It really should take a lot more work to land yourself between Gaeul's gloriously creamy thighs.
At least something that's a little harder than sending a borderline brain-dead, minutes-to-midnight text message; one that would typically get you blocked, or at least slapped, or even more likely—get your shit set on fire again.
But, because you're you, and she's well aware of what that means, all it takes is:
annyeonghaseyo, fine shyt.
—
"You know that you're an asshole, right?"—is the welcome you get when Gaeul lets you past the threshold of her front door.
Making it known she's pissed—greeting you with a huff and that dangerously cute pout. As if she’s not absolutely delighted to see you (at least that’s what you assume).
But any complaints she has are dropped the moment she lets you get your hands on her soft curves—lets you press your thumbs into that absurdly tight, little waist and navigate her around her own apartment.
Her fault really—opening the door looking like that.
Your Gaeul, in all her unreasonable gorgeousness; with that curtain of blonde, silky hair and those impractically tiny shorts that cut off at the top of her thighs. That t-shirt that's a couple sizes too small, feeding into her apparent need to always have her midriff on display. Not that you're complaining because really, who could blame her, considering you could build entire stadiums on those abs.
And in a way, she has.
But, amazingly-sculpted abs aside, Gaeul chooses to shove down her annoyance for now, as things end up at the same place they always do—you, her, and her back pressed up against something hard and firm.
In this case, it’s the fridge.
It's very rare that you ever even make it past the kitchen.
"Good evening to you too," you say and Gaeul just exhales, exasperated, whatever answer she had locked and loaded gets filed away for the next time you arrive on her doorstep all horned up and half-cut.
For now, she just looks up at you.
A ghost of a smile in the corners of her pretty mouth giving her away; the thrill that's hiding there, barely masking the real reason for her irritation.
It has been a whole week.
You meet her gaze. Check the defiance in her eyes—no, it's a challenge staring up at you.
Gaeul doesn’t blink. Neither do you.
She goes on the attack, swipes her tongue ever-so-slowly over her lips, takes a deep breath that makes her chest heave, stretching out the single word plastered across her t-shirt.
Your eyes venture downwards.
You lose the contest.
Gasp, indeed.
And there's her grin now, sugary-sweet, like whipped cream and strawberries—the usual flavour she wears on her lips whenever you come around. You let her have her little victory.
Taking your time, opting to dare a quick glance away from her—across the kitchen, to address the weird feeling that's been scratching at the back of your mind ever since you stepped foot inside.
The suspiciously clean surfaces, wiped-down counters, and—did she actually mop?
Gone are the grocery bags she's usually too lazy to put away, the dishes piling up next to her sink, the takeout containers littering the countertops.
And in their place is just clean marble; closer to a display kitchen than an actual lived-in home, complete with the composed framing of two near-full wineglasses, a barely touched bottle of red, and a bouquet of flowers teetering on the corner.
Correction—roses.
There's a bouquet of roses.
Gaeul hates roses.
"You had a guest," you say, flatly.
She treats it as an accusation. "So?"
"Hot date?" You're asking, not really expecting an honest response. Just something to tease her with—other than the fingers that skate under the hem of her top, over the tightness of her stomach; or your lips drifting down behind her lobe, her cheek, further onto her chin. The usual motions that make her body hum. "Did it go well?
That hot, tiny exhale into your ear when you suck a mark into her neck is your answer.
Christ.
"What do you think?" Gaeul gets out, shaking her head, "yeah it went amazing—he's in the bedroom, waiting for his turn."
"Might be waiting a while then," and you're laughing and being evil because now you have one hand heading north, rising beneath her top and higher and higher along her stomach, while your other travels even further south, engaging in battle with her unnecessarily tight pair of denim shorts. She must have sprayed them on to get it to fit around her peachy ass.
Never mind.
Only a matter of time before they're hurtling closer to their destiny of eventual ruin.
You settle with just getting a handful of her.
Well, two.
Her breast spilling through your fingers. Her plump ass cheek filling your palm.
A thought occurs to you as she lets out her first, true, honest noise of the night.
A lovely little moan.
You pause.
"Wait, you brought him up here for a drink? On the first date?" Your words come quick. Not that you’re hurt. Just a tad incredulous. "Damn, I hope he appreciated it. It took me like... well, it felt like a lot?"
"Please." Gaeul rolls her eyes. Not the last time you'll make them do that. Your fingers tug at her waistband, attempting to loosen a particularly stubborn button keeping her shorts fastened. "We haven't even been on a first date yet."
You blink. Now you're actually hurt. "What do you call these visits?"
Gaeul tilts her head. Raises an eyebrow.
Gives you a second to get lost in her eyes. The setting of her jaw. Her lips.
She's far too distractingly pretty for her own good.
Your question goes forgotten.
Ah.
Her button pops open.
You let out a little cheer.
She surrenders a smile.
"You're not jealous, are you?"
You feign offence. "Of this guy? Of course not. Just pitying his bad luck."
"Too bad for him, then."
"And all the better for me."
And you're back at it.
Lifting her top over her head—only, leaving it at her wrists. Makeshift bindings to keep her hands pinned above. Stretch her out a little; leave her there in her slowly sagging shorts, her unfortunately boring cotton bra.
But yet, the promise of the firmness of her body; the frame, the posture—those long, dancer's legs and that toned, perfect ass. The tight nubs of her nipples poking through the fabric, pointing like a compass towards your tongue—needing to find their home again so they can be rolled, teased, sucked on between your lips.
And the flush in her cheeks, the sweat that's started to slide down her neck, pooling in her collarbones. The inability to disguise the fact that she's always so willing, always allowed you to have your way with her, never said no, just looked up at you with a challenge and some fire and that locked-in stare filled with anticipation.
The—‘let's get past all the banter and the games and the badly concealed jealousy whenever she goes on dates that lead to nowhere and you come over smelling of alcohol and a faux-expensive perfume that couldn't possibly be yours’, and you both get to the part where you're creating a whole, genuine mess in her kitchen.
Returning it to its proper state of fucked-out bliss—a crime-scene filled with damning evidence that someone was well and truly brought to tears here. Tits mashed into the cold tiles, ass cheeks pressed flush against the countertops.
Cunt made to gush so excessively the apartment below thinks there’s a leak in their ceiling.
So, yeah.
That.
You reach out. Brush a curl of blonde out from her face.
She leans her cheek into your palm.
You kiss her.
That's always a good place to start.
Her heels lift to meet you, you're too tall for her. Or maybe she's just so much smaller, and it's all by design, that need that's built into her. That thing that triggers the primal urge to hoist her up, throw her over your shoulder, or across the room and onto the nearest bed.
Do whatever you want to her, as long as it's somewhat along the lines of having each and every worry that exists outside the bounds of your presence fucked out of her pretty little head.
She bites into your lip when you try to slip your tongue past hers.
Laughs down your throat.
She never said she wasn't trying to fuck you up too.
"Oh, your date must have sucked," you say, managing to escape her teeth before she can draw blood. "You probably wet yourself when you saw my message come through."
"That's—" Gaeul tries, but her eyes dart to the forgotten bottle of wine for just a moment. You press yourself into her to take back her attention. "He was nice."
"Boring."
"Actually wanted to get to know me."
"Damn—double boring"
She repeats, "He was nice."
“And I’m not?"
She stops. Eyes look up at her trapped wrists. Then down at her waist, her body. All at your mercy.
You shrug.
Squeeze an ass cheek for good measure.
"Fair point."
"He wanted to stay, but—"
"You couldn't wait to get him the fuck out of here."
Gaeul sighs.
"So you could get me back in here."
Hands still pinned above, and yet. She pushes her hips off the fridge, wraps a leg around the back of yours to pull you in closer. Grinds you into her—pressing that engorging bulge tearing a hole through your pants into her. Making sure that you know that she knows she’s not the only one in need here.
Her neck cranes, and she catches your lips, forcing her own tongue into your mouth.
And there's that fire, that classic Gaeul inclination to burn everything down that's good and nice just so she can feel a little bit of that heat. Just so she can get real, actual warmth only you can provide.
"I really fucking couldn't."
"That's why I messaged," you reply. "I have a sixth sense for shit like this. Damsels in distresses, that kind of thing."
"Is that what I am?"
"A certain kind," you say, unhooking her leg from yours, and at last managing to shimmy her shorts far enough over her cheeks, letting them rest just beneath. Her panties, coral pink and tied off with a bow—a lot cuter than her other choice of underwear—are far easier to navigate.
You slip a finger, two, down, bristling over the light traces of hair. And then—tellingly—hot.
Wet.
"See," you tease, pressing a finger up against the heat, and there’s that deafening sound; the soft squelch as her lips fold around your index, and it's getting sticky. "Distressed."
"Unfortunately," she sighs, or moans again, either way her voice goes all soft and she's starting to melt, sinking herself onto you, cuffing your wrist between her thighs. "Really, fucking distressed."
"I could’ve told your friend. Could've saved him the cheap bouquet," you're saying, surprised at how much more talking you're doing than usual. But maybe it’s the mood. Maybe it's something to prove. "Could've told him he's wasting his time with you because he never had a chance coming up here with good intentions."
Maybe it's the effect that hearing your voice seems to have on her. Hearing you tell it like it really is, treating her like she really likes to be treated—in ways that you just can't tell someone on a first date that you need to be.
"Because all a slut like you really needs is a little bit of pressure in just the right place and—"
"Oh, fuck," she shivers, and your fingers push up and into her. Curling just right, palm pressing just so. Her moans pitch high as you hold her steady, just the weight of your body against her, your grip the only thing keeping her upright.
She's half your weight probably, so you can support her even when she goes all boneless, when she’s too busy finding new and exciting ways to whisper your name back to you, or finding a new place for her teeth along your ear, your neck.
Impossible for her to ever get close to hurting you.
But very easy for her to make you laugh.
You give her the small mercy of letting go of her wrists.
Her bra does a disappearing act quickly after.
"Bet he didn't even get close to doing anything like this." And it's your turn to put teeth to skin; dark, caramel nipples landing between your lips, sugar right on your tongue.
"God, no." Her hands thread through your hair, pulling you into her, muffling your scant thoughts with her tits. "It was the first date."
You get a bit rough. A bit mean. Definitely not coming from a place of insecurity. You sink your teeth in, jab your fingers up. Make her squeal a little. "As if there'll be a second."
"What makes you think there won't?" Gaeul asks, the sound that follows sounding uncharacteristically cruel. "I liked him."
You brush it off. "Not like you like me though."
Her eyes flicker open. Her lips curl into a smile. The fire keeps burning. "Who said I like you? I just like how you—"
"Make you feel," you tell her, not needing your so-called sixth sense. No, you can read her mind well enough—feel it in the way she's flooding her panties. Letting you stretch out the cotton while your fingers do the same on her cunt—picking up their pace.
It's always the same thoughts running through her mind anyway.
I hate you. I need you. Just shut up and make me cum.
What was a careful, sweet science deteriorates, builds. You're kissing into her chest, these tender graces against her heartbeat, but it's more for you then for her.
Because that's what everyone else will naturally do, what happens whenever any mere mortal is put in the vicinity of someone like her—someone as pretty as her.
They worship.
Worship the marvel of toned muscles, her flawless, soft skin. The curves and dips, the tiny, tiny quakes and quivers against your lips.
But stopping there is for losers with red wine and roses.
You know full well she really needs.
Fingers in and out, making her leak. Making her head bang against the metal door behind her, making her ass thump against the fridge. Muscles tighten, thighs clamp down, each one of her tight, ridged abs expand and contract and—oh God.
"I like how you treat me," she's confirming, sputtering really. Because the honesty means she's close, because you both know it's only when she's right on the edge, right when she's undeniably gushing, burning up and all over you, and unable to hide the fact that it's all really just for you, that there's no point in telling anything but the truth.
"Oh?" You're smiling, kissing, heading lower and lower down to the promised land.
Pale white skin prickling as it's subjected to your tongue, leaving behind a trail, a glistening sign that you were here, that this territory is yours.
Her chest is heaving, your fingers right at the trigger, and there's that stray thought of is she really that sensitive—or is it just you.
When you get down to your knees—down to her waist—kiss just at the top of her mound, yank down her panties and pull her by her cunt closer to your lips, you decide to test your theory.
"And how do I treat you?"
Her hips buck again. Clit grinds onto your tongue and she's showing the first signs of cracking, of falling to pieces. Fingers into claws, scraping at your scalp.
Ten minutes ago she wouldn't have dreamed of admitting it.
But you always get her there, anyway.
"Don't make me say it," she says.
You scoff. "I don’t make you do anything. Except, well—"
Lips fasten over her clit. You suck.
She's starting to melt.
"You treat me like a, like a—" She pushes the words through her teeth, singing them into your ears. "Like a slut."
You flick your tongue—once, twice, tried and true steps to oblivion. "A slut?"
"Yours," she breathes. "Fucking yours."
"Is that all?" Your question rumbles into her cunt, your tempo quickening, building until the up-down lapping of your tongue is at pace with the in-out of your now three fingers.
Not long now.
It was always going to come quick. Hitting her hard and fast. After all, she's been soaking ever since your name flashed across her phone screen.
She'll be soaking long after.
"Just mine?" A long, generous lick from bottom to top. "Just my slut?"
"Your whore, your toy, fuck what else do you want from me?" Desperate, panting breaths, pleas. You can't see it clearly from down between her thighs but you can see the traces: red flushing across her cheeks, tears beginning to bud in the corners of her clenched eyes. Throat bulging as she swallows, body rising off the cold fridge door, thrusting her chest out, her stiffened nipples pointing to the sky and it's just about time for you to tell her—
"I want you to prove it."
"I'll—"
"Cum," you tell her. Command her—through her cunt, shoot the word through her body so it reaches up her spine and snatches her whole. And the final push, into her ears, the unlocking of everything she's let build and get bottled up while she went looking for someone nice: "Slut."
"Gah—fucking—"
Gaeul's eyes snap open, going all glassy and dazed.
Greedy—the both of you.
You, sucking out the juices that rush onto your tongue, slipping out the corners of your mouth and leaking down your chin. Getting messy on her, letting her make a mess of you. Pure heat, these shivers against your face, the forceful grinds against your mouth as you go to work against her gasping hole.
And her, in tatters, coming apart. Trying to ride it out for as long as she can—this feeling. Holding you by your hair, keeping you fastened to her, sandwiching your ears with her thighs, burying your nose into her mound, feeding you her delicious cunt.
So, so hot that you already want to skip to the next part—the one where you're cock's flooding her cunt and she's reeling from the fact that no one can make her feel as complete as you, but you're not quite there yet.
"Too much, too much, God—baby—fuck!"
And she's gone—back arching, her voice, her body, all high and pretty and there's the beginnings of a mess returning to her kitchen—going back to its natural state, back to being both hers and yours.
"I can't—can't believe—I can't stand—"
Gaeul goes limp, thighs let go, she slumps forward, and you reposition yourself just in time to catch her as she slides down to the ground with you, falling into your arms.
Still leaking out of her cunt, shorts hanging surreptitiously off one ankle.
You admire your work, take the beat to appreciate her.
Your cute pyromaniac—even with next to no control over her own limbs, still somehow gifting you with the downright irresistible angles of her dilated, fucked-out eyes, the dip of her cleavage into her budding breasts, the sweat now shiny against her abs—glistening with where your tongue was moments ago.
Cunt burning up, cradled against your fingers.
You want to laugh.
Remind yourself that it's only been a week since you last fucked her.
She makes it seem like an eternity.
"You're still such an asshole," she reaffirms between laboured, heavy breaths.
"At least I don't waste your time with shit you don't even like," you tilt your head to the bouquet, the wine. A far cry from crotchless panties and Soju body-shots. "Getting you straight to the part you need."
Gaeul gets her second wind—fistfuls of your t-shirt in her hands and she's both shutting you up and tasting herself on your tongue.
Making herself familiar with the slick left on your chin; licking your face clean, satiating herself with samples of her own flavour.
And now she's sliding her own fingers down, finding you well and truly and obviously hard for her.
She bites your lip again. Sucks on it between her teeth.
You let her linger.
She lets go. Bats her eyelashes. It's so unnecessary. "Do I even need to ask?"
And there's the sparks there, yet another fire she's starting, and you can't help but get all poetic and mushy as you see it in her eyes—she's the flame, the kindle, she's the whole fucking city that you're going to burn down.
Oh, this is going to be a long night of arson.
"There's nothing more I'd rather hear you say."
"Get those clothes off," she says it like a threat, kissing your face, your chin, anywhere she can get her lips. Lifting up your shirt, letting it get lost on a stray pile. "Take out that devastatingly big, hard cock."
You let her have her way, shift around the tiles so she can make quick work of your sweatpants, so she can scrape her nails across your body, mapping you out like you've done to her so many times.
Takes her time drinking in your body, let's her fingers dance around your cock.
Something so innocent in the way she toys with it, in the deep breath she takes while she gathers her words, herself. In her eyes when she refocuses on you and says:
"Give it to me, fill me with it, just really—use my cunt with that beautiful cock until I split in two. And then keep going."
"Is that all?" you say, straightening your posture.
Gaeul nods. Her voice already starting to crack when she answers, "It's a start."
"Right here?" You're asking, but you both already know.
"Do you see any other hard surfaces to fuck me into?"
Your cock stands tall. Free.
You flex it.
She's hypnotised.
"Maybe next time we'll make it to the bedroom."
"What makes you think there'll be a next time?" She teases, but she's already chewing on her lip, trying to keep herself contained.
Habit has her falling into this pose. Leaning back just so. Letting her thighs part. Putting it all on full display—hot lips puffy and pulsing, pretty pink waiting to be taken.
It's all so ridiculous.
And she's still dripping.
You exhale. You're just as insane for her as she clearly is for you.
Her smile turns wicked, telling you, "Hurry up now. If you're not quick enough I might have to call back my date."
"Gaeul," you answer, your voice turning low and firm. Dangerous. You take her by the wrist, pull her forward.
Make her bow before you.
"Let's not get confused about why I'm here and he's not."
Your hand finds its way back between her legs. Fingers returning to her heat.
A light touch.
She shivers.
Your point proven.
But Gaeul's all smiles, and you give her the space to climb on top of you, to straddle your hips, slink her body up and against yours, level her vulnerable pussy-lips with your head, to make first, agonisingly slow contact with your cock.
Let her slide her cunt down your shaft, lather your length in her. Get it all lubricated and throbbing and ready.
You can't help the involuntary twitch of your cock tapping against her pussy. Nor can you hold back the groaned, "Gaeul," she so clearly relishes.
"Yes," she groans right back, delirious, joyful, reaching her hand down between her legs, rubbing her palm against her wetness so she can spread it further down.
Wrapping slick fingers around you, pumping the wetness up and down, around and over your length.
Once, twice—too fucking much.
And sure, the warmth of her touch is nice, the wetness making you start to bead from your tip. But yet, it's now you bucking your hips, bumping your head up and towards her entrance.
Needing a touch of that heat on your cockhead.
She grinds her teeth and makes a noise as you get close to pushing in—past her palm and into her pussy proper.
But she holds firm.
You let her have her way, at least for now.
There’ll be plenty of time to have yours.
"You're right," she tells you, before kissing you again, looping her tongue around yours. "I really needed you."
And for a moment, it's warm.
It's sweet.
Having her on top, holding her like this.
The idea of something different floats through your mind. This long, loving, tender kind of sex.
Nah.
That's not you, that's not her.
At least, maybe not now.
Hands back on her hips, lifting her up.
Gaeul squeals in delight. She knows she doesn't have a choice but to follow.
A gasp—"Ah—yes. That's how you treat your slut."
Oh, she's going to get wrecked.
But first—lifted off your own hips, spun around, bent over.
Ass to the sky, cheek pressed down against the tiles.
"My slut," you say, as you push her down, "my toy," kneeling behind her, levelling your cock with her cunt, "my whore—right?"
You take your time with each word, each well-earned moniker that makes her mewl in delight, whimper back joyful affirmations.
Presenting herself to you, and you're almost succumbing to the temptation of diving face first into her little, gaping cunt again.
Just tasting it once more.
Getting knuckle-deep inside her, maybe a thumb in that perfect rosebud of her asshole and pushing your digits into her until she's drenched the palm of your hand.
Maybe later.
"Please, don't make me wait any longer."
"It's only been a week."
"Yeah," Gaeul admits, and she's closing her eyes, bracing herself. "I can't believe you made me wait a whole fucking week."
And again, your thoughts get in the way. "You could have messaged me first."
"That's not how this works."
You reach forward, running your palm down from the base of her spine over the fine slope of her ass.
You draw your hand back.
Slap hard.
Your name bounces off the walls once more.
"No, I guess it's not."
You inhale. Deeply.
Your reunion is as unceremonious as it is sudden—one moment your cock is hanging just outside of her sopping cunt; feeling the whispers of her lips on your tip.
The next: it's all the way in, swallowed up inside.
A single, harsh, quick, brutal thrust.
Pushing her into the tiles, pushing your weight onto her, making her go from empty to far more whole than she can handle, and if it weren't for your hand on her ludicrously tight waist holding her still—she'd likely fall right through the Earth.
"God—fuck!" She's trembling, barely holding herself together as you keep your cock buried within her.
Only one thrust and she's back to her natural state. Completely submissive, through and through.
You keep your cock warm, let it pulse against her walls.
Deal with how unfairly tight she is. How much of a perfect cocksleeve she is. How completely, utterly fucked of a hold her cunt has on you.
Let the heat sink into your skin, keep your fingertips on her creamy thighs, muscles firming up beneath. Stamp your thumbs onto her cheeks, mark familiar patterns into the dimples of her ass.
Leaning forward to press a kiss between her shoulder blades, a last show of kindness before the rapid descent into filth and undoings so final that no revolving door of first dates with nice, boring guys could ever bring her back from.
God, for someone like her—with her beauty, the whole picture so precious and pristine. Not just how she looks but who she is.
The idol, the centre of attention, the woman literally factory-perfected to be loved, worshipped, to move entire economies.
Now stripped naked and laying her flawless form at your feet, all for your taking.
"Keep going," she's saying, and you're envious at how blissful she sounds. So happy, so satisfied.
Exactly where she wants to be. Treated exactly as she wants.
"More. Harder." And the cherry on top, "You know I can take it."
And the implication—you know no one else can.
You give yourself a last glance at her, the dreamy look on her face, the way her mouth opens in this pleasant, perfect little circle as you begin to draw your hips back and slowly sap away any ability she ever had to think straight, rational thoughts.
At least thoughts that weren't wholly consumed with how mercilessly you're stretching her out.
"Then take it," you say—and your hand comes down again. A hard, sharp spank that turns her cheek crimson.
A starting gun for the both of you.
Your cock sinks back in.
She cries out your name again.
And there's no build up—she's had enough of that.
You've let herself wade into the waters on your fingers, atop your chin, get herself nice and loose and really prepare her—even though nothing quite could—for your particular brand of fucking.
The next thrust comes faster, harder.
You always forget how much Gaeul likes to scream.
Like she has something to prove—like hey, where else will you find someone so perfect, that cares so little about whether or not anyone else can hear. Fuck, she wants it to be known just how desperately needy she is for your cock, how she'd probably die if you ever left her cunt empty again.
Wants it to be known that it's just her that's built for this, built to take this—the spankings, the tears, the curses, the ‘oh fucks' and ‘don't stop, whatever you fucking do, don't fucking stop'.
Only her, only your Gaeul that'll grin through it all and still have the gall to say, "Make me feel it."
"Jesus Christ."
Really brings out the worst in you, your Gaeul.
And you her, but that goes without saying.
You punish her—reward her—with a crash of your hips into hers.
"Jesus—fucking—Christ," she echoes back, and she's fucking herself back into you, hips syncing to yours.
Gaeul, as she always is. Taunting, screaming, leaking everywhere.
"Every time you—fuck—fuck me. Fuck me all up. Make me feel it. Baby, I—"
Building a steady, hard rhythm. In and out, thrust—thrust—fuck—fuck—fuck.
"Meant for this—meant for me. Right? Your cock, my cunt. Perfect fucking fit—no one else—"
And it's unhealthy, this thing. Ruining each other for everyone else, making sure that if they can't tell by the marks you leave across each other's skin, or the smell of your cum in her hair or her juices sticking to your clothes, they'll know by the fact that nothing else—nothing vanilla—will ever get close to turning either of you on like this.
Nothing like it—nothing like this fire. The white-hot heat of her cunt, pulsing and gripping around your cock. Her walls collapsing in on you, begging you to never leave her, desperate to never let your cock go.
Nothing like the sound—not just the whines, the screams, the song of whispers of your name from her lips; but the echo of your hips against her ass, the smack of your balls against her clit, the slick wet tune her cunt makes when it's filled so quickly and completely by your cock.
When your body drops into her and she's so hot, so tight, and you're not sure if your hands on her hips are for her or for you—but you still grab at them, dig your fingers in and pull her closer so you can fuck her raw.
Deliriously smiling, chanting, "God—fuck—just—don't—fuck—", some variations of the same barely audible, tiny vocabulary of words that she has left, and you're fast burning through her lexicon.
It'll continue—won't stop—even after you've made her cum for the second, third, fourth time.
Even after her cunt's overflowing, after you've shot ropes across those cute tits, buried yourself in her throat and filled her stomach with you; hell, ruined the glossy lipstick, the smoky eyeliner, those peroxide-blonde locks.
Even after she's thanked you for doing it all.
Maybe then you might make it past the kitchen.
"Fuck me," she says into the tiles below. Simple, easy.
"That all?"
"Yeah," she manages. Nodding feverishly.
You answer her with a particularly hard thrust. Another spank. Basically—'what the fuck do you think I've been doing?'
And like she's reading your mind, "I need you to fuck me. My pussy needs you to fuck me. Harder. Like you said you would. Like you promised—" even though you don't remember making any such promises (at least tonight), and yet—"Like a slut, a whore, a toy."
"I get it, Gaeul," you say, and you reach forward, carelessly tangling bunches of hair between your fingers until your hand’s buried in blonde. "I'll fuck you like you belong to me."
"I do belong to you. So take me already. All of you, fucking all of me. Until I can't feel anything else."
You pull back, make her body curve so nicely. Reach forward, take a handful of tit into your palm, feel its pebbled peaks.
Make her gasp, cry, make her cunt grip your cock like it's a fucking lifeline—the only thing that can save her.
And the more you think about it, she's right.
You kiss her neck.
She screams when you fill her all over again.
"Just like fucking—that—just do—fuck—whatever you want," she says, blinking through her eyelashes, gasping through tears, through the raspy, fucked-up breaths that she's struggling to take, "just make me cum."
And by habit, your hand drifts from her hair, and your arm wraps around her throat.
Not tight, not suffocating.
Just to hold her against you.
Just to make her feel you.
It nearly makes her cum then and there.
Whatever restraint you had left evaporates, and all your thoughts are just consumed with Gaeul.
How hot she feels, how right she feels.
How her tits feel like heaven in your hand.
How her cunt threatens to tear your cock right off.
How—fuck—you don't know what it is, but something about fucking her as a blonde just drives you insane.
Her back muscles tense against your chest, her abs are working overtime, and with every push into her body, her pussy opens up to you like an invitation.
"Gaeul," is your warning, and her cunt thrumming around your cock is her reply.
Your grip around her neck tightens just a touch, a cough from her throat, and you’re kissing her face, her cheek, the corners of her lips.
Some comfort, if any.
Amongst the rapid-fire fucking, and whatever art you were going for, whatever subtle rhythm of strokes in and out of her cunt—it's all gone.
Using her like she desperately begged to be, like a thing, fucking into her as fast as you can, maniacally, just chasing that feeling, that intensity.
Because you're going to cum soon and you've already fucked her through half a dozen tiny little quakes and it's about time for her to hit the big one—to fucking scream in a way that stretches her vocal cords longer than any performance on a stage could and so—
"Baby—God—you're going to—"
But she doesn't even need to tell you, you don't even need the signal, because you can feel it in the wonderful clench when she shudders and suddenly seizes.
"Pump my cunt full—make me—"
Make her eternally, undeniably yours.
Leading her to the second—followed by the third—or maybe it's just one long, drawn out climax.
One crumbling release that has her limbless; nothing more than a vibrating fuckdoll in your arms, unable to do anything but repeat the same praises that make it past the grip you have on her stomach and around her throat.
"So good—I can't—can’t fucking believe it," she stutters, feeling every wave of her orgasm buzz right through her, igniting her every nerve ending—lighting all of her on fire. "Can't believe how good this fucking feels. How perfect this feels," and despite the fact that she’s still gasping, so fucking delirious, she’s still heaping it on, "How perfect you are. Nobody else, nobody else—"
She trails off, and you know you have the same words for her.
Nobody else could take it like her, nobody else could take you like her.
Could sink down on your cock, could sing through the spankings, the chokings.
Could make you so fucking hard and throbbing and ready to explode—zero to a hundred until you're right at the finish line.
Could twist a gorgeous, angelic face—turn the picturesque features; the cover-model blush and girl-next-door wide eyes into something so filthily fucked up as a simple cum-drunk grin when she takes a hold of your wrist to make your grip on her rougher.
Until it gets hard for her to breathe.
God, the fact that it’s her. Nothing better than a fuck this fantastic.
And she starts begging.
"Please, baby, please, your turn—you haven't used me until you've cum in me—so please," And there's the pleading, the whining, the final push you need, even as she's crashing through another—or, once again you're wonder if it's still the same—orgasm.
"Fucking hell," and you're not even sure your words are reaching her, so you slip in things that you otherwise wouldn't say, admissions too honest for someone like her. Like, "You're fucking incredible, Gaeul, you know that? Such an unbelievably tight cocksleeve. So fucking perfect for me—every part of you—my dirty little slut. Your cunt is just—"
"Show me then," she coos, cries. Working her muscles against you now. Her goal crystalised, determination setting on those sharp, high cheekbones. "Show me how good I make you feel. Show me how much better I am than anyone else. Show me why there's no one else you want to fuck in the middle of the night. No other pussy that can make you feel as good as mine."
And she gets the reaction that she wants—that she needs.
Her throat bulges against the crook of your elbow.
You choke her.
Seize her tits.
Fucking her all the way up and into her guys.
She knows.
She fucking knows.
"God—yes—just like that!"
It's wave after wave.
Gagging, stilted moans from her lips—cries, gasps, tears, all of it.
The hottest thing you'll ever see, you know this absolutely: Gaeul's impossibly blown-out pupils all glazed over, and fuck the way her mouth looks when it's slack jawed and open wide and she's just drooling at all of it. The sensations, the overstimulation, the thought of your oncoming orgasm.
It's unreal.
"Fill me—please!"
You pump. You release.
Messy.
So fucking messy inside of her.
Hot ropes of cum—the other burn that she loves—searing against her womb until it's pooling and rushing out the sides of her cunt, escaping the tight seal it has around your cock.
The chokehold you have on her only makes her pussy squeeze you tighter, have her screams turn to hot, hacking moans that makes the hairs on your skin rise and you're just filling her.
Making her convulse, making her body shake, making her rock on top of you as you unleash every single filthy fibre of your being into her.
You're so, so swollen inside her, and it doesn't seem like it'll end—like you'll be stuck here, throbbing angrily between her walls forever, locked in this fucked up loving embrace where you're in a feedback loop of cum and orgasms and—
"Fuck!"
She chokes.
Cums fountains down your cock, your thighs.
Gurgles a final scream and for a moment all either of you can see is the same blinding white flash as you call each other's name.
"Fucking love it when you make me—"
The words never make it out of her bruised throat.
She taps your wrist.
You let her go.
Collapse on top of each other.
Gasping for breath, blonde hair spilling onto your face.
You stays nestled inside her, pulsing, throbbing—whether it's her cunt or your cock, you can't quite tell.
"Christ," she says, and any worry you had of her being anything short of stupidly satisfied is gone. "And I just mopped these floors too."
You hack out a chuckle, between shallow breaths, feeling her body steaming against yours. It feels right. "You good?"
She laughs back. Leans her head just enough so she can manage a clumsy kiss against your cheek.
You realise your arms are still wrapped around her. Not as tight. Just careful, holding your girl still, lightly massaging her spent body.
Whatever kind of affection you can manage.
"What do you think?" And she's still laughing, still kind of sobbing, still trembling, body still living through the aftermath of the kind of fucking and orgasms only you can give her.
Her body tenses, working, trying to loosen the kinks out that locked and knotted themselves when her frame seized in pleasure.
"Jesus-fucking-Christ sometimes I don't even know why I bother with anyone else," she admits, and it's far too obvious, and you know it's all just part of a badly-disguised ploy to get you to make her feel exactly the same way again.
But you'll play along. "Because you want someone nice, remember?"
"Nice doesn't make me cum."
"Sure doesn't," you say. "Not in the way you need to."
And you watch as her eyes drift close, and her lips rest into this copacetic smirk on her face. The feeling of getting everything she wanted—everything she needed.
You want to take a photo of her.
Seeing her all stunning and fucked to oblivion. Covered in sweat, tears, saliva, cum. Still drooling and yet completely, shamelessly, glowing in exhaustion and that sheen of angelic glitter that seems to rest over her after she's been fucked right.
Yeah, you really should capture it.
Add it to the collection.
"Thank you," she whispers, and it comes out like something of a prayer.
You would normally have a quip to make her feel bad for being so honest, but you let it lie for now.
Instead, you roll her, lay her back gently down onto the kitchen floor below.
She keeps her eyes closed, but lets her lips part just a little.
Gaeul knows what you’re about to do.
Spreads her thighs for your fingers, rests her hands around your neck.
You're kissing her again, carrying her back up that mountain, fuelling that fire that will never truly go out while you’re around.
"God—yes. You're really going to ruin me tonight, aren't you?"
"Of course I am," you chuckle, ducking your head to return a nipple to your teeth. It feels so right. You bite. "Again and again until you can't take it anymore—and then we’ll see whether you can ever go back to nice and boring again."
"Good," Gaeul agrees, and you take a final look at your perfect little fuckdoll, just waiting to be picked up and used all over again.
You take a deep breath. Your cock twitches.
Gaeul licks her lips, "You always fuck me harder when you're jealous."
The Snow has began to fall down as the season to be jolly has started. Kids began rushing to theri backyard creating snow angels and snowman. Hot chocolates and hot coffee shared under the fire has started to take effect. Songs old as time chanting the songs of christmas blasted the street of Seoul as everywhere you would look at it, christmas is inevitable. A giant christmas tree is being set up at the plaza as workers work overtime planning this tree for the past 4 moths before December hits. Churches are reminding people the reason why we celebrate the 25th of December, to celebrate the birth of one and only king, Jesus christ himself. But of course churches also decorate their houses making it a bright star in a city full of giant scrappers.
But among the crowd of Christmas enjoyers, One pink haired girl woke up like its a regular tuesday of the week, hair a little disheveled. Gaeul yawned while stretching up from her bed, her head turned to her side to look for Wonyoung, her bedroom partner since debut is already gone. A busy body like Wonyoung always was on the move making Gaeul shrug off her shoulder and do her usual morning routine. The cold air slipped through the small cracks of the window, brushing against her skin as if reminding her that December had truly arrived.
Gaeul rubbed her eyes, the faint sound of distant carols echoing from somewhere outside the dorm. Even half-awake, she could already feel it, the strange warmth Christmas always brought, mixed with an unexplainable heaviness that settled quietly in her chest every year around this time. She padded softly across the floor, careful not to make noise, instinctively glancing at Wonyoung’s neatly made bed. It was empty, untouched, as if it had been that way all night. Gaeul let out a small chuckle under her breath. Of course she was already gone. Some things never changed, not even during the holidays.
As she washed up, the mirror reflected a girl who looked calm on the surface but carried stories she rarely spoke about. Christmas had always been beautiful to her. The lights, music, laughter, but it also reminded her of promises once made and feelings once given too easily. Last Christmas, she thought, the phrase drifting through her mind like an old melody she never quite forgot.
She slipped into a warm sweater, one she only wore during winter, and wrapped herself tighter than necessary. Outside, Seoul was already alive, people bundled in scarves, couples holding hands, friends laughing as snow dusted their shoulders. It was the kind of scene that made love feel unavoidable, almost expected. And yet, Gaeul felt herself hesitate, heart guarded, wondering if this Christmas would be different… or if it would ask for something she wasn’t sure she could give again.
As the day slowly unfolded, she had no idea that somewhere between the glowing lights, the familiar songs, and the quiet wishes whispered beneath falling snow, something or someone was about to test her resolve. And for the first time in a long while, Gaeul silently hoped Santa might finally give her an answer she could trust.
Walking in the street observing the festive energy engulf the city, she smiled softly under her mask to hide her identity. Kids singing carols on each store, people dressed up as santa clause at malls giving kids the biggest smile of their life, Gaeuls soft hearted nature melted at the scene she was seeing. But of course when theres a good thing, there will always be a bad thing. Despite the joy of children shes seeing, Couples being all sweet made her stomach churl and almost made her barf.
She wasnt salty, No, she could never be salty of love when she already has her DIVE to give her the love she wants.
Right?
Obviously not, she's 24 and starving of love for goodness sake. She has enough wealth to ensure her future and her family's future for the foreseeable future, but rich in love? Shes deep pocket empty. While her members are sure they wont be trying to get into dating Scandals, Gaeul hoped someone would confess to her or even try to her. But nope, as an Introvert person, Gaeul prefers to be at home watching romantic dramas on netflix and reading books. Watching fictional couples fall in love effortlessly while she paused, replayed, and wondered if love was ever meant to knock on her door.
Maybe God would spawn her a virtual Boyfriend.
Who knows? I mean there are many ai chat bots all over the internet-
Gaeul sighed as she sat down on one of the wooden bench of the malls. She wasnt exhausted from walking, she was just reminding herself, another Christmas season being single again. At this point, whatever she sees on IG reels are becoming to relatable. Its scary.
“God, another year being alone huh? 0-24. I think I already beat my brothers record for being in a relationship.”
She thought to herself as she was reminded how opposite her attitude was compared to her brother. Unlike her quiet nature, her older brother was the life of the party and would make any girl tap into the KIM family name. Thats just how charismatic he was compared to her who barely can make a stable conversion with new people she meets. And as the distant sound of carols drifted through the mall, Gaeul found herself making a silent wish she pretended she didn’t care about anymore.
Santa, just tell me… is it worth falling again?
Well someone was falling alright
Cause your spaghetti legs tumble forward cause you forgot how gravity works in earth dumbass-
The slick marble floor, the stupid patch of melted snow, and your own two unreliable feet conspired against you all at once.
“Oww..fuck..”
You said while Groaning in pain holding your shin like a bi-
Dignity? Gone. Absolutely obliterated. You could already imagine yourself becoming a background character in someone else’s embarrassing Christmas story.
“Are you okay?”
And suddenly, the pain didn’t matter anymore.
Gaeuls soft voice made you look up immediately. Her softy boba eyes with worry filled with them made you malfunction a bit. Brain sparks fumming a little letting words form a little slowly.
“Ah, yeah I’m okay. Thanks for me?”
Oh your an obsolete fool. Thanks for me? What were you even saying? Why would you thank yourself tripping infront of a baddie? This was not how meet-cutes were supposed to go. You were supposed to bump into each other gently, exchange shy smiles. Not eat the floor like it personally offended you.
But Gaeul chuckled a little at your stumbling words. She find it funny how she was asking a question in her head earlier then out of nowhere,
Boom!
You appeared falling out of nowhere. Perhaps the closet of Narnia opened somewhere and malfunction and instead of Narnia- You landed in the mall of Seoul.
“I dont think you should thank yourself but your welcome?”
She spoke with a little confusion yet it had amusement in it, she then observed you attire. In her vision, you wore an attire of a delivery man delivering packages on online shopping. Considering the gear, she thought you had a motorbike.
“Are you going Somewhere?”
“Ah, yeah, I got some packages to deliver since the truck delivery is full. What can I say? Christmas rush.”
Christmas rush isn't New to your job application because every year this always happen. People would get their last pay of the year a little later than intended due to demand or work load. Its nothing new. Its what makes delivery business alive during the holidays. The longer lines, the heavier packages, the colder hands, it was exhausting, sure, but also oddly comforting. Busy meant needed. Busy meant purpose.
“Thats true, The holiday rush is something that can be a bit annoying right?”
Gaeul was trying her best to make up an conversation okay? Dont judge her for making simple remarks that sound basic. She was really trying not to make this awkward.She was really trying not to make this awkward. Her voice came out softer than she expected, careful, almost fragile. Like she was testing the waters rather than diving in.
And its kinda funny how both of you are masked hiding each others true identity yet communicating through the eyes. You rider mask covering most your face while Gaeuls face mask and bucket hat hiding her small rounded face. It felt oddly intimate, this anonymity. No names. No titles. No expectations. Just two strangers meeting in the middle of December, speaking honestly without even realizing it.
“Ah, I Better get going. Time is essential after all.”
It wasnt suppose to hurt.
No, she was used to saying goodbyes to her fans in concerts, fan meets and fan calls. So this wasn't suppose to hurt but somehow it does. A small tug in her chest, subtle but unmistakable. She didn't even spent much time with you yet she felt genuine talking to you. Your unfiltered and real, not fake like the majority of the people she has met in the industry. No cameras. No scripts. No polished smiles.
Its foolish really, she shouldnt feel this way at all yet she does. Maybe she is sick or desperate. Maybe it was just the season getting to her—Christmas had a way of reopening doors she tried so hard to keep shut. But one thing is for sure, she’ll miss this conversation.
“Oh, Okay. safe travels.”
“Yeah you too Miss.”
And just like that, the conversation is over. She watches as your Sillhoute disappear with the crowd of the mall, Quietly, Until she couldn’t tell where you ended and the rest of the world began.
The music overhead switched songs, something slow, familiar, bittersweet. Gaeul stayed seated for a moment longer than necessary, hands tucked into her sleeves, heart doing something inconvenient. She hated how easy it was to imagine what ifs. Hated how Christmas always made her believe in things she swore she’d stopped believing in.
Somewhere beyond the crowd, you adjusted your helmet, unaware that you’d just become someone’s almost, someone’s maybe. And as snow continued to fall outside, Gaeul stood up, whispering softly to no one in particular:
“Guess that answers nothing… Santa.”
She thought to herself with a sigh and stood up from her seat. She remembered what she was here at the mall, to buy gifts for her members. Its still early for christmas but her schedule would soon be tighter and she may not have anymore time to roam around the mall. First on her list, her roommate Wonyoung. Someone as expensive as her is actually simple girl. Gaeuls legs first got to her in a chocolate shop to buy her medicine, Dubai Chocolates. She doesnt even know how it started. These Dubai chocolate just exploded in the scene. Nonetheless, gaeul bought them already.
Next on the list, Yujin. She remembered Yujin being upset of losing her headphones last June and since then, shes been using wired earphones. But Gaeul knew how much those headphone mean to her since Yujin is a sentimental person. So she moved to the electronics store purchasing the same brand but different model since the model she used was already phased out by company.
Thats two gifts down and 3 more to go. She still has time so she can still find gifts appropriate for her members.
Rei with some Sanrio Plushie, Liz with some Hello Kitty teddy bear and Leeseo with a Funko pop of Spiderman. She chuckled remembering her sudden obsession of Spiderman due to the movie endgame that she watched last month.
.
.
.
Hiding her gifts on her cabinet, she secured it so that Wonyoung wouldnt have to pull out a scissor and cut open her own gift. She can never be too sure of Wonyoung because that girl is really unpredictable. One day she would read her books with her, the next shes asking her to drown in Dubai chocolate like its a hidden stash of weed. The thought alone made Gaeul shake her head with a fond smile, carefully pushing the wrapped boxes further back like they were classified secrets.
Nonetheless she was happy to purchases gifts for christmas this year. There was something quietly satisfying about choosing presents for people she loved, imagining their reactions, even if she pretended not to care too much about it.
It has been 3 days since she went to the mall and so far, her schedule isnt that tight yet so shes mostly enjoying her free time in the meantime. A rare luxury. One she wasn’t used to, but welcomed anyway. Outside, snow tapped gently against the window, the city humming softly beneath it all. Sipping in her hot chocolate and book at hand, she began re-reading chapter 13 of her book about Christmas romance tragedy.
Yeah thats right, theres no more romance anymore, just heartbreak and pain. Fiction isnt far from reality after all. She paused, eyes lingering on a single sentence for far too long, the warmth of the mug slowly fading in her hands. For a brief moment, an image flashed through her mind. Your clumsy words, a rider’s mask, kind eyes filled with concern. She frowned lightly, closing the book as if to scold herself.
It had only been a conversation. A coincidence. Nothing more.
And yet, as Christmas lights reflected softly against the glass and the song playing in the background shifted into something slow and familiar, Gaeul couldn’t help but wonder why this particular memory refused to fade. Why it felt like the beginning of a story she was too afraid to read past the first page.
“Gaeul-Unnie! Can you pick up my package today? Inkigayo called earlier today. Dont worry its already paid for.”
Leeseo spoke in a rush tone as she was ready to leave. Gaeul could only nod and hum seeing their youngest work hard and do her best as an MC for one of kpops best show. She wasnt always alone in their dorm but right now, she is. Just her books and her warm chocolate against the winter of December. She returned back to reading her book as she was halfway back when the MC of her story was gonna die to cancer and the boy could only watch and hold the hand of her love as their time together was up. Tears was about to start pouring her eyes when she heard doorbell ring.
“Must be leeseo’s package.”
She thought to herself as she stood up from the couch and open the door and to her surprise, perhaps santa was watching her all along.
“Package for Leeseo beepo? Oh. its you again. Are you leeseo Beepo?”
Your voice filled with genuine surprise as seeing her again. For a split second, you wondered if your eyes were playing tricks on you. The same quiet presence, same familiar warmth. Of all places, of all days, here she was again. Like some strange Christmas rerun you didn’t know you needed.
Gaeul was a bit stunned for a second before catching herself and shaking her head. The universe had a funny sense of humor. First the mall. Now this. Maybe Santa was listening after all.
“Oh no thats my member. But I can get that package for you.”
“Oh sure. Here ya go.”
You handed Gaeul a box that has a fragile packaging on it with Leeseo’s nickname on it. Gaeul was surprise that leeseo bought something fragile. Maybe she bought her parents some kitchen set thats ceramic which was thoughtful of her.
“Well see you around-”
You were already stepping back, instinctively giving space, ready to disappear again like last time.
“Dinner me!”
“What?” “what?”
Silence. Thick. Deafening. The kind that made the heater hum sound embarrassingly loud.
Well that came out awkward. Gaeuls mouth was faster than what her brain had anticipated The words hung between you like mist in cold air, impossible to take back now. Her eyes widened slightly above her mask, realization hitting her all at once. Why did I say that? Why like that? Why now?
You blinked once. Twice. Processing.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Santa Tell Me played faintly. Asking questions she wasn’t ready to answer, daring her to take a risk she’d been avoiding for years. Her heart pounded not from fear, but from the terrifying possibility that this moment might actually mean something.
And for the first time in a long while, Gaeul didn’t immediately regret speaking her heart out loud.
“I mean. If your free…do you wanna get some coffee? Its fine if you dont-”
“Thats actually my last package of the day. So sure, why not?”
Gaeul couldnt believe it. Was Santa actually gifting her what she dreamed off? No, there must be a catch. For every good action comes something bad right? What if your actually a stalker and shes playing right into your trap? Now shes on the edge. What if shes just being a fool? What if is shes just-
“I'll just remove this..”
You said taking off your rider mask finally revealing your face at her. You stood at around 5 foot 8 inches tall but with shoes you look more taller and leaner. Your face was average oval shaped with a bright smile and slightly sharp jaw. You were clean shaven since you never like having a beard or a mustache. Hairstyle groomed in a messy fringe haircut that only highlighted your features.
Gaeul went inside to change so fast, you swear you just blinked and her attire is already different. Like she was afraid if she waited any longer, courage might slip through her fingers. The door clicked shut, then opened again almost immediately.
“Lets go. Oh yeah, Im Gaeul Kim by the way. You are?”
“Y/N Roh. Nice to meet you.”
You both shook hands and Gaeul never felt so small. I mean yes, shes the smallest in her group due to her height but when her hands met with yours, it only made it smaller as it how engulf it completely. Of course this isnt her first time holding a guys hand but this felt intimate seeing the small space they have. But she felt safe in your grip.
You on the other hand didnt expect her hand to be this soft. The contrast caught you off guard. You felt embarrassed knowing your hand is rough from work. Calloused, worn down by boxes and handlebars yet she didn’t flinch. Didn’t pull away. Didn’t seem to mind at all.
Outside, Christmas lights glowed brighter, the air colder but somehow warmer between the two of you. Maybe there was a catch. Maybe there wasn’t. But standing there, hand in hand, neither of you wanted to be the first to let go.
And for once, Gaeul decided to stop questioning the miracle,just for tonight.
You two walked side by side, snow falling slowly as the trails to the cafe seems to get shorter as you two interacted. The city felt quieter here, footsteps muffled by fresh snow, streetlights casting a warm glow that followed you like a gentle escort. It was the kind of walk that made time feel slower in a good way.
You didnt want to push too much and scare her so you mostly answer and ask question in a neutral answer. Short responses, careful pauses, eyes checking her reactions instead of rushing ahead. Gaeul knows that your trying not to scare too much and it makes her heart flutter how sweet you are by making sure she isnt uncomfortable having a conversation she didnt wanna talk about. The consideration alone was enough to make her chest feel light.
“You know, I maybe a Kpop idol but I too have my own opinions on things, You dont have to be wary with me.”
She said it gently, not as a challenge, but as reassurance.
“Oh, No im just respecting your boundaries since I dont want to step into something I didnt mean to step into.”
Your voice was calm, sincere. No hidden meaning. No ulterior motive. Just honesty.
Gaeul has formed a smile that she tried to contain but failed. It curved upward naturally, unguarded. Every checklist was getting past her when it comes to you. One by one, without her even realizing it. Not only that but she noticed how shy you actually is. The way you scratched the back of your neck, how your gaze drifted away when she looked at you too long. Your soft chuckles and soft spoken words made her feel like your treating her so fragile and precious and it soften her heart a lot.
“Thank you for that. Not much Guys would think like that, most of them would like show off but your different. Your honest, and very careful with your words. I guess thats a plus point.”
“Plus point? For what?”
Genuine confusion crossed your face, brows knitting slightly as if the idea of being evaluated never even crossed your mind.
Gaeul giggled.
Like she actually giggled about you.
And when you make her giggle like that, it means your doing something right that makes her comfortable with you. Comfortable enough to forget herself for a moment. Comfortable enough to enjoy this without overthinking the ending.
“Secreeeet~”
You could only laugh at her answers the atmosphere between you two has warmed up. The cold didn’t feel so biting anymore. The walk didn’t feel so long. And somewhere between shared laughter and falling snow, something gentle was quietly unfolding, something neither of you were brave enough to name just yet.
Arriving at the cafe, the cozy warmth of the area only enhances it. he bell above the door chimed softly as you stepped inside, the scent of coffee and baked pastries wrapping around you both instantly. Soft jazz mixed with faint Christmas carols played in the background, and the windows fogged gently from the cold outside. This was one of Gaeuls favorite cafe go to places since they have her favorite drink. A small comfort she rarely shared with anyone. To her surprise, you offered to pay for the drinks and Gaeul wanted to protest. So it turned into a playful match.
“No, I'll pay for it. Its on me.”
‘No no no. I was the one who asked you come so I should be the one paying.”
There was no intensity in the back and forth playful banter you two had, in fact it was actually pretty comical how comfortable you two look naturally. Even the barista glanced up with a knowing smile. Its like everything just clicked with you two as if the universe want you two to be inseperable—
“Y/N? Is that you?”
A third voice snapped the sphere of comfortability with Gaeul as you looked up and there you saw a girl you were familiar with. Holding tightly to her strap bag and looking at you intently. Minhee bit her lip seeing you with Gaeul and she couldt handle what she was seeing and she steeped in and Hug you out of nowhere dramatically acting as if you were resurrected from the dead as Gaeul didnt know what to do.
Gaeul froze. Her hands hovered awkwardly at her sides, heart dropping just a little too fast. The warmth she felt moments ago suddenly felt fragile, like glass on a cold day. She told herself not to assume anything but assumptions had a way of sneaking in when emotions were already involved.
Minhee’s grip was tight. Too tight. Familiar in a way that spoke of history, not coincidence.
And just like that, the Christmas song playing overhead shifted into something slower, sadder. Gaeul swallowed, reminding herself of the warning she gave her heart not even an hour ago. For every good thing…
“Minhee what are you doing?”
“I love you. Why are you doing this to me-”
You didnt let her finish because your eyes already saw Gaeul rush out of her cafe and the only thing that matter to you right now is seeing Gaeul and Gaeul only. Everything else blurred into noise. The music, the chatter, Minhee’s trembling voice. Your chest tightened in a way that surprised even you.
The snow seems to have gotten harsher unlike earlier and Gaeuls smaller frame seems to have disappear like magic. One second she was there, the next swallowed by white and crowds and distance. Panic crept in fast, sharp and unforgiving.
But that didnt or shouldnt stop you.
You pushed past the door, cold air slamming into you as the bell rang again, too loud, too late. Snow stung your face as you scanned the street, heart pounding harder with every second that passed.
Gaeul was just a simple girl yet she gave meaning to your perspective in life in that brief moment. She didn’t know it, but she had cracked something open inside you, something you thought was long buried under routine and responsibility. Call it corny but you fell in love at first sight with her at the mall. Not the dramatic kind. Not fireworks. Just certainty.
Behind you, Minhee stood frozen, realization finally settling in. This wasn’t about jealousy. This wasn’t about losing you to someone else. This was about losing you because you had already chosen, without even knowing it.
.
.
.
Gaeul hugged herself entering the mall alone. The song blasted the song “last christmas by wham” and it felt like the Universe is testing Gaeuls patience. The lyrics echoed too loudly, every word cutting just a little deeper than it should. She scoffed at that thought.
“You sure know how to hate someone universe”
She thought to herself and as if the Universe was listening to her rant, decided to show it to her face the loving couples all over the mall. Hands intertwined. Foreheads touching. Soft laughter shared like secrets. Her face turned bitter and sour seeing the love they show to each other while she stands there alone boiling her own feelings into nothing.
Why? Why did she have to feel this way? Why was love so complicated?
In fiction and on all the books she reads, they were all so easy and had a formula, was it because she was too fast?
To Hopeful?
To optimistic?
Or perhaps love wasnt really fitted for her.
Maybe she wasnt reading the book of her story, there wasnt a story for her. Her book has longed gone closed and shes just an NPC in a world full of love story. A background character meant to cheer for others while never getting her own chapter. She then regretted falling in love. Regretted even giving herself a hope that this year will be different.
If only she hadnt fallen for her own hope, none of this would have happen.
But some one did fall alright.
THUD
“Owww. stupid snow boots! Gaeul!!”
Her heart skipped violently.
No,
It was impossible.
Shes hearing things.
THUD
“Argh! My ankle! Gaeul!!”
Her breath caught in her throat.
No
Shes hearing nonsense right?
This is Wonyoungs dubai chocolate after effects.
THUD
“Gaeul!”
She turned.
Time froze.
There you were, kneeling awkwardly on the slick floor just inside the mall entrance, one hand gripping your ankle, the other bracing yourself against the ground. Snow clung to your coat, your breath uneven, hair damp from the cold. You looked ridiculous. Hurt. Breathless.
Real.
Your eyes found hers instantly, relief crashing over your features like you’d finally reached shore after drowning.
“Found you,”
You breathed out, half-laughing despite the pain.
Gaeul’s lips parted but no sound came out. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might give her away. Of all the places. Of all the moments. Of all the stupid, painful, embarrassing ways
this was how the universe answered her.
The song continued playing overhead.
Last Christmas, I gave you my heart…
And for the first time, Gaeul wondered if this time,
the universe wasn’t mocking her at all.
“Y/N, are you okay?”
She asked with worry in her voice as you just stood up limping a bit. Her hand hold unto yours like its the most natural thing to do. Neither of you questioned it. Neither of you pulled away. You chuckled seeing the height difference between you two but Gaeul wasnt laughing at all.
“Dont laugh. You have some explanation to do mister.”
You nodded at her and explained to her that Minhee was your Ex-Girlfriend a year back. You admitted that back then, you were a lovestruck fool for her appearance and didn't realize her toxic behavior. The words came out slow, careful, not excuses, just truth. She was a war freak and would make every single non arguable thing into a fight. Your relationship with her only lasted one month cause you were sick of her ass. You blocked every number she tried and even blocked out her friends number as well as they support her toxic trait. No dramatics. No longing. Just closure you’d already made peace with.
Hearing this, Gaeul was stunned that a character in her fictional books actually is a reality. She looked at you, like really looked at you and said
“So why did you chase after me?”
Her voice trembled just slightly. Not from fear, but from hope she didn’t want to admit she was holding.
You didn’t answer immediately. You adjusted your stance, pain flaring briefly in your ankle, but you stayed put. Because running away now would hurt more than any fall ever could.
“Isnt it obvious? I want you.”
The words landed softly. No grand confession. No poetic speech. Just honesty, bare and unguarded.
Gaeul’s breath hitched. Her grip on your hand tightened unconsciously, thumb brushing against your knuckles as if to confirm you were real. The mall noise faded into the background again, replaced by the sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.
“For once,” she whispered, eyes glistening but steady,
“I just want to know… you’re not going to regret this, right?”
“Why would I regret something I enjoy being with?”
Words didnt explain what happened next because out of character, Gaeul Lunges herself at you like your her lifeline. It was instinctive, reckless, raw. Like if she didn’t do it now, she might lose the courage forever. Thank god for you fast reflexes or you would have felt the spear of roman reigns if you didnt catch Gaeul in your arms. Instead, you stumbled back slightly, arms wrapping around her without thinking, holding her tight like you’d been waiting for this moment all along.
Both of you laid on the mall floor giggling and laughinfg as the mall began playing ‘“Santa cant you hear me by Ariana Grande”
It was ridiculous. Public. Completely inappropriate.
And perfect.
People glanced over, some chuckling, some shaking their heads, but neither of you cared. Gaeul’s laughter was bright, unrestrained, the kind that came from deep relief rather than humor. She buried her face into your chest, heart racing, finally allowing herself to feel happy without immediately bracing for the fall.
“Wow,”
She muttered between laughs, muffled against your jacket.
“So this is how my love story starts. On the floor.”
You laughed softly, one hand instinctively moving to steady her, thumb brushing reassuring circles against her back.
“Hey,”
You said, breath warm in the cold air,
“better than never starting at all, right?”
She lifted her head just enough to look at you, eyes shining, not with doubt this time, but with something gentler. Something hopeful.
For the first time that Christmas, the song didn’t hurt.
For the first time, Santa actually answered.
And as snow continued to fall outside, Gaeul finally realized,
Maybe love wasn’t complicated.
Maybe she just needed someone willing to fall with her.
.
.
.
The Mini christmas party at IVEs dorm was chaotic as usual as the room was full of energy because Wonyoungs drugs-her dubai Chocolate was shared with the rest and Yujin’s energy was off the roof, literally. She threw out a company guitar out of their dorm from pure joy. You pray to god it doesnt hit anyone or it will be a huge lawsuit. The staff would absolutely lose their minds if they found out. But right now, none of that mattered.
Karaoke was full out singing from Liz and Leeseo. Off-key, loud, passionate. Rei and Yujin playing charades that of course ended in chaos as usual. Accusations, yelling, dramatic acting, classic IVE energy. Gaeul watched everything with a fond smile, occasionally glancing your way as if checking if you were really there.
When the chaos died down a little, the exchange gift has arrived and each member exchanged gift. Wrapping paper littered the floor, ribbons tangled around feet, laughter echoing through the dorm like it always did on nights like this.
To your surprise, her members gave you their own gifts too. It wasn’t expected. It wasn’t necessary. But it meant everything. Yujin gifted you pair of Nike socks, proudly claiming they were “practical boyfriend material.” Rei gifted you a perfume set from her brand, saying it “matched your vibe.” Wonyoung handed you a Labubu, insisting it was cute and therefore essential. Liz handed you a cap from the Dodgers, and Lesseo gifted you a small sling bag she said would be “useful for dates.” You were thankful for the gifts they had given you but for Gaeul?
Your girlfriend has a better gift.
When you went to her and asked for your gift, she just giggled and put a mistletoe ontop of the two of you. The room immediately erupted in teasing noises and whistles.
“You know what to do when were under a mistletoe right Y/N?”
“Fight?”
“No you idiot. We kiss.”
“Oh”
“What do you mean Oh?”
Her members laughed at your words as Gaeul Pouts cutely, arms crossing as she pretended to be offended. You laughed before cupping her cheeks softly and bringing your lips kiss hers claiming her once again. The kiss was gentle, warm, unhurried, full of everything you didn’t need to say out loud.
“Merry christmas my love.”
“Merry christmas my pretty Gaeul”
Outside, snow continued to fall over Seoul.
Inside, Gaeul finally had her answer.
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