whispered—barely audible. “…I know.”
⸻
— 🌷 Her Answer (The Karina Way)
She didn’t say it back right away. Instead—she reached forward. And, under the tablecloth, her hand slid across and nervously brushed his.
His eyes widened. She didn’t look at him when she spoke. Her voice was quiet—shaky, but honest: “Eat your pancakes before they get cold.”
Y/n laughed softly—heart full. He linked his pinky with hers beneath the table. “Okay.”
A beat.
Then—
Very, very softly, she whispered, not looking at him: “…And, um… I love you too. So… keep making me breakfast.”
His smile was the brightest it had ever been. And after all that chasing…
The penthouse reeks of money. Not just the marble floors or the stupidly oversized abstract art—but the air itself smells filtered, perfumed with something floral and expensive that probably costs more than my weekly groceries. I’m hunched over, scrubbing a wine stain off the ivory rug near the floor-to-ceiling windows. My back aches. Always aches. Another Tuesday, another fucking mansion filled with people who’ll never know my name.
Then… giggles. High, breathy, close. Followed by the soft hiss of steam escaping under the bathroom door down the hall. It’s thick, smelling like jasmine and vanilla bath oil. Curiosity pins me. Clients aren’t supposed to be home during cleans. I creep closer, silent in my worn sneakers. The door isn’t shut tight. Just a sliver of light spills out. I press my eye to the gap.
Heat hits me first. Moist, heavy air. Then the sight.
My clients named Jihyo, Momo, Tzuyu, Nayeon. All four housemates. Swathed in thin, pink silk robes clinging to damp skin. Steam curls around them like hungry ghosts. They’re crowded around the vast, fogged mirror above the double vanity. No makeup. Hair wet, dark and slick against flushed necks and shoulders. They look… unreal. Like models dipped in honey.
“Fuck, Tzuyu,” Momo breathes, her voice husky. She’s tracing a fingertip down Tzuyu’s arm. “Your skin is like actual fucking porcelain. How is that fair?” Momo’s robe gapes slightly as she leans, revealing the heavy swell of her tits, nipples dark and pebbled against the damp silk.
Tzuyu laughs, low and easy. “Says the girl with the rack that could start wars.” She flicks water at Momo, droplets catching the soft LED lights. Her own robe is loosely tied, the deep V offering a glimpse of smooth, tanned stomach and the shadowed curve where her thighs meet. Effortless.
Nayeon, perched on the edge of the enormous claw-foot tub, giggles, kicking her legs. Her robe rides up, showing miles of smooth, toned thigh. “Seriously, Momo. Put those weapons away before someone gets hurt.” Her eyes, bright and mischievous, sweep over Jihyo who’s meticulously brushing her hair. “And you, unnie. Stop being so perfect. It’s rude.”
Jihyo turns, a slow, confident smile spreading across her face. Voluptuous doesn’t cover it. The robe strains over her hips, the silk plastered to her full breasts, outlining every curve. She meets Nayeon’s gaze in the mirror. “Just appreciating the view, Nayeonnie. Especially yours.” Her gaze drifts down Nayeon’s body, lingering. “Those legs could stop traffic.”
It’s raw. Intimate. A surge of heat, thick and urgent, floods my groin. My breath catches, ragged in my throat. My cock is instantly hard, straining against the rough fabric of my work pants. It’s unbearable. Without thought, my fingers fumble with my belt buckle, the metallic clink impossibly loud in my own ears. I shove my pants and boxers down past my hips. My cock springs free, thick and already leaking, throbbing against the cool air drifting from the hallway. I wrap my hand around my hard length. A low groan escapes me as I start stroking, slow and firm, my eyes glued to the scene inside.
Jihyo’s reflection shifts slightly in the fogged mirror. Her eyes, dark and sharp, flicker. Away from Nayeon’s legs. Towards the sliver of the door. Towards the shadow where I’m pressed. They lock onto mine through the gap.
Fuck!
Her gaze doesn’t widen in shock. It narrows. Sharpens. Like a predator spotting prey. A slow, knowing smirk curls her perfect lips. She doesn’t look away. She watches me watching them. Watches my hand moving frantically on my cock.
“Someone’s enjoying the show,” Jihyo purrs, her voice cutting through the steam and the girls’ chatter. It’s low, deliberate. Not loud, but carrying.
The other girls freeze. Heads snap towards the door. Momo gasps, clutching her robe tighter. Tzuyu’s relaxed posture stiffens. Nayeon’s playful smirk vanishes, replaced by wide-eyed surprise.
Panic electrocutes me. I jerk back from the door, stumbling blindly. My foot catches on the discarded mop bucket. Time slows. The bucket clatters. My legs tangle. I crash forward, shoulder slamming into the bathroom door. It flies open with a bang, and I sprawl onto the slick marble floor, naked from the waist down, my cock still jutting out, hard and obscene, my hand frozen mid-stroke.
Silence. Thick, suffocating silence, broken only by the drip of a faucet. Steam swirls around me. Four pairs of eyes burn into me. Fury radiates off Momo and Tzuyu. Nayeon looks stunned. Jihyo… Jihyo just stares. Her gaze isn’t on my face. It’s locked lower. On my cock. Her smirk deepens, transforming into something darkly amused, deeply carnal.
Momo recovers first, her voice shrill with outrage. “You fucking PERVERT! What the HELL are you doing?!”
Tzuyu steps forward, her easy-going demeanor vanished, replaced by icy disdain. “Get out! Now! I’m calling security!”
I scramble, trying to pull up my pants, fumbling, humiliated heat scorching my face. “I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean–”
“Didn’t mean to spy?” Nayeon cuts in, her voice surprisingly calm, though her eyes are wide. “Didn’t mean to whip it out and jerk off while we were changing?”
Jihyo hasn’t moved. She slowly raises a hand, silencing the others. Her eyes finally lift from my groin to meet mine. They’re dark pools, unreadable. She takes a single, deliberate step towards me, her silk robe whispering against her skin. The steam parts for her.
“Put your hands down,” she commands, her voice a velvet whip. It’s not a request. My hands freeze on the waistband of my pants. “Look at you,” she murmurs, her gaze raking down my body again, lingering on my exposed cock. “Big boy, aren’t you? That’s… impressive.” A low chuckle escapes her. “Seems you were trying to ‘clean’ something else entirely.”
She stops right in front of me, looking down at where I lie helpless on the floor. The scent of her perfume – jasmine, vanilla, and something uniquely, powerfully her – washes over me, mixing with the steam. My cock twitches violently, betraying me utterly.
Momo looks horrified. “Jihyo! What are you–”
“Shut up, Momo,” Jihyo says, her tone brooking no argument. Her eyes never leave mine. There’s a terrifying, thrilling calculation in them. She crouches down slowly, bringing her face level with mine. Her robe gapes open further, revealing the deep shadow between her magnificent breasts. “You wanted a show, cleaner boy?” she whispers, her breath warm against my cheek. “You wanted to see us wet? Naked?”
I can’t speak. Can only nod, a desperate, jerky movement.
Her smirk turns predatory. “Good.” She reaches out, not touching me, but her fingertip traces a line in the air an inch from the flushed head of my cock. A jolt of pure electricity shoots through me. “Because you’re going to clean more than just the floor tonight,” she breathes, her voice dropping to a husky promise that vibrates deep in my gut. “You’re going to clean us. Every. Single. Inch.” Her eyes flick to the other girls, a silent command passing between them. Their expressions shift – Momo’s outrage fading into wary curiosity, Tzuyu’s ice thawing into something heated, Nayeon’s surprise blossoming into a wicked, intrigued grin. “Starting,” Jihyo says, her gaze snapping back to mine, filled with dark, undeniable hunger, "...right now."
(3rd Person POV)
His breath hitched, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat as Jihyo’s command hung in the steamy air, her dark eyes promising both punishment and filthy reward. He obeyed eagerly, hands trembling not from fear now but desperate, aching need, fumbling his pants back down past his hips, his thick cock springing free again, already slick and twitching, the flushed head glistening under the bathroom’s soft LED glow as he stared up at her, waiting.
Jihyo knelt down, her silk robe pooling around her knees on the cool marble, the scent of jasmine and her own arousal thickening the steam. Her hand, cool and deliberate, slid up the inside of his trembling thigh, fingers brushing the tight, hot skin of his balls before her thumb swiped roughly over the slick, leaking slit of his cock, making his whole body jolt and a choked groan rip from his throat.
A vicious shiver tore through him as Jihyo’s thumb smeared his pre-come across his sensitive head. "Fuck!" he gasped, his hips bucking involuntarily off the cold marble. Momo, frozen a few feet away, watched Jihyo’s bold possession, her earlier outrage flickering, replaced by a dark, fascinated heat that bloomed across her cheeks and down her neck; her breath hitched, sharp and audible in the steamy silence, her own hand unconsciously drifting to press between her legs over the thin silk.
"See something you want, Momo?" Jihyo murmured, not looking away from his agonized expression, her thumb circling the swollen crown again, making him whimper. "Or someone?" Before Momo could answer, Jihyo’s command cut through the haze. "Come here. Show him what happens when he spies on Momo’s perfect fucking tits."
Momo exhaled, a shaky sound, then stepped forward, her movements suddenly deliberate, predatory, her wide eyes fixed on his rigid cock glistening under Jihyo’s touch. She sank to her knees beside Jihyo, the damp silk of her robe parting to reveal the heavy, full curve of one breast, her nipple stiff and dark. Her fingers, trembling slightly only a moment ago, now reached out with shocking confidence, wrapping firmly around the thick base of his shaft beneath Jihyo’s hand, her cool touch a stark contrast to the furnace heat of his skin.
"Think this big cock deserves my tits, cleaner?" Momo breathed, her voice thick with a mix of challenge and raw need, her thumb mimicking Jihyo’s earlier motion, dragging roughly over his leaking slit, spreading the wetness as she squeezed him hard enough to make his vision blur. "You gonna fucking earn it?"
Momo’s grip tightened like a vise at the base of his cock, her thumb grinding relentlessly against his sensitive slit, drawing a ragged, desperate gasp from his throat. Tzuyu watched hungrily from the edge of the claw-foot tub, her relaxed posture gone rigid, knuckles white where she gripped the cold porcelain rim, her dark eyes wide and fixed unblinkingly on Momo’s hand working his thick shaft, a slow, deliberate bite sinking into her plump lower lip.
Tzuyu shoved off the tub’s edge, her movements fluid and deliberate, her earlier icy disdain replaced by a predatory heat that radiated off her damp skin as she stalked towards them.
"My turn," she declared, her voice low and thick, her gaze locked on his mouth while Jihyo's lips still stretched obscenely around his cockhead; she hooked her fingers sharply in his hair, wrenching his head back, forcing his gaze up the long lines of her body to where her robe had fallen completely open, revealing the swollen, glistening lips of her pussy hovering mere inches above his face.
"You wanted to peek? Now fucking clean it, cleaner," she commanded, her thighs trembling slightly as she lowered herself onto his mouth, grinding her hot, wet slit against his lips, the musky, heady scent of her arousal flooding his senses as her fingers tightened painfully in his hair, forcing his tongue to plunge deep into her slick, waiting heat. "Lick me clean!"
Tzuyu’s sharp command echoed off the marble as she ground her slick, swollen cunt hard against his mouth, the musky tang of her arousal flooding his senses, forcing his tongue deep into her hot, clenching depths. "Suck it, cleaner!" she gasped, her thighs trembling against his ears, her fingers knotting painfully in his hair and holding him prisoner against her needy flesh.
Nayeon’s playful giggle cut through the steam, sharp and hungry now, as she dropped to her knees beside Jihyo, her nimble fingers immediately joining Momo’s on his achingly hard shaft.
"Looks like the big, bad cleaner needs all our help," she purred, her eyes glittering with dark amusement as she leaned down, her breath hot against the throbbing vein on the underside of his cock, while Momo, taking her cue, shifted lower, her full lips parting to engulf one heavy, aching ball, sucking it deep into the wet heat of her mouth just as Jihyo, with a low, possessive hum, swallowed the leaking head back down her throat, her tongue swirling relentlessly over the ultra-sensitive ridge.
Tzuyu’s thighs clamped like a vice around his head, a sharp, startled cry ripping from her throat as her entire body seized, her slick pussy pulsing and gushing hot wetness against his tongue, forcing him to swallow convulsively as she shuddered through her climax. She slumped back against the vanity, panting, a sheen of sweat glistening on her dusky gold skin, a lazy, sated smirk touching her lips as she caught her breath and rasped, "Fuck... alright, girls... who’s taking that fat cock first?"
“Why not let him pick?”
"Momo," he gasped, his voice raw and desperate, his eyes locked on her full, trembling lips and the heavy swell of her tits still glistening with steam. He lunged forward, one hand fisting in her damp robe, yanking it open completely as the other gripped his thick, leaking cock, driving it hard and deep into her sopping wet cunt with a rough, animalistic grunt, her shocked cry of "FUCK!" echoing off the marble as her tight walls clenched violently around his invading shaft.
His calloused hands roughly groped Momo’s heavy, bouncing tits, thumbs grinding hard over her stiff, dark nipples as he slammed his hips forward, each brutal thrust forcing choked gasps from her throat and making her breasts jiggle obscenely. Jihyo and Nayeon watched, eyes dark with hunger, Tzuyu still panting from her own climax against the vanity, a low murmur of "Fuck yes, ruin her" escaping Jihyo's lips as Momo's head thrashed back, her fingernails digging into his shoulders.
Jihyo’s command hung thick in the steam as Momo writhed beneath him. “Choke her,” Jihyo hissed, her voice raw with command, and his calloused hand instantly clamped hard around Momo’s throat, cutting off her choked gasp mid-fuck as he slammed his hips forward with brutal, piston-like force, the wet smack of flesh on flesh echoing off the marble tiles.
Nayeon’s sharp, delighted giggle cut through Momo’s strangled whimpers as she dropped lower, her fingers finding Momo’s swollen, glistening clit and rubbing vicious, tight circles just as Momo’s body suddenly stiffened, arched off the floor, and exploded, a guttural scream tearing from her constricted throat as her pussy convulsed wildly around his driving cock and a powerful jet of clear fluid erupted, soaking his thrusting balls and splashing Nayeon’s fingers and the cool marble beneath them.
He ripped his slick cock from Momo’s shuddering cunt, leaving her gasping and dazed on the wet marble, then lunged for Tzuyu, locking his arms under her knees and around her chest in a full nelson. He drove his throbbing, soaked cock straight up into her dripping hole from behind, her shocked cry echoing as he impaled her deep, fucking her suspended body with savage, upward thrusts that made her scream.
Tzuyu’s scream ripped through the steam, raw and ragged, as his brutal upward thrusts hammered her suspended pussy, her slick walls clenching like a hot, wet fist around his invading cock. Nayeon and Jihyo watched, Jihyo’s fingers idly tracing circles over her own stiff nipple through the damp silk, Nayeon biting her lip hard, their breaths shallow and synchronized with the wet, rhythmic slap of flesh pounding flesh.
"Fuck, Tzuyu," he grunted, his voice thick with strain and lust, each savage thrust lifting her higher off the marble floor, her legs kicking helplessly against his iron grip, "this fucking tight little cunt... grips my cock like it’s fucking starving for it!" Tzuyu could only whimper, a broken sound lost beneath the relentless pounding, her head lolling back against his shoulder, eyes rolling white as the overwhelming stretch and friction tore another ragged cry from her throat.
Tzuyu’s entire body seized violently, her pussy clamping down like a hot, wet vice around his driving cock as a guttural scream tore from her throat, her hips jerking wildly against him while her slick juices pulsed out, coating his shaft and balls in her release. He dropped her limp, trembling body onto the cool marble, her chest heaving, then turned his burning gaze towards Nayeon, still watching with hungry eyes.
"You're next," he growled, grabbing her ankle and yanking her towards him before flipping her onto her back, hooking her legs over his shoulders, and folding her body brutally in half. "Jihyo?" he panted, staring down the length of his own sweat-slicked body at her as he positioned the swollen, dripping head of his cock against Nayeon's entrance, "Gonna save the best pussy for last." He slammed his entire length into Nayeon's tight heat in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt as she shrieked.
Nayeon screamed, her manicured nails raking, sinking into his back as he pistoned into her relentless and deep, her voice breaking into breathless sobs of "Daddy! Oh God, Daddy, fuck me harder!" Momo and Tzuyu, still glistening and flushed from their own use, hauled themselves up, leaning against the vanity with predatory smirks; Momo traced a fingertip through the sweat beading on Nayeon's trembling stomach, sneering.
"Look at little Nayeonnie, squealing for Daddy like a cheap slut," while Tzuyu chuckled darkly, "Bet she cums just from being called out on it." Jihyo, her eyes burning with possessive fire, seized his jaw, her mouth crashing against his in a bruising, demanding kiss, her tongue plunging deep as he drove into Nayeon with brutal, unforgiving strokes, her own moan vibrating against his lips.
Jihyo ripped her mouth from his, lips swollen and glistening, her command a harsh gasp against his cheek: "Make that little bitch cum right fucking now!" He locked eyes with Nayeon's tear-streaked, desperate face beneath him and snarled, voice thick and raw,
"Cum, you filthy whore, cum on Daddy's cock!"
Nayeon’s scream tore from her throat, raw and primal, her back arching violently off the marble as her eyes rolled white and her pussy clamped down in spasming waves around his brutal, driving thrusts. He ripped his cock out of her sopping, convulsing cunt, her juices slicking his shaft, and flopped onto his back on the damp tile, his chest heaving, pointing his still-thick erection at Jihyo’s dripping slit. "Ride it, Jihyo," he gasped, his voice ragged, eyes locked on her heavy tits, "Fucking bounce those perfect tits.”
Jihyo smirked, a dark promise in her eyes as she straddled his hips, gripping his shaft firmly, guiding the swollen, slick head to her flushed, swollen opening before sinking down onto him in one smooth, greedy motion, her full tits jiggling wildly with the impact, her groan low and satisfied as she began a relentless, deep bounce, her nails scraping his chest.
Tzuyu’s long fingers worked slick lube over Nayeon’s trembling thigh, her touch surprisingly clinical despite the obscene context, while Momo knelt, murmuring filthy encouragement as she guided Nayeon’s hips down onto the edge of the marble vanity, spreading her wide. They didn’t linger though, their task a swift, efficient prelude; as Nayeon gasped, arching her back against the cool surface, Tzuyu and Momo exchanged a hungry glance, their attention snapping towards the primal rhythm dominating the center of the steam-hazed bathroom.
Jihyo rode Y/n with furious abandon, her voluptuous body bouncing on his cock, the wet slap of skin echoing off the tiles, her head thrown back as guttural moans ripped from her throat. "Fuck, yes! Just like that, cleaner boy!" she gasped, her nails digging into his chest, her own breasts swaying heavily with each downward plunge, the glistening tip of his thick cock stretching her wide each time she slammed down.
Tzuyu and Momo, abandoning Nayeon whose legs still quivered on the vanity, moved like predators, circling Y/n and Jihyo on the damp floor. Momo crouched right beside Jihyo's bucking hip, her own robe falling open completely, her large breasts swinging as she leaned in, her voice a husky growl.
"Look at her take that monster cock, Y/n! Holy shit, ram it deeper into that greedy pussy! Make her scream!" She reached out, roughly squeezing Jihyo's bouncing tit, pinching a stiff nipple hard.
"Yeah, give it to her!" Tzuyu added from the other side, her easy-going demeanor replaced by intense arousal, her eyes fixed on where Jihyo was impaled. She knelt, running a hand up Y/n’s tensed thigh. "God, look at her go. Such a fucking slut for that dick, Jihyo! Riding it like her life depends on it!" Tzuyu’s fingers brushed the base of his shaft, slick with Jihyo’s juices, feeling the powerful thrusts from below.
Y/n grunted, his own control fraying beneath the onslaught of sensation and their filthy words. He gripped Jihyo's hips tighter, his knuckles white, meeting her downward strokes with sharp upward thrusts, driving his cock impossibly deep. He locked eyes with Jihyo, a wicked smirk twisting his lips even as sweat stung his eyes.
"Hear that?" he rasped, his voice thick with exertion and lust. "They see you. They see what a cock-hungry whore you really are, bouncing on me like some cheap street slut." He punctuated the insult with a brutal upward slam that made her shriek, her inner walls clenching vice-like around him. "You love being shown up like this, don't you? Love them watching this fat dick stretch your tight little pussy wide open?"
Nayeon, recovering her breath but still flushed and trembling, slid off the vanity, joining the circle. She didn't speak immediately, just watched with dark, hungry eyes as Jihyo was verbally and physically ravaged, a small, satisfied smile playing on her lips as she saw the leader undone. The air crackled with shared heat, the scent of sex and sweat overpowering the lingering perfume, the only sounds the relentless slap of flesh, Jihyo’s ragged cries, Y/n’s guttural groans, and the girls’ lurid commentary urging them on towards a shuddering, inevitable peak.
"Fuck, I'm so close!" Jihyo gasped, her rhythm faltering as her cunt clenched violently around Y/n's thick cock. Nayeon's fingers traced slick, teasing circles over his tightening balls while Momo and Tzuyu leaned in, their mouths closing hungrily over Jihyo's bouncing tits, suckling hard at her stiff nipples. The room filled with their combined, desperate moans.
Tzuyu's middle finger found Jihyo's swollen clit, circling it fast and hard, slick with the mixture of her own arousal and the lube smeared earlier on Nayeon. "Make her fucking gush!" Momo demanded, releasing Jihyo's nipple with a wet pop and shoving Tzuyu's hand aside to take over, her own fingers rubbing Jihyo's clit in rough, demanding circles just as Y/n slammed his cock impossibly deep one final time.
Jihyo's back arched violently off Y/n's body, a silent scream tearing from her throat before erupting into a ragged, guttural wail as her cunt clenched in a vice-grip around his shaft and a sudden, hot jet of fluid sprayed out, soaking Y/n's lower stomach and thighs in a pungent rush. "FUCK! FUCK! FUCKING CUMMING!" she shrieked, her body convulsing uncontrollably, the squirting pulsing rhythmically as Momo kept rubbing her clit through the intense orgasm, Tzuyu watching with dark, fascinated eyes as Jihyo completely unraveled.
Jihyo slumped against him, chest heaving, her slick cunt still twitching from the force of her orgasm as Momo finally eased the relentless pressure on her clit. Y/n’s own cock throbbed viciously inside her stretched warmth, slick walls fluttering wildly around him, the intense friction pushing him dangerously close to the edge. He gritted his teeth, fighting the rising tide, a predatory smirk spreading across his sweat-slicked face despite the overwhelming sensation.
With a sudden, deliberate movement, Y/n gripped Jihyo’s hips firmly and lifted her impaled body clean off his shaft. A slick, obscene plop echoed in the humid air as she slid free, collapsing onto the damp tiles beside him with a shuddering gasp, her thighs instantly clamping together reflexively. He pushed himself up smoothly onto his feet, towering over the sprawled women, his thick, glistening cock jutting out rigidly from his groin, slick and gleaming with a potent mix of her juices and his own pre-cum, pulsing visibly with each beat of his heart.
His eyes, dark with lust and triumph, swept over the flushed faces staring up at him: Jihyo panting, dazed but defiant; Momo licking her lips hungrily; Tzuyu’s gaze fixed unblinkingly on his dripping erection; Nayeon biting her lower lip, a playful challenge dancing in her eyes. He ran a hand slowly down his abs, smearing the wetness Jihyo had sprayed over him, his voice a low, gravelly command cutting through the heavy breathing. "Alright," he rasped, tapping the swollen head of his cock, a thick bead of precum welling up instantly. "Who wants this fucking load?"
The humid air crackled with their collective hunger. They all replied, “WE DO DADDY!” before bringing their faces closer and sticking their tongues out, eager pink points glistening under the bathroom lights, breaths hot against his slick, throbbing cock.
His gaze raked over their eager faces as his fist tightened on his slick shaft. "This load ain't getting wasted, sluts," he snarled, the veins standing out on his forearm. "You share every fucking drop."
He began stroking himself furiously over their outstretched tongues, his hips jerking, a deep grunt ripping from his chest before thick ropes of hot cum splattered Jihyo’s flushed cheek, streaked Momo’s chin, and painted Tzuyu and Nayeon's eager, open mouths. Jihyo’s tongue, slick with his thick spunk, darted out to gather the mess before turning to Momo, locking her in a deep, filthy kiss, sharing the salty tang as Tzuyu eagerly licked Nayeon’s coated lips clean.
"So yummy," Momo gasped, pulling back with a shared strand of cum stretching between their mouths just as Tzuyu swallowed and purred, "Shared it all, Daddy!”
Y/n smirked down at them sprawled on the wet tiles, his thick cock still glistening. "Lick it clean, you filthy sluts," he ordered harshly, "Get every fucking drop off my cock," he instructed, “don’t forget my balls.”
They scrambled, tongues eagerly lapping his cum from his shaft and tightening scrotum, their mouths hot and greedy. Jihyo sat back, wiping her chin with a low chuckle, her eyes gleaming as she gestured towards the steaming shower. "Get that filthy cock in here, cleaner boy," she purred, "The bathroom floor's clean enough... time you washed us properly."
Apartment 54. Third floor. Chaewon stood at the door, smiling. It was affordable, convenient — the perfect place for a new start. Too bad she hadn’t read the full description before buying it.
She drew in a deep breath before turning the doorknob. As the door opened, a warm, inviting scent and the sight of the apartment’s beautiful décor washed over her.
“Wow! This is better than I expected!” She spoke to herself.
She dropped her bag on the couch and looked around. The artwork on the walls stopped her in her tracks—it was incredible. She quickly snapped a photo and sent it to her friends.
“Oh right! Let’s check out the rooms.” As she approaches the corner, she bumps into someone and falls backward, landing on the ground as a couple of paintbrushes belonging to the other person clatter loudly beside her.
She rubs her forehead, dazed from the collision. “W-What the—?” Her eyes widen as she looks up at a tall boy towering above her. “W-Who are you?! And why are you in my apartment?!”
He let out a scoff. “Your apartment? Really? And maybe watch where you’re going next time.” He straightened up after dusting himself off, then crouched to collect his scattered paintbrushes.
He’s really handsome—unfortunately, Chaewon thought. And a total dick on top of that! She got back on her feet, glaring. “I live here! Why the hell are you in my apartment?!”
“Are you stupid?” he said, and Chaewon froze. “You’re the roommate, right? Please tell me you at least read the listing.” He crossed his arms. “It said shared apartment, genius.”
“Since always,” he said flatly, barely looking at her.
She threw her hands up. “Great. Just perfect. A random guy who doesn’t know how to apologize and thinks he owns the place. Fantastic start.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said with a half-smile. “Sorry to disappoint you, but the only haunting thing here is your lack of reading comprehension.”
“Excuse me?!” she snapped.
“Shared apartment,” he repeated, pointing towards the lease pinned to the fridge. “Welcome home, roommate.”
She rolled her eyes. “How can I be so stupid?!” She whispered under her breath. “I can’t go back now.”
~~~~
Chaewon let out a satisfied sigh. “Finally, all done,” she said, finishing the last of her unpacking. She glanced around the room, taking in her new space before deciding to explore a bit.
There were two extra rooms—one of which, she thought, could be perfect for a small music studio. But before she could take a closer look, the sharp sound of water splashing against the floor made her pause.
“Are you serious? Great—now I need to get more water,” the boy grumbled. Chaewon watched as he stepped out of the room, clearly frustrated.
As soon as he was gone, curiosity tugged at her. Moving quietly, she tiptoed to the doorway and peeked inside, gasping softly as her eyes swept across the room.
Art covered every inch of the room, from the walls to the easel in the corner. It’s beautiful, she thought, eyes wide in awe. “This guy’s actually talented,” she whispered. But before she could take another step…
“Boo!”
He caught her just in time, their faces inches apart. “You really have a thing for falling, don’t you?” he teased.
“S-shut up! You scared me!” she snapped, cheeks red as she stepped back.
After a brief pause, he tilted his head. “So… care to explain why you were snooping around my art room?”
“I—I wasn’t snooping!” she stammered. “I just… heard something and got curious.”
He leaned against the doorway, grinning. “Curious about my art or about me?”
“Neither!” she snapped, her face turning red. “Don’t flatter yourself! I-I was… inspecting.”
“Inspecting now, huh?” he said, laughing softly. “Didn’t realize I was living with a detective.”
“Maybe you are,” she replied, lifting her chin. “And detectives don’t like suspicious behavior.”
“Suspicious? I was painting.”
“Exactly. Suspicious,” she said, refusing to smile even as he laughed.
The tension in the air slowly faded into something lighter. He went back to his easel, brushing a few strokes of blue across the canvas.
Chaewon stood by the doorway, arms still crossed—but her tone softened. “You’re really serious about your art, huh?”
He glanced over his shoulder, surprised by her shift in tone. “Yeah. It’s kind of… my thing,” he said quietly. “Been painting since I was a kid.”
“That’s… actually pretty cool,” she admitted, her earlier defensiveness melting away.
He smiled faintly, the first genuine one she’d seen from him. “Thanks. Didn’t think you’d say that after calling me a jerk.”
She smirked, trying to play it off. “Hey, I can appreciate talent and still think you’re a jerk.”
“Fair enough,” he said, chuckling softly.
For the first time since she moved in, the silence between them wasn’t awkward—it was almost comfortable.
“You can come closer, you know,” he said without looking back. “You’re hovering like I’m gonna bite.”
“I’m not hovering,” she said quickly, taking one cautious step inside.
He glanced at her with a teasing smile. “Sure you’re not.”
She ignored him, pretending to study the paintings instead. “You’re… actually really good,” she admitted, her voice softer this time.
“Thanks,” he said, setting his brush down. “Didn’t expect you to say that. Thought you’d just insult me again.”
“I can multitask,” she replied with a grin.
He laughed—a real laugh this time—and she couldn’t help but smile too. The sound filled the room, easy and warm.
Then, without warning, she stepped back and bumped into a paint can.
They both froze as blue paint started pooling on the floor.
“Oh no…” she whispered.
He looked at the mess, then at her, and sighed. She winced. “I’ll… clean it up?”
He smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Yeah. Together.”
For some reason, that one word—together—made her chest flutter just a little. Chaewon grabbed some tissues from the counter and crouched down, trying to soak up the blue puddle.
“Ugh… this is so bad,” she groaned.
“Relax,” he said, kneeling beside her with a small smile. “It’s just paint. Happens all the time.”
“Yeah, well, not usually because I knock it over,” she muttered, cheeks puffing slightly.
He laughed softly. “You really do have a talent for chaos.”
She shot him a look. “Says the guy who leaves open paint cans lying around.”
“Touché,” he said, smirking.
They cleaned in silence for a moment—until she realized how close they were sitting. She glanced up, and he was already looking at her. For a second, neither of them moved.
“Uh…” she cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. “I don’t think we’ve… properly introduced ourselves.”
He blinked, then smiled faintly. “Right. I’m Lee Y/n.”
“Kim Chaewon,” she said, returning the smile despite herself.
“Well, Chaewon,” Y/n said, standing up and offering her a hand, “welcome to Apartment 54. Try not to flood the place again, yeah?”
She took his hand, rolling her eyes but smiling. “No promises.”
Their fingers brushed just a little longer than either of them expected.
And as they both looked away, pretending not to notice, that strange flutter in her chest returned—stronger this time.
~~~~
Morning sunlight spilled through the blinds, brushing across Chaewon’s face. She groaned softly, burying herself deeper under the blanket before realizing—
Wait… this isn’t my old apartment.
She blinked awake, glancing around the unfamiliar room, boxes still half-open, a faint smell of paint lingering in the air. Right. New place. New start. And… new roommate. Her stomach grumbled. “Ugh, breakfast,” she muttered, dragging herself out of bed.
As soon as she opened the door, the scent of coffee hit her. She peeked into the kitchen—and froze.
Y/n was already there, hair messy, sleeves rolled up, calmly sipping coffee while flipping pancakes like he owned the place. “Morning, roommate,” he said without looking up.
“You cook?” she asked, surprised.
“And you wake up before noon? Miracles do happen,” he replied with a grin.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re awfully confident for someone who spilled water everywhere yesterday.”
“Correction,” he said, turning to hand her a plate. “You knocked over the paint. I just cleaned it up better.”
She crossed her arms but took the plate anyway. “You’re still a jerk.”
“And you’re still clumsy.”
They stared at each other for a moment—then both cracked up laughing.
For the first time since she’d moved in, it felt… nice. Warm. Like maybe this wasn’t going to be such a disaster after all.
“So,” he said, taking another sip of coffee. “Think you can survive living with me?”
She smiled over her pancake. “Depends. Can you survive living with me?”
He chuckled. “Guess we’ll find out.”
(Later that day)
By afternoon, the apartment had settled into an almost comfortable rhythm—almost.
Chaewon was sitting on the couch with her laptop open, headphones on, quietly humming as she worked on a new melody. For once, everything felt calm. Until the sound of drilling shattered the peace.
“WHAT is that?!” she yelled, pulling off her headphones.
Y/n’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Just hanging up a shelf!”
“A shelf? It sounds like you’re demolishing the wall!” she shouted back.
He appeared a moment later, holding a power drill and covered in dust. “You’re welcome in advance. I’m making space for our stuff.”
“Our stuff?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You get the left side for your music junk. I’ll take the right.”
“It’s not junk,” she muttered. “It’s equipment.”
“Right,” he said with a grin. “Equipment that takes up half the living room.”
“You’re one to talk—your art supplies are everywhere!”
“Hey, creativity needs space.”
“So does sanity,” she fired back.
They glared at each other for a beat—then burst into laughter at how ridiculous they sounded.
“Okay,” Y/n said between laughs. “Maybe we’re both disasters.”
“Maybe,” she admitted, still smiling. “But at least it’s not boring.”
He looked at her for a second longer than necessary, that playful glint in his eyes softening just a little.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Definitely not boring.”
And just like that, the tension between them shifted—still sharp around the edges, but warmer now. The kind that hinted that maybe, just maybe, something more was beginning to spark.
(Time Skip)
A few days passed, and life in Apartment 54 began to settle into a strange but comfortable routine. Mornings were filled with the smell of coffee and the sound of Lee Y/n’s brushstrokes, while Chaewon’s music drifted softly from her room. They still bickered—constantly—but the edge had faded. Now, their arguments sounded more like inside jokes.
One evening, thunder rolled outside, rattling the windows. The rain poured hard against the glass as Chaewon peeked into the kitchen.
Y/n stood there, hair a little damp, sleeves rolled up, stirring something on the stove.
“You’re cooking again?” she asked, surprised.
“Someone’s gotta keep us alive,” he replied with a smirk. “Unless you plan on living off instant noodles forever.”
“Hey, don’t insult my noodles. They’ve gotten me through hard times,” she said, grinning.
“Then consider this an upgrade,” he said, handing her a spoon. “Taste.”
She hesitated, then took a bite. “Okay… wow. That’s actually really good.”
“You sound shocked,” he said, pretending to be offended.
“Because I am shocked,” she teased. “You look like the type who burns water.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”
“And you’re smug,” she said, grabbing a second spoonful anyway.
For a moment, the storm outside faded into background noise. The kitchen felt warm—too warm.
“You know,” he said after a pause, “you’re not as bad as I thought.”
“Wow,” she said, placing a hand over her chest. “The great Y/n just complimented me. Should I write this down?”
He chuckled. “Don’t push it.”
They shared a look—short, quiet, and strangely tender—before Chaewon turned away, pretending to focus on the rain tapping against the window.
What is this feeling? she thought, heart fluttering. He’s still a jerk… but why does he suddenly feel so—
“You’re staring again,” he said without turning around.
“I—What?! No, I wasn’t!” she stammered.
“Sure,” he said, smiling as he plated the food.
“Ugh,” she muttered, but couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto her lips.
(Later That Night!)
Later that night, the dishes were done, and the rain had quieted to a gentle patter. The two of them sat on the couch, mugs of hot chocolate in hand, a half-finished movie playing quietly in the background.
Chaewon glanced at Y/n from the corner of her eye. He wasn’t teasing her for once—just sitting there, focused on his drink, a small frown tugging at his lips.
“You look serious,” she said softly.
He chuckled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Just thinking.”
“About what?”
He hesitated before answering. “About how weird life can be. One moment, you’re sure of what you want… and then everything changes.”
She tilted her head. “That sounds deep. You okay?”
“Yeah,” he said with a faint smile. “Just… my last art exhibition didn’t go well. I thought it was going to be my big break, but it tanked. Felt like everything I’d worked for just… slipped away.”
Chaewon looked down at her mug. “I get that,” she said quietly. “I used to perform music before moving here. Small gigs, open mics… but after a while, it stopped being fun. I guess I needed to start over, too.”
He glanced at her, eyes softening. “So that’s why you moved here.”
“Yeah,” she said with a small shrug. “New place, new start. Though I didn’t plan on having a roommate who drives me crazy.”
He smiled. “You love it.”
“I tolerate it,” she corrected, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks.
The movie flickered, light dancing across their faces. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Then Y/n leaned back, his voice quieter. “You know, for what it’s worth… I’m glad you moved in.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said simply, eyes meeting hers. “It’s been… less quiet.”
She smiled, warmth spreading through her chest. “Guess that makes two of us.” Outside, the rain slowed to a soft drizzle—but inside, it felt like something had just begun.
(The Next Day!)
The next morning, the apartment felt different—warmer somehow.
Chaewon sat at the kitchen counter with her laptop, hair tied in a messy bun, a mug of coffee beside her. She was humming softly, lost in a melody.
Y/n walked in, half-awake, paint smudges still on his arm. “You’re singing again,” he said, voice low and groggy.
“You’re painting before breakfast again,” she replied without looking up.
He smirked. “Touché.”
There was a quiet ease between them now. She handed him his mug—his favorite, the one with a chipped handle—and he accepted it without a word, like it was already routine.
“So,” he said after a sip, “I was thinking about what you said last night. About music.”
“What about it?”
“You should get back into it. Perform again.”
She looked up, surprised. “You think so?”
“Yeah,” he said simply. “You light up when you talk about it.”
Her chest tightened a little. “That’s… actually really sweet, Y/n.”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” he teased. “I can be nice.”
“Occasionally,” she said with a grin.
He was about to reply when her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—and froze.
“Who’s Minho?” he asked casually, sipping his coffee.
“No one,” she said a little too fast.
“Ohhh,” he drawled, a teasing glint in his eye. “No one, huh?”
“Mind your own business,” she said, cheeks pink.
“I’m just saying,” he continued with a grin, “if your ‘no one’ keeps texting, I might have to start charging him rent.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered, throwing a napkin at him.
He caught it easily, laughing. “But you like living with me.”
“Debatable,” she said—but she couldn’t stop smiling.
And as Y/n turned back to his art, Chaewon tried to focus on her music again… though it was a lot harder when her heart wouldn’t stop racing.
~~~~
A week passed, and the chaos of moving in had finally settled. The apartment felt lived-in now — her music sheets scattered on the table, his paint stains on the floor, the faint scent of coffee and acrylics lingering in the air.
That evening, Chaewon sat by the window, strumming her guitar. The melody she’d been working on floated softly through the room — warm, gentle, unfinished.
Y/n looked up from his easel. “That’s new.”
“Yeah,” she said, not turning around. “Still figuring it out.”
“It’s good,” he said. “Different. Feels… honest.”
She smiled faintly. “Thanks. It’s kind of about… starting over, I guess.”
He nodded, dipping his brush into blue. “I get that.”
A few quiet minutes passed — just the hum of music and the brush gliding across canvas. Then, curiosity got the better of her.
“What are you painting?” she asked.
He hesitated. “You’ll laugh.”
“Try me.”
He sighed, gesturing for her to come closer. “Alright, but no teasing.”
She stood, walking over to his easel — and froze.
On the canvas was her. Sitting by the window, guitar in hand, light pouring over her hair like a soft halo. The strokes were delicate, full of color and warmth.
“That’s… me?” she whispered.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “You looked… peaceful. I just wanted to capture that.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Y/n, it’s beautiful.”
He looked at her then — really looked — and for the first time, she didn’t see the teasing grin or smug smirk. Just sincerity.
“You’re kind of my muse,” he admitted softly.
Chaewon’s heart skipped. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” she muttered, trying to hide her smile.
“Why not? It’s true,” he said simply, still painting.
She looked at the portrait again, her chest warm and full. For the first time since moving in, she realized she didn’t just feel comfortable here. She felt at home.
- The Following Night
The apartment was quiet except for the soft hum of rain tapping against the windows again.
Chaewon couldn’t sleep. She tossed, turned, and finally gave up, slipping out of bed to grab some water.
The living room lights were dim, and to her surprise, Lee Y/n was still awake — sitting on the couch, sketchbook in hand, a blanket draped lazily over his shoulders.
“You’re up late,” she said softly.
He glanced up and smiled faintly. “Could say the same to you.”
“Couldn’t sleep,” she admitted, sitting on the arm of the couch. “You?”
“Same. Too many thoughts.”
She nodded, staring at the rain-streaked window. “About your art?”
“About… everything,” he said quietly. “Life, mistakes, people who somehow make your days less dull.”
She looked at him, catching the tiny smirk he tried to hide. “Was that your way of calling me interesting?”
“Don’t push it,” he teased, but his tone was gentle.
For a moment, silence settled again — but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind that felt safe.
“Hey,” he said suddenly, voice softer now. “Thanks… for sticking around.”
She blinked. “What do you mean?”
“Most people would’ve run off after how we started,” he said with a small laugh. “Guess I’m lucky you didn’t.”
Her heart thudded. “Maybe I just didn’t want to leave you with a mess.”
“Or maybe,” he said, meeting her eyes, “you actually like having me around.”
She scoffed, but her voice wavered. “Keep dreaming.”
He smiled — not the cocky one she was used to, but something softer. “Yeah… maybe I am.”
Their eyes lingered for a second too long, the air between them charged with something unspoken — until a thunderclap broke the spell.
Chaewon quickly stood, brushing her hair behind her ear. “I, uh… should probably go back to bed.”
“Right,” he said, his voice low. “Goodnight, Chaewon.”
“Goodnight, Y/n.”
As she closed her door, her hand lingered on the knob, heart racing. She could still feel his gaze — warm, quiet, and heavy with something she didn’t quite have the courage to name.
- The Following Morning
The next morning came with sunlight spilling through the blinds — too bright, too normal for how fast Chaewon’s heart was still beating.
She took her time getting ready, hoping Y/n would still be asleep. No such luck.
He was already in the kitchen, hair messy, hoodie half-zipped, humming quietly as he poured coffee.
“Morning,” he said without looking up.
“Morning,” she replied, her voice softer than usual. She grabbed a mug, careful not to meet his eyes.
The silence stretched, heavier than usual — not awkward, exactly, but full of everything left unsaid from last night.
“You sleep okay?” he asked, glancing at her.
“Yeah,” she lied quickly. “You?”
“Eventually,” he said with a faint smile. “Kept thinking about—” He stopped himself mid-sentence.
“About?” she asked, raising a brow.
“Uh… the painting,” he said, taking a quick sip of coffee.
“Right,” she said, pretending to believe him. “The painting.”
They both looked away at the same time, cheeks tinged with color.
A beat passed, then Y/n broke the silence. “Hey… about last night—”
“Nothing happened!” she blurted out, way too fast.
He blinked. “Didn’t say it did.”
“Right. I just—uh—making sure you didn’t, you know, think anything happened.”
“Uh-huh,” he said, fighting a grin. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”
“You’re impossible,” she muttered, turning away — but he caught the tiny smile on her face.
As she walked toward her room, he called out, “Hey, Chaewon?”
She paused, looking over her shoulder.
“That song you were humming last night,” he said. “You should finish it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he said with a small, genuine smile. “It suits you.”
Her chest tightened again — that same flutter from before. “Thanks,” she said quietly, disappearing into her room.
Y/n watched the door close, exhaling a soft laugh to himself.
“Yeah,” he murmured under his breath, “definitely not just roommates anymore.”
~~~
The days slipped by quietly after that morning, each one blurring into the next. They had fallen into a rhythm—morning coffee, separate work, shared dinners, and those long, quiet nights where neither wanted to admit how much they looked forward to them.
That Friday evening, the apartment was calm. A gentle tune hummed from Chaewon’s speaker as she tuned her guitar. Y/n sat across from her on the floor, sketching something in his notebook.
“You’ve been working on that for hours,” she said, strumming a chord. “What is it this time?”
“Just sketching ideas,” he replied. “You’ll make fun of me if I show you.”
“No, I won’t,” she promised, smiling. “Probably.”
He shot her a look, but handed her the sketchbook anyway.
Her breath caught. It wasn’t just a drawing—it was her again. But this time, she wasn’t sitting by the window. She was on the couch, guitar in her lap, head turned slightly toward the light. It looked… alive.
“Y/n…” she whispered. “It’s beautiful.”
He shrugged, trying to play it off. “You make it easy to draw.”
Her heart skipped. “You really need to stop saying things like that,” she muttered.
“Why?” he asked, meeting her gaze. “Because they sound like I mean them?”
The room fell quiet. The song playing in the background faded into the hum of the city outside.
She looked away first, cheeks warm. “You’re impossible.”
“Maybe,” he said softly, setting his pencil down. “But you don’t look away when I draw you anymore.”
Chaewon swallowed, unsure what to say. Her fingers trembled slightly on the guitar strings. “Maybe I’m getting used to it,” she murmured.
He leaned back, studying her face, his tone lower now. “Or maybe you’re not scared to let someone see you anymore.”
She froze, her chest tightening. He wasn’t smiling this time. He wasn’t teasing. He was just… honest.
“Y/n…”
“Yeah?”
“If you keep saying stuff like that…” she said quietly, “I won’t know how to stop thinking about you.”
His eyes widened just slightly—but before he could reply, her phone buzzed again on the table. The moment shattered.
She stood quickly, flustered. “I—I should get that.”
He nodded, eyes following her as she walked away.
The unfinished song still lingered between them—soft, delicate, and full of everything they didn’t quite have the courage to say.
~~~
The night air was thick with quiet.
Chaewon stood in her room, phone in hand, staring blankly at the message from Minho: “Still thinking about you. Hope you’re doing okay.”
She sighed and locked the screen, tossing the phone onto her bed. It wasn’t that she didn’t care—it was just that things felt… different now. Especially after what Y/n had said.
She left her room to clear her head—and found him standing by the balcony, sketchbook in hand, looking out at the city lights.
“You’re still up?” she asked quietly.
“Couldn’t sleep,” he said without turning. “You?”
“Same.”
She walked closer, the cool night breeze brushing past them. For a moment, neither spoke.
“That guy who texted,” he said suddenly. “Is he… someone important?”
Chaewon blinked, caught off guard. “Minho? No. Not anymore.”
He nodded slowly. “Good.”
She frowned. “Good?”
“Yeah,” he said, turning to meet her eyes. “Because it’d really suck if I was starting to fall for someone who wasn’t available.”
Her breath caught. “Y/n…”
He took a hesitant step closer. “I know it’s sudden. And maybe it’s stupid. But every time you walk into a room, I can’t focus on anything else. You’re loud, stubborn, messy as hell—”
“Wow, way to make a girl feel special,” she interrupted, heart racing.
He laughed softly, eyes warm. “—but you make this place feel like home. And I haven’t felt that in a long time.”
She froze, words caught in her throat. All the teasing, the late nights, the quiet smiles—it all clicked.
“You really mean that?” she asked.
“Every word.”
The city lights flickered between them, reflections dancing in their eyes. Slowly, almost without realizing it, she stepped closer.
“Then you should probably kiss me before I overthink this,” she whispered.
He smiled, soft and certain. “Wasn’t planning on waiting.”
And just like that, the distance vanished.
The noise of the city melted away, replaced by the quiet rhythm of two hearts finally beating in sync.
When they pulled apart, Chaewon’s cheeks were flushed, her voice barely above a whisper.
“You’re still kind of a jerk, you know.”
“Yeah,” Y/n said, grinning. “But now I’m your jerk.”
She laughed softly, leaning her forehead against his. “Guess I can live with that.”
~~~
Morning light streamed through the curtains, brushing across the living room. The air felt different — softer, quieter, charged with the memory of last night.
Chaewon stirred awake on the couch, realizing she’d fallen asleep there after… that. Her heart skipped at the thought. Did that really happen?
“Morning,” came a voice from the kitchen.
She sat up quickly, nearly knocking over a cushion. “Oh—uh, morning.”
Y/n stood there, hair a mess, wearing the same hoodie from last night. He held two mugs of coffee — and a look that was somewhere between shy and amused.
“You sleep okay?” he asked, setting one mug down in front of her.
“Yeah. I think,” she said, still flustered. “You?”
“Barely,” he admitted with a small smile. “Kept replaying… uh—never mind.”
She blushed immediately. “You mean the—”
“Yep,” he interrupted quickly, taking a long sip of his coffee.
They sat in silence for a moment, both pretending to be way too focused on their mugs.
“So,” she started, trying to sound casual. “That kiss…”
“Yeah?”
“It wasn’t—uh—a roommate thing, right?” she asked carefully.
He chuckled softly, leaning against the counter. “Pretty sure roommates don’t usually kiss like that.”
“Good,” she said before she could stop herself.
He grinned. “Good?”
“I mean—not good good, just… you know what I mean!” she stammered, hiding her face in her hands.
Y/n laughed quietly, setting his coffee down and moving closer. “You’re cute when you’re flustered
“And you’re impossible,” she muttered, but didn’t move away when he sat beside her.
“Maybe,” he said with a small smile. “But now I’m your impossible.”
She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress a grin. “If you keep saying things like that, I might actually start liking you.”
“Might?” he teased.
“Don’t push it,” she said — but the blush on her cheeks gave her away.
And as they sat there, laughing softly over coffee, the air between them finally felt easy — like love had quietly found its place in the middle of their chaos.
~~~
Three weeks later, Apartment 54 looked… lived in. Half-finished canvases leaned against the wall, a pile of guitar picks sat on the coffee table, and there was always music playing — either Chaewon’s humming or Y/n’s soft tapping of a brush against glass.
They’d fallen into a rhythm that felt easy and right.
“You’re using my mug again,” Chaewon said one morning, hands on her hips.
Y/n looked up from the stove, feigning confusion. “Your mug?”
“Yes, the blue one with the tiny crack. You said it was cursed!”
“Well,” he said, handing her a plate of pancakes, “guess I wanted to test my luck.”
“Unbelievable,” she muttered — but she smiled as she took the plate.
Later that afternoon, Y/n painted while Chaewon recorded vocals in her small setup. Through the wall, he could hear her laughing at her own mistakes, starting over again and again. It made him smile — the sound of her voice had become the heartbeat of the apartment.
Around sunset, she wandered into his art room, curious as always. “Working on another masterpiece?”
“Maybe,” he said, brushing a line of gold across the canvas. “Want to see?”
She leaned over — and froze. It was a painting of two mugs sitting side by side on the kitchen counter. Her cursed blue one… and his chipped gray one.
“You painted our mugs?” she asked softly.
He shrugged. “They looked right together.”
Her heart swelled, caught somewhere between laughter and tears. “You’re such a sap.”
“You love it,” he said, smiling.
“Yeah,” she admitted quietly. “I really do.”
He reached out, brushing a bit of paint off her cheek. “You’ve got color on you.”
“You did that on purpose,” she said, narrowing her eyes.
“Maybe,” he teased.
“Oh, you’re so—” she lunged for him, smearing a streak of blue across his jaw.
“Hey!” he laughed, dodging but failing miserably. In seconds, it turned into a full-blown paint war — laughter echoing through the apartment.
When they finally stopped, breathless and messy, Chaewon looked at him, her voice softer.
“You know,” she said, “I think this apartment really is perfect now.”
“Yeah?” he said, smiling. “Why’s that?”
“Because you’re in it.”
He smiled back, eyes warm. “Guess that makes two of us.”
Outside, the evening light bathed the room in gold. Inside, the chaos of paint and laughter felt like home.
~~~~
A few months later, Apartment 54 had changed again.
Not physically — the same canvases lined the walls, the same guitar rested by the couch — but it felt different. There was something unspoken in the air lately, a quiet tension beneath the laughter.
Chaewon sat at the table, scrolling through her emails. Her eyes landed on one from a small music studio — the kind of opportunity she’d dreamed about. They wanted her to record a demo. In Busan.
“Hey,” Y/n said from the other room, breaking her train of thought. “You’ve been quiet all morning.”
“Just… reading something,” she replied quickly, closing her laptop.
He walked in, paint still on his hands, curiosity written all over his face. “Something good?”
“Yeah. Maybe. A studio wants me to record a song. But it’s in Busan.”
He smiled, proud. “That’s amazing, Chaewon!”
“It’s only for a few weeks,” she said carefully. “But they want me to move there if it goes well.”
His smile faltered, just a little. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Silence settled — heavy and uncertain.
“You should do it,” Y/n said finally, forcing a smile. “This is your dream.”
“I know,” she said quietly. “I just… didn’t think it would come this soon.”
“Hey,” he said, stepping closer. “We’ll figure it out. Long distance isn’t impossible.”
She looked at him, eyes soft. “You say that now, but what if it changes everything?”
“Then we’ll change together,” he said simply.
Chaewon smiled, but something inside her still twisted.
Later that night, she found Y/n on the balcony, staring out at the city. The sketchbook lay open beside him — but instead of drawing, he’d written something.
“What’s that?” she asked.
He closed it quickly, smiling. “Nothing. Just… thinking again.”
“About me leaving?”
“About us,” he admitted. “I want you to chase your dream. I just wish it didn’t mean chasing you from far away.”
She reached out, taking his paint-stained hand in hers. “You won’t lose me, Y/n.”
He squeezed her hand gently. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
The night stretched quiet and still — full of love, fear, and everything in between.
Neither of them said it aloud, but they both knew:
Sometimes the hardest part of loving someone is learning when to let them fly.
~~~~
The day Chaewon left, the apartment felt empty.
Her laughter no longer echoed through the hall, and Y/n found himself pausing mid-brushstroke, expecting to hear her humming from the other room. But there was only silence.
She texted him when she arrived in Busan:
Chaewon: Landed safe. The studio’s smaller than I thought, but it feels right.
Y/n: Good. Don’t forget to eat, okay? And send me your new song when you finish it.
Chaewon: Bossy as ever. Miss you already.
He smiled at the screen for longer than he’d admit.
Days passed, and their messages turned into nightly video calls. She’d tell him about long recording hours and ramen dinners, and he’d show her the new paintings he’d started—one of which, she eventually noticed, had her reflection hidden in the background.
“You painted me again,” she said one night, laughing.
“I keep trying not to,” he said, “but you sneak in anyway.”
Her smile softened. “You’re such a sap.”
“You love it,” he teased, but his voice was quiet, careful.
Weeks turned into a month. Her song began to gain traction online, small but steady, and she started spending more time at the studio. Calls became shorter. Texts took longer to arrive.
One evening, Y/n sat on the balcony with his phone, typing and deleting the same message over and over.
I miss you.
He finally hit send.
It took an hour before her reply came.
Chaewon: I miss you too. I’m sorry I’ve been busy. Things are getting crazy here.
Y/n: Don’t apologize. You’re doing amazing.
He meant it — but when he looked at the empty couch where she used to sit, the words hurt a little.
A few days later, she sent a voice message instead of a text. Her tone was soft, tired, but warm.
“Hey… I listened to one of your old recordings today — the one with the guitar near the window. I miss that sound. I miss home. I miss you.”
Y/n closed his eyes, the ache in his chest melting into a quiet smile.
“Then come back soon,” he whispered to himself.
Outside, the night was still — but for the first time in weeks, he picked up his brush again. This time, he painted not just her image… but the space between them.
~~~~
The train from Busan to Seoul rattled softly, the hum of the tracks matching the rhythm in Chaewon’s chest. Months had passed since she left — months of new faces, music sessions, and long nights staring at her phone, missing the sound of his voice.
Her song had taken off more than she expected. The studio wanted her full-time now, but the one thing she couldn’t stop thinking about wasn’t her music.
It was Y/n.
When the train finally stopped, she exhaled a shaky breath and whispered to herself, “Home.”
⸻
The key still fit perfectly in the lock.
Apartment 54 smelled exactly the same — faint coffee, paint, and something that was just him.
“Hello?” she called softly.
From the art room, a familiar voice answered. “Chaewon?”
He appeared in the doorway, paint still on his hands, looking both stunned and relieved all at once.
“You’re… back,” he said, almost afraid to believe it.
She nodded, smiling nervously. “Surprise.”
For a moment, neither moved. Then he stepped forward, closing the distance. She barely had time to breathe before his arms were around her.
“You have no idea how much I missed you,” Y/n murmured against her hair.
She laughed softly, clutching him back. “I think I do.”
When they finally pulled apart, his eyes lingered on her face — the tiredness from travel, the sparkle of happiness she tried to hide.
“You look different,” he said. “Happier.”
“Busan will do that to you,” she teased. “But… I missed this.”
“The paint smell or me?”
“Both,” she said, smiling.
⸻
That night, they sat on the balcony again — the same spot where he’d once told her he was falling for her.
“How was it?” he asked.
“Amazing,” she said honestly. “Terrifying too. But I learned a lot. About music… and about what I really want.”
“And what’s that?” he asked softly.
She looked at him, eyes glinting in the city light. “To keep making music. But not alone.”
He smiled — the kind that reached his eyes this time. “You mean…?”
“I mean you,” she said simply. “Home didn’t feel like home without you in it.”
Y/n took her hand gently, thumb brushing her skin. “Then don’t leave again.”
She squeezed his hand. “Not unless you come with me.”
The city below seemed to fade away — just two people, one promise, and the warmth of a love that had quietly waited to be rediscovered.
And for the first time in months, both of them knew:
They were exactly where they were meant to be.
~~~~
A year had passed since the day Chaewon came back to Apartment 54.
The place had changed again — not from new furniture or paint, but from life. From laughter that filled the rooms, from music that blended with the soft scent of acrylics, from the quiet warmth of two hearts that had finally found their rhythm.
Chaewon’s song — the one she wrote during her nights in Busan — had gone viral. She still couldn’t quite believe it. Fans sent her messages about how it “felt like home,” and every time she read one, she’d glance at Y/n, who always smiled knowingly.
He’d opened a small art studio downtown. Sometimes, people would stop to ask about the portraits displayed in the window — the girl with the gentle smile, the paint-stained hands, the spark in her eyes.
“That’s my muse,” he’d say simply.
They still argued — about laundry, about who finished the coffee, about whose turn it was to take out the trash — but those tiny moments had become part of their rhythm. Their chaos. Their love.
One evening, as the golden hour painted the room in soft orange light, Chaewon sat by the window, strumming her guitar.
“What are you working on?” Y/n asked, leaning against the doorframe.
“A new song,” she said, smiling. “About us.”
“Yeah?” he asked, grinning. “Should I be nervous?”
“A little,” she teased. “It’s about a girl who moved into an apartment with a total jerk.”
“Ah. Sounds familiar.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, eyes twinkling. “He turns out to be the love of her life.”
He laughed, crossing the room to kiss her forehead. “I like how it ends.”
“Me too.”
She started playing again — soft, steady chords that filled the apartment with warmth.
Y/n picked up his sketchbook, sitting beside her on the floor, drawing while she sang.
Two creators, two dreamers, two hearts that had collided by accident and stayed by choice.
Outside, the city moved on — busy, loud, endless.
But inside Apartment 54, time slowed.
Home wasn’t just walls or windows anymore.
It was them.
~~~~
The End!🥲
My first Ever Fic!!!! A fluff to start the launch of new writer! Smuts will be written too so don’t worry!😉
germansingergirl
blakekathryn
snowghoul
jacobvanloon
theartofmadeline
gummygunk
dailybridgerton
vaporwave