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MASTERLIST
The White Emperor — Winter x Male Reader x Ningning:
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Idols One-Shot:
Stepmom — Jennie Kim x Male Reader (Coming soon)
Spring Love — Kim Minju x Male Reader
Nights Like This — Park Chaeyoung x Male Reader
Heartbeat — Sana Minatozaki x Male Reader
Momentary Pleasure — Park Chaeyoung (Rose) x Male Reader (Coming soon)
My Loser — Winter x Male Reader (Coming soon)
Are you engaged? — Karina x Male Reader
After Hours — Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader
What's Wrong with Secretary Seol ?
(m!reader x NMIXX's SULLYOON)
masterlist
part II - part III
Summary: A CEO and his secretary have always kept things professional. But the romantic tension between them has been building for months. One day, everything suddenly shifts and the feelings they've been ignoring can't stay hidden anymore.
Tags(?): ceo x secretary, office romance, fluff, unspoken feelings, love triangle? i don't even know man
SULLYOON x yourself/Original Male Character (x another idol)
Word count: ~11k - i wrote this because i love sullyoon so much + @midatwrtr's sully fic + @mossandink's welcome gift?
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
Hannam-dong, Yongsan-gu, Seoul
“It’s not late, eomma.”
You said as you calmly laid your coffee cup down on the table with a soft clink. The morning light filtered through the giant windows next to you, casting morning golden streaks across the office. Outside, Hannam-dong - the country’s oasis of wealth and luxury - was busy as usual at this time of the day. But inside, everything was quiet except for the hum of the AC and the sound of your mother shifting on the soft leather sofa. She looked completely at home despite the modern space, a judgemental eyebrow arching at you.
“You’re thirty three, Changmin-ah. That’s too late.”
“Dad married you when he was thirty six. And I’m thirty two in international age.” your voice was filled with amusement as you leaned back in your chair.
“That was different. Society’s changed.” she shot you a look.
“Really, eomma?”
“Yes, really!” your mother huffed, crossing her arms, almost offended that you’d asked. “Our country’s birthrate is in crisis. You have to do your part.”
“My part?” you nearly choked.
“Yes. As a citizen. As my son. As someone with decent genes.” she pointed at you. “Tall, educated, healthy, financially stable, good looks. What are you waiting for?”
You let out a dry laugh. “I founded this company. I pay taxes. I contribute to this country's fashion industry. I already did my part, eomma.”
She scoffed, sitting straighter. The morning light hit her pearl earrings just right - classic, elegant. “Taxes and high-end clothing don’t give me grandchildren.”
You were ready with a come back. But the look in her eyes stopped you - not annoyed, not amused, just… tired. She looked down at her hands for a moment before speaking again, her voice quiet but filled with sadness.
“Me and your father aren’t getting any younger, Changminie. We are almost getting to the age where we have more hospital checkups than family gatherings. Do you realize that?”
“Eomma…”
“You’ve never introduced a single girlfriend to us. Not once.” she added, her gaze lifting to meet yours. “Your cousins are having babies, getting married, showing up at Chuseok with rings on their fingers and someone beside them. But you… you work day and night. For what?”
It wasn’t like you hadn’t thought about this before. Now, your mom made you even more hyper aware of the silence in the room. You rubbed a hand over your face and sighed.
“It’s just…” your voice was low, rough. “I haven’t dated anyone in a long time, eomma.”
“And why is that?” she asked gently, as a mother who was finally hearing something she’d waited a long time to understand. You exhaled and leaned forward, elbows resting on the table.
“I don’t know… I guess I just got comfortable living like this. Letting someone into my life right now doesn’t feel right.”
Your mother stayed silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was softer than before.
“That’s not comfort, Changmin-ah. That’s just loneliness you got used to.”
You looked up slowly. She wasn’t scolding you. “I’m not asking you to fall in love tomorrow, honey. But open the door, at least. Just enough for someone to come in.”
You hummed. Your mother remained on the sofa, smoothing the silk scarf around her neck.
“Anyway.” she said, exhaling as if she was letting out all her frustrations and worries. “I didn’t just come here to nag you. I came to bring something for Yoon-Ah.”
“For her? Not your son?” you blinked.
“You?” she smirked. “You can take care of yourself. You’re a grown man.”
You laughed under your breath, knowing your mom could put you in your place anytime she wanted. She didn’t even wait for your reply. Instead, she reached for the bag beside her legs, lifting it carefully and showed you like it was some rare offerings.
“Some premium ginseng extract and a few tonic packets from that clinic in Cheongdam. You know, that one all the chaebol wives and mistresses go to. Some black sesame snacks too. Good for stamina and stress.”
“For Yoon-Ah? Really?” you asked again, eyebrows raised.
“Of course. She mentioned she’s been tired since you made her work too much.” she glared at you, that one look only a mother could give. “I should scold you more for that, you little rascal.”
You let out a helpless chuckle, raising your hands up.
“She insists on staying late, eomma. I drive her home everytime.”
“Are you two…?” your mother trailed off, narrowing her eyes as she tried to dig for some clues - subtle but sharp.
“Are we what, eomma?”
Your mother pursed her lips, examining you like she could read something off your face like she’d always done back when you were in high school. Well, not anymore. Years had gone by and you’d learnt to adapt. Knowing she couldn’t defeat you, she then leaned back on the leather soft with a sigh.
“I’m just saying, Changminie… you two seem close. Maybe too comfortable with each other. And you light up whenever you talk about her.”
You couldn’t argue with your mother now. You knew she was right. You just rubbed the back of your neck and avoided your mother’s gaze. But before she could press further, a soft chime came up from the intercom on your desk.
“Sajang-nim*... may I come in?”
*사장/sajang: honorific term to generally refers to the company's president or ceo
Yoon-Ah’s voice, warm and familiar, filtered through the speaker. The voice that always gave you extra motivation when you sat down on this chair every workday.
You cleared your throat. “Yeah, come in, secretary Seol.”
The door creaked open, and there she was - your favorite person in this entire building, your secretary.
Seol Yoon-Ah
She stepped inside with her usual grace - dressed in a crisp grey blazer and matching skirt, her white button up shirt was tucked neatly, her slim black tie accentuating the sharpness of her whole outfit. Her long hair flowed effortlessly, softening her features. In one hand, she held her work iPad, pressed gently against her chest.
Why do you look so beautiful every goddamn morning?
She bowed politely. “Good morning, sajang-nim. Eomeo-nim.”
You nodded in acknowledgement - maybe a little too fast - while your mother instantly smiled, sitting more up right on the sofa.
“Aigoo!” She was visibly brightened, tone warm and affectionate. “You’ve gotten even more elegant in person, Yoon-Ah ah. How have you been, darling? Come here.”
Yoon-Ah walked over with a gentle smile, settling gracefully beside your mother on the sofa. As she sat, she tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear, her posture was elegant yet unassuming. Your mother reached for her hand instantly.
“Look at you, so beautiful. Are you sure you’re not secretly royalty?”
Yoon-Ah laughed softly, cheeks tinting pink. “You flatter me too much, eomeo-nim.”
“Nonsense.” your mother said, patting her hand. “You’re so polite, well put together. What do you think about my son? Is he good looking?”
Yoon-Ah blinked, caught off guard for a second. Then she regained her composure instantly and smiled. “Sajang-nim certainly is very… charismatic.”
You swallowed, more curious now.
“Charismatic, huh? Not handsome?” your mother grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. Yoon-Ah turned slightly, glancing at you with an unreadable look before replying.
“That too. He has… his own charms, eomeo-nim.”
Your mother gasped softly. “Did you hear that, Changminie? ‘His own charms’. Yoon-Ah just said you’re just barely tolerable.”
You scoffed. “Eomma.”
She just waved you off with a smile and turned back to Yoon-Ah.
“Honestly, though. You’re so composed and smart, and beautiful on top of that. I don’t know how my son landed a secretary like you, darling.”
Yoon-Ah chuckled lightly, her gaze lowering. “He didn’t, eomeo-nim. I just applied.”
Yeah.
Your mother beamed.
“Well, whatever fate brought you two together, I’m grateful. You brighten his life up just by being by his side.”
You glanced at Yoon-Ah. She was still smiling politely, fingers resting lightly on her lap, eyes attentive to your mother. But something about the way the sunlight caught the curve of her cheeks, the way her hair framed her face, the softness in her expression - it ached your heart so much, in a good way, of course.
You imagined her beside you, but not in the office. Maybe somewhere quieter, warmer. Her legs curled up on the living room floor as she tried to wrangle a giggling little girl into a sweater, laughter echoing through the house. That little girl? Your daughter - with Yoon-Ah’s eyes and long lashes, her perfect nose and maybe your attitude. You saw yourself sitting nearby, watching them - your daughter, your wife. Then the little girl turned, face scrunched dramatically as she ran into your lap.
‘Appa! Eomma doesn’t like meee!’ she whined.
You could hear Yoon-Ah groaning, exasperated but trying not to laugh.
“Your daughter is being dramatic again, honey. Just because I said no candy before dinner.”
You scooped the little girl up with a grin.
“Don’t worry, princess. I like you much more than eomma.”
“Yah!” came Yoon-Ah’s voice next to you as she smacked your shoulder. “I’m right here.”
The little girl giggled, burying her face into your shoulder as you kissed the top of her head. Everything felt so warm, so peaceful, so dreamlike…
Dreamlike? Then-
“Changmin-ah?” your mom’s voice cut through, snapping you back to reality immediately. You blinked, eyes adjusting again to the sunlight in the room. Yoon-Ah was still sitting on the sofa with her polite smile and graceful posture. The fantasy was gone, but it lingered tenderly in your mind.
Damn it…
“What were you saying, eomma?”
Your mother chuckled, eyes darting between the two of you. “Nothing important. I’m about to leave now.” She then stood up with a pleasant sigh, smoothing her jacket as she glanced at Yoon-Ah again. “Don’t work too hard, darling. Thank you for keeping my little idiot in line.”
Yoon-Ah rose gracefully. “Of course, eomeo-nim. Thank you for visiting.”
Your mother leaned in, patting her lightly on the arm.
“Don’t let him work too hard, okay? And next time, come visit me at my house even without him around.”
You watched the exchange quietly, heart still beating a little too fast from the daydream you hadn’t meant to fall into.
“Take care, eomma.” you said as she walked out, giving you a knowing look.
“I always do. Maybe you should listen to yourself.” she said, pausing at the door for a moment. “Especially with Yoon-Ah around.”
Then she was gone and the room felt quiet. You looked at Yoon-Ah as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, again, still looking like the wife from your imagination.
What the hell am I going to do with these feelings?
“Are you okay, sajang-nim?” her voice was calm, but you knew she noticed something.
“Yeah… I just spaced out.”
Yoon-Ah tilted her head slightly, the corner of her mouth lifting.
“You looked like you were thinking very hard about something.” she said it innocently. But you could catch the tease under her tone.
“Nothing important, secretary Seol.” you tried to keep your expression neutral.
“Mm.” she hummed, unconvinced. “It didn’t seem like nothing to me, sajang-nim.”
You shifted in your seat. “My mom likes you, that’s all.”
“Ah. She’s very sweet but I’m guessing that’s not the part that made you zone out.”
You cleared your throat, sitting up straighter. Time to take back control.
“Alright… let’s just get to business. What did you come in here for?” your voice was firmer now, professional mode.
Yoon-Ah nodded, switching back to her professional mode.
“Well, it’s Friday so not much on the schedule. You have two meetings to review the new releases. Then just a short stop this afternoon at the photoshoot at our studio. You’re supposed to hand Karina-ssi a bouquet and take a photo with her.”
“Marketing duty, huh?”
“The team insisted.” Yoon-Ah replied, lips curving slightly. “PR duty, sajang-nim.”
You let out a breath, relieved. “I’m not complaining. It’s not every day that I get to take a picture with Karina. And after that, I’m done?”
“Barring any emergencies.” she said, finally looking up at you. “You’ve been working too much lately anyway, sajang-nim. You’re… surprisingly efficient.” the way she said it felt more than just an observation.
“Surprisingly? You’ve been with me for 3 years since the start of this company and ‘surprisingly’? Really, secretary Seol?”
She grinned, not the least apologetic. “Just keeping you humble, sajang-nim.”
“You’re getting bolder.”
“Maybe I am, sajang-nim. Or maybe you’re getting softer.”
You smiled at that. There was a beat of quiet as something a little warmer settled into the room.
“Why do you still refuse to call me oppa, Seol Yoon-Ah?” you asked, tone light and curious. “I mean, Changmin-ssi is also okay to me. It’s not like we are strangers. I gave you permission a long time ago.”
She smiled to let you have just a little glimpse of what she was thinking.
“We have to be professional, sajang-nim.” she said, emphasizing your title to put distance between the two of you, though her tone did the complete opposite. Then, she added a soft, teasing line.
“Besides… you’d get too happy if I called you oppa. And I’m not here to feed your ego, sajang-nim. I’m here to help you be more efficient and manage your schedule.”
She looked back down at her iPad, the twitch on the corner of her lips signaled a quiet victory.
Not so early.
The thought barely settled before you stood up, rounding your desk slowly. She didn’t look up right away but you saw her finger pausing over the screen as she felt you closing the distance. You stopped in front of her, letting your presence linger just enough to make her glance up.
“Then what about that night?” you smirked. “You got so drunk I really struggled to drive you home and carry you… and you kept mumbling ‘oppa’ against my chest, secretary Seol.”
Her eyes widened, lashes fluttered just once. That alone told you she knew exactly what night you were talking about. The memory hit her before she could guard herself. You didn’t stop.
“If I recall correctly.” you said, leaning down next to her ear. “You kept biting me everywhere, crying and complaining that I don’t give you enough attention at work.”
Her breath caught. She was caught between scandalized and speechless. For once, your intelligent secretary couldn’t come up with a come back as a flush crept into her cheeks and her grip on the iPad tightened.
“You kept calling ‘oppa’. You even fondled my chest too, secretary Seol. We might have to get HR involved.” you added, watching her squirm slightly under your gaze. Then you leaned in closer slowly to lower yourself beside her ear until she could feel your breath against her skin. Her shoulders stiffened but she didn’t move away. You murmured in a near perfect imitation of Yoon-Ah’s voice, with a smirk.
“Don’t leave me yet, oppa… please…”
Then you lifted your hand and gently clasped her wrist, startling her.
“You held on to it like this and wouldn’t let go.”
Yoon-Ah’s eyes moved to where your hand grabbed her wrist. She remembered. The ever professional Seol Yoon-Ah was thrown off balance, blinking like she couldn’t decide whether to pull away or freeze.
“Still no thank you from you yet, secretary Seol. It’s been almost two months now.”
You could see the engine working overtime in her eyes - calculating, ready to strike back with something sharp and clever while being flustered, exposed at the same time.
“What’s wrong?” you asked, lowering your voice even more. “Cat got your tongue? Or did oppa make too much of an impression saving you that night?”
Yoon-Ah then quickly yanked her wrist back like your touch burned her. But you already did too much damage. She was blushing, her posture stiff, mouth open but couldn’t find the words.
“Sajang-nim.” she finally muttered, brows drawn tightly together. She turned her head sideways to hide the rising color in her cheeks.
Cute.
You leaned back slightly, just enough to let the tension breathe.
“Still waiting on that thank you, by the way.” you said, enjoying this too much. “You’re usually quicker than this, Yoon-Ah-ssi.”
“Thank you, sajang-nim.” she muttered like it physically hurt her pride to say it.
“Just that?” you titled your head. “You think that’s enough after everything I went through, secretary Seol?”
She huffed and glanced up sharply. “Do you want an award ceremony, sajang-nim?”
“Interest. That’s all. The economy’s been rough lately.” You shrugged, nonchalant.
Yoon-ah’s eyes narrowed but couldn’t hold back the smile forming on her lips.
“What kind of interest are we talking about here?”
“Maybe…” you looked up to the ceiling, pretending to think. “A kiss on the cheek should cover the fee, secretary Seol.”
Her scoff was immediate but the joy in her eyes betrayed her. “Is that how you do business now? Bullying your way through outstanding debts.”
You smiled. “Only with clients who get drunk and call me oppa while I carry them bridal style to their bedroom.”
Yoon-Ah stared at you harder, but the red on her cheeks didn’t help much. “You’re lucky I haven’t reported that night to anyone, sajang-nim.”
“Ah… but I only carried you home and took care of you that night.” you said, pretending to be offended. “And that would mean confessing to fondling your boss? A scandal!?”
Yoon-Ah leaned closer to you with a glare that lacked any real threat.
“Keep pushing it and I’m writing a full report, sajang-nim.”
You grinned, leaning down closer - your forehead almost touching hers.
“Make sure to include the part where you begged me to stay too, secretary Seol.”
Yoon-Ah smirked. “One day, I’m going to put you in your place, sajang-nim.”
You tilted your head slightly, voice teasing. “I’m counting on it. But for now… cheek?”
She stared at you for a beat - long enough to weigh in her options even though the glint in her eye already gave her away. That cute flush on her cheeks hadn’t gone anywhere either. Finally, she let out a small sigh - resignation and mischief on her face.
“Close your eyes, sajang-nim.”
“Why?”
“You wouldn’t want to peek during an award ceremony.” she said, her voice filled with sudden happiness.
This girl…
Your brow arched but you obliged, shutting your eyes with a sigh. “Fine.”
A few seconds went by, still nothing. Then-
You felt a feather light brush of her lips landing just shy of your cheek - barely a kiss. Yoon-Ah was clearly teasing you. You opened one eye to glare at her.
“That was air.”
Your secretary was already retreating, trying not to laugh.
“It still counts, sajang-nim. The ceremony's over.”
“No, no, no.” you reached out and grabbed her wrist, firm but not enough to hurt her. “Secretary Seol, I demanded a kiss.”
“Sajang-nimmm~” Yoon-Ah whined, making your chest much warmer. She gave your grip a half hearted tug but didn’t really try to escape. She still didn’t give up on suppressing a smile though she clearly knew she was failing miserably.
“You’re abusing your power~” she pouted. Too cute.
Damn…
“Aegyo won’t let you get away with this, secretary Seol.” your jaw tightened slightly. You tried so hard not to look away for a second. Seol Yoon-Ah was a dangerous woman. She really had no idea what she was doing to you. Or maybe she did. Who knew?
She then scrunched her nose and stuck out her tongue to you - a final act of rebellion before stepping even closer, eyes lifting to meet yours.
“Fine.” she mumbled. “One real kiss.”
“So easily?”
“I just want you to shut up, sajang-nim.”
You were still suspicious. You let go of her wrist - only to take both of them seconds later instantly. Your grip was firm as your thumbs brushed the inside of her wrists. Yoon-Ah blinked up at you.
“In case you try to escape. I’m not taking an ‘air’ kiss this time, secretary Seol.”
Suddenly, her entire expression shifted - a flicker of confidence and mischief lighting up her face. Her lips curled up, slow and dangerous.
“Close your eyes, sajang-nim.”
You sighed and shut your eyes again. That smug expression on her face left you with no choice anyway. You could her Yoon-Ah tiptoeing slightly, her gentle inhale, the little rustle of her clothes before-
Her lips pressed against your cheek.
No teasing or light ‘air’ this time.
Yoon-Ah kissed your cheek long and firm, her lips molding to your skin with a boldness that stole your breath away. You felt the way she tilted her head slightly, swaying into the kiss like she meant every second of it. You wanted more. So much more. But-
Muah!
She pulled away. Your skin was now warm with her lipstick stamped there like her branding. When you opened your eyes, Yoon-Ah was still close - too close.
“How about that, oppa~?” she murmured, voice a little breathless.
You tried and held onto her gaze, almost failing to act unaffected. Slowly, you let go of her wrists, your fingers intentionally lingering on for a few seconds before slipping away completely.
“Not bad.” you said, voice trying to sound confident.
Yoon-Ah blinked. A shy blush bloomed across her face with a nervous smile to replace her confidence just seconds ago. You then cleared your throat - subtle but necessary - before glancing toward the leather sofa and nodding your chin in its.
“There are some ginseng extracts, a few tonic packets and uh… some black sesame snacks in that bag over there. My mom brought it over for you.” you said, walking to it. “From that clinic in Cheongdam, you know?”
You picked up the bag and held it out to her. Yoon-Ah followed you, cheeks still pink from earlier and took the bag slowly.
“Oh… that one clinic all the rich people’s wives and mistresses go to?” she said, her voice a little soft and flustered. “Your mother told me a lot about it, sajang-nim. We chat a lot, actually.”
“Since when?”
Yoon-Ah hesitated. “Umm… since forever? She texts me all the time and asks about you, your dating life… us…”
“And you tell her I make you work too much? If anything, I make you work less and come home early.”
Yoon-Ah pretended to let out a small cough, eyes darting to the clock on the wall as she avoided your gaze.
“A- Anyway… it’s almost time for your first meeting this morning, sajang-nim.”
You narrowed your eyes, dragging your feet back to your desk with a sigh to prepare for the meeting.
“I’ll let it slide this time, secretary Seol.”
No, I won’t.
You shifted through the clutter of documents on your desk, ignoring the warmth on your skin but paused when you noticed your secretary lingering around before walking toward you.
“Wait, sajang-nim.” she spoke up, softly. “You still have my lipstick mark on… your cheek.”
Your brows raised as she pulled a tissue from the little box on your desk and reached up, dabbing at the spot with what seemed like precision and maybe, just maybe, love? Or just a bit of affection? You hoped so. When she pulled back, you glanced at her - flushed, shy, trying to hide it. After all that messing around not even 20 minutes ago.
“Reapply your lipsticks, too, secretary Seol.” you said as you continued to search through the documents, not looking at her. “You know where my restroom is. I’ll wait.”
Yoon-Ah lowered her head into a small bow.
“Ah… thank you, sajang-nim.”
The morning room buzzed with the quiet rhythm of updates and reviews, slides clicking forward one by one. You sat at the head of the sleek conference room, listening to everything with Yoon-Ah next to you, taking notes with her usual precision.
Three years ago, you left one of the biggest names in Korea’s fashion game as their rising creative director - young, bold, and already successful. People thought you were crazy, even your parents stopped you at first. But you took a gamble anyway, at the age of 30.
Now? You were the CEO and founder of AVEC MAEUM. Get it?
AVEC is French for ‘with’. MAEUM (마음) is Korean for ‘heart/mind’. ‘With Heart’.
You’d thought it sounded cringy at first but people seemed to love it. It was still rising, still not quite a household name yet. But you’d come far. You had your own fashion label, your own team, and your own building in Hannam-dong - the land of the rich right in Yongsan-gu, Seoul. Buying this place to be the headquarters had been a risk - a sleek, five story building with somewhat clean, modern architecture. It obviously wasn’t the biggest or flashiest on the block, but to you, it meant everything. And it felt like something to be proud of.
You looked briefly at Yoon-Ah beside you - her posture straight, her expression calm and unreadable as always.
Still so goddamn beautiful.
You still remembered the day she first walked in for the interview - back when AVEC MAEUM was just your dream and a cheap nameplate taped to a rented shoebox in Intaewon 1-dong. You remembered being struck by her beauty.
Yoon-Ah had worn a white blouse with her sleeves rolled up just under her elbows, layered under a black sleeveless sweater. What caught your eyes the most was the way she chose to style her hair and skirt. Her long, light brown was parted and brought forward over both shoulders while the back was secured by a delicate black bow - a detail that made her look both younger and more elegant. Her skirt - one side was gray, the other black. It wasn’t flashy but it was bold in its own way. She had been fresh out of university then, too nervous. She’d clutched her portfolio with both hands like it might save her and land her the job. You remembered leaning back in that old office chair and asking Yoon-Ah while gesturing around the room.
“Why’d you apply here, honestly? I mean… aren’t you scared this might be a… I don’t know, money laundering scheme. This company has nothing right now, Yoon-Ah-ssi.”
She let out a tiny, nervous laugh.
“I… um… I looked you up before I applied.” she said it too fast, glancing down for a second like she regretted blurting it out. “I- I read about your work. The stuff you did at your pre- previous company… The 2019 one.”
You didn’t say anything and let her go on for another 5 minutes. Yoon-Ah fumbled a little more, both endearingly and awkwardly.
“Hmm.” you nodded eventually, a smile was forming on your lips. “I like the way you style yourself, Yoon-Ah-ssi. Especially the two color skirt… and uh, your hair.”
That bow had stayed in your memory ever since. You loved it whenever she styled her hair like that to work - something about it always pulled you back to your first meeting, to the shy Yoon-Ah.
From that day on, the two of you built more than just AVEC MAEUM together. You taught her a lot, from dealing with fashion related problems, difficult clients to how to be passive aggressive in meetings. Yoon-Ah picked up everything fast. You knew she was smart but she’d been outdoing your expectations after her first few weeks - always delivering more than what was asked. Still, no matter how much time passed or how confident she appeared with others, Yoon-Ah always carried a trace of that shyness when she was around you. It showed in the way she adjusted her outfits before walking into your office, the way she hesitated for a few seconds before speaking up in meetings if you were in the room.
However, in recent months, things had shifted - a slow, complicated push and pull neither of you wanted to define out loud. Late night conversations in the office. Lingering glances everywhere you went. Her being mad at you for forgetting buying her gifts after a business trip in Japan, only to bring you coffee the next morning - made just the way you liked it - with a flirty smile you couldn’t stop dreaming about. She started standing closer and leaning in more. You both intentionally stuck tightly to each other’s side in the elevator, even when it was empty. You’d started driving her home every day from work too - a quiet routine that had begun just 4 months ago.
Still, Seol Yoon-Ah always knew exactly when to draw a line, when to turn her head away to remind you that she was still your secretary. But… the kiss on the cheek she gave you this morning was a great leap forward.
And you wanted more.
So much more.
“Sajang-nim.” her voice broke through your thoughts, soft but pointed. You blinked, and there was the composed, capable woman seated beside you.
“Umm… you were spacing out, sajang-nim. They’ve just finished the presentation.”
Right, still in the middle of the meeting.
You sat up straighter, coughed lightly and picked up where she left off.
Another meeting soon followed. When it finally ended, most of the team filtered out quickly for lunch. You returned to your office and collapsed immediately on the leather sofa. Yoon-Ah walked in later carrying a small tray: two lunch boxes and drinks. She calmly set everything down on the coffee table then took her seat next to you.
“Lunch before meeting Karina, sajang-nim.” she said while unwrapping her utensils and handing over yours without looking.
“Ughh… finally. Karina~” you sang with exaggerated dread and dragged yourself upright.
“Aghh.” Yoon-Ah suddenly pouted as she peeled off the lid of her lunch box. “Again~?” She whined under her breath, poking at a neatly packed pile of green vegetables. “They always forget I hate these…”
Here come your rescue.
You immediately leaned forward, opening your mouth. “Ahh-”
Yoon-Ah froze with her chopsticks in hand, staring at you as her lips twitched into a smile.
“You’re unbelievable, sajang-nim.”
You didn’t move, just tilted your head and widened your eyes in the most obnoxiously innocent expression you could ever make. Her cheeks were already pink as she picked up a piece of broccoli and brought it hesitantly to your mouth. You bit down with a smug grin, chewing satisfyingly. Yoon-Ah looked away the second you started chewing, muttering.
“This better not become an everyday thing, sajang-nim.”
You swallowed, still smug. “I might make this a clause when we discuss your renewal contract, secretary Seol.”
Yoon-Ah narrowed her eyes at you, scoffing under her breath but the pink on her cheeks deepened.
“I’m writing a report to HR next Monday.”
You nudged her knee. She picked up another piece of green and held it out silently. You then leaned in with no hesitation and took it with a happy hum.
“... You’re enjoying this too much, sajang-nim.” Yoon-ah said, picking up another piece.
“You’re lucky your boss is a good eater.” you mumbled, earning a quick jab of her elbow on your shoulder. This went on quietly, rhythmically - her feeding you vegetables, you chewing with exaggerated joy, her pretending not to smile as she emptied every last piece of green from her lunch box into your mouth. By the end, the only things left was her rice, some meat and a few side dishes. And that smile she was struggling to hide on her lips.
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
The city rolled past outside the tinted windows of your GLE Coupe, sunlight bouncing off the glass. You had one hand on the steering wheel, the other rested lazily on your lap. You glanced sideways at Yoon-Ah, who was puffing her cheeks in and out, scrolling through something on her phone.
“Okay, sajang-nim. Balance game.” Her tone was light, teasing. “Have Samsung chaebol level wealth and power… or stay exactly as you are right now - same wealth, same power?”
You let out a breathy laugh. “Really?”
She didn’t look up from her phone, her voice singing. “Answer~”
“Stay as I am now.” You tapped your fingers on the steering wheel. That made her glance at you.
“You’re passing on generational wealth and the power to boss the president around, sajang-nim?”
You shrugged. “I mean, Samsung level wealth and power means I’d have to work pretty much every day. Get in a scandal every few years, get involved in political stuff, basically no freedom to do what I want in public. Sometimes spend a few months in jail waiting to get pardoned… Meh, not worth it.”
Yoon-Ah tilted her head and hummed. “Mm… interesting.”
“I mean… I have money now, don’t I? I won’t even get to spend like half of it before I die so chaebol level wealth doesn’t really mean much to me.”
Yoon-Ah leaned back against the headrest, turning slightly to study your profile.
“... I get the feeling you’d spoil your kids with all your wealth, sajang-nim.”
You snorted. “Why is that, secretary Seol?”
“You just have that whole vibe around you, sajang-nim. You’d build a whole private playground before they even learn to walk.”
You’re damn right, secretary Seol.
You raised an eyebrow. “And you say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Yoon-Ah smiled, teasing. “It’s not, unless you want them to turn into little monsters who throw tantrums if they don’t get what they want.”
You chuckled. “C’mon. I’d raise them better than that.”
A moment of comfortable silence passed before you asked.
“Okay, your turn. Son or daughter?”
Yoon-Ah didn’t even hesitate with her answer. “Daughter.”
Your fingers tapped the steering wheel again - thoughtlessly this time. You hadn’t meant to. It just happened. You thought of your daydream again this morning when she was talking to your mother. A family of your own, with Yoon-Ah and your daughter. A happy life.
Happy…
You blinked the thought away, eyes still on the road. Must’ve been your mom’s fault. She’d been yapping about you starting a family too much lately. But things didn’t alw-
“Would you prefer a daughter, sajang-nim?” Yoon-Ah snapped you back to reality.
“Huh? Yeah. I’ve always wanted a daughter. Daughters seem… sweet.”
She hummed again with that same amused tone of her.
“Mm. I can see that.”
“See what?”
Yoon-Ah pretended to think. “Just picturing you getting wrapped around her little finger, sajang-nim. You playing with princess dolls to make your daughter laugh, letting her apply makeup on you…”
“Yeah. I would enjoy that a lot.” the words came out more naturally than you expected. Yoon-Ah didn’t say anything at first. She flicked her gaze toward you briefly before returning to the window.
“So when do you plan to settle down, sajang-nim?” Her tone was light and careful, but not meaningless.
“Why?” you kept your eyes on the road. “You planning to recommend someone to me, secretary Seol?”
Yoon-Ah let out a soft scoff. “Do you even have a girlfriend right now, sajang-nim?”
And there it was - a quiet check. To see if you had one. To see if that romantic tension between you two all these months was genuine.
“Obviously not. Why do you think my mother keeps coming over to nag me every week?”
“...Your mother just wants you to be happy, I guess.” her voice came up softer this time.
You glanced over at her again. The corners of her lips turned up just a bit but her eyes, staring out the window, didn’t quite match the smile.
“Okay, secretary Seol.” you said after clearing your throat lightly. “Balance game again.”
That got her attention. Her head tilted slightly.
“Men your age… ” you paused. “Or… let’s just say, men… in their early thirties?”
You didn’t even try to hide who you meant. Yoon-Ah pressed her lips together - tight, like she was holding something back.
“Why, sajang-nim? Asking for a friend?” That flicker of amusement beneath her expression showed you she knew exactly what you meant. She let the question hang for a moment too long, lips still curved. Then she answered, casually.
“Early thirties, I think.”
Fuck yeah!
“More stable. More… mature.” she added. “But of course, that’s assuming he’s not my boss.”
And there it was again. The line Seol Yoon-Ah always drew. Not too close. Not too far.
What about the past few months?
You let out a breath through your nose. Your fingers then tightened slightly on the steering wheel. The silence stretched - not tense, but thoughtful. You felt a quiet little ache underneath your ribs. Yoon-Ah knew the effect she had on you. Tease you just enough and stay just far enough.
“Mm. Got it.”
You finally muttered, not wanting to be heard. She glanced at you - who was now looking like a kicked puppy. You didn’t notice it but her expression softened as she spoke, like she really wanted you to hear it.
“... That’s just assuming. But assumptions can change.”
Okay...
You didn’t say anything for the rest of the ride but your grip on the steering wheel eased, just slightly. You finally pulled up at the studio parking lot after 10 more minutes of driving. From the passenger seat, Yoon-Ah glanced at her phone then at the building. “They’re in the middle of the shoot.” she murmured. You reached behind your seat, grabbed the bouquet meant for Karina - wrapped to perfection, all PR polished - and stepped out, the car door shutting behind you with a soft thud. You circled around to Yoon-Ah's side and opened the door.
“What kind of boss drives his secretary around and opens the door for her, sajang-nim?” she asked, voice teasing.
You replied flatly, still a bit hurt from your last interaction in the car.
“The really good kind. The handsome kind. The caring kind.”
She let out a soft laugh, tilting her head as she stepped out.
“Mm. Must be exhausting being all three.”
You didn’t smile, not yet. “It’s worth it. If she notices.”
She paused at that just for a second. And in that second, something shifted in her eyes.
“...You should save that line for Karina, sajang-nim.” she said and smoothed down the front of her skirt, voice a little softer than before. “She’s the one getting the flower, today.”
Wasn’t a jab, not really.
Still, it made you fall silent. Because under that teasing edge, there was something else, something unspoken. You looked at her to try and catch it but it was too late, she was already stepping past you and walking toward the studio entrance like nothing had happened. You then adjusted your grip on the bouquet and followed.
Maybe it was nothing. Or maybe, it meant everything.
The studio door shut behind you with a loud click, muffling the city noise outside. Inside, everything was bright, cinematic - spotlights humming, stylists moving in rhythm, racks of clothing everywhere. You and Yoon-Ah walked past the staff, bowing and greeting. They led you to near the center. And there she was.
aespa’s Karina
Wow…
She was kneeling in front of the green screen, her unique plaid dress hugged her perfectly at the waist. Her hair was sleek, falling down in front of one shoulder, leaving the other bare. A leather jacket was slipping down her arms.
Huh, I designed that jacket.
Everything she wore just looked so effortlessly beautiful and expensive, even the platform sneakers.
“We just started 20 minutes ago, sajang-nim. Sorry for making you wait like this.” a staff member spoke up.
“No. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” you quickly whispered back. “You guys are working hard.”
You couldn’t take your eyes off the idol.
The camera shuttered again. Karina shifted to lie on her stomach, legs in the air, the dress riding up just slightly as she propped her chin on her hand. The pose looked casual but you knew how precise every tilt of her head was. Her bare shoulders caught the light just right. The rings you worked on hugged her fingers. She looked great in everything.
“Cut.” the photographer. “That’s beautiful, everyone. Let’s take a break and reset the lighting for the next setup.”
Karina pushed herself up slowly, movements pretty even off camera. She didn’t look over right away but she must’ve known you were here. You two had met a few times before but never really talked - meetings to prepare for this collab, at some parties... In all those encounters, there had always been this weird tension between the two of you.
“Wipe, please.” her manager called. Then, a stylist instantly ran forward with a tissue, dabbing the corner of Karina’s mouth delicately while she sipped from a straw. Her lips parted slightly, a soft breath came out as she adjusted the leather jacket.
You felt Yoon-Ah’s intense gaze on you from the side - sharp and intense - but she stayed silent. You stepped forward but stopped almost instantly. Because Karina’s eyes finally lifted to you. The moment her eyes found yours, the corners of her mouth almost twitched into a smile. Not quite a smile yet but definitely not neutral. Her gaze lingered for a bit too long. She was pleased, like she was definitely glad that you came. Then it was gone. She blinked, turning to the stylist to smile and say ‘thank you, unnie'. She instantly straightened her posture with that ease of an experienced idol - grace and camera-ready composure.
Wow…
You stood there, not knowing you were breathing a little too fast. Next to you, Yoon-Ah shifted her weight and crossed her arms. She tilted her head, unamused.
“You’re staring.”
“What?”
“I said…” one corner of her lips curved up, that irritated kind of expression. “I said you’re staring, sajang-nim.”
You opened your mouth to reply as heat started to creep up your face.
“I- I’ll just go say hi to the team first.” you mumbled, already stepping sideways and pretending to scan every equipment on the way. “Check how they’re doing with the lighting and… uh, all that.”
“Right, sajang-nim.” Yoon-Ah murmured, following you just a step behind. “All that.”
You made your way across the set, nodding at a couple of the lighting staff as you passed. “Everybody doing okay? Looks good.” you said, voice slightly higher than usual. No one seemed to notice - except for your secretary. The head stylist bowed quickly and smiled. “Oh, sajang-nim. Thanks for coming today.”
You politely bowed back and smiled. “Always. You guys are killing it.” you tried not to glance back over your shoulder, tried not to think about Yoon-Ah’s tone or Karina’s eyes a few moments ago.
“Lighting’s still adjusting but we’re almost there.” said the photographer as he stepped aside from his camera.
“Everything’s okay? Anything you guys want to ask for? I’m always eager to help.”
The photographer grinned. “Actually… we were thinking the lighting’s hitting her a little too harshly. We might try switching one of the lights for something softer? It might be a little different from your plans, sajang-nim…”
You nodded. “Good catch. Let’s do that. We still have the softer lights in storage, right?”
One of the assistants spoke up. “Yes, sajang-nim. I’ll go grab it instantly.”
“Thank you.” you said, stepping aside to make room. “If it helps the shots, go for it. Don’t hold back on suggestions. You guys know the setup better than anyone.”
The team exchanged a few glances, nodding. You actually listened - whether it was a last minute adjustment or the way the hem of a piece of clothing caught the breeze wrong, you cared. Yoon-Ah knew this side of you too well.
“Oh… also.” you added. “I’ve arranged a dinner for the whole team after the shoot. Just a little something to celebrate this, No one’s leaving hungry tonight.”
There were a few murmurs, a couple of soft laughs and someone clapped.
“You really spoil us, sajang-nim.”
“You’re the best, sajang-nim.”
You smiled, modest as always. “Only fair. Thanks for the hard work, everyone.” Then, you finally turned and headed toward Karina.
She was sitting on a chair near the set now, hands on her knees, spacing out. Her gaze flicked up as you approached, her expression then turned softer, lighter. Like she was trying not to smile again.
“Hi, Karina-ssi.” you bowed politely, a little breathless as you gripped the bouquet tighter.
“Oh- hi, sajang-nim.” she smiled brightly, standing up quickly to bow back. “It’s really great to see you here today.”
She glanced down at the flowers in your hand, then back up at you, curious but polite enough not to mention it yet. Her tone stayed professional but there was that subtle lift in her tone when people were genuinely happy.
You extended the bouquet toward her with both hands. “You’ve been working so hard. I, uh… honestly still can’t believe our company landed a deal with an idol like you, Karina-ssi.”
Her eyes widened slightly as she accepted the flowers, clearly caught off guard. “Oh- thank you so much.” she looked down at the bouquet, cheeks dusted with light pink. “But… I think your clothing just makes me look good, sajang-nim. I really love your designs.”
You let out a soft laugh. “No, really. You have that AI beauty. Like so precise, so surreal. It’s… uh, unfair, honestly.”
Karina laughed quietly as she swayed side to side slightly. “You shouldn’t say things like that so casually, sajang-nim.”
You smiled. “I’m just saying the truth, Karina-ssi.”
The two of you drifted into easy conversation, the noise of the set quickly faded into the background.
“I’m actually a big fan of aespa.” you admitted, shyly. “Have been for a while.”
Karina lit up, eyebrows raising as she tilted her head playfully. “Really? Sajang-nim’s a MY?”
“Maybe a lowkey one. I’ve listened to ‘Thirsty’ an embarrassing amount of time.”
“Oh, good taste. What else?”
“‘Lucid Dream’ and ‘I’m Unhappy’ deserve more attention. ‘Up’ too… Karina-ssi” you hesitated just a bit. “Especially ‘Up’.”
Karina’s smile wavered as she was taken aback, moved. “That’s my solo.”
“I know.” you smiled back.
Her fingers curled tightly around the bouquet, the wrapping rustling. Her eyes darted sideways before slowly coming back to you - warmer. “I’m really glad you like that, sajang-nim.”
What started as casual pleasantries stretched out into 5 minutes of relaxed, uninterrupted talking - her asking what inspired your last collection, you asking what it felt like to perform in front of thousands. She laughed when you made dumb jokes, you smiled when she said the jacket you designed actually made her feel cooler than she actually was.
Then, Karina’s eyes flicked around the set. Something about her look changed. And her staff knew her well. Within seconds, they spread out naturally - pulling out their phones, striking up fake conversations. No one said a word. You were confused at first but looked back at Karina as she stepped closer, her voice dropping so low only you could hear. She gently tiptoed up, her perfume finally arriving at your nose.
“...Can I have your number, sajang-nim?”
What did you say?
You froze for a bit.
“Uh- I… I- personal or work, Karina-ssi?” you asked, trying to stay composed.
Karina giggled, one hand coming up to cover her mouth. “Personal, sajang-nim. If you don’t mind.”
“Umm… sure, sure. Yeah. Of course,”
Karina then turned to her staff, subtly giving a nod then one of them immediately stepped forward to hand you her phone, screen already open to a new contact. You took it, typing in your number with slightly stiff fingers, still trying to process everything that had happened. When you handed back the phone to Karina, your fingers briefly brushed hers and she smiled - eyes meeting yours.
From a distance, a certain someone was watching.
Seol Yoon-Ah stood just far enough not to hear a word but close enough to see everything. The way Karina smiled up at you, the way you looked back - relaxed, flattered and warm. The way her staff handed you her phone. She didn’t move and just stood there, rooted to the floor. Her fists clenched so tightly that her knuckles almost went white.
Yoon-Ah had never hated a woman this much in her entire life. Not one who hadn’t even done anything wrong. Karina hadn’t crossed any lines. She wasn’t being arrogant. She was sweet, polite, even shy. And still, Yoon-Ah felt something ugly bloom in her chest - hot, sour, aching. Her jaw locked as she exhaled through her nose, slow and controlled, trying to keep her face from cracking.
Why did it feel like she was being left behind?
She wondered if this was her fault for pulling you in just close enough to only push you away whenever she wanted to? For testing the boundaries of your patience, your attention, your loyalty, just to see if you’d stay. Were you trying to get back at her for what’d happened in the car? The thoughts sank like a stone in her stomach.
Whatever it was, she absolutely despised it.
You, obviously, had no idea what Yoon-Ah was thinking. You were still dazed, trying to process reality. Karina - the Karina - had just asked for your number. You could still hear her voice in your ear, soft and almost shy. ‘Personal, sajang-nim. If you don’t mind.’ You didn’t even notice Yoon-Ah watching or the shift in her expression. Because in your head, everything still felt like a dream.
Now, Yoon-Ah’d had enough. She tried to wait for the heat in her chest to settle, her nails dug crescent moons into her palm but her expressions stayed calm - just calm enough. With steady steps, she approached, heels clicking softly against the studio floor. Her voice came up clear, professional but still a bit tight underneath.
“Photos together for our social media, sajang-nim.”
You turned at the sound of her voice, startled. You were still smiling at something Karina’d said. Karina straightened too, her smile still lingering but a teeny bit more cautious now. Yoon-Ah didn’t even glance at Karina. Her eyes were only on you. And her smile?
Impeccable. Cold.
There was a distinct shift in the air - one only Yoon-Ah seemed to feel. Karina, ever graceful, stood a little too close to you during the photos, her arm brushing yours once or twice. She laughed softly as she posed with the bouquet you’d given her earlier. Every moment made Yoon-Ah’s inside burn even more with something ugly she refused to admit. Again, she wasn’t the type to hate other women, especially ones who hadn’t done anything wrong but today… she came close.
Karina eventually returned to her photoshoot, her gaze drifting toward you a few more times as her shoot went on. You and Yoon-Ah stayed for another 30 minutes, exchanging a few words with staff, pretending nothing had shifted. When it was time to leave, Yoon-Ah didn’t wait for you like she always did. She instantly turned and marched outside toward the car without a word, heels clicking furiously against the ground. You watched her from behind, already putting the pieces together in your head.
Are you jealous, secretary Seol?
She reached the car first and didn’t wait for you to open the door for her like usual. Nope, she wasn’t that patient now. Instead, she yanked the door open herself and climbed in, slamming it shut with enough force to make someone passing by flinched. You sighed quietly and walked to the car with a smile. You slipped into the driver’s seat, shutting the door with far less drama than she had. The engine hummed to life, but for a moment, you didn’t even touch the steering wheel. You then glanced at her.
“You okay, secretary Seol?”
Her arms were crossed, eyes fixed stubbornly out the window. Her silence said more than words could. You let the question hang there for a moment before stopping a small laugh that was threatening on your lips.
“You look cute when you’re jealous, secretary Seol.”
She didn’t even flinch. Not even a blink.
“I believe our schedule for the day is done, sajang-nim. Please drive me home.”
That made you smile wider, tilting your head just slightly so that you could appreciate her flawless side profile.
“Please take me home, sajang-nim. Thank you.” she repeated, this time with even more bite, her tone low and sharp.
“Yes, general Seol.” you chuckled under your breath as you began to drive out of the parking lot.
You called her ‘general Seol’ whenever her tone dropped low, or whenever she did something that people around the office usually said was too ‘unladylike’ for someone as pretty as her. You’d caught her sometimes sitting with her legs open, slouching in chairs, sneezing like an uncle… Things people whispered about behind her back.
You? You didn’t mind it at all. You found it cute. Too cute, honestly.
About ten minutes passed before she finally spoke again, squinting at the unfamiliar turns and intersections outside the window.
“Where are you driving me, sajang-nim?” her voice was still tense, arms folded tight, annoyance refusing to die down.
“Let’s go shopping. It’s Friday, and I need something.” you said casually, keeping your eyes on the road.
“I don’t want to go.” Her tone sharpened, each word laced with clear irritation. “Drop me off. I’m not in the mood, sajang-nim.”
You hummed, unfazed and kept on driving.
“I’m serious.” she turned to glare at you. “This isn’t funny, sajang-nim. I don’t want t-”
“I didn’t ask.” you said simply with a stern tone. That made her jaw tighten. A moment of silence passed before she finally let out a sigh - annoyed, long, defeated.
“...Fine.” she muttered, clearly hating that you used your serious work tone. “But only if you take me home first, sajang-nim. I need to shower and change. I don’t want to go shopping looking like a rich guy’s mistress.”
You grinned, victory finally. “Anything for you, general Seol.”
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
You leaned against the car door outside her apartment, one hand in your pocket, the other holding your phone but not really looking at it. You’d gone home and changed too after dropping Yoon-Ah off - a grey jacket, sleeves rolled up just slightly, clean watch on your wrist, black jeans. You looked like you kinda had a date to pick up.
Technically, you could call it a date?
Is it?
Yoon-Ah walked out a minute later, hair still freshly dried but still flowing effortlessly. Her face hasn’t softened one bit, still visibly annoyed - one arm swinging stiffly at her side, the other clutching her bag. Her leather boots clicked against the pavement as she made her way toward you in that perfectly coordinated outfit - a check wool mini skirt, a dark brown cashmere sweater with sleeves that were longer than her arms. Full Burberry, from head to toe. Working for a fashion company CEO had its perks, huh?
She looked like a walking Burberry ad.
An angry one.
Still beautiful.
You straightened up slowly, watching her approach. “Still mad, secretary Seol?”
“I’m only here because you promise to drop me off right after, sajang-nim.” she muttered, yanking open the car door without waiting for you - again. “And if you say anything about my outfit, I’m walking.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” you said, lips twitching into a smirk as you slid into the driver’s seat beside her.
The car ride was quiet at first, filled only by the engine hum and the sound of her TWICE playlist playing through the speakers. She didn’t ask, didn’t explain - just tapped her nails against the side of the door to the soft rhythm of ‘Ice Cream’ with her eyes fixed out the window. You didn’t mind. You liked that she wasn’t pretending. You liked even more that she still got in the car anyway. When you parked in front of a store and killed the engine, she glanced up. Her brows drew together.
“This isn’t a shopping mall, sajang-nim.”
“Yeah, of course."
“Why are we at a gaming store?”
You unbuckled your seatbelt and opened the door with a shrug. “I told you. I need something.”
She didn’t move. “I told you I wanted to save up and buy me my own stuff, sajang-nim.”
You didn’t answer, just shut the door and started walking toward the shop. She groaned behind you but eventually got out on her own, stomping after you in her boots. “Unbelievable.”
Inside, the store was nearly empty except for the beeping of machines and the glows of display screens. You moved with purpose, hands in your jacket’s pockets, pausing in front of the row of Nintendo Switch and Steam Deck models before glancing back at her. Yoon-Ah had her arms crossed and was still annoyed.
And stunning.
“I notice you’ve been looking at these for a while now, secretary Seol.” you said casually, nodding toward the shelf. “I'd thought you only played Minecraft on your work iPad. Didn’t know you were an avid gamer.”
“Why are we even here, sajang-nim?”
“I need something. Thought you might too. I’ll pay for you.”
“I told you I didn’t need you buying me anything when I can get it myse-”
“I pay you more than enough to buy these, secretary Seol. I know that's not the reason.” you cut in. “You've been staring at this stuff on your work screen for weeks.”
She scoffed. “You’ve been checking my tabs, sajang-nim?”
“You leave them open during meetings.” you smirked.
“I was just looking.”
Yoon-Ah then tried to cover the flicker of emotions in her eyes.
“You seem to notice everything except when Karina was intentionally sticking to your side when you guys were taking photos together, sajang-nim.”
Gotcha.
“So that’s what all this is about, huh?”
Her cheeks flushed immediately.
“No, this is about boundaries and… pr- professionalism and -”
“Gaming devices.” you shot back.
“I’m going home after this, sajang-nim.” she said flatly, looking away. “You promised.”
“I know.” you then reached to pick up the matte white Nintendo Switch box from the shelf, weighing it in your hands like you were about to buy it for yourself. You weren’t. You already had a Switch at home. Without a word, you turned and held it out to her.
“Sajang-nim…” she warned softly.
“Just hold it, secretary Seol.”
Her gaze flicked from your face to the box in your hand, hesitant. After a few seconds, she sighed and took it carefully, like it might break or disappear if she moved too fast. She turned it in her hands, inspecting the box like she hadn’t memorized its specs from her late night scrolling. Her thumbs brushed against the edges, expression softening as she flipped it to look at the back. Her lips parted slightly, a cute hum she didn’t mean to make came out.
You watched Yoon-Ah - the way her fingers moved, how her lashes dipped low as she read, the way her weight shifted unconsciously closer to you. Seol Yoon-Ah was beautiful like this. Not in just the way she looked, but also in the way she let herself want something for once. She finally looked up, trying to mask the flicker of want in her eyes.
“Why are you buying me this, sajang-nim?”
You didn’t hesitate.
“Think of it as your bonus, secretary Seol.” you said, casually. “You’ve been working hard lately.”
Yoon-Ah’s fingers curled a little tighter around the box. “We don’t usually get bonuses at a gaming store on a Friday afternoon, sajang-nim.”
“Must be your lucky day then.” you smirked.
She rolled her eyes but couldn’t help but smile after. You turned away to browse casually, giving her space. A minute later, she was crouching in front of a lower shelf, brows furrowed as she scanned through rows of games titles. She ended up picking a few then moved over to the accessories wall. Her eyes lit up slightly when she saw the joystick covers shaped like cat paws. She reached for a set of black ones, then hesitated a bit before taking the pink ones too. You didn’t say anything and just watched her from the corner of your eyes as she drifted through the aisle, quiet, focused. She was completely unaware that she was glowing in your eyes. Then, she turned, items cradled in her arms, only to find you standing at the opposite display - holding not one, but two Steam Decks. She blinked.
“Sajang-nim. Why do you need two?”
You looked down at the boxes in your hands, then at her.
“One for me. One for you. Obviously.”
Her mouth dropped slightly. “You’re already paying for my Switch. I can’t let you do that.”
You ignored her and headed straight to the cashier.
“Wait, sajang-nim!” Yoon-Ah followed in hurried steps, balancing her items. “I’m serious. You don’t have to do this. I didn’t even ask for it.”
You set both Steam Decks on the counter and pulled out your card. “Exactly. That’s what makes it a gift. No… a bonus.”
“Sajang-nim-”
You raised a hand to silence her without even looking.
“You can thank me later, secretary Seol.”
The cashier clearly didn’t want to be in this situation as he awkwardly tried to scan as fast as he could. You signaled her to set the items down on the counter but she clearly didn’t want to do that.
“Put them down, secretary Seol. The poor guy’s sweating already.”
But she didn’t budge. Not yet.
“I’m going to transfer you some money back, sajang-nim.” she mumbled, still stubborn as ever. “Or something.”
“Mm.” you nodded, unaffected. “Sure. Try.”
Yoon-Ah shot you a final, burning glare before sighing in defeat. She stepped forward and set the box down a little harder than necessary, then placed the joystick covers and game cases beside it like she was surrendering the last teeny tiny part of her pride. The cashier quietly let out a breath of relief and quickly scanned the rest.
You were smiling. Yoon-Ah now stood beside you with her arms crossed, eyes fixed on the total like she could make it drop lower. Her shoulders brushed yours - intentionally or not, you couldn’t tell. But she didn’t move away. You didn’t say it out loud but the way she set things down - all flustered, reluctant, mumbling under her breath - might’ve been the most adorable thing you’d seen all week.
You carried everything without letting Yoon-Ah lift a finger. Yoon-Ah walked a step behind you as you walked to put them in the trunk. She got in first, expecting the day to end and sat silently, arms folded with her bag resting on her lap. When you slipped into the driver seat, you didn’t start the route to her apartment. Instead, you glanced over.
“Let’s go for dinner, secretary Seol.”
She turned her head sharply. “But you said you’d take me home right after, saj-”
You leaned back against your seat casually.
“You dressed up in full Burberry. How could I take you to a gaming store and just drop you off like that without doing anything else?”
She had no come back now. Just a narrowed gaze and a soft, unwilling smile.
You took Yoon-Ah to a quiet, upscale fusion place. The mood was cozy and unhurried. You let her choose her own dishes. Somewhere between shared drinks and grilled ribeye bites, the tension finally started to melt. You didn’t even look at your phone once.
You talked about everything except work - childhood stories, movies, the ridiculous idea of just adopting and not marrying. Yoon-Ah rolled her eyes but the laughter in them lingered. By dessert, she had started to open up more, The candle light reflected in her eyes as she told you she hadn’t gone out to dinner like this in a long while - with someone who actually listened. You didn’t say much to that and just watched Yoon-Ah as she picked a piece of green vegetable and held it out for you across the table, feigning indifference. You leaned forward, letting her feed you the things she always hated, again.
"Feeding me on your own now, secretary Seol?" you raised your eyebrows while chewing. "You're learning fast."
"Don't speak while chewing food like that, sajang-nim."
For a moment, it felt like a date. Even if neither of you said it out loud.
The car rolled to a soft stop outside her apartment building. Neither of you said much. The night was calm but the warmth from dinner still lingered between you two. Yoon-Ah unbuckled her seatbelt and got out on her own. You then got out and circled to the back and popped the trunk open. You reached in and pulled out her bag - the one filled with her new gaming devices, the little indulgences she never would’ve bought for herself. She stood on the pavement, arms folded gently - unsure what to do. When you handed her the bag, she took it carefully.
“Thank you, sajang-nim…” she murmured, not quite looking at you,
“O- Of course.” you didn’t even know why you hesitated. Then came a pause.
Heavy? Awkward?
Yoon-Ah didn’t move. You didn’t walk back to the car. The both of you just stood there under the quiet glow of the streetlights, shadows stretching long behind you.
What now…?
Maybe it was the way Yoon-Ah was holding her bag so close. Maybe it was the way her hair moved in the cool night breeze. Or maybe it was the way she didn’t say goodbye yet.
Or maybe… It was just the right moment.
You leaned in - slow, careful, giving Yoon-Ah every chance to pull away. Your head tilted slightly, breath quiet, your eyes barely leaving hers. And just your lips were so close, close enough to taste her-
Almost there…
Yoon-Ah’s hand came up. Her fingers pressed lightly against your lips - gentle but firm. You stopped.
Her hand didn’t waver. But her voice was smaller than usual.
“Sajang-nim…”
Silence. She took a quick breath.
“I think I’m not qualified to be in a relationship with you... with people of your status.”
What?
It didn’t make sense to you. Not with how close you two’d become. Not after 3 years of being together almost everyday. Not after these past few months. Not after everything.
“Maybe we should just… stay professional, sajang-nim.”
Yoon-Ah stepped back, her expression unreadable - composed like always - but you swore you could see it. That something in her eyes. The way her jaw clenched. You stared at her, heart thudding like crazy.
“Is this the Karina thing this afternoon, Yoon-Ah?”
Her eyes widened just a fraction at your confession, at the sound of her name leaving your lips. But she didn’t say anything. You then took a step forward.
“I swear it was nothing. She ju- just asked for my num- number and I… I-”
That was when it hit her. Karina had asked for your number. You caught the way her lashes fluttered, the stiffening of her posture. Even under the dim light, you could tell she didn’t like that. At all.
“Oh…” the sound left her mouth. Just that.
Fuck.
Inside, Yoon-Ah was spiraling. Of all the things she expected - this wasn’t one of them.
“I didn’t agree to anything yet, Yoon-Ah ah. Please…” your voice sounded much more desperate now. But Yoon-Ah quickly switched back to her secretary mode and bowed.
“Good night, sajang-nim.”
And just like that, she turned and walked away without looking back once - leaving you frozen on the pavement. After the dinner. After months of teasing, lingering glances, late night conversations in the office, driving her home… Even after her first kiss on your cheek this morning…
You’d been dreaming of a future that felt close enough to touch. It was all gone now. You blinked once then exhaled, baffled.
What’s wrong with secretary Seol?
✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧
like that? did i surprise u? i felt like i did sullyoon dirty... but the ending feels fresh lol, at least for me since i always write happy ending.
Impressive. It's more painful the way it happened.
Anyway, defeats are no excuse not to work! So I'll see you in a week... or two.
LACRIMOSA [1/4]
Male Reader x Obsessed Serial Killer Yeji.
Smut mostly, established relationship, somewhat unnecessary violence
Word count: 6,4k
Hwang Yeji’s heart pounded with an almost painful intensity whenever she was near you. It was as if every cell in her body screamed in adoration—a devotion so overwhelming it left her dizzy. When her eyes met yours, the world around her seemed to vanish, reduced to an insignificant blur. She could feel the heat of your body even before touching you, and when she finally did, it was like an electric shock coursing down her spine, leaving her shivering and hungry for more.
No one understood what you had. No one could understand. Because Yeji’s love wasn’t ordinary—it was a devouring flame, a hurricane that razed everything in its path to protect what was hers. And you were hers. From the age of ten, when she first saw you in primary school, she knew. You were the only man who would ever exist for her, and she would do anything to ensure that nothing—and no one—came between you.
The news on the television echoed through the room, the reporter’s voice cutting through the silence like a knife.
"The serial killer known as 'The Dragon' has just claimed their twentieth known victim. The body was discovered this afternoon at 14:00 and has been identified as Aeri Uchinaga, a young woman approximately 24 years of age."
Yeji stepped out of the shower, the towel wrapped around her body like a second skin, steam still clinging to her damp flesh. She didn’t need to look to know she was flawless—she always was. Every movement was calculated, every glance, every smile, meticulously crafted to keep you enthralled. After all, she had shaped herself perfectly for you.
"Oh, darling, wasn’t that your secretary?"
Her voice was honeyed, innocent, as if the news were merely a sad coincidence. But inside, a dark satisfaction spread through her veins. Aeri Uchinaga. That red-haired slut, always flirting, always trying to steal what wasn’t hers. How many times had she seen that girl touch you with flimsy excuses? How many times had she called you to "work meetings" that were clearly desperate attempts at seduction?
Yeji tasted bitterness just remembering.
With feline grace, she slid onto the sofa, settling onto your lap as if it were her rightful place—and in her mind, it was. Her arms coiled around your neck, fingers playing with the hair at your nape. She leaned in, sealing her lips to yours in a quick but intense kiss. The sensation was intoxicating. She could spend hours like this, lost in the taste of your mouth, the safety of your arms.
"It’s... that killer... The Dragon." She sighed, feigning concern as she buried her face in your shoulder. "I’m terrified something might happen to you, love. Why is the police so useless?"
The irony was delicious.
She knew you suspected nothing. How could you? To you, she was the perfect wife—affectionate, devoted, a woman who kept the house, cooked when she had time, worked, and still found ways to spoil you. You had no idea what she was capable of.
Yeji’s breath hitched as you pulled her closer, every curve of her body moulding perfectly against yours. She smiled inwardly at your physical reaction—the tension in your muscles, the way your trousers grew tighter under her weight. You were hers, and every tremor, every gasp from you confirmed it. Her hands rose to your face, delicate fingers tracing your jaw before lightly pinching your neck, alternating between kisses and licks that made your body shudder.
"Nothing’s going to happen, don’t worry."
"How can you be so sure, my love?" you murmured. She only smiled, then rolled her hips in slow, deliberate circles against your lap, each motion calculated to increase the friction between you. She could feel your body responding, and it filled her with perverse pleasure. You drove her wild, and she knew the feeling was mutual. Damn you, you knew every one of her weak spots and exactly how to exploit them.
She was already one step ahead. With a fluid motion, she shifted just enough to undo the towel, letting it drop to the floor without ceremony. The light seemed to bend around her body, highlighting every curve, every toned muscle, every inch of skin she knew you adored. Your expression as you took in her naked form was everything she expected—eyes dark with desire, lips slightly parted, as if entranced.
"No one would dare touch your woman, my love," she whispered, her voice a mix of promise and threat.
Before you could respond, she leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that was anything but gentle. This time, there was no delicacy—only hunger. Your tongues clashed in a violent dance, fighting for space, for taste, for dominance. She won, of course. She always won. When she finally pulled away, your lips were swollen and glistening, and she couldn’t help the triumphant look at seeing you completely at her mercy.
Her hips pressed against you again, this time with no barriers, and the damp heat between her legs made it clear she was just as affected as you. Her fingers tangled in your hair, tugging gently as she rested her forehead against yours, breathing heavily.
"Love... I need to go to work..." you tried, but your voice was weak, almost a moan.
Yeji chuckled lowly, the sound vibrating between you like a satisfied purr.
"Hmmm, then let’s skip the foreplay," she replied, her voice sweet but with a firmness that left no room for argument.
Her hands slid down to your waist, undoing your belt with practised ease before pushing you back onto the sofa, forcing you to lie down.
Yeji’s voice came out like an intoxicating purr, dripping with lust and possession, as her delicate fingers wrapped around your throbbing cock with a mix of spit and desire. "Let your kitty do all the work, okay? You deserve it, big boy..." She squeezed with surgical precision—just enough to make you arch your back with a hoarse moan, a deliciously sharp pain that melted into liquid pleasure as she began pumping slowly, her eyes locked onto yours while her tongue wet her lips.
You tried to say something, but the words died in your throat as she lined herself over you, her arousal already slicking her thighs and dripping onto your groin. "Darling... we have to—"
"Why d’you think I took so long in the shower?" she interrupted, the smirk of a satisfied cat spreading as she sank down in one fluid motion, taking you to the hilt without hesitation. "I was getting ready for your big cock... Fuck." The last word came out as a rough sigh, almost a mantra of worship.
It was true—she was outrageously ready. Her insides were already stretched with need, hot and soft as silk, yet still impossibly tight, as if every inch of her had been moulded exclusively for you. With every rise, her cunt seemed to curl around your shaft, sucking you back in with a pressure that made your fingers dig into the sofa. And when she dropped down? It was like being stabbed by paradise—a perfect fit, a friction that made your legs tremble.
Yeji, however, was the real spectacle. Every movement was punctuated by loud moans, whimpers echoing through the room as if she were being wrecked for the first time. But you knew it wasn’t an act—it was pure, raw, devastating physical reaction. The mere fact that you were feeling pleasure tripled hers, and it spilled over in every frantic roll of her hips, every inner clench that seemed to demand: This is mine. You’re mine.
Your hands, almost instinctively, rose to knead her breasts—squeezing, twisting her nipples until she gasped from the mix of pain and pleasure. But then, in a move that made your blood boil, she took your left hand to her mouth, sucking each finger with obscene devotion, her eyes half-lidded in ecstasy.
"Daddy..." she moaned, voice thick with pleading, as her tongue swirled around your thumb. "Urgh... Please, fuck my tight little arse with them... please..."
The plea sounded like an order, not a request. And before you could process it, she was already guiding your hand behind her, where the slick heat of her other hole pulsed in open invitation. She didn’t want tenderness.
The air grew thick, heavy with a damp heat that seemed to radiate from your tangled bodies. Yeji moved atop you with the precision of a predator who knew every inch of her prey—every curve, every sensitive spot, every way to wring the deepest moans from your core. Her hips drew slow, calculated circles before sinking down with a fluidity that made your abs clench involuntarily. Her skin glistened under the dim light, sweat trickling between her perfect tits as they bounced with every thrust.
"You love it when your kitty rides you like this, don’t you, darling?" she whispered, voice ragged with pleasure as her blood-red nails scraped lightly down your chest, marking her territory. Each word was broken by short, breathy moans, as if forming full sentences was impossible amid the sensations wrecking her. Her cunt clenched around you in perfect waves, milking you deeper with every descent.
Your fingers, still wet from her saliva, found her tight little arsehole, and the reaction was instant—a full-body shudder wracked her, making her inner muscles clamp down even harder around your cock. "Right... ah, God, just there..." she squealed, tossing her head back as her short black hair swayed like a silken veil. The way her body responded was almost supernatural—every touch, every press of your fingers, sent visceral tremors of pleasure through her.
You could feel her slickness dripping freely, lubricating every movement until the obscene sound of skin slapping skin filled the room. Yeji made no effort to hold back—her moans were loud, guttural, almost feral in their intensity. "Christ, you’re ruining me from the inside... I can feel you in my fucking stomach..." she whined, the words tumbling between rough gasps as her thighs quivered with exertion and mounting pleasure.
Her tits bounced hypnotically with every roll of her hips, her hard nipples grazing your torso in time with each thrust. You couldn’t resist—you leaned forward and caught one between your lips, sucking hard as your tongue circled the peak. Her reaction was electric—a sharp cry tore from her throat as her walls clenched like a fist around your cock, as if trying to wring every drop of pleasure from you.
"I’m... I’m gonna come... I can’t hold it..." she gasped, her rhythm growing erratic. Her nails dug into your shoulders, leaving little red crescents in their wake. "Wanna feel you inside me when I explode... please, love, fill me up... mark me..."
The desperation in her voice was impossible to ignore, and you felt your own control snap. Every word, every spasm, every loud moan ringing in your ears was fuel to an already uncontrollable fire. Yeji knew exactly what to say, how to move, how to turn every fibre of your being into an instrument of pure ecstasy.
And when her climax hit, it was with hurricane force—her body arched back in a perfect curve, her abs taut as waves of pleasure wracked her. Her cunt pulsed around you, milking you relentlessly until you had no choice but to follow, spilling inside her with a rough groan that echoed off the walls.
Yeji collapsed onto your chest, breathless and trembling, but with a victorious smile on her swollen lips. "Good... job, love..." she murmured, her fingers tracing possessive patterns on your sweat-slicked skin.
The quiet of the empty flat was a psychological torture that gnawed at Yeji from within, minute by minute. She wandered between rooms like a ghost, her light footsteps echoing on the wooden floor like the ticking of a clock counting down the seconds until his return. Every object she touched—her forgotten comb on the sink, the shirt he’d left hanging on the hook, the glass bearing the faint marks of his lips—was simultaneously a relief and a punishment. Working from home wasn’t a choice but a visceral necessity, the only way to keep her precarious sanity balanced over the abyss of paranoia. The GPS tracker hidden in the lining of her bag, the spyware installed on his phone, the micro-cameras strategically placed in his office—all of it was but a fragile consolation for the ravenous beast roaring in her chest.
Sitting on the edge of the still-unmade bed, where his form had pressed into the sheets the night before, Yeji opened the tablet with fingers that trembled faintly. The real-time feed from his office appeared like a sacrament, and she held her breath as his beloved face came into view, bent over work documents. That little furrow between his brows when he concentrated, the way his lips moved soundlessly as he read—each detail was a blade of pleasure driven into her back. She longed to be there, perched on his lap, twirling his hair around her fingers while whispering filthy promises in his ear...
Until the intruder appeared.
Yeji nearly crushed the device in her hands when the woman—Ryujin, as he had called her—stepped into frame with confident strides and a shameless smile. Not Aeri, no. His previous secretary was already feeding worms. So who was this bitch who dared invade her sanctuary?
Her heart pounded like a war drum as she watched the intruder’s hand rest on his shoulder—a casual touch, far too intimate, far too possessive. Blood throbbed in her temples with a primal rhythm, and a wave of heat surged through her body like lava, paradoxically mingling with the icy sting of murder chilling her spine. Her own nails dug into her thighs hard enough to leave bruises that would last for days.
"So, boss... You free to go out later?"
The rival’s saccharine voice crackled through the speakers, and Yeji felt something inside her shatter like glass. A silent scream burned her throat as her mind flooded with vivid images—her clawing out that whore’s eyes with her nails, winding her intestines like Christmas ribbons, mailing butchered pieces to her family with greeting cards.
But then he spoke.
"No, Ryujin. And don’t address me so casually. I’m a married man and your superior."
His voice was an unsheathed sword, cutting the air with unquestionable authority.
Yeji gasped as if physically struck, her legs trembling involuntarily. God, those words... The way he reaffirmed his vows, his position, his unwavering loyalty... It was like pouring petrol onto the fire consuming her insides. A ragged moan escaped her lips as her hands rose to her own throat, imagining his powerful fingers there, marking her, choking her in ecstasy.
But the ecstasy was fleeting.
Though Ryujin had retreated, the poison had already been injected. The seed of doubt sprouted in her mind like a venomous fungus, its spores spreading through every neuron. Yeji took a deep breath, her fingers now dragging under the bed until they found the leather holster. The cold metal of the hunting knife—her old friend, her most loyal confidant—soothed her nerves like a comforting embrace.
She dressed meticulously: leather trousers moulded to her legs like a second skin, rubber-soled boots that wouldn’t make a sound, a jacket that concealed not one but three different blades. The tablet still displayed him, oblivious to the hurricane of emotions his mere existence unleashed.
Yeji smiled then, an empty expression that didn’t reach her deadened eyes.
"It’s alright, my love..." she whispered to the screen, as if he could hear her through the pixels. "Your kitten will take care of this... inconvenience."
It was time to do what she did best.
Time to prune the garden.
The night sky hung heavy, thick with humidity that promised rain, as Ryujin stepped out of the company building. The deserted street felt eerily silent, the lampposts casting elongated shadows that writhed on the asphalt. She adjusted her shoulder bag and exhaled deeply, her footsteps echoing on the pavement as she walked towards the car park.
She didn’t see the black van parked at the corner. Didn’t notice the headlights flickering to life like a predator’s eyes in the dark. And when the sliding door opened behind her with an almost imperceptible click, it was already too late. Strong hands seized her arms, yanking her inside with brutal force. Ryujin barely had time to scream before a damp cloth pressed against her face, the sickly-sweet scent of chloroform flooding her lungs. Her body fought instinctively, limbs thrashing, but the darkness was already swallowing her vision in heavy waves.
The last thing she saw, before succumbing, was a familiar pair of eyes gleaming in the gloom.
Yeji’s eyes.
The throbbing pain in her temples was the first thing Ryujin noticed as she regained consciousness. The second was the cold of the concrete floor beneath her, the dampness seeping into her clothes. She tried to move, but the ropes binding her wrists and ankles to the metal chair left no room for resistance.
"Awake, darling?"
The voice was honeyed, almost sing-song, but its tone carried a chill that made Ryujin shiver. She lifted her head with difficulty, her vision still blurred, and then she saw her:
Yeji. Her short hair was wild, and her lips—red as blood—curved into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
"Who are you... what the hell is happening?" Ryujin swallowed hard, her voice hoarse.
Yeji laughed, a light, musical sound, as she walked toward Ryujin with slow, deliberate steps. Her high heels clicked against the concrete, each sound echoing like the ticking of a clock.
"I thought you were smart, Ryujin." She stopped inches from her rival’s face, the tip of her finger tilting Ryujin’s chin up with false delicacy. "But it seems I overestimated your stupidity."
Ryujin felt her blood run cold.
"You really thought I wouldn’t notice?" Yeji continued, her eyes darkening. "All those little touches at work... the dinners... the smiles..."
Every word was a stab.
Ryujin shook her head. "I don’t know what you’re—"
SLAP!
The blow came fast, Yeji’s palm striking Ryujin’s face hard enough to snap her head to the side. The sound echoed in the empty basement, followed by a heavy silence.
"Liar," Yeji hummed, as if scolding a child. "I saw everything. And now..." She turned to you, her smile widening. "...now, my love, you’ll understand what happens to those who dare touch what’s mine."
She bent down, picking something up from the floor—a butcher’s knife, its wide blade glinting under the dim yellow light.
Ryujin began to struggle, her eyes wide with panic. "Wait—please, for God’s sake—"
"Shhh..." Yeji pressed a finger to her lips, making a silencing gesture. "Don’t ruin the moment."
The first stab never draws screams.
Ryujin froze, her eyes wide with disbelief and sheer terror, as if her brain refused to accept that this sharp, deep pain was real. Fear overtook her before the physical pain did—that suspended moment in time when the mind still tries to convince itself that this is all just a horrible nightmare. It was only when the warmth of blood began to trickle down her torso, staining her clothes a vivid red and dripping in thick rivulets down her body, that the shock fully hit her. Her muscles locked, her fingers twitched in involuntary spasms, and a convulsive tremor wracked her body like an electric current.
The second stab tore guttural sounds from her—rough, choked grunts, like those of a wounded animal. A butcher’s knife, long and sharp, left no room for hesitation. The blade pierced flesh and muscle with brutal efficiency, severing veins and arteries in its path. Some victims were lucky (or unlucky) enough to die quickly, passing out by the third or fourth stab, when blood loss already dragged them into darkness. Others, like Ryujin, clung stubbornly to life, holding on far longer than reasonable.
Yeji watched with a mix of irritation and fascination as Ryujin still managed to cry, still mumbled disjointed words between tears and blood. Seventh stab. And she was still alive. It was impressive, in a technical sense—but also exasperating.
Stabbing someone wasn’t as simple as it looked in films. Human flesh was resilient, muscles dense, and even bones could deflect or dull the blade’s impact. Even with thick leather gloves protecting her hands, Yeji felt the tension reverberating through her wrists with each strike, the painful vibration that ran through her tendons. When she drove the knife into Ryujin’s chest, aiming precisely to pierce the heart, the resistance of the ribcage made her hand slip slightly on the handle. The blade sank in with a wet, horrible sound, tearing through tissue and organs, but the abrupt movement caused the knife’s sharp edge to graze her own palm, even through the glove.
Yeji pulled her hand back immediately, her sharp instincts kicking in before the pain could even register. Not a strand of hair, not a drop of sweat, nothing that could link her to the scene could be left behind. The disgust at leaving any trace of herself on the corpse was almost as strong as her meticulous care to avoid the police. She examined the glove quickly—the cut was shallow, but blood was already seeping out, dark and thick, mingling with the material.
Ryujin, at last, let out a final breath, a broken sound more like air escaping a punctured balloon. Her eyes, still open, glazed over, fixed on some distant point, as if even in her last moments she was still trying to understand what had happened.
Yeji took a deep breath, adjusting the gloves with a precise motion. The job was done.
But the ritual wasn’t over yet.
She looked down at the now-lifeless body, the corners of her lips quirking slightly—not quite a smile, but the quiet satisfaction of a duty fulfilled.
Disposing of a body was always the most tedious part of the process. There were so many methods available—incineration, acid, dismemberment, burial in remote locations—but they were all too predictable. The police knew every trick, every pattern, and though the "Dragon" was already a legend in investigative circles, no one suspected that behind the brutal murders was a woman. That was her advantage. While investigators searched for a man, she could operate freely—as long as she was meticulous.
Ryujin had been… complicated. Smarter than the others, more resilient. But in the end, they all fell the same way. Now, all that remained was cleaning the warehouse, repainting the walls, rearranging everything so nothing seemed out of place. The bloodstained clothes would have to be burned, of course. Nothing could be left with her face on it. Not a strand of hair, not a fingerprint, not a single trace that could be traced back to her.
But the real challenge was you.
Lying to you left a knot in her stomach. Every false word that left her lips felt like a stab to her own heart. You were so pure, so innocent, so utterly unaware of what she truly was. If you knew the truth… well, she couldn’t even bear to think about it. Your love for her would shatter, and she would rather die than see disgust in your eyes.
"Sweetheart? I'm home, I was at… the library. Are you back yet?"
She pushed the door open carefully, peeking her head in first like a cat testing unfamiliar territory. The silence in response made her tense slightly. Where were you? She moved down the hallway, senses alert, until her steps were interrupted by the sound of pots clattering in the kitchen.
And then you appeared, stepping into view with a light sheen of sweat on your forehead, breathing just a little heavier. She arched an eyebrow, intrigued—until the scent hit her. Something delicious, something only you could make so well. Ah. So that was it. You were cooking for her.
Her heart melted instantly.
It was so… adorable. You, rushing around the kitchen, trying to prepare something special before she got home. She didn’t deserve you. Didn’t deserve love this pure, this devoted. But God, how she needed it.
When you smiled and opened your arms, she didn’t hesitate. She flew into them like an arrow, leaping into your embrace with all the force of her slender frame. Her lips smothered your face in a flurry of kisses—quick, messy, brimming with almost desperate devotion.
"I love you, I love you, I love you," she murmured between each kiss, the words spilling out like a prayer. Her arms wound around your neck, squeezing with a strength that bordered on possessive. You were hers. Your scent, your warmth, your smile—it all belonged to her.
Dinner was perfect. As always. You had made her favorite—creamy pasta with shrimp, golden garlic, and just enough chili to make her eyes water in a way you found endearing. Yeji sat at the table, legs tucked under her chair, watching your every move as you poured the wine.
"You look so handsome today," she murmured, long fingers curling around the stem of her glass. "So thoughtful… making me feel like a princess."
She knew that was exactly your intention. You always spoiled her like this, especially after those days she spent "studying at the library." As if you somehow sensed she needed comfort. The irony was almost funny—if you knew what she really did in those hours away from home…
The first sip of wine slid smoothly down her throat. A full-bodied red, with notes of dark fruit—expensive, like everything you bought for her. Yeji closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste as her mind wandered to the abandoned warehouse, to the body now lying in some landfill, to the blood she had scrubbed so meticulously from under her nails…
"Everything alright, love?"
Your voice snapped her back. You were looking at her with that expression—head slightly tilted, eyes brimming with genuine concern. It was almost painful.
Yeji forced a smile, reaching out to stroke your cheek. "More than alright. I was just thinking how lucky I am." Her voice was honey-sweet, but inside, a storm raged.
She cut into a shrimp with surgical precision, bringing it to her lips with practiced grace. "Mmm, perfect as always. You should open a restaurant."
The conversation flowed as usual—you talking about work, her asking careful questions, both of you avoiding certain topics. When the TV in the background mentioned the "Dragon" again, her fork didn’t falter, but you immediately changed the channel, like you always did when violence came up.
"Sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t want to ruin dinner with bad news."
Yeji smiled, eyes gleaming with love and guilt. "You’re too good to me."
The end of the night brought a calm that almost fooled her. For a few precious moments, as the soft living room lights bathed familiar furniture and a comfortable silence settled between you, Yeji could forget. Forget the blood under nails that were no longer stained, forget the cold weight of the knife in her hands, forget the muffled screams that echoed in her dreams. In that instant, she was just an ordinary woman—a wife helping her husband with the dishes, whose biggest worries were work the next day and whether they’d get to bed early enough.
Her fingers tangled with yours under the warm, soapy water, and she laughed at something silly you said, an offhand comment that made her feel light in a rare way. It was so easy, so natural, that her chest ached almost painfully. This could be my life, she thought, if I were someone else.
But then you pulled her into a kiss—slow, deep, tender—and all the dark thoughts dissolved like sugar on her tongue. Her stomach fluttered with anticipation, a familiar heat spreading through her veins. She melted into your arms, hands rising to tangle in your hair, pulling you even closer. How was it possible that after all these years, your touch still made her feel like it was the first time?
Your lips trailed down her neck, and she arched like a cat being stroked, a low moan escaping her throat. She already knew what you wanted—and God, how she wanted it too. From the moment you’d left for work this morning, from the second the door had closed behind you, she’d been counting the hours until she had you back.
Without hesitation, she jumped into your arms, legs wrapping around your waist with instinctive possessiveness, arms locking around your neck as if afraid you might disappear. You laughed against her skin, hands firm under her thighs, holding her like something precious.
"Bedroom," you murmured, and she nodded, burying her face in your shoulder as you carried her down the hall. The path was familiar, but the anticipation made her dizzy.
When her back hit the mattress, she lay there, panting, watching you with dark, wanting eyes as you undressed with deliberate slowness, each inch of revealed skin a delicious torment. Her own hands moved quickly, almost frantic, stripping off her clothes with impatient motions.
"No rushing this time," you repeated, and she shivered, recognizing the promise in your words.
Before she could respond, you were already between her legs, hands gripping her thighs firmly as your mouth found her with a devotion that made her cry out. Her fingers twisted in the sheets, knuckles whitening from how hard she gripped, as waves of pleasure hit her like electric shocks. You devoured her like a starving man, and she surrendered completely, her body arching under every flick of your tongue, every calculated suck.
"Oh God—" she whimpered, voice breaking, hips moving involuntarily against your face.
You didn’t let her escape, hands holding her firmly in place as you brought her closer and closer to the edge. She could taste herself on your lips, could hear the obscene sounds between you, and shame never crossed her mind—only pure, raw ecstasy.
Yeji's fingers tangled in your hair—not to guide you, but to keep you exactly where she wanted you, as if terrified you might stop at any moment. Every flick of your tongue was divine torture, a mix of pain and pleasure that made stars burst behind her eyelids. Her body reacted almost violently—thighs trembling, stomach clenching in waves of anticipation.
"Please—" she begged, her voice a ragged mix of command and plea, but the words dissolved into a broken moan when you slid two fingers inside her at the same moment your tongue circled her clit.
She arched off the bed, a purely instinctive reaction, her heavy breasts swaying with the motion. The air left her lungs in a sound that wasn’t quite a scream, not quite a moan—something primal, born of pure need. Her fingers tightened in your hair, but you didn’t mind the pain—in fact, you seemed to relish it, a low growl vibrating against her slick skin.
You knew exactly how she liked it. Firm. Relentless. Merciless.
As if reading her mind, you picked up the pace, your fingers curling inside her to find that perfect spot that made her lose control. She screamed your name, legs shaking like leaves in the wind, her heels digging into your back in a desperate attempt to pull you closer.
And then—as if deciding she’d suffered enough—you finally let her fall.
The orgasm hit her like a freight train, so intense that for a second, she swore she’d died. Her body locked up, every muscle pulled taut before collapsing into uncontrollable spasms. She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could do nothing but feel.
When you finally pulled away, she was ruined—gasping, sweating, lips swollen from biting them. Her half-lidded eyes tracked you as you crawled up her body, leaving a trail of wet kisses along her skin.
"You’re so beautiful like this," you murmured against her stomach, hands sliding to grip her hips. "Completely wrecked for me."
And she was. In every possible way.
The aftershocks still trembled through her when Yeji caught her breath, her lust-heavy eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that would make any man weak. Her fingers, once desperate in the sheets, now dug into your shoulders with possessive need, her painted nails leaving crescent moons in your skin as she flipped your positions with feline grace.
She wasn’t in a hurry.
Every inch of you deserved worship, and she’d make sure you felt it.
Her lips began a slow, deliberate pilgrimage down your body—trailing over your chest, where her tongue swirled around your nipples, drawing shivers from your spine. She paused at the ridges of your abs, kissing each defined muscle as if memorizing the map of your body. When she finally reached your groin, her hot breath against your skin made your muscles tense in anticipation.
But Yeji was a master of pleasurable torture.
She started with your balls, taking each one into her mouth with slow, swirling motions, her tongue massaging the sensitive skin while her small but skilled hands pumped your length at an agonizingly slow pace. The combination—the wet heat of her mouth, the firm pressure of her fingers—made your back arch, a rough groan tearing from your lips.
"Yeji—"
She smirked against your skin, relishing the power she held over you. But this wasn’t about domination—it was about devotion.
Her ascent was marked by kisses as light as petals, each one pressed along your throbbing length. When she finally reached the tip, she paused, her burning eyes meeting yours as her tongue flicked out in a deliberately slow lick, savoring the taste of you like the sweetest nectar.
Your reaction was instant—your body jerked violently, your hands fisting in her hair without thought. Yeji didn’t rush. She took just the head between her lips, sucking lightly before pulling back, leaving you panting in frustration and ecstasy.
"So good..." she rasped, voice thick with desire, before finally, finally sinking down on you, taking your entire length in one smooth motion that made your legs shake.
Yeji bottomed out, her throat adjusting perfectly to your pulsing flesh, leaving no room for air or mercy. Her eyes watered slightly from the strain, but she didn’t pull back—instead, her hands wrapped around the base of you, creating a tight, wet tunnel that felt like it was sucking out your soul.
The sound she made was obscene—a guttural moan that vibrated around your cock, sending shockwaves of pleasure up your spine. She began to move in a hypnotic rhythm, each descent deeper than the last, each rise accompanied by a suction that made you see stars.
Then, suddenly, she stopped, releasing you with an audible pop. Her lips were swollen, glossy, her gaze intoxicated with pure hunger.
"I want to see your face when you come," she whispered, crawling up your body like a panther until your faces were level. Her hand slid between you, guiding you inside her in one fluid motion that made you both groan in unison.
The heat inside her was insane—wet, tight, pulsing around you like it was trying to milk every drop from you. Yeji began to move, her hips rolling in slow circles before she slammed down, knocking the air from your lungs.
"My... my husband..." she whimpered, nails biting into your shoulders. "Only... only yours... always yours..."
Her rhythm turned frantic, desperate, each thrust harder than the last. You could feel her growing tighter, her inner walls fluttering in premature spasms.
The world spun violently as you flipped her onto her back, your hands pinning her hips to the mattress. Missionary. The most common, most basic position—and precisely why it was forbidden between you. Yeji had been adamant: this was only for when you were trying to conceive. A sacred rule, an unspoken pact held for years.
Which was exactly why, the moment her thighs fell open beneath your weight, her eyes widened like a cornered cat’s. The expression of pure pleasure twisted into something visceral, almost feral. Her stomach clenched violently before you’d even entered her—she came, just from the implication, from the sacred possibility that you might plant yourself deep inside her, turn her womb into fertile ground for your seed.
"You—" She choked, nails raking down your back like claws, but you were already sealing your bodies together, thrusting into her in a motion that made her scream.
And then came the squeeze.
Her hands wrapped around your throat like a crown of thorns, fingers pressing into your carotid arteries with surgical precision. Yeji gasped, her eyes rolling back as oxygen grew scarce. Most people would fear this—the vacuum in their lungs, the darkness creeping at the edges of their vision, the body’s instinctive fight against unconsciousness. But her? She loved it. Every thrust in this state was amplified a thousand times, every slam against her cervix sending electric shocks down her spine.
"So good for me... my desperate little slut..." You growled, feeling her inner walls clench around you like a soaked fist.
Yeji couldn’t respond—not with words. Her moans were ragged, choked, her body writhing like a sacrificial animal on the altar of your pleasure. She’d lost count of how many times she’d come in this liminal space between consciousness and blackout. Three? Four? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way her womb pulsed, begging to be filled.
And then she felt it—that familiar throb at your base, the tension in your muscles signaling your impending fall. Her eyes, once glazed, sharpened with sudden fury. When your hands moved to pull her away, she reacted like a wounded beast.
A sharp strike to your arm, freeing her throat. Her legs, once weak, locked around your waist like steel chains, burying you even deeper inside her.
"Don’t you fucking dare," she spat, voice rough as broken glass. "You’re going to knock me up, understand?"
Your smile was slow, deliberate, as one hand gripped her jaw with possessive force.
"Wasn’t planning to pull out, princess," you lied, fingers tightening. "Just wanted to see you act like the desperate little bitch you are for me."
The orgasm that hit her then was almost violent—her body arched like a bow, a ragged scream tearing from her throat as you finally spilled inside her, flooding her in an uncontrollable tide. Yeji held you there, her pelvic muscles working actively to milk every last drop, as if her body already knew—demanded—that tonight might be the night.
And when you finally collapsed atop her, both of you gasping and slick with sweat, she whispered against your shoulder, teeth sinking lightly into your skin:
"If it doesn’t take this time, we’ll try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the next. Until you’ve got me round with your child."
It was a promise.
A threat.
A prayer.
mutual (AESPA Karina)
word count: 12.5K
(finished right before their comeback, but i'm a mess this month. anyhow, enjoy pls)
-- -- --
You couldn’t believe she’s gone.
People talk about grief coming and going like the ocean on the shore, but to experience it firsthand like this, so suddenly with no warning whatsoever, feels like the tide pulling you in.
You didn’t want to be here. If you had the choice, you’d be on a plane to anywhere else, running away from reality instead of facing it.
Your best friend, Kim Minjeong, died in a tragic hit-and-run accident. It hurts to say out loud. Let alone think. The worst part of it all, was that she was on the way to see you after living abroad for the past year. Guilt weighed on your shoulders, to the point where you were so close to falling off the rails, but you didn’t.
You stare blankly at the portrait her family chose. It’s a photo you took one Christmas at the annual family party. Your parents, specifically your mothers, were close. The best of friends since university. They hoped you two would fall in love, and it was halfway a possibility—on your end.
You couldn’t explain it as it was happening, realizing that the feelings brewing for Minjeong wasn’t how you felt for the other girl friends in your life. It was confusing, jarring, that by the time you understood what it was, she already had a boyfriend.
It didn’t stop you from dating other women, but there was always that sliver of hope Minjeong would see you more than a childhood friend, that held you back from being committed. They noticed, which didn’t faze you since you weren’t looking for anything serious to begin with.
You reserved those feelings for Minjeong, but now they’re pointless, unresolved, lingering, painful.
A hand gently rests itself on your shoulder, snapping you out of your revere. You look up, and it’s Jimin. She gives you a soft smile, rubbing the spot enough to be soothing, comforting even.
“We don’t have to be here. Our eommas said we could leave,” Karina says with the same smile still on her face. You don’t think you’ve smiled since you got the call, so it was confusing to see her smiling.
(If you were in the right state of mind, you’d see through Karina, knowing she’s doing her best to hide how she feels.)
You nod, and Karina extends her hand out. You let her pull you up, interlacing your fingers together. She drags you through the room, bidding farewell to the guests. They give their condolences, which irks you for some reason. These people didn’t know Minjeong the way you do, and you try letting go of Karina’s hand, but she keeps a firm grip.
Once the cold air hits your face and the door slams shut, the mask cracks. She breaks down, falling into you as her knees give out. It’s almost reflexive how you encircle your arms around her, pulling her into you as you fight the tears threatening to spill.
Karina was strong in front of people, but when it was around you, she was vulnerable, sensitive to her feelings and thoughts. She didn’t trust many, but she trusted you.
“Jimin,” You whisper, voice cracking at the use of her real name instead of her baptismal name. “I’m here. What do you need?”
Karina buries her face into your chest, sobbing as the emotions overwhelm her. You hold on tight, body immovable as you support her weight.
(The thing is, Karina is your best friend too. You all were. An unexpected trio of childhood friends that had been through everything together.)
After a few minutes, Karina takes a deep breath. She mumbles something you can’t quite make, and you softly ask her to repeat it.
“Let’s get drunk.”
-- --
You slammed the car door shut, barely noticing Karina’s body flinch. She gave you a pointed look, rolling her eyes as she connected her phone to the bluetooth.
“What happened?”
“Nothing,” You muttered, starting the car the same time she chose a song.
“Something happened and I’d bet you tteokbokki it has to do with Minjeong,” Karina teased, chuckling when she saw you pout. “Bingo, you owe me.”
“I just don’t get what she sees in him, he’s a fucking ass.” The scene of Minjeong laughing at what’s-his-face’s probably not funny joke left a sour taste in your mouth. “He’s not even funny.”
“And you are?” Karina remarked, voice dripping with sarcasm.
“You laugh at my jokes.”
“Because you are one.”
“Okay, ouch.” You reached for the volume, turning the knob to drown out her giggles.
Once you pulled out of the parking lot, hitting the main road, Karina asked to get dinner together. You didn’t want to, but relented when she said it was her treat. To, you know, placate witnessing how Minjeong acted around her boyfriend. It was becoming a more regular thing these past few weeks, which may be partly your fault since you actively searched for her during breaks and in the hallway.
You arrived at the small mom-and-pop shop around the corner from your house. By pure reflex, you walked around the car to open the door and Karina let you.
It was a weird dynamic, even though it had always been platonic. At least, to you two. Minjeong would often call herself the third wheel when you were together, something that irritated Karina while you brushed the comment off.
Your feelings stood with Minjeong and Karina was highly aware of it. You vented about them to her constantly. Minjeong’s new relationship had increased the pining tenfold.
“You don’t have to keep opening the doors for me. People might get the wrong impression,” Karina said as she stepped out.
“What? Who cares what people think. I’ve been doing this forever, to you and Minjeong.” You closed the door, gentler than when you left school.
“People think we’re dating,” Karina grumbled after you covered her body with your jacket. “Stop doing that too!”
You pinched her shoulder. “No,” Simply stating a fact. “If people think that, whatever. You know who I like anyways.”
You continued walking, mainly to open the door for her again, but if you had kept her pace, you would’ve heard Karina’s defeated yeah unfortunately I do.
-- --
“Why the fuck did you buy so much?” You groan, dropping the heavy bags on the coffee table. There’s a loud clunk and Karina slaps your leg as you collapse on the couch.
“Can you not do that? I don’t want to clean up the glass if it breaks.” Karina glares, taking the bottles out along with the snacks.
You mumble a half-assed apology, helping her set things up. You didn’t do much except for folding the plastic bags. Karina hands you a soju bottle that you automatically unscrew for her, exchanging it for another for yourself.
You clink bottles before you take a healthy swig of the peach flavored soju Karina made sure to get. It’s your favorite, even though she always teases you for having the taste palette of a child. It goes down smoothly as it settles bitterly in your stomach.
You sink into the couch even deeper, crossing your arms behind your head as you stare at the ceiling. Karina takes the bottles and places them on the table before she lets out a sigh. Your eyes follow her movements, arranging the chips and candies in an orderly fashion. It’s a habit of hers whenever she’s stressed, anything to keep her distracted so she doesn’t have to think.
“Karina,” Your hand reaches out after she turns the bottles around again, making sure they face the same direction. “Come here,” You pull her into you, sliding your arm around her waist. Her body’s tense. It’s practically radiating off her, that you do what you know best—wrapping your other arm around until she melts into you.
It takes a moment longer than usual. Not like you timed yourself in situations like this. You have always been perceptive of Karina’s feelings and moods, reading her like an open book while others found her difficult to talk to.
(Well, for a shallow reason. Karina’s beautiful, gorgeous, a bombshell. Growing up, boys and girls thought she was intimidating based on that reason alone. She wasn’t, not in the slightest. You may have been biased since you’ve known her forever, but you didn’t think she was. A bit sarcastic with the right amount of kindness. Her being visually appealing was just a bonus.)
Karina doesn’t like physical affection, but she never had that issue with you. So it’s nothing out of the ordinary when she slots her head in the crook of your neck, body relaxing into the embrace as she throws her arm over your stomach.
“I can’t believe she’s gone,” Karina says quietly.
Your heart breaks all over again. You had been so wrapped up in your head that you neglected to be the support Karina needs. You may have lost the what if in your life, but she lost her best friend too.
“I know,” You murmur, fingers tracing up and down her back. “It’s fucked.”
“Who am I supposed to call when you’re being difficult?” It’s a joke, but it doesn’t sound like one as her voice cracks at the end.
“Me. Just tell me I’m annoying.” You reassure her, pulling her in closer as you rest your cheek on the top of her head.
“You’re annoying right now,” Karina huffs and you actually crack a smile. “I don’t know what to do next.”
“You don’t have to.”
“It’s strange, melancholic and whatever other word like that fits.”
“What is?”
“From now on, Minjeong’s only a memory.”
-- --
You held your head low, avoiding the remaining students in the hallway as you walked out of the principal’s office. Your cheek hurt, but it was more embarrassing to make eye contact with someone for them to ask what happened if they didn’t know at this point.
Once you made it outside, you beelined straight for the sidewalk. Your car was in the shop so you had no choice but to take public transportation today—of all days. It wasn’t an easy escape since you were shoved, knocking you off balance that you almost squared up again, but immediately dropped your fists when you realized who it was.
“Karina, what’re you—” She shoved you again. You noticed Minjeong a meter away, eating ice cream. You pleaded for help, but her view was blocked with the wrath of Yu Jimin.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You shrugged, acting as if you didn’t know what she was referring to. “Let me see your face.” Her hand gripped your chin, forcing you to look at her. Her eyes widened when she saw the bruise on your face.
One would think there would be some sympathy involved, yet here you were, getting physically assaulted by your best friend. You were glad there weren’t that many people loitering, but there were still a handful that could spark a rumor.
“Jimin, enough,” Minjeong sighed, standing from the ledge. “Let’s just talk to him first okay? Stop hurting him.”
“No,” Karina said sharply, shaking her head as she prepared for another swing. “If he wants to get into a fight so badly, then we’re fighting right here.”
“Domestic disturbance,” Minjeong mumbled as she stepped in between you, effectively halting Karina from landing another hit.
“Move.” It came out as a warning, but it didn’t scare Minjeong in the slightest.
“Why did you get into a fight?” Minjeong turned her head slightly. Karina wouldn’t hit her.
“What’re you even talking about?” Playing dumb wouldn’t get you anywhere, but it was better than explaining why there was a nasty bruise on your face.
Minjeong sighed again, turning around completely to face you. “Ryujin told Yeji that she saw you basically beat up two seniors. The reason why, however, was unknown.”
Look, you didn’t mean for it to happen.
You were generally not a violent person, but you had a bit of a temper. Your mother put you in a bunch of activities growing up, like taekwondo and basketball, to keep you busy and ‘out of trouble’ as she liked to say. She didn’t want you to fall with the wrong crowd, but it wasn’t like that was possible with Minjeong and Jimin by your side. They kept you in check more than anyone else in your life.
You would argue that the only way to really get under your skin was if it involved said women, which was why you saw red when you overheard these two fucks talking about Karina so crassly as you were getting your things for practice. It was disgusting, and it pissed you off. The things they said weren’t appropriate, especially so out in the open.
Naturally, you had to say something. They didn’t appreciate when you told them to shut up, going further to say that since they had seen you around Karina so much that you had to be fucking her and a lot of other things that you didn’t want to repeat–ever.
Obviously not the fucking case, but you digressed.
“We just got into it,” You shrugged, stepping away from Minjeong as she tilted her head, curious at your response. “Boys just being boys.”
“You have a fucking bruise on your face!” Karina exclaimed, throwing her hands up in desperation. “Don’t use that fucking excuse.”
“Oppa,” Minjeong crossed her arms, waiting for you to give the real reason.
“They said some things and I put them in their place, that’s all.”
“What could they have possibly said that they both needed to go to the hospital?!” Karina questioned. You could tell she was getting tired of your vagueness. “Ryujin ran to get Mingyu to pull you off, but by the time they made it back, none of you were there.”
“Look, I don’t want to fucking talk about it,” You bit back with more attitude than you intended, but your face hurt and all you wanted to do was sulk and brood.
“Too fucking bad,” Karina slid herself in between you and Minjeong. “We’re not going home until you fucking tell us why.” Minjeong carefully pulled her back, but Karina being as stubborn as ever wouldn’t budge.
“You really want to fucking know?” Your emotions were getting the best of you. You didn’t want to do this now, maybe tomorrow or the day after, but you just needed to think about your actions. Though, if you were being honest, you’d do it again.
“We’re still here, aren’t we?” Karina replied sarcastically, ticking you off more.
“Fine, if you want to be a fucking child about it,” You let out a breath, rolling your eyes as you recount with as much detail as possible about what they said. How they wondered what kind of underwear she wore. How they just knew that she was a ‘freak’ so to speak in bed. How it wouldn’t be hard to ‘tap’ that ass, or whatever. Or how she’d easily give it up since the rumors of her sleeping with every guy were ‘apparently’ true.
(As far as you knew, Karina had one boyfriend her entire life and she hardly went out on dates. If she did, it was always with a group of people.)
“So there, that’s what they fucking said. Obviously I couldn’t just stand there and let them talk about you like that. I’m going home.” You ignored the way Karina’s expression softened and the way Minjeong’s mouth opened, slightly in shock. You didn’t want to tell either of them that you got into a fight because of Karina, but obviously said woman just had to get in your business.
(Granted, okay, it involved her. But that was beside the point.)
“Wait!” Karina called after you as soon as you walked through the school gates.
You didn’t turn back. You kept on pushing. You were ashamed enough for getting suspended for the rest of the week, and your parents were going to have a field day.
You just wanted to sleep at this point.
You’d deal with Karina and Minjeong later.
--
Later came as you were falling asleep.
There was a knock on your door that startled you. You turned over, hoping that whoever was on the other side would leave. Your mother already went off on you for acting so recklessly, but by some cosmic force, your father actually supported your decision. He didn’t necessarily agree with violence and thought you would have handled it better, but he didn’t get on you as much as his better half.
Instead of another knock, you heard the doorknob click. You forgot to lock it since you collapsed on the bed, exhaustion creeping in from the day. The door quietly shut before the bed dipped.
You didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. You smelled her perfume as soon as she walked in.
“Can we talk?” Karina’s voice came out softly. You didn’t move, staying as still as possible. “I know you’re still awake.”
When you didn’t respond, you felt Karina pressed up against yours, an arm snaking around.
“Karina, let me sleep,” You grunted out, scooting away. It was futile since she latched onto you like a koala, holding onto you like her life depended on it.
“No,” Her head shook against your back, face nuzzling in between your shoulder blades. “I’m not leaving until we talk.”
“Then goodnight,” You stated bluntly, trying to shrug her off. She held on tighter.
“Fine, guess I’m sleeping over.” Karina let go. It didn’t take that long for you to realize she was likely sending a message to her parents that she’d be staying the night. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary, and your parents always welcomed her.
“You have a class early tomorrow.”
“And I don’t care,” Karina said simply as you heard her place her phone on the nightstand. You sighed again, literally rolling off your bed and landing on the floor with a loud thud. “What? What’re you doing?”
You pushed yourself up, noticing she wore your hoodie you had been looking for, but made no comment. “I don’t think either of our parents would appreciate finding us in bed together.”
Karina reached for your shirt, pulling you until you reluctantly end up on your bed again. “Do you think I care?”
“Clearly not.” You muttered, resting your head on the pillow. You tried to get comfortable, closing your eyes, but you felt Karina’s gaze bore on the side of your face. “What?”
“Nothing,” Karina moved—annoyingly—until her leg brushed up against yours underneath the blanket. “Thank you,” She mumbled.
You knew what she was thanking you for, but you didn’t have the energy to get into it. You still wanted to sleep.
It was just…
You weren’t expecting to sleep next to Karina.
--
Waking up early was normal, except the fact that you woke up this morning with an arm over your stomach. You almost freaked out, but quickly remembering that you fell asleep with an unrelenting Karina.
You tried to move, but her hand bunched the fabric of your shirt. You tried again, but this time Karina woke up. She immediately let go, pushing herself up before profusely apologizing.
“It’s fine,” You sat up, waving her off as you leaned against your headboard. You glanced at the clock, and it was still dark outside with the sun peeking through the curtains. “How’d you sleep? Sorry if I kept moving.”
Karina mirrored you, sitting up while pulling the blanket. You noticed she removed your hoodie, shoulders exposed by a thin tank top that you had to look away out of respect. “I forgot you run really warm. I had to take off my hoodie in the middle of the night.”
“Do you mean my hoodie?”
“Other than that,” Karina didn’t acknowledge your question, “I slept fine.”
“Cool,” You avoided looking directly at her. “You should leave. You have an early class today.”
“Not until we talk about what happened yesterday,” Karina said stiffly, crossing her arms over her chest in your periphery. “Your father told me more about what happened.”
You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a big deal. I’m not going to school the rest of the week so my mother is using that as free labor at the restaurant.”
Karina tugged at your arm, forcing you to look at her. Your gaze fell directly on her chest and you blushed. It was too early, and being this close to her didn’t exactly stop your body from reacting. You didn’t quite have a control on your hormones. You quickly averted your eyes to hers. “It is a big deal.” If she noticed you gawking at her chest, she didn’t comment. “You got into a fight because of me.”
“Yeah and I’d do it again,” You shrugged, eyes looking everywhere else except her. “You don’t deserve that.”
“People are going to talk regardless,” Karina sighed, shaking her head. She had a point, but it didn’t mean you’d let that stop you if you heard it yourself. “I don’t care what people say about me, and you shouldn’t either.”
“I do. I fucking care if someone’s talking about you like that. It’s fucking—”
Karina placed her index finger on your lips, shushing you, “You’re not going to be able to stop every single person that talks about me in that way. I’ve heard it. Yeji’s heard it. We’ve all heard it, but it doesn’t mean we throw a fist every time. Yeah it’s annoying, but it’s not worth the trouble. They could say whatever they want about me, but only the people I care about know the truth, right?”
You hated to admit she had another point, so you relented. She poked your cheek, “Stop brooding. I appreciate you sticking up for me, but really, it’s okay.”
“I’d do it again,” You pouted, crossing your arms.
“Yes you’ve said that,” Karina chuckled, resting her head on your shoulder.
You couldn’t help how you felt your friend down there reacted, stirring at the proximity of an attractive woman especially in your bed. You cleared your throat, needing to get away from the situation and into the shower—a cold one at that.
Karina was your best friend and you had a crush on your other best friend.
This was all too confusing.
“Walk me home?” Karina asked innocently, unaware of your inner turmoil.
You nodded, not trusting your voice, but ultimately jumping out of bed. “I’m going to shower first.”
Karina waved you off, sinking back underneath the covers.
Thank god you thought.
You had to remind yourself you liked Minjeong. You just had a natural reaction.
(That was what you told yourself, ignoring the scratch behind your ribcage as you looked back at Karina with her eyes closed on your pillow.)
-- --
Karina whines as you beat her again in Mario Kart. She had the bright idea to play after you finished another bottle of soju.
“Why don’t you let me win?!” Karina whacks you over the head, causing you to drop the controller. “You’re such an ass.”
“You’re the one that wanted to play!” You glare, rubbing the spot. “It’s not my problem that you suck.”
“Shut up,” Karina puts you in a headlock, catching you off guard as you struggle to get out. “Say sorry.”
“What are you, five?” Her grip tightens at the sarcasm. “Okay okay, I’m sorry!”
Karina finally lets go, huffing as you glare. She grabs another unopened bottle, handing it to you without saying anything. You reluctantly open it, but not before taking a sip that she hits you again.
“Jesus christ,” You mutter once you give the bottle. “My neighbors are going to think I’m being abused.”
Karina rolls her eyes before standing up. You ask where she was going, and she answers that she was leaving. “It’s getting late. I better leave to catch the last train.”
“What?” You pull her back down before she could take a step. “Just stay the night. I’ll take the couch, you take the bed.” It’s a simple solution. You also don’t want Karina to leave yet. It’s been a while since you spent time alone together.
Karina contemplates it for a moment, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, please stay,” You nod, tilting your head towards your room, “Go change into some of my clothes.” Adding with an easy smile, “Just like old times.”
Karina laughs, shaking her head shyly, “Do I get to keep a hoodie or two?”
“Absolutely not,” You deadpan, bursting into laughter a second later as she trots to your room. “You have more than enough!” You yell after her, shaking your head.
It’s nice to be with Karina. Life has been busy, leaving little to no time to actually see each other. You hadn’t seen her in almost four months, and that was at her birthday dinner Minjeong planned. You texted here and there, but it was hard planning anything since she was in and out of the country.
Your best friend is a model for high fashion luxury brands. And, well, you’re just you, living a relatively normal life. She had a completely different lifestyle that associated her with a bunch of people in an industry you weren’t familiar with. When she caught her ‘big break,’ you were nothing but supportive.
Time was precious. Minjeong dying definitely taught you that hard lesson, so you’ll take whatever time you can with Karina before she’s off jet setting across the world again.
You realize that you’re drunk. Not tipsy. Flat out drunk. You glance at the empty bottles on the coffee table, counting them as you wait for Karina to return. There’s a couple unopened ones, which you’ll drink and you’ll call it a night. You don’t have any plans tomorrow, but you also don’t want to nurse a hangover. It gets harder to bounce back and be a functional member of society.
It could’ve been five minutes or thirty minutes, but the moment Karina walks back to the living room, your brain short circuits. You have to consciously close your mouth, jaw clenching as you take in her appearance. You have to also bite your tongue to halt whatever thoughts you’re having.
You’ve seen Karina wear all sorts of your clothes throughout the years. From shorts to pants to shirts to sweaters to jackets to whatever else was in your closet. You thought nothing of it before, but now you’re thinking everything of it.
Her outfit choice isn’t anything crazy, and you’ve seen her wear something like this before—sort of. She took one of your shirts, that would fit just right on you, but because you have a bit of height on her, it’s completely oversized. The shirt falls just past mid-thigh, and you couldn’t remember if the shirt was that big on you. You say this outfit is sort of similar because she usually paired it with shorts or sweats, but not this time.
All you see is skin, her skin, and you can’t help the way your eyes trail up her thigh, mind drifting if she’s wearing anything underneath.
You pray to the universe or whatever god she believed it that she is, because even the thought of nothing has your soul needing to be cleansed of the sins crossing your mind.
“Everything okay…?” Karina’s question snaps you out of you ogling her.
You clear your throat, nodding your head, “Yeah.” The word comes out a lot rougher than you expected. “Yeah,” You repeat, hoping it sounded a lot smoother.
(It didn’t.)
Karina apologizes for taking so long, explaining she took a quick shower to freshen up, as she reclaims her seat on the couch. You keep your eyes up, forcing yourself not to look down at the exposed skin.
“I didn’t even realize you were gone for that long,” You say sheepishly, bashfully looking away and you fuck up by looking down. The shirt’s still big on her, but it slightly slid up, showing more.
“Okay ass,” Karina rolls her eyes, swatting her hand playfully on your shoulder. “Go change. You have to be uncomfortable in that.” She gestures to your slacks and dress shirt. You took the tie off once she challenged you to a race.
You agree, standing, but not without ruffling her hair because you just want to annoy her. She curses at you as you walk away, dodging the couch pillow in the process.
You choose something simple—black sweats and black shirt. You decide to shower too because your hair feels oily and you need to wash away whatever that was in the living room. A cold shower too. To cool your body from the soju.
(That’s what you tell yourself anyways.)
You don’t take too long, but as you’re getting dressed, you hear a shriek from the kitchen. You run out from the room to Karina fumbling with the stove and water rolling over the small pot. You quickly notice the flames growing with each drop of water, and instinctively rush over, wrapping a strong arm around Karina to pull her away.
“Be careful,” You lightly scold her, shutting the stove off with Karina pressed against your side. “What were you doing?”
“I was hungry,” Karina’s arms rest on your chest, shaking her head. “I was looking for ramyun since I know you always have a supply of them.”
You roll your eyes, “I’ll grab it and make it for you.” You move to let Karina go, but she tenses in your arm. Your grip slackens, and there’s a wide-eyed expression on her face. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
Karina’s mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. She glances down and you realize why she’s suddenly frozen in your arm. When you heard the commotion, you completely dropped what you were doing, as in, you didn’t put a shirt on because you thought she hurt herself.
Clearly rationale goes out the window if Karina’s involved.
(It wouldn’t be the first time.
More on that later.)
“I—uh,” You stutter and drop your arm awkwardly, grabbing a kitchen towel to wipe the surface. “Sorry. I’ll clean this up and put a shirt on and make us food. Sit on the couch or do whatever.” It came out rushed, dismissive, embarrassed that you couldn’t look her in the eyes.
Karina’s seen you without a shirt before, but for some reason…
It was different.
Really different.
That you didn’t know what you were thinking or feeling.
-- --
“Oppa!” Minjeong yelled, grabbing your wrist. “There’s no point, he already left. Just let it go.”
“Fuck that. I’m going to beat his fucking ass.” You were upset. Actually, upset didn’t even describe it. You were livid. For a small woman, Minjeong was able to stop you, yanking your arm back to keep you from doing something stupid. “Minjeong, let go.” You said calmly, but you definitely weren’t.
Minjeong sighed, rolling her eyes. She didn’t let go, tightening her hand, “You ‘beating his ass’ or whatever,” She mocked and that added fuel to the fire, “Isn’t going to do anything.”
“It’s Karina’s birthday. How the fuck is he going to break up with her on her birthday?” You spat, frustrated with how the night was turning out.
“Jaewook’s an ass,” Minjeong emphasized, “We’ve known this. She knows this too. She wasn’t serious about him.”
“She’s fucking crying.” Your free hand gestured to where Karina was. Her face was buried in Yeji’s neck while Ryujin rubbed her back, consoling her. “Who the fuck does he think he is?”
“Look,” Minjeong slowly released her hand, gauging that you wouldn’t go anywhere, “It doesn’t matter.”
“It—”
Your childhood best friend cut you off, “It doesn’t. It really doesn’t. It was always going to happen, it just happened to be today. If you want to do something useful, go make Karina feel better.” Her hands gently rest on your shoulders, pushing you in said woman’s direction.
“What do I even say?” You asked, suddenly uncertain how to do something you had done before.
Minjeong shrugged, a teasing smile tugged at the corner of her lips, “You know her as well as I do. Maybe slightly less, but I digress. Now go. She most likely wants to see you.”
If it were any other time, you would ask what Minjeong meant by that. Given the circumstances, there was no time to elaborate.
You walked up to the trio, and Yeji noticed you first, tilting her head curiously. Ryujin turned around, tapping Karina lightly on the shoulder that she did the same.
“Um, hey.” You scratched the back of your head, a well-known habit you did whenever you were uncomfortable. “Can we talk?”
Karina wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve, nodding. Some telepathic conversation happened between her and Yeji, that she gave Karina one last squeeze before she took your hand in hers.
You guided her through the crowd and out of the bar, the cool air from the night hitting your face. It oddly felt suffocating in there, but you rationalized it was because of the amount of people.
This breath of fresh air was exactly what you needed.
You walked a bit, away from the entrance of the bar with Karina’s hand still in yours. To anyone passing by, it would look like you were a couple. That happened a lot. Even your own friends (Minjeong included) thought you were secretly dating, but you and Karina vehemently denied such rumors.
“I’m sorry for ruining the night,” Karina said softly, voice slightly raspy as you passed by a coffee shop. “I didn’t think I’d react like that.”
You gave her a confused look, legs stopping on the sidewalk as you turned to face her. “Wait, why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Karina forced a smile, eyes looking down like she was being scolded by her parents. “I meant to end things before tonight, but with work, I haven’t been around.” With the recent signing with an agency, she had been traveling in and out of the country. You yourself had hardly seen her, only knowing what’s going on from Minjeong. “I just didn’t think it’d hit me this hard. Another failed relationship to add to my belt.” She said bitterly, biting her lip and you saw how hard she was trying to keep it together.
Without much thought and since you were still holding hands, you pulled her into a hug. It took her by surprise as her arms stayed limply at her sides. You weren’t the same height anymore—at a least tall enough to rest your chin on her head—so Karina fit perfectly against you. Her body trembled, face burying into your chest, and you didn’t mind that there would be tear stains on your shirt.
What you did mind was how she was feeling. She had always been hung up on dating once you graduated high school. Minjeong told her to just be patient while you never understood the sudden change. It wasn’t like finding suitors was hard for her, but you witnessed that keeping them was the problem.
(A problem you couldn’t solve.)
“It’ll happen,” You mumbled, holding her tighter, “I don’t know when, but it will. If it makes you feel any better, Mina dumped me because I was, according to her, emotionally unavailable.”
That comment made Karina giggle. She looked up, meeting your gaze, “But you are. You like Minjeong.” Something flashed in her eyes as she said that, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
“Yeah I do,” You shrugged. “But I like you too. So if some punk like Jaewook couldn’t see how great you are, his loss.”
Karina’s arms wrapped around your waist, “Stop,” She whined, embarrassed at the sudden compliment. “You’re making me blush.”
“Good,” You nodded. You didn’t know what you were going to accomplish by pulling her away from the party, but you were glad you did.
“Wait,” Karina tilted her head back again, “You didn’t go after him right?”
You gave a sheepish smile, “I may or may not have tried.” Karina slapped your lower back, followed by a small pinch. “Okay I tried, but Minjeong stopped me.”
“What have I told you about getting into fights? You never listen to me.” Karina huffed, unwrapping her arms before stepping backwards, crossing them over her chest.
(You ignored how you wanted to pull her back in.)
“I didn’t get into one,” You retorted, raising an eyebrow.
“But you would have.”
“It would’ve been for you!” You reasoned as Karina started walking away, shaking her head.
“I know,” Karina said once you caught up, shoving you off balance. “You’re still the same as when we were kids.”
“When it comes to you? Absolutely. That’ll never change.”
-- --
You place the tray on the coffee table. Two bowls of ramyun along with a plate filled with whatever sides you had. You even cooked an egg since you know that’s how she liked it.
“Thanks,” Karina sends you a small smile, reaching for the utensils.
It’s just a tad awkward. After the ordeal in the kitchen, you went to put a shirt on and prepared a quick meal. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to satisfy a drunken craving.
You eat in silence, the only sound is the slurping of noodles and the occasional blowing to cool them. You’re at a loss for words because as much as you want to say something, your mind is elsewhere.
It fell into uncharted territory, a place you didn’t know existed, hidden from you until you absolutely had to find it. You couldn’t figure out if that consciously or subconsciously, but all you know is that however you felt for Minjeong doesn’t compare to what you’re feeling for Karina. You can discern that it’s the same, but different. It’s more intense, more intentional, just more.
(Maybe you’re just drunk, but don’t people say that when you’re drunk, it magnifies feelings you already have?)
You finish eating at the same time, awkwardly smiling before you stand to clean up. Karina doesn’t let you though, instructing you to relax since you did everything. “It’s only fair,” She says quietly.
As Karina puts things away, you grab an unopened bottle off the table. You doubt alcohol will help you understand what exactly you’re feeling, but it’ll keep them at bay.
(Or it won’t. Who really knows at this point.)
Your body feels warm, especially your cheeks. You hardly pay any attention to what Karina’s doing, but keep an ear out in case something happens again. You’re lost in your thoughts that you don’t feel the couch cushion dip, but Karina’s arm brushing against your arm snaps you out.
“You okay?” Karina bites her lip, that the thought she’s cute crosses your mind.
“Ye-ah.” The word gets stuck, turning a one-syllable word into two. “Should we finish these, and then go to bed?”
More alcohol sounds like a bad idea, but there isn’t anyone to stop you. Plus, you couldn’t let it go to waste.
Karina nods, and you sense a question coming, but she doesn’t ask anything. She instead tells you a bit of her current project, somewhere in Paris, and how she just left without any warning. Her manager was pissed, but she didn’t care. She needed to return to Korea and be here for this. For you is what she meant, but you’d never know that.
“Are they mad?” You ask out of curiosity. Karina barely spoke about her job with you so this would be the first time you hear it from her.
Chuckling, “No. They understand where I’m coming from, and even if they took me off, I couldn’t care about it. This is more important.”
What you heard was Karina being a good friend, a good daughter, to be there in this serious time, but you felt she meant that you were more important than her job. It could be your imagination, making something out of nothing.
You are an important person in Karina’s life, but not that important. You didn’t see yourself as someone that had that much of a presence in her life. Maybe when you were younger, but as you grew up, you both had different friends.
(But you had always been there for each other.)
Whatever weirdness that was there, vanished, poof. It was as if whatever formed wasn’t there, but you’d bet your life that it was. The moment passed, but you were stuck.
The conversation shifts into something light, easy, blatantly ignoring the tension that hung over you as you spoke about your job and the mundanity of it. Karina listens. She always does with such attention that you had never seen her give anyone else. She hung on every word, eyes always on you as if you were the only two people in the room.
You’re not keeping track of time as you talk. It’s easy talking about whatever crosses your mind without worrying about what you’re saying. Karina knows you, never judging but always quick to call you out when you’re wrong. You valued her opinion the most so you listened.
“Where was Jennie?” The question catches you off guard, not expecting that name to come out of Karina’s mouth. They didn’t get along. Cordial for your sake, but you heard it from Jennie and Minjeong that they didn’t like each other.
You thought they’d have a lot in common. They’re both models, so it made sense that they’d have something to talk about. They knew of each other, but never worked together.
You also thought the first time they met, introducing Jennie to both Karina and Minjeong, went well. They seemed friendly, laughing a lot from what you heard.
That was not the case.
Minjeong said that Karina said that Jennie was not worthy of your time and attention as Jennie said that Karina liked you, pretty much in love with you. You didn’t know what she was talking about because you had never seen Karina that way nor had she ever acted like she saw you more than a friend. You had seen Karina in relationships, and how she was with them wasn’t like that with you.
It was a point of contention in your relationship. Jennie accused you of using her to make Karina jealous. You called her delusional because there was no way Karina could ever see you that way, no possibility of that happening because your best friend was out of your league. Hell, you didn’t even play the same sport so there was no competition.
“Ah, well we broke up a month or so ago,” You say vaguely. You didn’t feel the need to go into detail about why. “It was mutual. Things just weren’t working out.”
“What?” Karina turns to face you. “What does that mean?”
What happened was Jennie was going away for longer and longer periods of time. You knew what you signed up for, but within the past few months, she’d take on more projects. You learned she was avoiding you after she saw you and Karina from a distance, as she said she had never seen you look at her like that. When you asked what she meant, she couldn’t explain it. She just said it was different, and you denied having any feelings for Karina, which she chuckled at. She agreed that maybe you didn’t, but she couldn’t bear to find out.
You were stumped after she left, leaving you alone in your apartment, staring at the door. You didn’t know what to even say because Jennie had it so wrong. You liked Minjeong.
Right?
You couldn’t let it rest. So you decided you’d tell Minjeong how you felt, to prove to Jennie that who you actually liked was Minjeong—not Karina, definitely not Karina.
You would never know now. Minjeong was gone, and any chance of learning if she felt the same was impossible. The ‘what if’ kind of situation if things hadn’t happened the way it did.
“Scheduling and all that,” You tell a partial truth, figuring getting into that right now would reveal something you’re not ready to admit. “I’m not hurt about it. It was easy to move on.”
(Would you ever move on from Minjeong? That question lingered in your mind.
Unless…)
Karina doesn’t believe you, but she accepts it, still saying I’m sorry as you finish what’s left in your bottle. You tilt your head all the way back and when you’re done, she’s doing the same.
“Would you have ever told Minjeong how you felt?” Karina asks quietly, eyes focused on the bottle as her hands fidget.
“I was going to,” You say simply as her eyes widen in surprise. You take that as a sign to continue, “I think after my last conversation with Jennie, I needed to know. I planned to tell her that day, but now it’ll just remain a mystery.”
You aren’t prepared for the next words that come out of her mouth, “So pretend I’m her and tell me.”
“Karina, what?” Shocked at how easily she said it, as if it was just telling her what day of the week it is. “What’re you saying?”
“Tell me what you would’ve told her,” Karina paraphrases it, but it isn’t making sense why she’d suggest it. “What’s the big deal?”
“Uh, that’s personal,” You argue. She raised an eyebrow, calling your lie. She’s heard it all throughout the years, but this time, it felt like something you had to keep from her.
“What’s different telling me now than all the other times you have before?”
Karina’s right.
It shouldn’t be different, but your gut tells you it is. That whatever you say now is actually meant for her.
“Come on,” Karina continues, grabbing your wrist in her hand. “You telling me won’t change the outcome.” She’s not wrong, but it doesn’t feel right either. “Think of it as a way to get everything off your chest.”
You hesitate. Your anxiety spikes. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you actually consider it. You’re scared that you’re going to say something you’re not prepared to admit.
Emotions are high. Being drunk makes it hard to regulate them, let alone understand what you’re exactly feeling. And you go back to Karina’s current outfit, which doesn’t have you thinking clearly to begin with.
It’s a split second choice, but you relent, deciding that whatever you’re feeling is how you truly feel. Maybe it’s the soju. Maybe it’s Karina. Maybe—ultimately—it’s a sobering realization that you’ve actually fooled yourself all these years. Jennie was right.
You were—are—in love with the woman in front of you.
But she’s telling you to confess how you felt about Minjeong when that never existed. Minjeong was still your best friend, but you quickly realize just how different your relationships with each woman were.
Karina tugs your sleeve, breaking you out of your thoughts. She tilts her head, concern etching her eyebrows closer. “I mean you don’t have to.
“I…” You trail off. “Okay,” Nodding, “I’ll tell you, but take me seriously.”
“When do I not?” Karina smiles, nodding. She swings her legs up, causing your gaze to drift down, as she crosses one over the other.
You couldn’t believe you’re doing this, but here goes nothing. You hope she doesn’t read between the lines for once.
“So I have something to tell you,” You start because even though you rehearsed it a thousand times for Minjeong, this is the first time for Karina. You have no idea how to say it and your current state of mind isn’t making it easy. Her gaze is unwavering, adding more pressure. “I’m…”
“You’re…” Karina gives you a soft smile, knowing where the sentence is going, but unknowing that this is to her.
“In love with you,” You admit out loud for the first time and for yourself. You decide to keep it short because there’s just too much going on in your head. “I don’t have much else to say, but yeah, I’m in love with you.”
Karina’s jaw drops, eyes squinting as you don’t say anything else. “That’s it?”
“Well, yeah?” You didn’t feel the weight leave your chest the moment you said those few words. If anything, the weight got heavier, pressing harder.
“There’s no way. You’ve told me way more than that,” Karina argues, scooting closer that her leg brushes yours. “You’re hiding something.”
“What could I possibly be hiding?” You snap, moving your leg because physical contact is not what you need right now.
“I don’t know,” Karina shrugs, “But there’s something you’re not telling me.” You couldn’t say much, so you stayed quiet. That was enough for further questions, or from your point of view, demands. “Tell me.”
“I told you I’m in love with you,” You say easier, more confidently, more sure. “What else is there to know?”
“Present tense?” Stupid semantics. “You’re in love with me?” Karina points to herself, as if she’s clarifying your statement.
What did you have to lose? Oh, that’s right, her. You never got to the what happens after part in your head since you were still comprehending what’s happening now.
“Yes,” Here goes nothing, “I’m in love with you. I think it was always you, not Minjeong, that I actually had feelings for. You’re one of the best people I know and I’m grateful for you in my life. I’m starting to realize that if there’s anyone I’ve ever lost my mind for, it was you.”
You look away, shy and embarrassed for saying all that. Karina stares at the side of your face, and you don’t know what she’s thinking. Your body feels warm, and you couldn’t blame the alcohol. The room’s quiet, tension thickening the longer she doesn’t say anything.
“You’re in love with me,” Karina repeats, unsure that she has to say it to herself to make sure she’s not dreaming.
“I mean, yeah, I think? I’m a bit drunk but you’re making me feel things I’ve never felt,” Biting your lip, “Maybe acknowledged is the better word.”
When you look up, Karina’s lips catch yours and you light up. Your body goes from warm to hot, burning at the sensation of her. Her arms fall on your shoulders, steadying herself as she lets out a sigh against your lips. Body pressed against you as you sink into the couch.
“You have no idea,” Karina breathes out, air hot on your lips, “How much I’ve wanted to hear that.”
As you start to move your lips, Karina pulls away. You go to chase her, but her hands firmly keep you in place. Your body tenses, hands twitching at the need to have her close again, but you stay.
“And if I loved you back? What then?” Karina asks, voice transforming into something you’ve never heard—or better, experienced. It sends a shiver down your spine, and she smirks as your jaw clenches. “Well?”
“Do you? Do you love me?” You don’t recognize your own voice as the words leave your mouth.
“You’re an idiot,” Karina leans forward and pecks you sweetly on the cheek. “Completely oblivious,” She murmurs against your skin, lips ghosting your ear. You lose it when her teeth nip at your earlobe. “I’ve been in love with you since we were kids.”
You’re about to respond when Karina places her index finger on your lips. You kiss it, eyes slowly meeting hers once you get to the tip. “Prove it.”
Karina’s expression darkens, and you’re fucked. It goes straight to your cock as it stirs underneath your sweats. “Let’s go.” She stands, taking you with her, “You’ll eat your words soon enough.”
You want to eat her out, but you’ll see what she does first.
Karina drags you to your room. A lot of thoughts cross your mind, and your imagination runs wild. You aren’t, however, prepared to be guided to sit on the chair across your bed. You typically used this piece of furniture as a placeholder for your clothes that you were too lazy to put in the laundry basket. It was in the bathroom, but some days, you were exhausted.
A finger tilts your gaze to meet Karina’s, heat shoots through your body. Her eyes are glazed over, hooded with lust as she watches you like prey. “I’ll show you,” She murmurs, “Watch me.”
Her wish is your command as she slowly leans back, fingernail lightly scratching on your chin. She glances at your crotch, smirking at the pitched tent poking through. You weren’t small by any means, well above the average, that there was no way to hide it.
“Keep your hands here,” Karina guides them to the arm rest, “Don’t move.” What she says, you do. She kisses you softly, tongue trailing against your lips. You groan when she pulls away, eyes filled with mirth.
“You know…” Karina trails off, slowly walking backwards, “I’ve wondered what you’d feel like.” Her knees hit the bed, playfully laying down. “Especially after you slept with Yeji.” There’s a slight tinge of jealousy in her tone.
It was a one time thing. Yeji wanted to get dinner after midterms, and you were the one willing while everyone else wanted to sleep. You didn’t know how it happened, but you ended up in bed with Yeji to blow off steam. Obviously Karina and Minjeong found out. The latter chuckled while the former gave you the cold shoulder for a whole week. She couldn’t believe you’d sleep with her best friend, and you didn’t see the big deal. You were single regardless of your feelings for Minjeong, you had needs.
Karina props herself on her elbows, legs spreading that the shirt (your shirt) hikes up, exposing more and more of her skin. “She literally would not shut up about you for a week.”
It’s a vague memory since it happened so long ago, and you remember getting teased by the group. You had no idea Yeji was so vocal about it.
You watch the way Karina trails her finger down your shirt, pausing at the hem before you meet her eyes once again. “Naturally, I could not stop thinking about you for a week and then some.” Adding slowly, “She was very detailed.”
In a subtle move, her hand slips underneath, knees falling open like a book and you sharply inhale when the action confirms what you had been wondering since she walked out of your room.
“Karina,” You growl, but you don’t move. She told you to stay, but your body is practically screaming to pounce.
“Bet you weren’t expecting this,” Karina teases, eyes fluttering as she swipes a finger lightly through her folds. “I wasn’t expecting anything to happen, but… I’m glad I’m comfortable.”
Then it starts.
You’ve had thoughts about Karina before, especially as a teenager. Guilt washed over you anytime you thought of her like that. She was your best friend. It was slightly hypocritical to say since you could say the same about Minjeong, but there was something different about Karina. She was the type of girl you could never get close to. Untouchable in that sense, and it may have annoyed you whenever someone did get close to her in a way you never would.
Until now.
You watch, nearly holding your breath, as Karina touches herself. It doesn’t help your downstairs situation when her eyes are focused on you the whole time. You’re witnessing first hand how Karina pleasures herself, and you want nothing more than to be an active participant.
“How you holding up there, buddy?” Karina teases, the whites of her eyes making a brief appearance as she rubs her clit. You don’t realize how hard you’re gripping the armrest nor do you realize how much your body leans forward to get a better view. “Yeji said you were thick.” Your cock practically throbbed at that statement. “I better stretch myself out, no?”
It happens instantaneously. The moment Karina slips one finger in, she lets out the hottest moan you’ve ever heard.
“Jimin.” You could spontaneously combust.
“I’m, like, really tight,” Karina says casually, as if this could be said in typical conversation. “Be a good boy and let me see what I’ll be working with.”
You nearly rip your sweats down, cock springing out from the confines of the fabric that was holding it together. You don’t miss the way Karina’s eyes widen nor do you miss the way she adds another finger, gasping before she draws out a moan.
“Okay,” Karina pants, staring intensely at your length. “Yeah, I’m going to need some help.” She raises her other hand, gesturing you to come join her on the bed.
You kick off your sweats on the way over, leaving you naked from the waist down. The offending piece of clothing discarded somewhere on the floor as you kneel in between her legs. You’re salivating at the sight of her and all her naked glory. Her pussy’s shaved, clean, very well kept that your imagination called that. It did not, however, imagine how wet she would be.
You dip your head, but Karina grabs your hair before you could do anything. A pathetic groan escapes your mouth and she laughs.
“Hold on, lover boy,” Karina says coyly, tilting your head away. “I still want you to watch me.”
“You’re a fucking tease,” You breathe out, mesmerized by the way she pumps her fingers inside her. Her walls are sucking them in, and you feel yourself leaking at the tip.
“I have to, a little bit,” Karina pants as she grazes over her clit, “I’ve had years of this building.”
Her pace quickens, which her shirt rides up, revealing her well-endowed chest. They’re not huge, but you wanted to see how they’d feel in your hands.
Her back bows suddenly, pushing her breasts forward, letting gravity push them as her orgasm washes over her. You can’t help yourself, but your hand wraps around your cock, moaning as you finally give yourself some attention.
“God,” Karina breathes out once her orgasm subsides, body relaxing into the bed. “Okay, none of that.” She flicks your forehead.
“Come on,” You pout, release your cock before you could do anything.
“No.” Karina cups your jaw, trailing her thumb along your bottom lip. “Sit against the headboard.”
“Karina.” You’re flat out horny for the woman in front of you. Being in between her legs and not eating her out is a crime.
“Do as I say,” Karina caresses your cheek, affectionately, sweetly, like she has you right where she wants you.
You relent, huffing, but not without being a little shit as you blow against her clit. Her knees come together, trapping you there, at the sudden stimulation, body still sensitive from her quick orgasm.
“Fuck you,” Karina groans as she pushes your face away. “Now go sit.”
You crawl on your bed, momentarily pausing above Karina’s face. She watches you curiously, head tilting to the side as you slowly bring her into a chaste kiss. You don’t bother taking it further as her lips simply feel nice against yours. Though, her squirming beneath you has you smiling.
You follow her directions, settling against the headboard with your legs wide as Karina turns over. She sits on her knees, calculating her next move, which results in her hand on your thigh. “You know…” Trailing off as her nails lightly trace over your skin.
“Not again,” Your lungs have seemed to stop working as her hand moves closer to where you want her most. You have to force yourself to breathe.
An airy chuckle falls from her lips as they turn upward. Her finger faintly touches your cock, causing your body to jerk.
“So… Sensitive,” Karina states matter-of-factly. You hold your breath as she leans forward. Her breath ghosts your tip, that’s embarrassingly leaking. You almost want to push her head down, but you’re slightly scared she’ll stop if you don’t obey her orders. “You’re a lot… bigger up close. Maybe even the biggest? It’s hard for me to say.”
You’d rather not hear about Karina’s previous lovers. She has never told you about it explicitly. At least to what you would imagine she’d say to Yeji or Giselle. She doesn’t seem to pick up on the jealousy, and if she does, she doesn’t acknowledge it, continuing with this torture.
Karina pushes herself up, face up close to yours that you’re realizing how beautiful she is. “What?” Her hand snakes around to your neck as her other rests on your chest. Her weight presses into you that you freeze when your cock brushes against her stomach. “Don’t look at me like that,” She laughs nervously, eyes darting away.
“Hard not to,” You gulp, raising your arms to hold her waist. She tilts her head down just enough that her lips brush against yours.
And a chord inside you breaks.
You pull her body in, bringing your lips together as she moans softly into your mouth. Her tongue swipes on your lower lip, and you comply, granting her access fully. It’s all teeth and tongue, wrestling, fighting for dominance.
Karina wins the moment a soft, small hand wraps around your cock. It catches you off guard, groaning into her as she slowly moves up and down.
“Fuck,” Karina rubs her palm over the tip, collecting whatever’s leaked to spread all over your length. “I can barely wrap my fingers around you.”
You know. You feel it in the way she slightly squeezes, like she needs to get a better grip. It’s dizzying how she moves so fluidly with every flick of the wrist. You’re losing yourself with her lips moving easily, taking whatever you give her.
You want to give her the universe at this point.
“Can I?” Karina murmurs against your lips, picking up the pace of her stroke.
“Can you what?” Your eyes roll back.
“Put my mouth on you.”
You groan again, nodding eagerly as she lowers her head. You’re entrance at the way her tongue sticks out, extending the slightest as she licks your tip. “Holy shit.” The first contact of her on you has you reeling.
A pretty smirk paints her pretty face as she languidly moves her tongue over your length, not leaving any part untouched. It’s embarrassing how fast you feel yourself coming apart. You haven’t even had the full experience of her mouth around you—
“Fuck.” You spoke too soon because her mouth engulfs your tip that your hand shoots to her head, gripping her hair as you try to have some kind of control.
By accident, or not, you push Karina’s head down, enough to the point where your cock hits the back of her throat. The action triggers her gag reflex, forcing her off.
“Okay relax,” Karina says sharply after she gasps for air, a little bit of saliva sticking on her chin. “I think I’ll need to practice.”
“Then fucking practice,” You snarl, eagerly waiting for her to continue.
Karina shakes her head as she rocks to her heels, swinging a leg over yours. She’s suddenly seated on your lap, and her hips rock the slightest, pussy brushing over your cock. Your hands wrap around her waist, pulling her back. It elicits a gasp followed by a sigh as she rests her arms around your neck.
“Later,” Karina’s hands slip behind her when you feel her fingers wrap around your cock, lightly slapping it against her clit. “I want this—”
“Condom!” You grip her body as she slowly lowers herself, a hot warmth engulfing the tip.
“What?” A frustrated sigh leaves her lips as she raises her hips. You hold in the whimper as your cock leaves her body. “Why?”
“I just want to be safe?” It lacks confidence, making it sound more like a question.
“Eh?” She looks like she wants to rip your head off. She seemed very determined to get you inside her, to feel all of you, but you were taking the one thing she desired for. “You’re fucking weird, but I don’t care. You’ll let me take it off at some point.”
“Doubtful,” You say weakly, watching that same determination increase across her features.
She’s going to ruin you.
You reach into your nightstand, conveniently having a box of condoms ready. Karina rolls her eyes at the easy access, but hey, you have a healthy sex life and you didn’t need a bunch of little yous running around.
Within seconds, you tear the wrapper, rolling the offending piece of material over your length. Karina scoffs, shaking her head, as you toss the trash on the floor.
“You did that fast,” Karina mocks, shifting her hips back to the original position. “You’ll wish you didn’t put one on.”
You’re about to make a crude remark, but Karina moves without warning, hand guiding your cock in the apex of her thighs. You feel the warmth radiating over the condom as her pussy wraps around the tip.
“Karina,” Your hands grip her hips, steadying her. “You’re so tight.” You moan through gritted teeth.
“My fingers aren’t that big,” Karina sighs at the intrusion. “Your dick, however, is.”
The statement goes to the aforementioned organ and you can’t wait. You drag her down your length, bullying through her walls. The sensation overwhelms you, choking out a breath as she stops halfway.
“It’s too much,” She’s trying to breathe, but a pained expression stops you.
You have to control your body, your hips, your hormones—everything. You want to lose yourself in her, which you’re just about there, but you care more about her comfort.
“I could just eat you out or something,” You offer. Her pussy contracts at the statement, eliciting a moan.
Karina shakes her head, teeth biting into her bottom lip, “No, I can take you. Just,” She breathes out, “Give me a moment.”
You don’t want this moment to last for too long because your cock is throbbing, but you grin and bear it.
You don’t want to admit Karina’s right, but your mind goes haywire at the thought of how this experience would feel without a condom. It’s a lot through the condom.
“Okay,” Karina says more to herself, mentally preparing as she gently rocks her hips. The motion steals a sharp moan as she takes more of your length. “For fucks sake.”
Your first mistake was looking at where you’re joined. The sight of half your cock being swallowed by her pussy has you at a loss for words.
Your second mistake was your hips jerking upward, accidentally forcing her to take more of you. Her legs spread wider, welcoming the intrusion as she inches closer to the base.
It takes a few more minutes and a few more rocks of her hips that she’s fully wrapped around you.
Hot.
Tight.
Warm.
You would like to say you have an extensive vocabulary, but you couldn’t find the words. You’re speechless, when you’re known to have a mouth. One of the things Karina finds the most annoying about you. She could never get you to shut up, yet she finally has—in the hottest way possible.
“Bet you want to take off the condom,” Karina murmurs, teeth nipping at your jaw as your head slowly tilts back. Your body shives once her lips kiss your neck, tongue soothing whatever mark in its wake.
“I don’t want to get you pregnant.”
Karina chuckles, lips curling up against your skin, “It’s called birth control, a part of modern medicine. I’m safe, but it would be a thrill to find out if you could.” Her pussy tightens at her words, sending a shock through your cock that has your mind blank at the thought of that.
“Karina,” You warn, hands tightening around her waist. The temptation is too great. The chances of her getting pregnant are low, but still. You couldn’t let your morals go, as much as you wanted to.
Karina rips your shirt off, head slipping through before she haphazardly tosses it over her shoulder. You’re completely naked and her eyes devour your physique.
“I knew you were fit,” Karina’s nails lightly trace over your abdomen, muscles flexing at her touch, “But I didn’t know you were this fit.”
Your hips snap up once her finger brushes over her clit, jolting her body forward. “Stop with the teasing or let me just fuck—okay, okay.” She rolls her hips down, sending your favorite body part into sensation overload.
“Watch me,” Karina commands softly and you comply, eyes watching her as the anticipation builds. Sweat drips down the back of your neck as she tugs her shirt off, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
“You look so fucking pretty.” You stare at Karina in awe, struck by her beauty and, well, her bare chest. You’re on even playing fields, but you were still at her mercy.
Karina smiles as she lifts herself slightly, dragging her walls along your length before dropping down. She lets out a breath, biting her lip as she repeats the motion.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Intentional.
As if her one goal is for you to lose your fucking mind.
You already lost it the moment you felt her warmth wrap around you, but this? This is different.
You do as she says, watching her body move fluidly over you, working your length in and out of her body, ensuring that no part of her goes untouched. It’s damn near a spiritual experience that your arms lift to hold onto your hips, to make sure you aren’t dreaming, but she pins your arms above your head against the headboard.
“No,” Karina says roughly, voice thick with want as her pace increases, hips undulating that has your body on fire. “I’m in control.”
“Jagiya.” The nickname slips out after a particularly jolting thrust. “Please.” You whimper, head tilting back hard against the headboard. There’s going to be a bruise, but you couldn’t care less.
It’s difficult to pay attention to the pain when you have someone like Karina on top of you, doing the most ungodly and deprived things to you, as if she has something to prove.
Karina’s pace gradually increases, forcing her to let go and tethering her hands on your shoulders, nails digging into your skin. The pain adds to the pleasure and you can’t help but moan after every thrust.
“God, you feel so fucking good,” Karina says through her teeth, biting her lip to muffle her moans. “I wish you didn’t put the fucking condom on.” And you agree. You shouldn’t have, but you’re absolutely certain that you would not last if you felt all of her without it.
“I’m sorry,” You mumble, hands finding her hips to guide her movement. “Do you want to—”
Shaking her head, Karina breathes out, “No, too late. I’m going to—fuck.”
Karina suddenly crashes her lips against yours, arms pulling your neck into her as she lets out a broken moan. Her body seizes in your hold, back arching that her breasts press against your chest. Then what follows has you gripping her hips tightly as her pussy tightens rhythmically on your cock.
Her orgasm wracks through her body to you that you throw everything she has commanded of you so far out the metaphorical window. You finally take control, thrusting up into her body as she screams at the overstimulation.
“C’mon baby,” You murmur, burying your face into her neck. “Keep going,” You goad, spurring her on as her body trembles. “Keep coming for me.”
“God, yes,” Karina cries followed by a choked sob, slamming her hips against yours. “Yes, yes, yes,” She repeats like a mantra, a prayer to take her over the edge again.
It’s all too much for you, that small pit in your lower abdomen growing. Your orgasm is right behind hers and by some divine intervention, you’re able to tell her. It triggers something because she suddenly lifts her body off, ripping the condom off before two hands wrap around your cock.
“Cum all over me, you know you want to,” Karina says seductively, stroking her hands up and down over your cock.
And you’ve been obedient from the start, why stop now?
You explode without much warning, letting out the deepest growl as Karina aims your cock over her chest. Her face lights up once the thick ropes of your essence shoot out. It’s a lot, but it doesn’t deter her in the slightest. She welcomes it, even sticking out her tongue as a bit of it hits her chin. Your vision goes white, too overwhelmed with the intensity and pleasure flooding your body.
“Jagiya,” You whimper, fingers circling her wrist as she keeps going. “It’s too much—fuck.” She eventually stops, leaving you fucked out and empty. You’re in a daze, not cognizant of what she’s doing. You moan, eyes shooting open when her lips place a soft kiss on the tip.
Karina chuckles softly, shaking her head as a small smile tugs at her lips. She leans away, and you wish you had your camera nearby. It’s a sight to behold of you painted all over her body. It’s a mess, but what a beautiful one.
“Next time,” Karina says lowly, eyes narrowing, “You’re going to cum inside me.”
You agree like an idiot willing to risk everything for her. She giggles, rolling her eyes, since your ability to form a coherent sentence is limited. “Yes ma’am,” Is all you can manage to say with her still on top of you before your eyes close, heavy with exhaustion.
The last thing you remember is Karina’s lips on your cheek, smiling as sleep inevitably takes over.
-- --
You wake up relaxed and content. For the first time since the accident, you see the light at the end of the tunnel and it’s all thanks to Karina. Sex aside, you’re more sure of how you feel and everything you ever felt for Minjeong was how you actually felt for Karina.
You didn’t know how to broach the subject of you and her, but you were confident that you’d be able to. You were sure there would be arguments, but that was just how you spoke to each other. When it boiled down to it, you and Karina were more than understanding when the other was involved.
(You wouldn’t admit it, but when it came to Karina, you took everything seriously.)
You don’t notice it at first, but after scratching the sleep from your eyes, you realize that the other side of your bed is empty and neatly made. You vaguely remember waking up in the middle of the night to Karina nestled into your side before falling back asleep.
Except for a folded note on the pillow.
You sit up slowly, stretching the aches from last night’s activities before grabbing the small piece of paper. You figured Karina had to leave early, briefly remembering she had a flight back to Paris.
But as soon as you read the familiar handwriting, your heart sinks.
Last night was a mistake.
It shouldn’t have happened.
I’m sorry.
-- -- –
(i, too, am sorry. there will be a sequel tho, that much i can guarantee. when? idk, but thank you for reading, lolz)
Taking in the sunrise — which I absolutely love — in one of those early mornings when sleep slips away and thoughts start to take proper shape, I’m allowing myself to break the usual flow of daydreams to speak to you lot with a heart full of gratitude.
Hitting the symbolic mark of five hundred followers has left me feeling a mix of awe and disbelief — I mean, seriously, it’s a bit mad how much this actually means to me. Never in my wildest thoughts did I imagine that the scattered, often chaotic stuff that spills out of my restless, overactive brain would find such a warm reception. These words, which I usually just let tumble out with barely a filter — like someone trying to tame an internal storm — now meet eyes that actually linger and hearts that somehow connect. It’s odd, almost funny, to think that something so personal and impulsive could reach so many people. I’ve always been a bit rubbish with words, to be honest — whether it’s expressing gratitude or, even more so, when it comes to navigating the world of feelings. Which probably explains why I’m proper hopeless when it comes to dealing with girls, lol.Still, here’s my humble — but very real — thank you. Every bit of support you show, every little comment or reaction — even the quick ones — lights a spark in me and makes me want to keep going. It’s because of you lot that I keep writing, even when the stories crawl at a snail’s pace or take a wobble here and there.
The patience you show during my silent spells, the understanding when I take a while to reply — it’s not lost on me. That stuff means the world.You’re more than just numbers on a screen. I hope the road ahead is long and that we keep walking it together — sharing stories, dreams, and maybe even the occasional comfortable silence.So yeah, cheers, truly. Oh — and by the way, I don’t really talk much on here, but do feel free to reach out or ask stuff. I’m a bit shy at first, but once I get going, I can proper chat your ear off.
Also, “Prince” was my granddad’s surname. I didn’t get to inherit it, sadly, but I like using it anyway. So feel free to call me Prince. 🙂
Hello, I've been thinking about something different.
I'm not really eeeerm excited about writing oneshots even though my head is constantly bombarding me with ideas.
But I'm really excited to write something involving round six. So yeah. I'll start writing and see what happens.
Looks like someone got top marks on all their exams! And, luckily, he is on vacation and free to write.
Jealous Much? ( Karina x Male Reader )
tags : fluff smut
Karina's eyes narrowed as she stared at the plate of half-eaten nachos in front of her. The cheese had started to congeal, but she didn't seem to notice. She was too busy picking at the jalapeños with a frustrated air. You watched her, sipping your soda, trying to understand what had brought on this sudden change in mood.
"Look," you said, setting your drink down with a gentle thud. "What's the big deal with me hanging out with Minjeong?"
Karina's glare intensified, and she jabbed a chip into the cheese with a bit more force than necessary. "Drop it" she said, her voice sharp.
You rolled your eyes, feeling the weight of her accusation but refusing to let it drag you down. "Why are you so obsessed with this?" You asked, your voice calm but firm. "It's not like I'm ignoring you."
Karina huffed and pushed the plate away. "It's just… You guys are always laughing together, sharing secrets. It's like she's taking over our friendship." Her words hung in the air, a hint of sadness lacing through the anger.
You leaned back in your chair, raising an eyebrow. "Seriously?" You said, your voice tinged with a mix of surprise and frustration. "You're acting like a kid who can't share their favorite toy."
Without warning, Karina's leg shot out and connected with yours under the table. The sharp kick sent a bolt of pain up your shin, and you winced, your eyes watering slightly. "Ow!" You exclaimed, rubbing the sore spot.
The din of the bustling diner grew louder as the couple at the next booth turned to glance over, their whispers of concern cutting through the air. The waitress, a young girl with a pink apron, paused mid-stride with a pot of coffee, her gaze flickering from you to Karina and back again. You offered them an apologetic smile, trying to convey that everything was fine, even though the tension between you two was palpable.
Turning back to Karina, you took a deep breath and spoke firmly but gently. "You need to chill out. This isn't a competition. We're friends, not a couple."
Her eyes flashed, and before you could react, her leg swung out again, delivering a second kick to your shin, this one harder than the first. "It feels like it is!" she snapped.
You flinched and gritted your teeth, not letting the pain show on your face. "Karina, that's not fair," you protested, rubbing your leg.
"Fair?" she spat out the word like it was poison. "How is it fair that she just waltzes in and gets all your attention?" Her voice was louder now, and you could feel the eyes of the diner patrons on you, their curiosity piqued.
Ignoring the stares, you leaned closer to her, keeping your voice low. "You're being ridiculous," you said. "Minjeong and I are just friends. We share the same interests, that's all."
But Karina was already sliding out of the booth, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and embarrassment. "I can't do this right now," she muttered, grabbing her jacket from the chair next to her. You watched as she shrugged it on, the fabric slipping over her shoulders with a soft rustle.
You mumbled to yourself, "Fuck me," as you rubbed your throbbing shin. You didn't know how the situation had escalated so quickly. You had only been trying to enjoy a casual meal and now, you felt like you were navigating a minefield of unspoken emotions.
The next few days passed with an eerie silence between you and Karina. You've seen her around school, her eyes sliding over you as if you were invisible. It was like the time you forgot her birthday, only this time it was a little more intense. You shrugged it off, chalking it up to one of her mood swings, something you've known for since you two were kids.
But then, the whispers began. They started as a murmur in the hallways, a soft buzz that grew louder until it was all anyone talked about. Karina had started hanging out with Leo, the school's golden boy. He was the kind of guy who could charm a teacher into giving him an A with a single dimpled smile. The kind of guy that had the whole school, especially the girls, eating out of the palm of his hand. And now, it seemed, he was paying special attention to your best friend.
You couldn't blame him for being drawn to her. Karina had always had a penchant for the popular crowd, and with her looks and brains, she fit right in. It was like watching a celebrity couple form right before your eyes. The hallways were ablaze with whispers of "Did you see Karina with Leo?" and "They're so perfect together!" It was nauseating, and you found yourself avoiding the places where you knew they'd be.
But every time you saw them together, laughing and whispering, her arm draped around his, you couldn't help but think—was this Karina's way of getting back at you? A pang of jealousy stabbed through you, sharper than you'd like to admit. You knew you had no right to feel this way, but it was the principle of it all. It felt like she was flaunting her new friendship in your face, as if to say, "Look what I have now!"
So, one day, after school, you decided enough was enough. You marched over to Karina's house, the same house you'd been to a hundred times before, but this time it felt like enemy territory. The walk was short, but it felt like a mile, each step heavier than the last. You knocked on the door with a firmness that matched your resolve. The door swung open to reveal Karina, her eyes widening in surprise.
"What are you doing here?" she snarled, her arms crossing over her chest.
You ignored her, stepping into the living room where her parents looked up from their evening TV show with puzzled expressions. "Hey Mr. and Mrs. Yu," you called out, plastering a smile on your face.
"Oh, hi sweetie!" Mrs. Yu exclaimed, setting her knitting aside and rising from the couch. "What a surprise! are you staying over for dinner?"
You nodded politely, keeping your eyes on Karina. "If it's not too much trouble," you said, walking past her into the hallway.
Her mother's footsteps trailed behind you. "Of course not," she called out. "You know you're always welcome."
Mr. Yu's boisterous voice echoed from the living room. "Hey, Y/N! Did you catch the game last night?"
Without missing a beat, you called back, "Nope, but I heard they were going to lose even if I did watch!"
Mr. Yu's laugh boomed through the house. "Always the optimist" he chuckled.
You marched up the stairs, each step a silent challenge to Karina, who followed with a smirk playing on her lips. You knew she thought she had the upper hand, but you weren't about to let this go. You needed to set the record straight.
When you reached her room, you close the door as soon as she enters. You turned to face her, your eyes narrowed. "Enough games," you said, your voice a mix of frustration and determination. "What's going on with you and Leo?"
Karina sat at the edge of her bed, her smirk never wavering. She folded her arms across her chest and tapped her foot against the floor. "What do you mean?" she asked, playing dumb.
You rolled your eyes. "Don't pretend," you said, your voice tight. "You know exactly what I'm talking about." You took a deep breath, trying to keep your cool. "What's the deal with Leo? You trying to get back at me because I started hanging out with Minjeong?"
Karina's smirk faltered for a moment before she shrugged. "What if I am?" she said, her eyes flashing. "It's not like you've been the best at being a best friend lately."
The words hit you like a slap in the face. You felt your cheeks heat up with a mix of anger and guilt. "What's that supposed to mean?" you demanded, your voice shaking slightly.
Karina's eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction. "You stupid?" she spat out.
Without thinking, you found yourself stepping closer to her, your hands reaching out and grabbing her wrists. With surprising strength, you pushed her backwards until she toppled onto her bed, your body hovering over hers. "What the hell is your problem?" you hissed, pinning her hands above her head.
Karina's smirk grew wider, and she met your gaze without flinching. "Now you know how it feels" she said, her voice low and mocking.
It was true. You had been so focused on your newfound friendship with Minjeong that you'd neglected Karina. But you hadn't realized the extent of her jealousy until now. She had been trying to get your attention by hanging out with Leo, hoping it would make you feel the same way she felt when she saw you with Minjeong. The realization hit you like a ton of bricks, and you felt a twinge of regret for not noticing her pain sooner.
With a heavy sigh, you released Karina's wrists and flopped down next to her on the bed, your legs dangling over the edge. "You know," you said, "you really play these games too much."
Karina's smile was a tight line, but her eyes were gleaming with a strange sort of triumph. "At least now you know how I feel," she said, rolling onto her side to face you.
"Don't you dare start dating him," you told her, your voice low and serious. You knew it was a ridiculous thing to say, but you needed to lay down the law, to assert some kind of control over the chaos that was your friendship.
Karina's laughter was like a slap to the face. It was light and airy, as if you had said something utterly absurd. She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling with each mocking giggle. "Leo?" she said, as if his name was a joke. "As if he's my type anyway."
After a few seconds of silence with surprising agility, Karina straddled you, her knees pressing into the mattress on either side of your hips. She leaned in close, her breath hot against your face. "Minjeong, do you like her?"
You felt the weight of the question, the way it seemed to hang in the air between you, thick and heavy. "Here we go again" you said, trying to sit up, but she pushed you back down with surprising strength.
"Answer me," Karina demanded, her eyes boring into yours. "Do you like her?"
You swallowed hard, the question echoing in your mind. You had liked hanging out with Minjeong, her laughter infectious and her smile a beacon of light in the dullness of school days. But now, with Karina's hands on your chest, her eyes searching yours, you couldn't help but feel a pang of something else—something that had been there all along but had been overshadowed by the excitement of the new.
"Karina," you began, but she cut you off with a shake of her head.
"Just tell me," she insisted, her grip tightening slightly. "Do you have a crush on Minjeong?"
You felt the blood rush to your cheeks as you stared into her eyes. It was true. Minjeong's company had become something you craved, her laughter a melody that filled the quiet spaces in your heart. But with Karina's accusation hanging in the air, you couldn't ignore the conflicted emotions roiling within you. The friendship between you two had always been complex, a tapestry of shared secrets and unspoken feelings that had been stretched thin by the arrival of your new companion.
Without thinking, the words spilled out of your mouth, raw and unfiltered. "I like you more than her, if that's what you want to know," you said, your voice barely a whisper. Karina's expression froze, a mix of surprise and satisfaction.
For a moment, she didn't move, just stared at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of insincerity. Then, she leaned in closer, her gaze never leaving yours. "Prove it," she murmured, her voice a challenge.
You felt the heat from her body and the sudden closeness was both exhilarating and terrifying. You had never felt this way before, not with your best friend, not with anyone. But here you were, your heart racing as she waited for your response.
Taking a deep breath, you pulled Karina close, so that your foreheads touched, and your breaths mingled. "There's no going back after this," you whispered, your voice a mix of determination and fear.
Her smile grew, and she nodded, her eyes searching yours for any hint of doubt. "There never was," she said, her voice filled with a strange sort of relief.
And then, without any more hesitation, you leaned in and kissed her. It was a soft, tentative press of your lips to hers, a question and an answer all rolled into one. Karina's eyes widened in surprise, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she leaned in deeper, her mouth moving against yours with a hunger that took you by storm. Her kiss was demanding, insistent, and you responded in kind, your arms wrapping around her waist as she deepened the kiss.
Her hands slid up your chest and tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, and you felt yourself melting into her touch. It was overwhelming, the passion that had been simmering just beneath the surface for who knows how long. It was like she had been waiting for this moment, craving it, and now that it was here, she was consuming you whole. You could feel the years of tension and unspoken feelings coiling around you, tightening like a spring ready to snap.
You guided her hips, pressing them down to grind against your own, the friction sending sparks of pleasure through your body. It was a dance you had never done before, but it felt natural, like you had been practicing for this moment without knowing it. Your hands roamed over her body, learning every curve and dip, every inch of her that you had never been allowed to explore before.
Karina's eyes were closed, her breath coming in quick pants as she moved against you. The sound of your kisses filled the room, a cacophony of passion that seemed to drown out the rest of the world. You could feel her heart racing beneath her ribs, the rapid beat matching the rhythm of your own. Her legs were wrapped around you now, pulling you closer, and you knew that this was it—the moment that would change everything.
But just as your hands found the hem of her shirt, a voice pierced the bubble of your intimacy. "Y/N, Karina dinner's ready!" Mrs. Yu's call echoed up the stairs, breaking the spell that had been woven around you both.
You pulled away, breathless and slightly dizzy, staring at Karina's flushed face. "Guess I'm having you for dessert instead" you murmured, the words a promise and a tease. Karina's eyes narrowed in mock annoyance, but the corner of her mouth twitched up into a smirk.
"You're terrible," she said, rolling off you and smoothing down her shirt. But she didn't look away from you, her gaze holding yours, a silent understanding passing between you.
With a smug smile, you pushed yourself up from the bed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her in for one more kiss. It was deeper this time, your hand sliding down to squeeze her ass playfully. Karina giggled against your lips, the sound muffled by the pressure of your mouth on hers.
You felt a thrill rush through you as you broke the kiss, your hand lingering on the soft curve of her body. You knew this was crossing lines, but the heat of the moment was too intense to resist. "Dinner's waiting," you murmured, as the both of you go down to eat.
The dinner was a tense affair, with Mr. and Mrs. Yu's oblivious chatter filling the void that had been left by your silent glances. You couldn't help but feel the electricity between you, the way your legs brushed together under the table and the occasional hand that reached for a serving spoon that was just a little too far. Every move felt loaded with meaning, every gesture a silent promise of what was to come.
After dinner, Karina's parents retreated to their favorite show, leaving the two of you to clean up. You grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing at a stubborn stain on a plate, trying to ignore the racing of your heart. Karina was by your side, her movements efficient as she rinsed off the dishes and placed them in the dishwasher.
As you finished the last plate and handed it over to her, you couldn't help but glance into the living room. The flicker of the TV screen cast shadows on Mr. and Mrs. Yu's faces, their attention fully absorbed in whatever drama unfolded before them. The sound of laugh tracks and commercial jingles floated through the air, a stark contrast to the silence in the kitchen.
Taking a deep breath, you stepped closer to Karina, feeling the heat from her body. She stiffened slightly, her eyes meeting yours in surprise, before a knowing smile curled on her lips. You reached around her, your hand brushing against her stomach, and pulled her closer. With a gentle nudge, you pressed your crotch against her ass, feeling the softness of her curves through the fabric of her shorts.
Her breath hitched, and she leaned back into you, her body responding to your touch. You felt a thrill of power, of desire, as you began to move against her, your hips rocking in a slow, sensual rhythm. The sound of the TV grew distant, the laughter of the sitcom audience a faint backdrop to the symphony of your ragged breaths. Your hand slid up to cup her breast, and she arched her back, pushing into your palm.
With a whispered word that sent shivers down your spine, she suggested, "Let's go back to my room." You nodded, unable to form coherent words, your heart hammering in your chest. The kitchen light glinted off the clean dishes as you turned off the faucet and dried your hands, leaving the sponge in the sink. Hand in hand, you tiptoed out of the kitchen, trying not to alert her parents to the shift in the atmosphere.
The door to Karina's room clicked shut behind you, and you felt a rush of excitement mingled with nerves. This was new territory for both of you, but the desire that had been simmering between you was now a roaring fire. You didn't waste any time; with a gentle shove, you pushed her onto the bed, the springs groaning in protest. She landed with a soft bounce, her hair fanning out around her head like a fiery halo. Her eyes danced with challenge, daring you to take the next step.
With trembling hands, you reached for the hem of her shorts, sliding them down her legs with a slowness that was almost painful. Each inch of skin revealed was a treasure, a piece of her that you hadn't seen before, and you couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of her bare thighs. As the fabric hit the floor, she kicked her legs free, and your gaze was drawn to the lacy panties that barely contained her. You felt your mouth go dry, and your heart thumped in your chest like a drum.
With a smoldering look, Karina hooked her thumbs into the waistband and slid them down, revealing herself to you inch by inch. You watched, transfixed, as the fabric fell away, exposing the soft mound of her sex, glistening in the soft light that filtered through the curtains. The sight was almost too much to bear, and you had to clench your fists to keep from reaching for her.
Your cock was already straining against your pants, eager to claim what it had desired for so long. You stepped closer to the bed, your hand shaking slightly as you undid your fly and pulled out your erection. It bobbed before you, a testament to the passion that burned within you.
Karina's eyes darkened as she watched you, her own desire mirrored in the way she licked her lips. "Take me," she murmured, her voice thick with lust. "Make me fucking yours"
You didn't need another invitation. You climbed onto the bed, positioning yourself between her legs. The scent of her arousal filled the room, making your mouth water and your cock ache. You leaned down to kiss her, your hands sliding up her body to cup her breasts, feeling the hardness of her nipples against your palms. She arched into your touch, her legs spreading wider, silently begging for you to fill her.
With one hand, you guided your cock to her slick entrance, feeling the warmth of her against the sensitive head. The anticipation was killing you, and you had to fight the urge to plunge into her right away. Instead, you slid in slowly, feeling the tightness of her pussy give way to you inch by agonizing inch. She moaned into your mouth, her nails digging into your back as you pushed deeper, feeling her body stretch to accommodate you.
The sensation was like nothing you'd ever felt before—hot, wet, and so incredibly tight. You had to pause for a moment to get used to the feeling, to savor the way she felt around you. Then, you pulled back slightly before pushing in again, a little harder, a little faster. Karina's legs tightened around your waist, urging you on, her hips rising to meet each of your thrusts. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, a primal beat that matched the thunder of your heart.
Her eyes were closed, her head thrown back, and she moaned with each stroke. You leaned down to kiss her neck, your teeth grazing the soft skin, tasting the salt of her sweat. Her breaths were coming in short gasps now, and you could feel her body tense beneath you. You knew she was close, and the thought of making her come, of being the one to push her over that edge, was almost more than you could handle.
You picked up the pace, driving into her harder, faster, each thrust sending a jolt of pleasure through you. The bed creaked in protest, but you didn't care. The only thing that mattered was the feel of her, the tight grip of her pussy, the way her body responded to your every move. You slid your hand down her stomach, feeling the muscles quiver and jump beneath your fingertips, until you found her clit. With a gentle touch, you began to rub it in slow circles, matching the rhythm of your hips.
Karina's moans grew louder, her breath coming in ragged pants. You could feel the tension building inside her, her muscles tightening around your cock like a vice. You watched her face, the way her eyes fluttered open and shut, the way her lips parted in silent cries. You knew you had her, that you were in control of her pleasure. The thought was intoxicating, making you want to push her further, to see just how much you could make her beg.
With each thrust, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge, your orgasm building like a storm in your balls. You could feel the heat rising in your body, the pressure building until it was almost unbearable. But you held back, waiting for her, determined to make sure she came first. Your thumb flicked over her clit faster, the wet sound of your skin on hers driving you wild. Her hips bucked against you, her breath hitching in her throat.
Suddenly, her eyes flew open, locking onto yours with a desperate intensity. "Y/N," she moaned, her voice tight with pleasure. "I'm going to come."
It was all the encouragement you needed. You slammed into her faster and harder, feeling her body tense up, her muscles spasm around you. Then she was screaming your name, her orgasm ripping through her like a bolt of lightning. Her pussy clamped down on your cock, sending waves of pleasure through your body, and you knew you couldn't hold on much longer.
With one final, desperate thrust, you buried yourself inside her, letting go with a roar. Your cum spurted out, filling her up, marking her as yours. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful, and you collapsed onto her, your breathing ragged and uneven. Karina's legs tightened around you, her body shuddering with the aftershocks of her climax.
For a few moments, there was only the sound of your heavy breathing and the thud of your hearts beating together. Then, Karina's arms wrapped around your neck, pulling you closer. "This took way too long to finally happen" she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. You couldn't help but chuckle, the tension of the moment dissipating into a warm, fuzzy glow.
As you both caught your breath, you looked down at her, her eyes groggy and a serene smile on her lips. The sight was so beautiful it took your breath away. You kissed her gently, savoring the taste of her, the way she felt beneath you. The reality of what had just happened was setting in, but you didn't feel guilty or confused. You felt…right.
"You know," Karina began, her voice still a little shaky from her orgasm, "I can't wait to go to school tomorrow and show everyone how much of a clingy girlfriend I'm going to be." She giggled, her eyes glinting mischievously.
You groaned, burying your face in her neck. "Don't you dare," you murmured, your voice muffled by her skin. The thought of the school knowing about you two was both exhilarating and terrifying. But Karina didn't seem to care. She was already planning your love story for the world to see.
AFTER HOURS
Kim Taeyeon x Male Reader.
A little anguish, age gap, bf x gf, smut
7,1k words
Kim Taeyeon wasn’t just your mother’s best friend. She was part of the fabric of your life, a constant presence that seemed to have existed forever. The aunt who wasn’t related by blood but who scolded you when you talked back. The woman who made three-tiered cakes for birthdays, who remembered the names of your third cousins and always knew what gift you wanted before even you did.
She was the loudest laugh at Sunday barbecues, the lap you ran to when you fell off your bike, the shoulder your mother leaned on when she was sad. She was there when you broke your arm jumping off the school roof, holding your hand in the hospital while your mother was busy filling out emergency forms. She was there at your high school graduation, shouting your name louder than anyone, eyes shining with pride. She was there on that holiday in Jeju, when she showed up in a wine-red bikini that made your father immediately look away, flustered. You were fourteen at the time, and you saved the photo on your phone with a heat in your cheeks you couldn’t name.
She was perfect. Untouchable. She glowed in a way you didn’t know if it was because she was too much of an adult or simply unlike any woman you’d ever seen.
And that was exactly why... she was completely off-limits.
It happened on a stifling summer afternoon, the kind where the heat seeped through the cracks in the windows and the house itself seemed to sigh, slow and lazy. Your mother had gone to visit your sick grandmother in Busan, leaving you home alone for a few days. Taeyeon showed up unannounced, a bottle of soju in hand and a vulnerability in her expression you’d never seen before.
"Another weekend alone..." she said, kicking off her shoes in the corner of the living room. The divorce was still fresh, and even though she smiled, you could see the broken pieces behind her eyes.
You offered to keep her company. Turned on the fan, put on some soft music, poured the drinks. One drink became two, two became three. She laughed more than usual, tossed her hair to the side, and let her arm brush against yours every time she said something funny.
"You understand me in a way no one else does," she murmured, her finger tracing the rim of her glass.
You don’t remember who leaned in first. Only the silence between one breath and the next, the suspended moment before the touch. The taste of her lipstick was berries and alcohol. The scent of her perfume—expensive, subtle, unforgettable—lingered on your skin. Her fingers were cold, but her hands were warm, nervous, determined. The shock in her eyes when she realised what you were doing was real. But she didn’t stop.
"This is wrong..." she whispered between kisses, even as her fingers undid your shirt buttons with a urgency that betrayed any hesitation.
"I know..." was the last coherent thing you managed to say.
That night, everything collapsed and revealed itself at the same time.
After the first time came the guilt. Thick, suffocating, like a blanket too heavy for summer. You avoided mirrors, ignored her messages, tried to convince yourself it was a mistake that wouldn’t happen again.
But then she texted.
"Are you okay?"
And the truth was: you weren’t.
The meetings started again, like an inevitable relapse. First quick coffees, flimsy excuses. A movie here, a lift there. Hands "accidentally" touching. Laughter that lasted longer than it should. Until the meetings lost any pretence of innocence.
You were sleeping together. In roadside motels, in the backseat of her car, once in her architecture office with the lights off and the blinds drawn. She moaned against your shoulder, biting your skin to keep from crying out too loud. And you? You lived for those moments. For that body, that woman, that dangerous, addictive secret.
But it wasn’t just sex. It was the way she knew you. Knew you hated kimchi. Knew you got anxious before interviews. Knew you listened to classical music when you were sad.
It was the care. The tenderness in small gestures. The dinner she cooked for you on days you didn’t want to get out of bed. Her fingers in your hair when you said the world was too hard. The comfortable silence between you.
And then it happened:
You fell in love.
It was a stupid mistake. A careless slip. You left your phone on the kitchen table while you showered. It was unlocked. A message came through.
"I can’t hide it anymore. I love you."
Your mother read it.
The silence that followed was absolute. A chasm. She looked at you as if you were a stranger. As if she’d just discovered her son was someone else entirely.
"How could you?" was all she managed to say, eyes red, hands shaking as she gripped the phone so tightly it looked ready to snap.
She slammed the door on her way out, and the sound echoed like a gunshot.
Taeyeon tried to explain. Called, messaged, showed up at the door. Your mother ignored her as if she were dead. Their mutual friends turned away. Your mother’s brother stormed in, furious, threatening to involve lawyers.
She was painted as the villain. And you as the victim. The manipulated one.
"She took advantage of you," your father said, refusing to meet your eyes.
And for a while, you believed it.
Two years passed.
Nothing was easy. You lost friends. She lost her reputation. Your mother drowned in bitter silence, and your father just avoided you. But time, stubborn, kept moving forward.
The messages between Taeyeon and your mother started getting replies. First with terse punctuation. Then short sentences. An "ok." A "got it." Later, a cold but human "thanks."
Your father still wouldn’t look at her, but he stopped making venomous jokes when you mentioned her. A small victory.
And the two of you? You moved in together. A new flat, in another neighbourhood, far from prying eyes and old memories. A fresh start. Taeyeon began smiling again, lighter, as if she’d learned to carry the pain without letting it weigh her down. You learned to cook for her. She started buying too many books and stacking them on the shelves.
On Sunday mornings, she still danced barefoot in the kitchen, a mug of coffee in hand, hair messy, spinning to the music as sunlight streamed through the window.
She danced as if the whole world had finally allowed her to be happy.
And, watching her, you knew: none of it was a mistake.
---
The atmosphere in the house had shifted—subtly at first, but now it was impossible to ignore. The walls felt colder, the rooms quieter, as if even the air carried a faint discomfort. The home that had once been Taeyeon’s refuge had become a glass prison, where everything was visible, yet nothing was truly spoken.
Her parents *tolerated* her—that was the word. They tolerated her presence, her measured words, her forced smiles. But when they looked at you, there was something different in their gaze. A glimmer of admiration—not for who you were, but for what you represented. Youth. Beauty. Vigour. And the comparison was inevitable.
Every comment, every masked joke, every prolonged silence between sentences carried an implicit message: "You're not enough."
"You're so handsome. So young... What on earth did she do to win you over?"
"She must have some secret, right? Blackmail? Or is it the money?"
"Not that she's ugly... but let's be honest."
Taeyeon heard it all. Every word cut through her chest like ground glass. She smiled, made jokes in return, pretended not to care. But her eyes… her eyes told a different story. And you saw it. Because you recognised that spark. Or rather, you remembered when it was there. Now, all that remained was the reflection of someone trying to resist drowning in emotional wreckage.
Her friends didn’t help. At meet-ups or coffee dates, their compliments dripped with poison:
"He’s a Greek god, Taeyeon. Seriously, how did you manage it? Does he like women who are... older?
"Oh, you’ve always been good at winning hearts, haven’t you? Even with that age gap. I could never."
And she smiled. Pressed her lips together. Changed the subject. But you saw how she withdrew a little more with each remark. As if she were shrinking.
Your own friends, at first, were cruel. Called her a "milf", made crude jokes, laughed at absurd insinuations about her "dominating you in bed" or "manipulating you with experience." You argued, fought, cut some of them off. Eventually, they fell silent. But the damage was already done. And Taeyeon felt it.
---
Her shift was subtle. It began with small gestures.
She still said "good morning", but without looking at you.
Still kissed your forehead, but her lips trembled.
Still smiled, but not with her eyes.
The warmth of her body, once always pressed against yours at night, began to retreat. Little by little, she started sleeping turned away, inching closer to the edge of the bed. You reached out to hold her, but she curled in on herself, as if your touch burned.
Mornings became silent routine. She woke before you and slipped away without a sound. Came home late, smelling of stale coffee and exhaustion. Her makeup faded, her gaze hollow. And when she entered the bedroom, she changed in the dark, lay down without a word, turned the other way—and slept.
You tried to talk. Tried to coax out smiles. But she pulled back. She was there… but she was gone.
And a doubt gnawed at you: Was there someone else?
But you knew Taeyeon. Knew the pain she carried from her ex-husband’s betrayal. Knew how even the smallest lie shattered her.
She wasn’t cheating.
She was crumbling.
---
The night was warm, but the bedroom felt frozen. You came home from work, showered, and lay down. She was already there, motionless. Facing away. The silence was absolute. You tried to touch her, but she only pulled the blanket tighter over her shoulders.
You stayed awake for hours, tossing, trying to understand how things had come to this.
Then you felt the mattress dip slightly. Taeyeon rose with quiet steps, as if begging the universe not to make a sound. The bedroom door creaked faintly, and she vanished into the hallway.
You waited. Something in your chest screamed that you shouldn’t ignore this.
You got up. Went downstairs. And found her.
She was curled on the living room sofa, folded into herself as if trying to disappear. Her face buried in her hands, her shoulders trembling.
Her sobs were muffled, desperate, as if crying in silence was her last attempt not to break completely.
You froze for a moment. The sight of her like that was something you’d never forget.
"Love...?"
She flinched, hastily wiping her face with her pyjama sleeves. Her expression was pure panic, as if she’d been caught doing something wrong.
"W—what are you doing awake?" her voice hoarse, weak, broken.
It was the first time in weeks she’d looked you straight in the eye. But something inside her was shattered.
You moved closer, sat beside her. She recoiled instinctively, like a wounded animal. But you took her hand—and felt it.
The tremor. The fear. The vulnerability.
"Taeyeon... talk to me, please."
She hesitated. Her lips parted, but no words came. Until the weight became too much. The fortress she’d built with such effort collapsed.
"I... I can’t do this anymore..." she whispered between sobs.
And then she broke. Collapsed into your arms as if that embrace were the last anchor between her and the abyss.
She wept with her whole body. Her hands clutched at you, fingers digging into your chest as if trying to fuse with you. Tears soaked your shirt, but you didn’t care. You just held her, pressing her close, rocking her like a wounded child.
"You should end this. I'm trying to push you away, damn it, but why do you keep coming back?"
Her voice trembled, thick as if every word were caught in a throat crushed under the weight of guilt. It was a rough whisper, fragile, yet loaded with a fierce desperation. It sounded as though she were begging to be left behind—yet at the same time, begging for you to stay.
Her fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles had turned white, as if her entire body were fighting to hold itself back, resisting the natural urge to throw herself into your arms. She kept them rigid at her sides, as though trying to keep her soul from escaping her flesh.
The tears no longer came in sobs, but in silence. They had grown accustomed to flowing—two gleaming rivers down her pale skin, trailing her face like open wounds. The shirt she wore was stained in uneven patches of sorrow, as if grief had left footprints on her chest.
"It’s not fair… I ruined your life…"
Those words were whispered against you, like a confession she hated to voice aloud. She pressed her forehead to your chest, as if the weight of everything was too much to bear standing. You felt the damp heat of her tears seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and the muffled sound of her ragged breathing hitting your body like a plea for forgiveness.
Her shoulders shook—not just from pain, but from shame. From fear. And from a love so immense it hurt.
You reacted instinctively. Your hands rose slowly, trying to wrap around her shoulders, to pull her close. To shield her from the world and, if possible, from herself. But she flinched at the slightest touch, as if your affection were a burning ember rather than a refuge.
"Don’t. Don’t lie to me…"
Her voice was weak, like a breath of wind on the verge of vanishing. "I’m old, and—God… how did I not see it before? My friends were right. You’re only with me out of pity, aren’t you? You’re afraid to leave this old woman!"
That word—old—slipped from her lips like a blade, sharp and cruel. And the worst part was, she seemed to have driven that knife into herself. Her lips quivered. She bit them, hard, as if punishing herself. As if she deserved to suffer for daring to love you, for believing, even for a second, that it was possible.
"Taeyeon. You’re perfect."
Your voice cut through the air, firm, charged with a fierce intensity. You held her carefully, your fingers trembling with emotion, and gently pulled her away from your chest, forcing her to look at you. Not with brutality—but with love. With urgency.
Her face was swollen from crying. Her eyes, red like two weary suns, yet still beautiful. There was a desperate glimmer in them, as if searching for something in you—perhaps a reason to stay, perhaps confirmation that they were wrong.
And you gave it to her.
Because there, right in front of you, Kim Taeyeon was still stunning.
Stunning even with her smudged mascara casting shadows under her eyes. Stunning even with her nose red from crying. Stunning in the depths of pain, in the chaos of insecurity, in the abyss of fear. Stunning because she was her.
"Do you really think I care about age?" Your voice dropped an octave, like thunder rolling in to shield the land. "Do you honestly believe I’d be here if I didn’t want you more than anything?"
She tried to look away, as if afraid to find the truth in your eyes, but you wouldn’t let her. With a gentle touch, your thumb brushed her cheek, wiping away a stubborn tear that refused to stop falling. You leaned in even closer, closing the space between you like someone refusing any distance.
"I don’t want anyone but you, Taeyeon. Not someone younger. Not someone older. Not anyone. Just you."
Those words seemed to dismantle the defences she had built with such effort.
"One day, you’ll meet a girl your age and leave me. I know it."
Her voice came out like a lost child trying to shield herself from inevitable pain. But there was also a sliver of hope, barely perceptible—as if, deep down, she wanted you to prove her wrong.
You laughed. Low. Warm. A laugh that carried affection, but also disbelief.
"And you’ll meet someone your age and leave me."
Her eyes widened.
"What?! Of course I wouldn’t!"
You smiled. That smile she always claimed to hate because it "made you too smug," but secretly adored.
"See? That argument doesn’t make sense. Baby. I’m with you now. And you’re the one I want. Don’t let anyone—not even yourself—try to change that."
She looked at you. Really looked. Her eyes brimming with tears, but this time, with something new behind them: hope. Vulnerability. Love. A raw love, stripped of glamour, born in the mud of pain and watered with real promises.
And then she whispered:
"Then promise me. Give me a… big, big kiss."
Her voice faltered at the end, almost a nervous laugh between tears. It was so genuine, so absurdly adorable that you couldn’t resist.
Adorable. That’s what you thought.
And then you leaned in and pressed your lips to hers—not like someone kissing an insecure woman, but like someone sealing a sacred vow. A kiss without hurry, full of truth, saying everything words never could.
When your lips parted, you already knew exactly what you wanted.
Your kisses trailed down, slow and deliberate, from her mouth to her jaw, then to her neck, where you left a discreet mark—just enough to make her shudder. She writhed beneath your touch, her hands gripping the sheets tightly, as if clinging to something solid to keep from losing herself completely. Until now, you had never taken control like this—she had always preferred to be on top, dictating the pace, and only now did you understand why: she was afraid of seeming vulnerable.
It was adorable.
Your fingers unbuttoned her pyjama shirt, one by one, exposing her soft skin to the cold air of the bedroom. She arched her back involuntarily, a shiver running through her as the fabric slid off her shoulders. You didn’t let her adjust to the temperature—your lips were already wrapped around one of her breasts, your tongue tracing slow circles before sucking firmly.
She screamed.
"I-if you keep this up, I swear you’ll be sleeping on the sofa for—"
You didn’t let her finish. Your fingers found the other nipple, twisting it lightly, and her protest dissolved into a loud, trembling moan. Her eyes fluttered shut, her breath quickened, and you smirked against her skin.
This was your woman.
And you would make sure she remembered she deserved to be treated like a queen.
"What’s the matter, mummy? Not enjoying yourself?"
She turned her face away, her cheeks burning with shame. At first, she had hated that name, but you’d noticed long ago how her muscles tensed less each time you called her that. How her moans grew louder. How her hips pressed against your hand whenever the word slipped from your lips.
Your kisses trailed lower, leaving a damp trail down her flawless abdomen. You could spend hours there—nipping, licking, worshipping every inch of that smooth skin. But you had other plans.
When your hands gripped the waistband of her pyjama bottoms, she hesitated, her fingers tangling in your hair in a mix of protest and plea.
"I-I can’t let you—"
You didn’t give her a choice. With one firm motion, you tore the fabric apart, relishing the satisfying sound of the elastic giving way.
"HEY, THAT WAS MY FAVOURITE!"
You ignored her. It was a lie. She had a wardrobe full of identical pyjamas. Besides, this was about something far more important.
In all your years together, she had never let you go down on her. There was a deep-rooted guilt in her, an old-fashioned belief that a decent wife shouldn’t allow something so indecent. You suspected that was why she’d rarely climaxed with her ex-husband.
But you weren’t him.
Your finger slid along her entrance, finding her absolutely soaked, and she arched her back with a ragged moan. You didn’t make her wait—your tongue found her clit in one firm stroke, and her scream echoed through the room.
"NO—YOU CAN’T— AAAAHWN~!"
She tried to close her legs, but you held her hips firmly, keeping her spread open. Within seconds, she was already trembling, her fluids dripping down your chin as she writhed, unable to form words.
She couldn’t hold back.
Her body was already at its limit, her thighs shaking uncontrollably as your tongue worked in a relentless rhythm. You knew exactly how she liked it—steady pressure, then quick, flickering strokes, just enough to drive her to the edge of desperation.
"S-stop… I’m gonna… NO, WAIT—"
But it was too late.
A hot gush spilled from her, coating your chin, your lips, dripping down the fingers still holding her open. She screamed, a raw, broken sound, her entire body convulsing in violent spasms. You didn’t stop—byou sucked, drank every drop, and she sobbed, her fingers buried in your hair, tugging wildly.
"I CAN’T… I CAN’T TAKE ANYMORE… PLEASE—"
But you kept going, pushing her straight into another peak, even more intense than the first. This time, she couldn’t even form words—just high-pitched whimpers, her legs shaking, the wet sound of your tongue against her filling the room.
When you finally pulled away, she was gasping, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her eyes glazed over. You sat up, licking your lips slowly, and she covered her face with her hands, embarrassed.
"You… you’re insufferable."
You smirked, pulling her into a deep kiss, letting her taste herself on your lips.
"So you squirt? Fuck, can you stop getting sexier, Kim Taeyeon? At this rate, I’ll have to knock you up."
She visibly shuddered at the idea, and then you grinned. Ah. So that was what she wanted? To carry your child?
Your fingers found her entrance again, this time two fingers plunging deep inside her heat while your mouth recaptured her swollen clit. She screamed, her body caught between the mattress and your dominance—completely at your mercy now.
"See how wet you get for me?" You murmured against her skin, feeling her walls clench around your fingers. "All this mess just for me… my greedy little wife."
She tried to muffle her moans with her hands, but you pinned her wrists above her head, holding them with one hand while the other continued its relentless work. Precise curls, deep thrust, the obscene sound of her slickness filling the air. You felt the moment her muscles started trembling again—she was so close…
"Come." You ordered, nipping at her thigh. "Squirt again. Now."
Your command shattered something in her. With a muffled scream, another gush burst from her, even more intense than before, spilling over your hand, dripping onto the sheets beneath. Her body jerked as if electrocuted, her eyes rolling back as waves of pleasure completely overwhelmed her.
You didn’t give her time to recover. In one fluid motion, you lifted her hips and buried your tongue deep inside her, drinking every drop as she thrashed.
"STOP! I… I CAN’T TAKE ANY MORE…!" She sobbed, her legs trembling violently.
You lifted your face, your chin glistening with her. "Liar." You smirked, lining your throbbing length with her dripping entrance. "You can take so much more."
And with one sharp thrust, you sheathed yourself to the hilt, her eyes widening as one last weak spurt escaped between your joined bodies.
"That’s… that’s too…!" She couldn’t form sentences, her nails digging into your back.
You started moving, each thrust calculated to grind against that perfect spot inside her. "Say it. Say what you are."
She shook her head, resisting, but her body betrayed her—growing wetter, tighter around you.
You slowed your pace, nearly pulling out completely before slamming back in. "Say it."
"Y-YOUR… YOUR WHORE…!" She screamed, and you felt her walls begin to clench again.
That was all you needed to hear.
Gripping her hips, you fucked her mercilessly now, the sound of skin against skin, her cries, your own growls—all blending together as you drove her to the edge once more.
Until you stopped. You flipped her onto her stomach, your hands firm on her hips as you pulled her up, leaving her on all fours on the sofa. She tried to protest, but you were already sliding into her from behind, a rough groan escaping your throat as you filled her completely.
"N-no… like this it’s… too—"
Deep. That’s what she meant to say, but the words were lost as you started moving, each thrust aimed at that spot that made her see stars. Her hands clawed at the sheets, her knuckles white from the strain, as you controlled the pace—slow and cruel at first, then faster, until the wet slap of skin dominated the room.
She tried to brace herself on her arms, but you pulled her back, her spine pressed against your chest, one hand wrapped around her throat while the other slid down to rub her clit in quick circles.
"You’re not running now, princess."
She screamed, her entire body shaking, and you felt her walls pulsing around you, clenching as if trying to milk every inch. You didn’t stop—you couldn’t stop—pumping into her as she remained oversensitive, each movement wrenching another moan from her.
When you finally dropped her back onto the sofa, she was completely boneless, her breath ragged, her eyes unfocused. But you weren’t done.
You lifted her, wrapping your arms around her as you pressed her against the wall, her legs locking around your waist.
"Hold on."
She obeyed, her arms looping around your neck, and you sank into her again, **even deeper this time**, the angle perfect for wringing another scream from her.
"O-oh God… like this I… I’m gonna—"
And she did.
Another gush, even more intense than the first, spilling down your thighs as you kept moving, relentless. She buried her face in your shoulder, her teeth sinking into your skin to muffle her cries, but you wanted to hear her.
"No one else will ever make you feel like this."
She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears—happy ones this time.
"You only cry like this for me, understand, you slut?"
"U-uhuh! Oh yes, fuck, I’m gonna break, baby I’m gonna..."
You laid her on her back at the edge of the sofa, her legs bent against her chest, exposing her completely as you stood, gripping her ankles. She tried to cover herself, but you pinned her wrists above her head, quickly binding them with her own pyjama top.
"Y-You’re not going to—"
But you were already inside.
The penetration was brutally deep at this angle—every stroke grinding directly against her G-spot, the tip of you hitting a place that made her eyes roll back. She tried to speak, but only a choked "Nhgn—!" escaped, her fingers twisting in the makeshift restraints.
You gripped her hips and lifted her into the air, using her thighs as leverage to slam her back onto you with each thrust—blike a medieval catapult breaking through castle walls.
"S-STOP! I’M GONNA— CUMM—"
She didn’t finish.
Her body arched violently, a transparent gush spraying uncontrollably as you kept pounding, using her slickness to slide even faster. The sight was obscene—her stomach trembling with each impact, her breasts bouncing wildly, her expression completely lost in pleasure.
Then you changed positions, untying her hands, lifting her as if she weighed nothing, your hands gripping her thighs as you pressed her against the wall. She had no support. Her feet didn’t touch the ground, her arms clung desperately to your neck, and you felt her racing heartbeat against your chest.
"Y-You’re going to drop me…"—her voice was a breathless whisper, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and pure arousal.
You answered by thrusting deeper.
She shrieked as you buried yourself in one stroke, the angle brutally perfect. Every movement now controlled not just her pleasure, but her very breath—when you lifted her higher, she writhed; when you let her slip down slightly, her legs tightened around you, begging for more.
"I-I can’t… think…"
That was the point.
You used her as you pleased—lifting and lowering her body in your rhythm, feeling her grow tighter, more desperate. When your fingers found her clit, she lost control—another hot gush spilled between you, and she buried her face in your shoulder, crying from sheer ecstasy.
You didn’t stop. Not until she trembled endlessly, her legs too weak to hold on, her entire body ruled by your movement.
When you finally couldn’t hold back any longer, you buried yourself deep and emptied weeks of pent-up seed into her womb, and Taeyeon could do little more than whimper and twitch helplessly through another mini-orgasm—this one not quite as loud.
When you laid her back on the sofa, exhausted, you realised she had simply passed out from all that overstimulation.
---
Six months ago, your life had been turned upside down—in the best way possible. Taeyeon, your Taeyeon, was finally back in your arms. After so much time apart, you had both decided to face your insecurities together, diving headfirst into therapy. And to your surprise, she was taking it seriously—more seriously than you ever thought possible. She read books about relationships, jotted down reflections in a journal, and sometimes even initiated deep conversations in the middle of the night when anxiety struck.
But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared you for the whirlwind that was her pregnancy.
When those two little lines appeared on the test, your heart nearly burst with happiness. A little girl. Your little girl. You had even already chosen a name—Ha-eun—and agreed to get married when she turned three, giving yourselves time to adjust your lives, careers, and, most importantly, for Taeyeon to feel secure again.
But the pregnancy brought with it a Taeyeon who could switch between angel and devil in a matter of seconds.
She would laugh at a silly meme on her phone, and the next second, she’d be crying because you "breathed too loudly" and it "deeply bothered her." Once, she flew into a rage because you "chewed a biscuit too aggressively," and ten minutes later, she was clinging to you, apologising while licking the salty tears off your face.
If she used to love your scent, now, all it took was you approaching her after work for her to wrinkle her nose and say in disgust, "You reek of man." And worse—if she was having a bad day, just seeing you made her nauseous. Once, you walked into the bedroom, and she literally sprinted to the bathroom, laughing and vomiting at the same time. "Sorry, it’s the baby that hates you!" she yelled between gags.
Ah, but nothing topped the jealousy. Nothing.
If you so much as glanced at the barista for half a second, Taeyeon would go icy. If you replied to a message in the work group chat—which, by chance, included a female colleague—she would scowl, her eyes narrowing like a cat about to pounce.
And the peak? When the neighbour from the flat upstairs—a 60-year-old woman —said good morning to you in the lift, and Taeyeon hit the emergency button just so you could get out faster. "She fancies you, I saw the way she smiled," she growled, while you tried to process the fact that your pregnant fiancée was jealous of a grandmother.
It was an ordinary Saturday—or at least, it should have been. You and Taeyeon had gone out for a romantic dinner—something increasingly rare, as the pregnancy left her exhausted and irritable most nights. But today was different. She woke up in a good mood, even suggested getting dressed up to go out, and you, of course, didn’t question the miracle.
The restaurant was cosy, dimly lit, with wine glasses (grape juice for her) and a menu she had chosen after three days of indecision. You were laughing, talking about baby names again—she insisted Ha-eun sounded too formal and now wanted something "cute but not tacky"—when it happened.
The waitress came to clear the plates. A young woman, smiling, nothing out of the ordinary. You, being polite, thanked her with a "Cheers, that was lovely" and a brief nod. That was it.
But as the waitress turned to leave, Taeyeon froze. Her eyes widened, her breath caught, and her hands—clutching the napkin—tightened until her knuckles turned white.
You realised too late.
"Taeyeon? You alright?" you asked, still oblivious to the danger.
She didn’t answer. Just stared at you with an expression that mixed betrayal, fury, and pure existential dread.
"You… you looked." Her voice came out in a trembling whisper, as if she were holding back a tsunami of emotions.
"Looked at what?" you frowned, genuinely confused.
"AT HER ARSE. YOU LOOKED. I SAW IT.'
You swallowed hard. No. You hadn’t looked. Swore you hadn’t. But Taeyeon was already boiling.
"Taeyeon, love, I just thanked her—"
"NO. You did that little glance. That ‘oh, what a cute little thing’ look. I KNOW THAT LOOK."
"But she doesn’t even have… an ‘ar—’"
"STOP. TALKING. ABOUT. HER. ARSE."
She threw the napkin on the table, grabbed her bag, and stood up with the trembling dignity of a betrayed queen.
"I’m leaving."
"Taeyeon, wait—"
"NO. STAY HERE. CHAT MORE WITH HER. SINCE YOU’RE SO CLOSE."
You tried to hold her arm, but she shook you off as if your touch burned.
"I don’t even know the waitress’s name!" you argued, desperate.
"OH, SO YOU WANT TO KNOW, DO YOU? GONNA ASK FOR HER INSTA NEXT?"
The surrounding tables began to whisper. An elderly couple looked on with pity. The waiter pretended he wasn’t listening, but he clearly was.
With great difficulty, you convinced her to go home. Though she didn’t look at you the entire way.
"Kim Taeyeon, What the Bloody Hell Was That?"
You muttered, irritated enough to roll up the sleeves of your dress shirt, ready for a proper row. Until you noticed her frozen, eyes locked onto your flexed bicep, biting her lips so hard they nearly bled.
And then you understood.
"Ah… So that’s how it is?" Your voice dropped to a rough whisper, deliberately slow, as a wicked grin spread across your lips. "Naughty little girls…" You undid your belt with a dramatic click, watching her shudder. "...deserve punishment. Especially the ones who make a scene in public…" A step forward, and she stumbled back against the wall. "Isn’t that right, mummy?"
Taeyeon’s eyes widened, a moan escaping her throat—loud, desperate, as if she couldn’t believe what that word did to her.
"You—!" She tried to protest, but you were already there, one arm braced against the wall beside her head, the other tilting her chin up.
"You started this." Your hot breath against her ear. "Humiliated me in front of everyone. Treated me like rubbish. And now you’re looking at me like this?" Your hand slid down her waist, firm, possessive. "So easy…"
Taeyeon tried to turn away, but you tightened your grip on her chin, forcing her to face you.
"Say it."
She trembled, lips parted, eyes already glazed over.
"…I hate you."
You laughed, darkly, and captured her mouth in a filthy, dominant kiss, your hand tangling in her hair to pull harder. She moaned again, fingers clutching your shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright.
And Christ—if that woman wasn’t the most perfect thing when she surrendered like this…
You broke the kiss abruptly, leaving her gasping, and whispered:
"I’ll go easy on you only because of our little girl in there, understand?"
You massaged her six-month bump and smirked, finally sliding your trousers off.
"Open your mouth, you filthy whore."
"You call me a whore?"
Her voice trembled, eyes brimming with unshed tears—stubborn, just like her. A chill ran down your spine, but you didn’t back down.
"I do." Your hand moved from her belly to her chin, squeezing firmly. "My slag. Only mine."
Taeyeon’s breath hitched, lips parting. You saw the conflict in her eyes—anger, desire, submission, pride—all tangled in the pregnancy hormones that made her so sensitive.
"You... you can’t—"
"I can." You cut her off, dragging your thumb across her lips. "And you love it. Love it when I put you in your place. When I remind you that no matter how much you scream and throw a fit, in the end... you’re mine."
She shuddered, a moan trapped in her throat.
"Open."
For a second, she hesitated—stubborn to the last—but then, slowly, her mouth opened.
You grinned.
"Good girl."
"Choke on it properly, you disgusting bitch."
You shoved your cock down her tight throat, feeling the muscles spasm in panic around your throbbing head. Taeyeon gagged violently, nails digging into your thighs as spit and tears streaked her mascara-smudged face.
"That’s it, take every inch like the knocked-up slut you are," you growled, yanking her hair as you bottomed out. "Gonna cry? Gonna make a scene now, you filthy whore?"
She tried to pull back, but you held her firm, fucking her throat ruthlessly. Every gag was music, every tear a confession—she was yours, a wet, sobbing toy made to take your anger and lust.
"Feel that? Feel how your throat was made for this? For choking on my cock like the desperate slag you are?"
Taeyeon whimpered, body shaking with need as you used her mercilessly. When you finally pulled out, she coughed and spat, lipstick ruined, eyes glazed with submission.
"P-please..." she rasped, voice wrecked from gagging on you.
You laughed darkly and gripped her chin.
"'Please' what, whore? Say it."
She swallowed hard, tears and desire swimming in her eyes.
"...Please fuck me until I forget my name."
So far, you’d done nothing but foreplay—just that. She was afraid of hurting the baby, but if the urge struck, you’d made a reasonable agreement—while she carried your daughter, no vaginal penetration. Only anal, and carefully. After all, Taeyeon had always been the prim, almost naively innocent woman—the one who’d watched you grow up, who blushed at innuendos, who covered her eyes during sex scenes in films.
Or so you thought.
Because the moment you slid your fingers between her arse cheeks, feeling how absurdly wet she was just from the idea, you realised something was very wrong—or very right.
"B-Bloody hell, Taeyeon…" you growled, feeling her tight ring give way easily under your fingers. "Have you… done this before?"
She bit her lip, eyes darting away, but her body arched into your touch. "N-No… just… thought about it… a lot…"
"Thought about what?" Your voice came out rougher than intended, fingers pressing deeper, feeling her clench around them.
Then she let out a filthy, desperate moan and confessed:
"You… taking me from behind… like I’m just a hole for you to come in."
Fuck.
You nearly lost it right then.
"Taeyeon…" Your voice was hoarse, veins standing out on your wrists as you pushed your fingers to the last knuckle. "You mean to tell me this innocent little face… was always hiding an anal slut?"
She whimpered, fingers digging into your thighs, face burning with shame—but her body begging for more.
"O-Only… only with you…"
And Christ, if that wasn’t the dirtiest thing she’d ever admitted.
Now you understood why she always flinched when you brushed there during sex. Why she blushed when you complimented her arse.
She wasn’t embarrassed.
She was fantasising.
And now, with the perfect excuse of pregnancy, she could finally give in without guilt.
"So that’s it?" You pulled your fingers out, watching her clench instinctively, trying to keep them inside. "My proper little wife… is actually an anal slut who dreams of being used like this?"
But first, you’d make her clean up her mess.
With a rough motion, you dragged your spit-slick cock over her face, marking her flushed cheeks, swollen lips, even her trembling eyelids. "Lick. Everything. Every last drop."
Taeyeon obeyed like a good girl, her hot tongue frantically lapping from base to tip, swallowing every trace of herself mixed with your precum. She looked addicted, eyes rolling back as she savoured her own taste on your skin.
"Now turn over, you slag." You landed a sharp smack on her round arse, watching the red imprint of your hand bloom on her soft skin. "Want to see that pregnant belly shake while you moan like a bitch in heat."
She got on her hands and knees, her rounded belly hanging sensually between her thighs, her cunt dripping wet. You spat on her pink clit before plunging two fingers inside, making Taeyeon scream.
"See this? Sopping wet over a cock that hasn’t even fucked you yet." You laughed as she moaned louder, fingers pumping in and out. "Gonna come just from this? You filthy, desperate little thing?"
Taeyeon shook her head, but her body betrayed her—her inner walls fluttered, her clit throbbing visibly. You yanked your fingers out.
"No. You only come when I say."
Then you finally lined yourself up at her tight entrance, feeling her tremble in anticipation.
"Now repeat: I’m only yours."
"I-I’m only yours—"
"A knocked-up, obedient slut."
"A k-knocked-up— AH! AAAH!"
You buried yourself to the hilt in one thrust, splitting her open, her virgin arse taking every inch like it was made for you.
"Feel that, Taeyeon? Feel how this tight little arse was made for me?" You snarled in her ear as you pounded into her, each thrust making her pregnant belly sway obscenely. Her hands clawed at the sheets, knuckles white, as strangled moans spilled from her ruined throat.
"Look ahead," you ordered, pulling her hair back. "Look at that belly shake every time I fuck you."
Taeyeon screamed, shame and pleasure overflowing in her teary eyes. "S-stop… please… don’t say those thi— AH! AAAAH!"
You laughed darkly and landed another smack on her reddened arse, feeling her clench violently around you. "Liar. You love it. Love being used like this, knocked-up and marked up, taking cock like there’s no tomorrow."
Your hips slapped against her arse with wet smacks, the brutal sounds of fucking echoing through the room. You could feel her tightening, growing hotter—ready to break.
"Wanna come, you Bitch? Do you?"
Taeyeon nodded frantically, swollen lips trembling. "Y-yes… p-please… let me… let me come!"
"Fine. Come."
Then you pulled her back against your chest, one hand gripping her throat while the other circled her swollen clit. "But not without remembering who you belong to."
Three fingers in her cunt.
A smack on her rosy arse.
Your teeth sinking into her shoulder.
And Taeyeon shattered, her whole body convulsing in a violent orgasm, her arse squeezing your cock like a hot, wet fist. You held her tight, fucking her through it, until your own release boiled over.
"Take it. Take it all, you whore!"
With a final animalistic growl, you buried yourself to the hilt, spilling inside her, each hot pulse marking your claim.
Taeyeon went limp in your arms, panting, her body covered in your marks—from your teeth, your hands, your cock.
You smirked, satisfied, and laid her on her side, your hand resting on her rounded belly.
"We’ll do this again tomorrow."
Working on something. I hope to post what I'm finishing in a few hours 😉
Love the format for the Karina fic a lot more than others. Please keep that format for future fics, makes reading a lot easier imo
Yeees sir! Thank you for taking the time to read my work, btw <3
Sorry if this has been asked before, but which groups do you usually follow? And which idols do you find most attractive?
I'm what you would call oldie in a way! So SISTAR, Girls’ Generation and Wonder Girls. You can include Twice, Black Pink, Red Velvet and MAMAMOO and the current generation Aespa and Itzy
If I had to put together a list it would be difficult, But if I could only choose one, I would say Jennie Kim!
TMW
Maybe this has a little bit of personal experience.
Male Reader x Ningning
1,8k Words.
Anguish
"I warned you a dozen thousand times not to mess with Ning Yizhuo."
She was the kind of girl who set universes ablaze without even trying. Not because she was untouchable—but because her light was so democratic that everyone was drenched in it, whether they wanted to be or not. Her laugh was like glass shattering in slow motion: sharp, beautiful, impossible to ignore. Ning Yizhuo didn’t just occupy space—she expanded the places she passed through, as if physics itself bent to accommodate the excess of her.
And you?
You were the calculated counterbalance.
Not by accident, but by survival. Your silence wasn’t shyness—it was heavy artillery against a world that always demanded too much. Parties were minefields, conversations, traps. You hid behind headphones and one-word answers like someone building walls against invaders. But deep down, deep down—
You wondered how someone like her could even look at someone like you.
Her, who danced in the rain without caring about the stares.
You, who calculated every step to avoid slipping on your own sweat.
Her, who hugged strangers like they were old friends.
You, who flinched when your own mother tried to touch you.
The Problem Was That Ning Yizhuo Loved You.
In a way that defied logic.
She watched you like you were a piece of art in an empty museum—unique, valuable, hers alone. When you cracked one of those dry jokes that made others frown, she laughed until she doubled over, as if you’d invented comedy. Your fingers found hers under the table, and without a word, she squeezed your hand like she was saying "I choose you, again and again."
And you?
You sabotaged it all.
It was your fear that pushed her away. Your sharp words, spoken in the dead of night when the wine spoke louder than love. You accused her of using you as an emotional crutch, of keeping you out of pity, of laughing at you behind your back—and every syllable was a bullet, piercing that gaze that always saw you as human, not as some broken project.
And yet, she came back.
Four times.
Four times you swore through tears that you’d do better. Four times she took you back, hands trembling but open, as if she believed in a redemption even you couldn’t see.
But the fifth time—
The fifth time, the miracle ran out.
You dragged yourself to her like a shipwrecked man begging for shore. Flooded her phone with unanswered messages, showed up to her rehearsal with wilted flowers and rehearsed apologies. And when she finally looked at you, there was something new in her eyes: exhaustion.
— Just. Leave. Me. The fuck. Alone.
It was the first time she’d ever raised her voice at you.
And you understood.
This wasn’t punishment—it was mercy.
Because Ning Yizhuo loved you to the marrow, but all you ever gave her in return was rocks shaped like love.
And now, in this bar, the universe was getting its revenge.
---
The air smelled of crushed lemons and cheap vodka, but what really poisoned you was the scent of her perfume—that same one, with hints of peach and something sweeter you could never name.
Her hair wasn’t just blonde—it was a declaration of war. Platinum, almost white, as if the strands had been bleached by indifference. You knew she hated dark roots, but now there was a deliberate contrast, like she was telling the world, "Look, I’ve been reborn."
Giselle was glued to her, and that was the worst part. The Japanese girl’s hand rested on Yizhuo’s waist with a familiarity that made you swallow hard. You knew every inch of that waist—knew how she shivered when you traced it with your fingertips, how she’d squirm and laugh if you blew on it. Now, that skin belonged to someone else’s map.
And then—like an accident you see coming but can’t stop— she saw you.
Just a flicker.
A blink.
Her nose wrinkled like she’d caught a whiff of something sour. Not hatred—disgust. The kind that only exists when love has burned to ash. In one fluid motion, she turned her back, leaning the nape of her neck against Giselle’s shoulder. You could see her fingers drumming against her glass, tap-tap-tap, in a rhythm you recognized—the one she did when she was bored.
Your throat tightened.
Was it fair? Of course. You dug this grave with your own hands. But seeing her there—so beautiful, so far away—made your chest ache like someone had reached between your ribs and squeezed your heart until it bled.
The ice in your glass had melted, diluting the whiskey into dirty water. You stared at the amber liquid, remembering the last time you drank together—her with some ridiculous umbrella cocktail, you with your bitter drink. She’d steal sips from your glass, making a face, and you’d complain—but smile.
Now, her glass was full of something pink.
Like diluted blood.
— You’re so pathetic... Kang [Y/N]...
The voice came from behind you—harsh, familiar.
You didn’t even need to turn to know who it was.
Winter.
Kim Minjeong.
Your best friend. Your ex-best friend, now.
She slid onto the stool beside you, eyes narrowed like knives.
— She’s happy, you know? — Winter spat, swirling her own glass. — Finally.
You didn’t answer. What could you even say? That you regretted it? That you wanted her back? Winter laughed, as if she could read your thoughts.
— She even forgot your number, you know? — She took a sip, letting the words hang like a noose. — Literally. Deleted it and doesn’t even remember it now.
— Good for her, I guess.
Your voice came out sharper than you intended, laced with an irony even you didn’t believe. It was the kind of automatic response, rehearsed in the mirror during too many sleepless nights—armor against the pain Minjeong knew she was driving into you.
She let out a short laugh, almost a scoff of disdain.
— You never change, do you?
Her eyes scanned your face like a lie detector, finding every crack, every weakness you tried to hide. Minjeong had always had that gift—seeing right through your walls as if they were glass. And now, with Yizhuo out of the equation, she had no reason left to be kind.
— As if you’re not rotting from the inside.
She raised an eyebrow, daring you to deny it. You didn’t.
With one last look that mixed pity and exhaustion, Minjeong stood, her fitted dress sliding smoothly off the stool. She didn’t even glance back as she rejoined the group—her group, Yizhuo’s group. You watched, helpless, as she slotted herself between Giselle and Karina, laughing at something you’d never hear.
The air outside was icy, a punch to the chest after the stifling heat of the bar. You took a deep breath, the metallic taste of the night mixing with the bitterness of whiskey still on your tongue.
Your phone weighed heavy in your hand like a brick.
You stared at the screen, at the wallpaper that was still that photo—Yizhuo, in profile, laughing at something you’d said. It was from a year ago, maybe more. You’d never had the courage to change it.
Your phone vibrated again.
You laughed a little more, still caught up in their joke, trying to ignore the emptiness that was eating away at your ribs from the inside. But then you looked at the screen
And the world stopped.
The biting night wind coiled between the two of you, making Ningning hug herself tighter, fingers digging slightly into the flesh of her elbows. The streetlight’s reflection made her eyes glisten like wet glass, and for a moment—just a moment—your body moved before your mind did. Your fingers were already twitching toward your jacket zipper, muscle memory stronger than pride.
But you stopped.
Almost.
She noticed. Of course she noticed. A small, crooked smile flickered across her lips before she bit them, like she was holding back a sharp remark.
— So. What do you want?
Your voice came out rougher than you meant it to, laced with exhaustion that wasn’t entirely meant for her—it was self-directed. Because you knew, even now, your first instinct was still to protect her.
She laughed, low and joyless, her gaze fixed on some distant point behind you, as if the answer were scrawled on the bar’s wall.
— This is why we broke up.
Her eyes finally met yours, and there was something in them—something disappointed, something that hurt worse than anger.
— Even now, you can’t be kind.
You felt the weight of it like a punch to the gut. But instead of yielding, you doubled down.
— Kindness died with the relationship. — You shrugged, feigning indifference you didn’t feel. — No need to fake it anymore.
Her laugh sharpened, but didn’t reach her eyes. It was hollow, almost disbelieving.
— Jesus… — She shook her head, as if replaying every argument, every time you chose to be difficult instead of human. — How did I waste so much time on someone like you?
You didn’t answer. Because there was no answer.
She took a deep breath, the steam of her exhale curling between her lips like smoke.
— Whatever. — She changed the subject abruptly, as if tired of her own question. — Minjeong misses you. She won’t say it, but she does. You two were close, after all.
You caught the thread of provocation in her tone.
— What? — You tilted your head, a fake smile stretching your lips. — Don’t tell me that’s jealousy?
She didn’t take the bait.
— Jealous? Why? — She raised an eyebrow, challenging. — We’re nothing now. Even if I were jealous, it’s not my business anymore.
A pause. The wind whistled between you.
— Just… can we be friends? — She finally let out, shoulders relaxing slightly, like she was letting go of a weight. — Keep things civil, so it’s not weird for everyone else.
You looked at her—at the blonde hair that wasn’t the shade you knew, at the eyes that didn’t light up for you anymore, at the posture that no longer leaned in your direction.
And then, you lied.
— Sure. Whatever.
She smiled. Relieved? Skeptical? You couldn’t read her anymore.
— Cool.
She took a step back, the end.
— See you around, then.
You didn’t reply.
Because there was no "around."
And as she turned and walked back to the bar, back to Giselle, Minjeong, Karina—back to her world, the one that wasn’t yours anymore, you stood there, watching.
Until the cold—or something worse—finally made you walk away.
COYS 🤍🤍🤍🤍
I hope you get better author 🙏
Thanks 🙏
I just ended a two year relationship. You'll get to see me more often now folks
